Peter Robinson - Aftermath

“And we’d be happy to have you, as soon as there is,” said Banks, smiling.

“Look, Alan,” Annie said, looking at the view through the window, “there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

Just as he’d thought. He lit a cigarette. “Okay. What is it?”

“It’s just that… I don’t know… this isn’t working out. You and me. I think we should ease off. Cool it. That’s all.”

“You want to end our relationship?”

“Not end it. Just change its focus, that’s all. We can still be friends.”

“I don’t know what to say, Annie. What’s brought this on?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t just expect me to believe you suddenly decided for no apparent reason to chuck me.”

“I’m not chucking you. I told you. Things are just changing.”

“Okay. Are we going to continue going out for romantic dinners, to galleries and concerts together?”

“No.”

“Are we going to continue sleeping together?”

“No.”

“Then what, precisely, are we going to do together?”

“Be friends. You know, at work. Be supportive and stuff.”

“I’m already supportive and stuff. Why can’t I be supportive and stuff and still sleep with you?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, Alan. Sleeping with you. The sex. You know that.”

“I thought I did. Maybe you’re just a damn good actress.”

Annie winced and swigged some beer. “That’s not fair. I don’t deserve that. This isn’t easy for me, you know.”

“Then why are you doing it? You know it’s more than sex with us, anyway.”

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t. Is it because of that conversation we had the other night? I wasn’t trying to suggest that we should have children. That’s the last thing I’d want right now.”

“I know. It wasn’t that.”

“Was it to do with the miscarriage, what I told you I felt?”

“Christ, no. Maybe. Look, okay, I’ll admit it threw me, but not in the way you think.”

“In what way, then?”

Annie paused, clearly uncomfortable, shifted in her chair and faced away from him, her voice low. “It just made me think about things I’d rather not think about. That’s all.”

“What things?”

“Do you have to know everything?”

“Annie, I care about you. That’s why I’m asking.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, turned her eyes on him and shook her head. “After the rape,” she said, “over two years ago, well… he hadn’t… the one who did it hadn’t… Shit, this is more difficult than I thought.”

Banks felt understanding dawn on him. “You got pregnant. That’s what you’re telling me, right? That’s why this whole business with Sandra is bothering you so much.”

Annie smiled thinly. “Perceptive of you.” She touched his hand and whispered, “Yes. I got pregnant.”

“And?”

Annie shrugged. “And I had an abortion. It wasn’t my best moment, but it wasn’t my worst. I didn’t feel guilty afterward. I didn’t feel much of anything, in fact. But all this… I don’t know… I just want to put it behind me, and being with you always seems to bring it all back, shove it right in my face.”

“Annie-”

“No. Let me finish. You’ve got too much baggage, Alan. Too much for me to handle. I thought it would get easier, go away, maybe, but it hasn’t. You can’t let it go. You’ll never let it go. Your marriage was such a big part of your life for so long that you can’t. You’re hurt and I can’t console you. I don’t do consoling well. Sometimes I just feel too overwhelmed by your life, your past, your problems, and all I want to do is crawl away and be on my own. I can’t get any breathing space.”

Banks stubbed out his cigarette and noticed his hand was shaking a little. “I didn’t know you felt like that.”

“Well, that’s why I’m telling you. I’m not good at commitment, at emotional closeness. Not yet, anyway. Maybe never. I don’t know, but it’s stifling me and scaring me.”

“Can’t we work it out?”

“I don’t want to work it out. I don’t have the energy. This is not what I need in my life right now. That’s the other reason.”

“What?”

“My career. This Janet Taylor fiasco aside, believe it or not, I do love police work and I do have an aptitude for it.”

“I know-”

“No, wait. Let me finish. What we’ve been doing is unprofessional. It’s hard for me to believe that half the station doesn’t already know what we’re up to in private. I’ve heard the sniggers behind my back. Certainly all my colleagues in CID and Complaints and Discipline know. I think Chambers was also dropping a hint when he warned me you were a ladies’ man. I wouldn’t be surprised if ACC McLaughlin knows, too.”

“Relationships on the job aren’t unusual, and they certainly aren’t illegal.”

“No, but they are seriously discouraged and frowned upon. I want to make chief inspector, Alan. Hell, I want to make superintendent, chief constable. Who knows? I’ve rediscovered my ambition.”

It was ironic, Banks thought, that Annie should rediscover her ambition just when he thought he had come to the limits of his. “And I’m standing in your way?”

“Not standing in my way. Distracting me. I don’t need any distractions.”

“All work and no play…”

“So I’ll be dull for a while. It’ll be a nice change.”

“So that’s it, then? Just like that? Over. The end. Because I’m human and I’ve got a past that sometimes rears its ugly head, and because you’ve decided you want to put more effort into your career, we stop seeing each other?”

“If you want to put it like that, yes.”

“What other way is there to put it?”

Annie hurried her pint. Banks could tell she wanted to leave. Damn it, though, he was hurt and angry and he wasn’t going to let her get off that easily.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. You’re not jealous of anyone, are you?”

“Jealous? Of whom? Why should I be?”

“Jenny, perhaps?”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Alan. No, I’m not jealous of Jenny. If I’m jealous of anyone, it’s Sandra. Can’t you see that? She’s got more of a hold on you than anyone.”

“That’s not true. Not anymore.” But Banks remembered the letter, his feelings when he read the cold, business-like words. “Is there someone else? Is that it?” he went on quickly.

“Alan, there’s nobody else. Believe me. I’ve told you. I don’t have room for anyone in my life right now. I can’t cope with anyone else’s emotional demands.”

“What about sexual demands?”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t have to be emotional, sex, does it? I mean, if it’s too much trouble to sleep with someone who actually cares a bit about you, maybe it’d be easier to pick up some stud in a bar for a quick anonymous fuck. No demands. You don’t even have to tell one another your names. Is that what you want?”

“Alan, I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I’d like you to stop right there.”

Banks rubbed his temples. “I’m just upset, Annie, that’s all. I’m sorry. I’ve had a bad day, too.”

“I’m sorry about that. I really don’t want to hurt you.”

He looked her in the eye. “Then don’t. No matter who you get involved with, you’ll have to face things you want to avoid.”

He noticed the tears in her eyes. The only time he’d seen her cry before was when she told him about her rape. He reached out to touch her hand on the table, but she jerked it away. “No. Don’t.”

“Annie-”