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STOP PRESS By MysticMeg Raynes Fanfic has moved. Go back to Homepage for redirection Dedicated to those who lost their lives in the World Trade catastrophe. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Helen and Nikki are in the news business in New York Chapter 1 11th June, 2004 From: Karen Betts, Reuters, London To: Nikki Wade, Reuters, New York Subject: STOP PRESS! Hot news, Nikki. They've just announced your new bureau chief. You're not going to like this...Her name's Helen Stewart, she's 30, she's from Bloomberg. A 'rising star', apparently. I know you had your eye on my job, but there was nothing I could do. And I have to ask you to look after her when she arrives. Show her the ropes, get her settled in - please don't kill her. She's due tomorrow morning, to start on Monday Sorry! Karen "Perfect, just bloody marvellous," muttered Nikki as she glared at her screen, "Some green director's pet, from Bloomberg of all places! I've been here fifteen years, and what thanks do I get? That job was mine! I've been fucking doing it for a month!" She attacked her computer as if it was to blame, hammering out a message to the rest of the staff. Nikki Wade was a force to be reckoned with. As Senior Financial Correspondent in New York, she was well known in finance circles as a ruthlessly dedicated reporter who would let nothing and no-one stand in her way. To her friends, this earned her due respect, but she wasn't lacking in enemies, particularly among the mostly male denizens of the exchange floor. Nikki was true blue Reuters - recruited at graduation, and not likely to ever leave. Her determination had driven her up through the ranks, from assistant producer at 22, through producing, editing, text, TV, ending up in the States. Now 36, she showed no signs of slowing down. She sighed and walked out to the main office to be met with wary looks from the nearby reporters, who were all suddenly very busy. Nik's friend Jessica, a tireless worker and the office godsend, came up to her. "Sorry to hear the news, Nikki." "Thanks Jess, me too. But what can we do? Mysterious are the ways of management." She made an effort to cheer up, "Come on everyone, get working. Have to make a good impression on the new boss!" Nikki walked over to Shaz, a put-upon young intern with spiky blond hair and a permanent grin. "Shaz, can you call London, find out when Miss Stewart's arriving, order a car and go meet her tomorrow." "Sure, shall I bring her here?" "No, not on a Saturday. Call me at home when she arrives and I'll meet you somewhere." "OK." "I'd better ring Karen," Nikki said to herself, walking back to the office that she'd soon be moving out of. - - -- - - -- - - -- - - Early Saturday morning, UK time, Helen Stewart stood in Heathrow Departures, luggage at her feet, arms around her fiance. He extricated himself gently, knowing she had to leave. "Go get 'em, darling," he enthused, "Remember, you deserve this job, and if anyone says otherwise, send them to me." She smiled and shook her head indulgently, "Thanks, Sean." She took a deep breath and stood up straight, defiant. "I'll call you tomorrow." This was it. She picked up her bag, kissed him on the cheek, and marched through the barrier. She took care not to look back, in case she changed her mind. Minutes later, Helen slumped into an uncomfortable chair by the gate. The tantalising displays of socks and ties had failed to attract her - she had bigger things on her mind. For a start, she had never met any of the New York staff, and Karen's hurried assurance that "you'll love them" was not much help. She knew there were English people on the team, and started to dig out her file to find their names. But what was the point, who was to say they'd be any different to the Americans. She groaned, feeling totally thrown in the deep end. And another thing, she'd never even been to the US before. The closest was a drunken college ski trip to Canada, of which her memories were rather hazy. Helen cradled her head in her hands. "What were they thinking?" she thought, "Why me?" Why indeed? Miss Stewart was a Highland girl made good. She'd moved to London for university, where her soft Scottish tones had won her great popularity on the Uni radio station. After leaving college she'd been snapped up by a commercial station, and became a bit of a star. But Helen was destined for higher things. Not just a pretty voice, her good looks and dedication had got her into local TV. After that, Bloomberg was a piece of cake. For five years she'd shone as a skilled reporter and interviewer, renowned for getting the hottest stories out of the toughest subjects. This was thanks to perhaps her greatest talent; a natural empathy towards everyone she met. Helen seemed to have time for anyone and anything. In short, she was an expert motivator, mediator and if not a leader, at least someone you wouldn't mind following. This, of course, was why she'd got the job. Helen arrived at around eleven, New York time. After an endless wait for her bags, she made her way out, where she soon spotted a small blond girl waving a sign saying 'Stuart Reuters'. "Great start," she thought, "can't even get my name right." She approached the girl with a tired smile on her face. "Hi, I'm Helen Stewart." The girl bounced over to her side and insisted on pushing the luggage. "I'm Shaz Wiley. There's a car for you outside." Shaz opened the door for Helen and urged her into the car, explaining, "I've just got to phone Nikki, tell her you're here." "Nikki?" "Nikki Wade, she's been in charge since Karen left." "Ah-ha." Helen felt a sinking sensation - something else she hadn't been told. She had a feeling Miss Wade wouldn't be entirely happy with her new boss. Chapter 2 Shaz stood by the car, listening to Nikki's phone ringing over and over. Finally, someone answered, clearly still half asleep. "Yeah?" "Is that Nikki?" "Nyuh." Shaz heard muffled noises on the line while Nik came to the phone. "Nikki, are you there?" "Mm? Oh, hi Shaz" "I've got Miss Stewart here." "Oh, shit. What time is it?" She looked at the clock and sat up quickly. "OK Shaz. Um, she's staying at Karen's old place on 94. So...bring her to the Barking Dog, 94 and 3rd, we'll have brunch. Then you can take the bags to her building." "94 and 3rd. Right, see you there." Nikki started to get up, while Trish moaned about being woken so early. "Where you going?" "I've gotta meet my new boss ." "Uh. Do you want me to come?" "No point, really. I'll only be a couple of hours." She jumped in the shower, then deliberated for a minute over what to wear. She decided to go quite smart, make it clear she wasn't someone to mess with. So she picked out some dark linen trousers and a sharp blue shirt. With her cropped black hair and tall build, Nik could sometimes be a little intimidating. But she had no problem with that. Ten minutes later, Nikki was on her way, hurrying to get to the diner in time. She made it just as Helen's car pulled up. She was standing by the door as the new Chief got out. "Morning, Miss Stewart." Nikki started as she meant to go on, with chilly formality. "Morning," the Scot straightened up and turned to Nikki, "And please call me Helen." "Nikki Wade," she put out her hand, "Finance correspondent." Helen took Nikki's hand in a firm grip and looked her resolutely in the eye. Nikki looked the new arrival up and down. At once Helen was conscious of her travel-worn shirt and comfy old jeans compared to the immaculate dress of the woman in front of her. "Pleased to meet you." Nikki would not be drawn into civilities, instead, she got right to the point; "Karen asked me to help you settle in." "That's very kind of you." Nikki made no response, merely raised an eyebrow slightly. "Would you excuse me a moment." She turned to Shaz and started telling her what to do next. "Well that went well!" thought Helen, wondering at the other's barely concealed hostility. She looked over to where Nikki stood with Shaz. She noted the confident air, the aggressive stance, the violent gestures. Everything about Miss Wade spoke of tightly coiled energy under practised control. Then Nik turned around, saw Helen watching her. Helen did not look away. They stood like that for a second, before Nikki turned to the door, saying "Shall we go in?" Helen moved forward as Nikki stepped back, "After you." They sat down and talked lightly about the food, then ordered their meals. Soon Nikki got back to business. "So Karen told you you're getting her appartment?" "Yes, furnished too." "Her lease runs out at the end of the month, so if you don't like it -" "I'm sure it's lovely." Helen sensed an opening here. "Karen seemed very nice." "Yeah, she's a good friend of mine." Nikki's tone of voice, and her fierce glare across the table, convinced Helen that this was a sensitive point, and better not mentioned. An awkward pause followed, while Helen racked her brains for a harmless conversation starter - anything to thaw out her frosty friend. "So how long have you been here, Nikki?" "New York, seven years, Reuters for fifteen." Helen nodded in acknowledgement, "Impressive." "Straight after college," Nikki added, immediately wondering why she had done so. "What did you study?" "English." "Really, I almost did myself. Took it for A-level, then I picked psychology instead. Too nosy, I guess." Helen grinned mischievously as a silly idea occurred to her, "So what's your favourite Shakespeare? I can tell a lot from that, you know. Despite herself, Nikki couldn't suppress a smile. "Hmm - I suppose I'd say 'Romeo and Juliet' " "Me too!" Helen was genuinely delighted, "How does it go?" She struck a pose, "But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?> It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon' Nikki broke in and continued dramatically, "Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she' -Aah, classic!" she exclaimed, "Gets you every time." She relaxed in her chair and turned more towards Helen. "Although I'd love to play Lady Macbeth." "Mm, I could see you as her, all dark and brooding." No response, and Helen thought she had gone too far, but then Nikki exploded with a snort of laughter, "Some compliment, Helen - You think I'd make a good murderer?!" Helen collapsed in silent mirth, intoxicated by the released tension. "I'm sorry!" But Nikki wasn't going to let up completely. She decided to test Helen's seeming affection for the Bard. "Oh, no - I think I'd see you as...Celia" "Oh? The sidekick?" Helen could play this game. "And you'd be Rosalind, would you?" Nikki smiled. She still had a few cards left to play. "I dunno, I think I'm more of a Viola -" "Leaving me Olivia." At that Nik gave her a look. 'What did I say?' Helen thought. They chatted amicably during the meal, until Helen thought to check the time. "Shit, look at that. I have to ring Sean!" "Your husband?" "Fiance. I said I'd call him today. He doesn't even know where I'm staying." "Let's go then. I've got someone waiting at home - probably still in bed." "I'd love to meet him." Nikki just smiled and signalled for the cheque. They walked over to the appartment, just 2 blocks away on 94th. A quick tour, then she was off, promising to call later on. - - -- - - -- - - -- - - The flat was lovely, with two bedrooms and a river view, and the job was a big step up, but Helen was feeling decidedly down. She'd travelled thousands of miles, and for what? Speaking to Sean had helped for a while, but now she felt terribly alone. She lay on the bed, among the debris of her abandoned unpacking, waiting for Nikki to call. She hoped she could be friends with the unpredictable Miss Wade. "One minute she hates me, the next it's like we've known each other for years." Ever-perceptive, Helen mused she had caught a glimpse of Nikki softer side. The psychologist in her wondered why this renowned hard-ass kept up the act. Whatever, Helen had enjoyed her company and looked forward to working with her. Back home with Nikki, Trish was getting restless. "So are we going out tonight?" "Yeah, how about a bit of a girls night? I've got to show Helen a good time." "Oh, it's Helen now is it? You've changed your tune." Trish threw herself down on the sofa next to Nikki. "Come on then, what's she like?" "Surprisingly nice, actually. Small, Scottish, and very easy to get on with. I think you'll like her." "I'd better, or I'll get you sacked!" "Leave it out, Trish," "What, have I touched a nerve? Should I be worried? I know you and powerful women!" Nikki silenced her with a bombardment of cushions. The tone of this conversation soon degenerated, and some minutes later they got up, re-adjusted items of clothing, and Nik finally got to the phone. "Hello?" "Hi Helen, it's Nikki." "Oh hi, I was just thinking about you." Nikki wasn't sure what to say, put ploughed on; "You must be bored! Do you fancy a drink tonight? I'm getting some of the gang together, give you a chance to meet them." "Sounds great - when and where?" "Hm, do you have a map?" "I think so, hold on a sec...Yep, here it is." "OK. You're at 94 and 1st, the subway's at 96 and Lex. That 3 blocks over and two up. Then you'll need a metro card. Have you got any change?" "Not much." "That's OK, you can use your credit card in the machine. Get a thirty dollar card - that should last you a while. Then take the downtown local to Union Square, we'll meet you there...around seven?" Helen scribbled down the directions, "96 and Lex, get ticket, downtown local to Union Square, seven. Got it!" "See you later then." "Seeya, bye." On the plus side, thought Helen, she didn't have to drown her sorrows at home (she'd noticed Karen's well stocked drinks cabinet), but then she had a whole crowd of new people to meet and was feeling pretty wasted already with jet-lag. At least Nikki would be there too. Sitting on the train as it approached seven o'clock, Helen realised she'd misjudged the length of the trip. "God, I hope they'll wait." She ran up the steps at almost quarter past, convinced they'd have left. She stood panting at the top, trying to regain some dignity. Then a piercing whistle grabbed her attention. She turned towards the sound to see Shaz waving frantically from over the road; "Over here, Helen!" She pulled herself together and went to meet them. "Hi, Helen, we'd almost given up on you." "Sorry, it was the train." Nikki waved her over to make the introductions. "Everyone, this is Helen Stewart, my new boss. She's just come over from London." Helen could feel the women sizing her up. "They can't all be Reuters," she thought, "I'm outnumbered!" "Helen, this is Tricia," she indicated the chic blond woman at her side, "She anchors for CNN." Trish gave her a smile. "Shaz you've met, she's our intern. And next to her is Denny, the fastest courier in the city." A tall, spaced-looking girl gave her a wave, "Hey, man ." "And this," she said, pointing out a woman whose wolfish grin had Helen slightly worried, "is Yvonne Atkins, my mate from the exchange." "Your mate!" countered Yvonne, "Top trader, more like. Pleased to meet you, darlin'." Yvonne turned to Nikki, "Jess not coming then, Nik?" "Nope, I told her you were and she suddenly had loads of laundry to do." "Hah! What's she think I'm gonna do, kill 'er?" "With you, who knows?" "Let's go," urged Trish, "What's the plan?" After some debate, a bar was decided on, and they went. Yvonne shepherded Helen along, and never being one to hold back, started on the twenty questions. "Where do you come from, Helen? "A village not far from Aberdeen." "How long have you been in TV?" "Uh, I was on LWT for a year, then Bloomberg for five." "Another ten, and you'll catch up with Nikki." Yvonne was only half joking. "Yeah," Helen sighed. Yvonne never lost a chance to cry up her friend, and with Shaz and Denny fawning around her like a pair of puppies, Helen began to feel she was at a Nikki Wade convention. "If she's do great, why didn't she get the bleeding job?" However, things improved somewhat when they got to the bar. Although it was busy for the time of night, Yvonne and Nikki combined never failed to get a table. Nik stationed herself with Helen on one side and Trish on the other, while Shaz and Denny amused each other on the other side of the table, and Yvonne went off to the bar. Helen began to settle down and pay attention to the conversation next to her when Atkins returned. She plonked the drinks down, went back, and returned with Nikki's and her own. "'Ere you go, DJ." She slid in next to Denny. Helen was nonplussed. "What did you call her?" "You mean you 'aven't heard?" Yvonne grinned dangerously. "Our Nikki is famous in these parts. Down on the floor we call her DJ." Helen turned to Nikki, "Am I being stupid here?" "No," laughed Nik, "you'll never guess. DJ -I'm the official Dow Jones Dyke. Can't remember how it started, but -" she shrugged, "they say notoriety is as good as fame." Helen didn't know what to say. "I...you're right, I wouldn't have guessed." Now her embarrassment was compounded as Trish turned to her, arm draped round Nik, and said, "Who 'd you think I was, Helen? Room-mate?" The others fell about laughing. Helen's head hit the table as she blushed furiously. "Oh, hell." Chapter 3 Helen was rudely awakened on Sunday morning by a shaft of sunlight blazing right into her eyes. "Should've shut the bloody curtains," she mumbled, turning over and trying to get back to sleep. But although her body wanted to sleep, her mind would not shut down again. She sighed and creakily opened her eyes. As she came to, Helen subconsciously went through her standard post-drinking checklist; "Clothes? Yes. Partner? Thank God, no. Headache? Blinding. Embarrassment level? Astronomical!" She groaned, remembering last night's fiasco. "Brilliant start, Helen. Way to make an arse of yourself in front of the staff." She sorted through the various feelings warring for predominance. Anger at herself for being so blind, mortification at her apparent cluelessness, and not least of all, a considerable dislike for Trish. Her cool assurance and finesse, her perfectly pressed WASPish good looks, her continual presence at Nikki's side, her self-satisfied, too-loud laugh - maddening. Not to mention the triumphant look on her face at making a fool of the new girl. What did Nikki see in her? Moping around in bed all day wasn't going to make things better. Helen dragged herself up, thinking she really should have gone shopping before now. "This is Manhattan," she thought, "Somewhere'll be open." So off she went. An hour or so later she returned. Her mood had not been improved by discovering that a Scottish accent, admittedly thickened by her tiredness and hangover, seemed to be quite incomprehensible to the mostly immigrant shopkeepers in that area. Having eventually bought the food, she wasn't hungry enough to bother making anything. She wandered over to the phone, thinking whether it was a good time to call home, then noticed the message light flashing on the answerphone. She didn't want to hear from anyone who had her number, but pressed it anyway. "Helen, it's Nikki. Look, I'm really sorry about last night. We didn't mean to embarrass you. Honestly, I thought you knew. I won't say it wasn't funny, but I could see you weren't laughing. And sorry about Trish, she can be a bit - over protective. I really don't want us to start off on the wrong foot. Anyway, I'll call you this afternoon, fill you in ready for tomorrow." Nikki had made an effort to be positive, but even after talking to Helen that afternoon, she could not help wondering how this softly-spoken, unpretending young woman would fare in the relentless, heartless world of American media. - - -- - - -- - - -- - - That question was not far from Helen's thoughts as she approached her imposing Times Square office on Monday morning. But looking at her, you would never have guessed. Miss Stewart was every inch the rising young professional. Heads turned as she entered, immaculately dressed in a soft beige suit and lilac blouse, her rich brown hair smartly bobbed, her green eyes bright and her step brisk. One particular set of eyes fixed on her belonged to a certain security guard, who stepped forward eagerly to greet her at the front desk. "Morning," began Helen, sizing up this smirking, middle-aged individual with some distaste, "I'm looking for Reuters TV. I'm starting work there today." "Ah, you must be Miss Stewart, they're expecting you." His oily voice gave her the same slightly uncomfortable feeling as his face. "That's right." "I'm Jim Fenner. Let me show you up." Fenner stepped out from behind the desk and ushered her towards the lifts. He followed just a little too closely behind; territorial, possessive. He unsubtly waited for an empty elevator so he could have her all to himself. Helen stood tensely facing the door, while Jim spent the next thirty seconds leaning against the wall, blatantly looking her up and down, and evidently enjoying what he saw. Arriving at their floor, Jim then walked her painfully slowly across the lobby. As he spoke Helen tried to ignore his false platitudes and assurances; "...No one knows this place like I do, so really, if you need anything, anything at all..." Fenner held open the door to the main office and swept her through, to the curious glances of nearby staff. She felt her anger rising; this wasn't going as planned. So she cut him off sharply, fixing him with a steely glare; "Mr Fenner, you may think otherwise, but my job is to run this office, yours is to watch the doors. May I suggest you get back there and bloody well do it!" Helen laughed to herself as he turned without a word and left. Her smile grew wider as she spotted Nikki approaching, a matching grin on her face. "Some way to start the day, Helen!" Nikki's approval was shared by the rest of the staff. After ten minutes of jokes and congratulations, Helen was almost ready to thank Fenner . Judging by the reactions around her, there could have been few better ways to make an entrance. Amidst all the excitement, most of the staff had now gathered round. Nikki took this opportunity to make the introductions. "Attention please, everyone." Silence fell, and those few still at their desks looked up. "This is Helen Stewart, our new bureau chief. I know you'll all do what you can to make her feel welcome. " Helen had caught her eye, and Nik correctly guessed the new boss had something to say. " - Helen?" "Thank you, Nikki. I would like a few words," she paused, "or a few more, at least," they laughed appreciatively, "I'm new to Reuters, and from what I saw of Karen in London, I have a tough act to follow. I hope you'll all be patient with me as I settle in, and I'd appreciate any advice you can give. But don't think I'm letting things slip round here - business as usual, all right... So get back to work!" Nikki then gave Helen the tour. It did not take long, as TV was one of the smallest departments. There was the large studio, with it's view of Times Square providing an impressive backdrop to their reports. Then the small studio, and various editing suites and storage rooms. The main office was slightly overfilled with desks, but was nonetheless airy and open; most of the far wall was a window opening onto the busy streets below. They ended up in Helen's own office - a jealously guarded privilege (although in concession to the modern design, it had no door). "So that's about it," concluded Nikki. "My desk's just there by the window, so you can always give me a wave if you're in trouble. Of course half the time I'm down on Wall Street." Nikki seemed reluctant to leave. "Well what now? I should show you how to use the system." She indicated Helen's computer. "You've been very good, but I don't want to be a nuisance - I'm sure you're very busy." "It's no trouble. I'm not due downtown 'till this afternoon, and I worked late on Friday so I'd be free today." "Oh, you shouldn't have." "No really, I promised Karen I'd look after you." "OK then, lets get to grips with this thing." She grimaced. Computers were not her friends. Helen sat down at her desk, and Nikki pulled up a chair next to her. "I warn you, technology isn't really my thing." She smiled sheepishly. "You'll be fine. It's pretty simple once you've got the hang of it." Nikki proceeded to demonstrate. She had to lean right in to use the mouse, bringing her closer to Helen than she was entirely comfortable with. Once Nik had gone through everything, Helen took off her jacket, pulled her chair closer, and had a go for herself. Nikki however had only half her attention on the screen. She could not help glancing at the woman next to her, watching as Helen frowned slightly, bit her lip in concentration, irritably pushed her hair behind her ears. "Damn it, what have I done!" Nikki started guiltily. "It's nothing, look." She placed her hand on the mouse over Helen's. Suddenly she felt rather warm, which was strange because the whole building was air-conditioned practically to freezing point. Their eyes met briefly, before both looked away. "There, you've got it." She moved her hand quickly, sat back and folded her arms. Helen went through the rest with reasonable competence. "What did I say, anyone can do it." "Idiot-proof, you mean." Helen laughed and after a moment Nikki joined in. But rather than meet the Scot's eye, she stood, saying, "I'd better leave you to it then." "Thanks, Nikki. I really appreciate this." At that Nik turned back and did meet Helen's eye. Smiling, she said, "Any time." The new Chief watched as Nikki strode back to her desk. Or in theory she strode, but it seemed almost everyone had something to say to her as she passed. Helen could not hear what was said, but she could see the smiles, the laughter. Again she wondered how Nik could not have got this job. Shaking her head ruefully, she got to work. Chapter 4 With her new friend's help, the rest of the week was less eventful than Helen would have thought. That summer, New York was going through a rather dry period for news. So with little to cover, Helen's job consisted mainly of budgeting, scheduling, and sorting out endless petty hitches and disputes. One highlight of her day was the look on Jim's face as she him passed every morning. The guard made every possible effort not to notice her, staring fixedly into the distance as if his mind was on higher things. But Helen made a point of catching his eye and forcing him to acknowledge her. Each painful grimace or grudging nod made her morning. However, Fenner-baiting was not her only amusement. Lunch breaks were also of great interest, as Helen became acquainted with the seemingly endless parade of oddballs in the canteen each day. At the top of anyone's list would have been the two Julies, who served the meals. They were more like doubles than friends, continually baffling Helen by their uncanny psychic ability to know what the other was thinking. Her first encounter went something like this; "Hiya, we're Julie S..." "...And Julie J. You must be Miss Stewart..." "...Nikki's new boss." "We've heard a lot about you, ain't we, Ju?" "Yeah, loads. So what d'ya want to eat? I wouldn't have the pizza..." "Nah, me neither, we'd have the salad, it's better..." "...For the figure, ain't it." " Much better."
When Helen could finally get a word in, she picked something at random and escaped hurriedly, thinking she might catch some kind of bottle-blonde dementia. Further meetings with Dopey Di Barker the receptionist and others, made Helen wonder what kind of business they were running here - Misfits anonymous? Freaks r us? But of course, everyone was not that bad. Nikki was very helpful in pointing out those worth getting to know. Helen shared a pleasant half-hour with Barbara Hunt, a quiet, motherly woman who ruled over the text floor, Josh the young cameraman and his girlfriend Crystal from HR. Thankfully, the TV floor was a haven of relative sanity. However, towards the end of the week, Helen noticed a change in little Shaz. The girl was not her usual manic self, but was now withdrawn and distracted. When she had not improved by Thursday, Helen decided to take the matter in hand. She called the intern into her office. "Come in Shaz, sit down." Helen noticed the terrified, rabbit-in-headlights look on her face. "Don't worry, you haven't done anything wrong." Shaz breathed again and flopped into a chair. "Now I've noticed you haven't been yourself lately. Is anything the matter?" "No Miss, everything's fine." But the droop of her shoulders spoke differently. Helen got up and sat on the corner of the desk next to the poor girl. "Listen, I only want to help you. I know something's wrong, and I'm worried about you, that's all." Shaz looked up at her uncertainly, but saw only concern in Helen's face. The Scot could see she was almost there. "Is there really nothing you can tell me?" Helen squeezed the other's shoulder encouragingly. Shaz could hold back no longer. "It's Denny," she murmured, trying to hold back tears. "Tuesday I was supposed to meet her, but I had to work late. She said...she said I stood her up. It's happened before, but now..." She couldn't go on. Helen gently finished for her, "She won't speak to you?" She nodded. Helen thought about what she could do to help. "Who made you stay late?" "Nikki." Shaz looked up quickly, "Don't tell her, Miss, please. I can't. Last time talked to her, but I can't ask her again." "It's OK, Shaz, I won't tell anyone." Helen got up and passed her some tissues. "You stay here 'till you feel better. I'll sort this out." She left quickly, missing Shaz's grateful look. Helen went to the intern's desk and quickly found Denny's mobile number. She picked up the phone and dialled, hoping the courier would be free. " 'ello?" "Denny? It's Helen Stewart, at Reuters. Are you busy?" "Nah, I'm between calls." "Great. Can you get here as soon as you can. I've got something very important for you." "I was going to have my lunch-break." "It really can't wait." Denny sighed, "All right, I'll be there 'bout half an hour." Helen crossed her fingers and went to grab some lunch herself. She was back at her desk when Denny called from reception. Helen told her to come up, then quickly ushered Shaz back into the office. Denny was muttering angrily to herself as she slouched through the building; "Better be bleedin' important, taking up my break. What the hell has she got for me." She reached Helen's door and looked up. Immediately she saw Shaz, and their eyes met. Neither girl could speak. After what seemed an age, Shaz found her voice; "I'm sorry, Den." The taller girl said nothing, but did not look away. Shaz spoke again through her tears, "I missed you." No-one could have missed the desperate pain in her voice, least of all Denny. "Me too." Suddenly they were in each other's arms, tears and apologies forgotten. Helen left them to it. - -- - -- - -- - Friday night was drinks night again. Shaz and Denny came along, and insisted on singing "Miss Stewart"'s praises at every possible opportunity. By the time the group got to the bar, they'd told the story at least twice each, until Helen was ready to throttle them. After they'd thanked her for the thousandth time, she had to say something. "Look, to start with my name's Helen, I'm not your teacher. And secondly, - you're embarrassing me! Can you talk about something else, please." To top off Helen's night, Trish was on her case again, annoyed at being out of the limelight for once. She was more obnoxious than ever, insisting on reminding everyone of last week, then ignoring Helen when she wasn't interrupting her. Even Nikki was annoyed after a while, and when Helen went to the bar, Nik followed. "I'm sorry about Trish. I don't know what's got into her tonight." "It's OK. " Helen tried to be tactful, thankful she hadn't had enough to drink to loosen her tongue. "She's harmless." "Anyway, I'm impressed. Looking after those two can be a full time job. " Helen smiled. "They make a lovely couple, though." Nikki nodded, looking at the pair. Her eyes drifted to Trish, who gave her a little wave. Nikki frowned and turned away, back to Helen. Chapter 5 Helen woke on Saturday to the depressing prospect of a weekend alone. She dragged out the morning for as long as possible, idling over breakfast and coffee, but after that, the appartment felt empty and unfamiliar. She had to get out. New York certainly had no lack of amusements on offer. She dug out her guide book, and in the end decided to visit the Met. As a child, Helen had never even seen an art gallery, so now she loved to make up for lost time. After an infuriating queue to get in, Helen strolled through the Greek and Roman section. The blank white space, with it's elegant stonework and statuary, felt soothing to her troubled thoughts. The cool, clear lines and noble, stately figures seemed in some way to encourage gentle reflection. She found her thoughts turning to a passage from Middlemarch, one of her favourite novels. In it the heroine is overwhelmed by a visit to Rome, where "the long vistas of white forms whose marble eyes seemed to hold the monotonous light of an alien world: all this vast wreck of ambitious ideals, sensuous and spiritual, mixed confusedly with the signs of breathing forgetfulness and degradation, at first jarred her as with an electric shock, and then urged themselves on her with that ache belonging to a glut of confused ideas which check the flow of emotion. " Helen could not but draw parallels between Dorothea and herself. Both were thrown, friendless, into a new life, a new world. Like Eliot's character, Helen felt anchor-less, adrift from the people and places she had known. She then drifted upstairs to the Old Masters exhibition. For a while the art distracted her, but soon Helen found her mind wandering again. She was just not in the mood, couldn't take it in. So she ended up in the museum café, lost in vague contemplation of those around her. At a nearby table sat a young couple around her own age. They sat opposite each other, a dark, intense-looking man and his willowy, bird-like wife or partner. Helen couldn't help overhearing them in deep discussion over the finer points of the exhibition they'd just seen. Both had only eyes, and ears, for the other. Helen sighed, wondering if she's ever have this with Sean. As yet, he had never accompanied her to gallery or theatre, saying she'd enjoy it more with one of her girlfriends. But when they were married, surely things would be different. She turned away, not liking where this train of thought was headed. On the other side of the room sat an old couple, hands clasped together on the table-top. These two were not looking at each other, just sitting back, comfortable together. Occasionally, one would turn to the other and make some quiet remark, hardly expecting a reply. There was no pointless conversation - nothing needed to be said. Helen couldn't think of anyone in her life with whom she was so relaxed, so at peace. At that moment, she needed reassurance, needed conversation. She got up and hurried home. As soon as she got through the door, Helen went to the phone and dialled Sean's number at the flat they'd shared. Between every ring she willed him to pick up. But no, the answerphone clicked in and, for the umpteenth time that week, Helen heard her own distant voice. She sighed, thinking he wouldn't bother to change it 'till she came back. Leaving her message, Helen struggled to keep the needy tone from her voice; "Hi, it's me. I'll try again later." She tried again, and again, but still nothing. She tried him at work - voicemail. Helen was starting to worry. Then she thought to check her inbox, see if he'd sent anything... "No New Messages". Was something wrong? Even if there was, she had no way of knowing. What could she do but send him yet another email; "Sean, I'm just wondering if you're OK. If you're too busy to call, at least reply to this. Hxx" Defeated, she retired to bed with some wine and a good book. The first thing Helen did the next morning was to pick up her laptop and bring it back to bed. She switched it on...thank God, "1 New Message." You'd think Sean would make an effort, after two days of silence, but Helen was disappointed - one measly line; "Stop worrying, Helen. Everything's fine." "That's it?!" She could feel her anger rising. Helen stalked into the lounge, grabbed the phone, and threw herself onto the couch, determined not to move until she'd got the bastard to answer. This time, he did. "Sean! Where the hell have you been?" As always, Helen's accent got stronger as her blood pressure rose. "Where do you think?" he replied, peevishly, "At home or at work. I have a job too, you know." "You weren't last night." "No, I wasn't." "So - where were you?" "I, er..." he hesitated, "I was out with some people from work." "Who?" "What is this, Helen? Don't you trust me any more?" Sean always made her feel bad when he was in the wrong. "Of course I do." She tried to calm down, explaining herself to him as ever. "I'm sorry. I miss you, here on my own." "Me too." "So, how's it going over there." "So-so. Nothing new, really. Look, I'd love to chat, but I've gotta go. I'm meeting Mike at the gym." "OK, love you." "Bye." What was going on? He had been so cold, so indifferent. And since when did Sean ever go to the gym? Worst of all, Helen had no-one here to turn to. She thought for a minute of phoning Nikki. But the chance that that bitch Trish might answer was enough to put her off. She spent the rest of the day feeling more alone than ever. Helen knew she was depressed when she found herself looking forward to Monday morning. - - -- - - -- - - -- - - She needn't have bothered. Monday was, quite frankly, a crap day. It was one of those days where the clouds sink down below the tops of the buildings, smothering the city in a sweltering steam bath. Helen sweated doggedly through it. When she ventured outside again at lunch-time, the weather decided to break. Splashing her way back to the building, Helen thought, "At least in London, it's cooler in the rain." Here, the reverse seemed true; the water evaporating off the hot streets actually increased the humidity. Nobody dared comment when the boss arrived back like a drowned rat, dripping all over the nice clean floors. She stood in her doorway for a moment, as if daring them to say anything. Then she grasped the tattered remains of her dignity to ask, "Is Nikki about?" Jess answered; "No, she went straight downtown today." "All right for some," muttered Helen, wishing she had a door to slam behind her. The next day was less wet, but just as humid. Again Helen found Nik had gone straight to the exchange. She could catch the subway direct, with less than five minutes to walk at either end. All day Helen had been looking forward to leaving early, going home for a nice long bath. But she ended up spending the whole afternoon and most of the evening on the phone to the computer department. Apparently their intranet had been hacked into, and Helen was supposed to deal with this. She wasn't helped by her complete ignorance on any aspect of the problem. By the time it was sorted, Helen dreaded to think what kind of stone-age idiot the techs thought was in charge. By then, it was almost eight o'clock. Her empty flat no longer held such an attraction. Having intercepted a call from an irate Trish, Helen knew that Nikki was working late too. She hadn't yet been to Wall St, so decided to go and find out where her friend spent so much time. Chapter 6 Nikki leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. She noticed with surprise that both cubicles next to hers were now empty. "It must be late" she thought, dazedly. There was normally someone about on the news floor. She craned her neck to look down the corridor, but saw that all four 'offices' (if you could call them that), and the control room were empty. She stretched wearily and got back to it. There was a lot to catch up with, since last week she'd been tied up looking after Helen. Some minutes later, an unexpected voice made her start and turn around. "Evening, Miss Wade." "Oh, Hi Pablo. She nodded to the stocky, Latino janitor as he swept his way along the carpet. "You're working late tonight." This time, Nikki barely turned round. "Yeah, loads to do." She hoped he'd get the message. "Your girlfriend not waiting for you." Nikki was no longer paying attention, and missed the bitter, venomous tone in his voice. "No, she's at home." Pablo stopped any pretence of working and stood in the doorway. The office was little more than a desk along one wall and a workstation at the end, at a right-angle from the desk. Sitting as she was at the computer, Nikki had her back to him. "I see," he muttered, an unsteady hand moving towards his pocket. "You like your job, do you?" he asked, idly. "Mmhm." Now there was a dangerous tremor in his voice. "You like your life?!" "Yes?" she answered, distractedly. Cat-like, he stepped closer. Alerted by some sixth sense, Nikki spun around, tense as a wire. All at once, he grabbed her round the neck, dragged her out of the chair, and before Nikki knew what was happening, she was slammed against the wall, a knife to her throat. "You like this!" he hissed, furiously, crazy spittle spattering her face. "No! Please!" At this moment, Helen arrived on the floor. It was eerily quiet. Not even the ever-present sound of typing. All Helen heard was the hissing of the air-conditioners. She quickened her step, following the directions she'd been given. Perhaps Nikki had gone home, and she'd come all the way here for nothing. But no, in the dim, out-of-hours lighting, Helen spotted a dark shape through the glass walls of the cubicles. Then she stopped dead as she saw what it was - a wild-looking man had Nikki against the wall, from all appearances about to cut her throat! "Oh my God, Nikki! Are you OK?" Nikki's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to warn Helen away. "Get in here, bitch! - slowly." snarled Pablo. He motioned her to stand with her back to the computer, the knife never moving. "And don't try anything, or you know what'll happen." At that he pricked Nikki's throat. She was unable to stifle a cry as a tiny drop of blood welled out. "So who have we here? Come to take her home, have you?" "She's my boss!" Nikki reasoned, desperately. "Oh really. You think I'm an idiot?" His mind was made up. Angrily, he went on, "A, she's too fuckin' young, and B, just look at her!" Nikki did look. Helen was deathly pale, trembling, her tear filled eyes fixed immovably on the other woman. As their eyes met, Helen made a huge effort to pull herself together, to take stock of the situation. As she did so, Nikki tried again to reason with him. "What have I done to you, Pablo? What have I ever done to hurt you? You don't know me, you hardly ever see me." Sweat broke out on his forehead, he gritted his teeth and spat out, "You make me sick, all of you. When I think about you, every time I see you..." Helen took advantage of his distraction. Reaching out behind her, she felt the keyboard under her hands. She knew Nikki used it for live news updates. What if that was what she had been doing? What if the window was still open? What if she could call for help? Would someone see it? - Far too many ifs, but it was their only chance. Like all journalists, Helen could touch-type. But could she do it backwards? There was one way to find out. Ever so slowly, she typed; "WADE, STEWART HOSTAGE NYSE 911 HELP ASAP" After that, all she could do was pray. But then her psychological training came to the fore. Listening carefully as he ranted on, Helen though she spotted a flaw in his arguments. Gently, she asked him, "Who, Pablo, who makes you sick?" "You fuckin' queers, that's who!" "Has no-one else hurt you? Someone you know?" "Shut up!" By the agitation in his face, Helen knew she was getting somewhere. Suddenly, the phone rang. And rang. They all stared, transfixed. Then Pablo viciously kicked out and knocked it to the floor. Nikki looked at Helen in the ensuing silence, willing her to go on. The Scot almost smiled in triumph as she spotted the wedding band on his finger. "Does your wife know you're here? Does she want you to go to jail?" "My wife wouldn't give a damn!" he screamed, staring at her wildly. "I don't think that's true, Pablo. Do you?" "Yes!" tears of rage sprang to his eyes. "Why?" she continued, calmly. "Because..." he was openly crying now, "Because she's a fuckin' dyke, that's why! Her and my fuckin' sister!!" His fists clenched. His arm tightened around Nikki, choking her. Again the knife was at her throat. Then Helen dropped the bombshell; "But she still loves you." He shook his head like a child, looking down at the floor. "Love doesn't go away, Pablo. She loved you when she married you and she loves you now." He wept anguished, desperate tears. "And you love her, don't you" He slumped, defeated. He stood in the middle of the room, shoulders stopped, tears dripping onto his boots. "More than anything!" "Then you can work it out, - just talk to her. It'll be OK." He fell back against the wall, slid down to the floor. He seemed to have forgotten they were there. Helen turned to see the police arriving in the lift. Silently, the two friends just walked out. Now they were out of danger they just stood in the lobby, looking at each other, as the police filed past. Helen was the first to speak, moving forward in real concern. "Are you OK?" "I think so." But Nikki's looks belied her words. She staggered and almost fell, when Helen swiftly slid an arm around her. Nikki leant on the smaller woman, exhausted. Then Nik straightened up. She grasped Helen by both shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. "Helen, you were amazing. You could have been killed." "No, you could have been. And I wasn't going to let that happen." A highly charged silence followed, the tension almost visible. Nikki's deep brown eyes stared searchingly into Helen's, seeming to gaze right into her heart. Helen abruptly broke away and said, with forced levity, "Just think how it'd look on my record!" Nikki didn't laugh. "I'll never forget this." "Stop it!" She blushed, moving to the opening lift. "Let's get home." They stumbled out into the atrium to be met by a frantic Trish, actually appearing in public in a non-matching outfit. She rushed up to Nikki, covered her with kisses, "You're all right!" "Thank Helen for that." "It was you!" she turned to Helen, all animosity forgotten "If we hadn't got that message..." "What?" Nikki was lost. "The message on the wire - Babs saw it and called the cops. We owe you one, Helen." Trish led Nikki off without another word being said. Helen stood watching them. As they left, Nikki turned back to Helen and mouthed silently, "Thank you." Helen watched until they were out of sight. Chapter 7 Coming into work on Wednesday, Helen was conscious of a flat, dazed feeling, as if someone had died. For the first time in years, she was going to be late. She dismissed the thought, figuring today, at least, she'd be cut some slack. As she walked through the office, silence blossomed outwards. Heads turned, phone calls were abruptly cut short. Then someone began to clap. Seconds later, everyone was doing it. Helen shook her head, blushing hotly, willing them to stop. Jess saw her embarrassment and walked over, waving the others into silence. She also noticed Helen looking around, evidently searching for someone. "Nikki called in sick," said Jess quietly. "She told us what you did, Helen." When her boss didn't reply, Jess began again. But Helen interrupted her, speaking the only thing on her mind, "Is she all right?" "She's fine. I'm sure Trish is looking after her." A flicker of anger, resentment even, passed across Helen's face. It was gone so quickly that Jess almost thought she'd imagined it. By now, a few people had plucked up the courage to approach Miss Stewart in her new, god-like state. She shrank back from them, knowing she had to make herself clear before things got out of hand. "Look, I know you all mean well, but you don't understand. Last night...I did what I could in an extremely distressing situation. I'd appreciate not being reminded of it." She retreated into her office. As she was leaving, Shaz remarked to Jess, "What was that about? If I was her, I'd want a medal or something." "Well you're not. Just leave it, will you." Helen left having her lunch until she thought most people would have finished. She sidled into the cafeteria and took an empty table in the corner. But as soon as she began to relax, Barbara appeared, bearing a sheaf of papers and a determined expression. That women seemed to have a knack for popping up at odd moments - otherwise she'd been stalking Helen all day. Regardless of Miss Stewart's studious attempts to ignore her, Babs sat down at her table. "I was hoping to catch you here." "I really don't want to hear it." The older woman peered accusingly at Helen over the rim of her glasses. "How do you know what I'm going to say?" "Because everyone wants to tell me what a 'hero' I am." "Well I was going to say that, yes..." Helen put her head in her hands. "...but there's something else as well." She pulled out one of the printouts she always seemed to carry around. "I've written an outline of what happened last night, and I was going to ask you to fill in the rest." "And what were you planning to do with it?" Barbara hesitated, surprised at the ominous tone in Helen's voice. "I...put it out as news, of course." "What news?" Babs was confused. "You saved someone's life, Helen." "No, Barbara, I tried to help someone I care about. Have you thought about what this could do to the company...to Nikki? 'DOW-JONES DYKE IN HOSTAGE SHOCK' - We'd never hear the end of it." "But people should know what you did." "Why? Don't I have a say in this?" Something else occurred to her. "And what about that poor man - he needs help, not a bloody media spotlight." Everything Helen said was a source of fresh amazement to Barbara. "He could have killed you..." Helen made no acknowledgement, "...both of you." But that did get through to her. She bit her lip and shook her head rapidly, as if trying to dislodge the thought. Babs began to wonder if there was something else holding her back. What was the Scot afraid of? She picked up her papers and got up to leave, knowing when she was beaten. "All right, if you're sure." "I'm sure. No story." Helen waited as a pensive Barbara walked out, then hurried back herself, all appetite gone. She walked into her office, head down, started to sit, then was confronted by the most expensive, luxurious flower arrangement she'd ever seen. Lilies, roses, and God knows what were all over her desk. She flopped into her chair, and laughed all the harder when she realised she couldn't even see over them! However, there was a breathless, hysterical quality to the laughter. Helen had been engaged for nearly two years, and the first flowers she received were from a woman. For undoubtedly they were from Nikki. She controlled herself enough to look for a card, and found one under a mound of ribbon and tape; "Words can't express what I feel right now. All I can say is Thank You Nikki" Helen smiled, touched. Understated, dignified, yet full of feeling - just like Nikki herself. Her thoughts turned back to the previous night. In her thirty years, Helen had been lucky enough to escape the usual losses of adulthood. Her parents were alive and well, her friends were reasonably content and well-off, and personally - she'd always had someone safe and solid in her life. Sean, for example. They'd started seeing each other soon after Helen joined Bloomberg, and had progressed steadily to engagement, with marriage always on the horizon. So Helen had been completely unprepared for the shock of seeing Nikki in danger. The strength of her feelings had been almost overpowering; fear, horror, anger, panic - all at once and one after the other. And if things had ended differently...she couldn't bear to think of it. Never normally of religious inclinations, Helen offered a silent prayer of thanks. She then shook herself and tried to get on with the day. Reluctantly, she moved the flowers into a corner and extracted her rather damp paperwork from underneath. About half an hour later, she moved to her computer. She was surprised, and not a little guilty, to see a message from Sean lurking unread in her Inbox. Had she been ignoring a heartfelt letter of love? No. He had stirred himself only to write another cursory note; "Don't call tonight, I won't be in. Work do - can't get away." "He could have bloody called!" Helen thought, fuming. She sighed. Another item on the Helen Stewart 'I'm not thinking about...' list. She buried herself in work for the remainder of the day, then returned home, exhausted, to fall into bed. - - -- - - -- - - -- - - Thursday morning, Nikki was back in. In fact, she was there all day, not feeling up to going downtown just yet. As Helen came in, her head turned at once to Nik's side of the office. Nikki had been keeping an eye on the door, and soon caught sight of a familiar figure. Their gazes met and locked. Seconds passed and neither moved, then Nikki hesitantly waved her boss over. Still Helen didn't move, then she shook her head slightly and hurried past into her office. As ever, the Scot threw herself into her duties as a distraction from what really mattered. Nonetheless, she couldn't work every minute of the day. And more often than not, when she looked up, Nikki was there, watching. Someone else was watching too. Jess sat in the middle of the room, with a view of both parties. She couldn't help noticing that Nikki, normally never one to dawdle, spent minutes at a time staring distractedly out of the window. These periods of contemplation invariably ended with a long look in Miss Stewart's direction. Jess followed her friend's gaze and was surprised to see Helen in a similar troubled state - intriguing. She always kept a sympathetic ear to the office grapevine, but this...her quick mind began working on the possibilities. She ended up by thinking it might be a good thing for all concerned. Of course Nikki's happiness was important to her, but like many of her colleagues, Jess had never taken to Trish. But Helen...from what Jess had seen of her, she seemed about as far from Trish's self-centred arrogance as you could get. And Helen's attitude over the last few days definitely suggested something was on her mind. She was almost a different person from the strong, confident woman who'd so thoroughly routed Fenner just a week ago. Jess resolved to keep her eyes and ears open. Just when she thought her plan was succeeding, Helen looked up to see Nikki lounging nonchalantly in the doorway. She jumped. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." "You didn't." She sat up straighter and nervously ran a hand through her hair. Nikki continued; "Helen, I really owe you one - " "- No, please - " "- Let me finish, I know you won't let me make a fuss, but I insist on buying you a drink tonight." "I don't know..." "The others are coming too." Helen still looked unsure. Nikki smiled slightly, "Except Trish. " At that, Helen gave in. "I guess I can't say no then!" "Great!"
They both felt as if some hurdle had been passed and smiled at the relief it gave. As she turned to leave, Nikki said, "About half-six then?" "You know where I am." - - -- - - -- - - -- - - At the pub that evening, Nikki was especially attentive to Helen. This was mainly due to her not having Trish hanging on her arm all the time. Nik's American friend was at work, preparing for some big event she had to cover in Washington that weekend. Jess was not the only one to notice a difference in Helen's behaviour. Nikki watched her all evening as she drank heavily, but didn't seem to feel the effects. By the time they all staggered back to the subway station, Nikki was concerned enough not to let Helen go home alone. She took her friend's train uptown, which wasn't in fact much of a detour, as her own place was on the way there. After a few stops, they had the carriage to themselves. Nikki turned to the other woman, who sat slumped and apathetic, and said; "What's the matter, Helen?" "Nothing." "We both know that's not true." Nikki put a warm hand on the other's shoulder. "Come on, can't you tell me?" Helen looked up at her friend. The sympathy in her voice was matched by that clearly shown on her face. That, and the copious amounts of alcohol she'd consumed, helped Helen to let down her guard for once. "It's Sean. I keep calling him and he never picks up. He won't tell me where he's been..." her voice started to tremble as she struggled to continue, "...He doesn't want to talk to me!" Helen could hold back the tears no longer. Nikki searched for something to say, but Helen hadn't finished. Through her tears, she stammered, "I think he's found someone else!" Helen collapsed, sobbing, against her friend and Nikki cradled her like a child against her chest. "Oh, Helen, it's OK, don't be like this. I'm sure he's just busy at work." Helen wasn't listening, but received sorely-needed comfort from Nikki's strong arms and gentle touch. Looking up, Nik saw that they were way past her stop, and now approaching Helen's. "Let's get you home." Helen was a lot drunker than she'd appeared. Nikki was thankful for her own tall stature as she practically had to carry her through the streets. When they finally got in, Nikki put her straight into bed. Helen fell asleep almost immediately, but managed to mumble, "Thanks, Nikki, you're a mate." However, Helen would not have been so comfortable if she'd known what was going on in her friend's mind at that moment. As Nikki stood watching her drop off to sleep, she remembered the feel of her smooth chestnut hair, the softness of her skin, the scent of her perfume...She flushed guiltily and stepped back. She leaned against the wall, making sure the Scot would sleep soundly. She remembered the look in Helen's eyes when Pablo had threatened her, and then the strength, the compassion her boss had shown in talking him out of it. And afterwards, her words - Nikki could still hear them; "I wasn't going to let that happen." A treacherous little thought stole into her head, "If we'd met in London..." Nikki crushed it mercilessly, "She'd still have been engaged, and nothing would've happened." She repeated to herself, "Nothing would've happened, Nothing is going to happen. Nothing." Helen was now snoring away peacefully, so Nikki left her to it. Chapter 8 Miss Wade returned home that night with a heavy heart. Not that Trish even noticed when she strolled in minutes later, full of her "prospects" after the upcoming special report. Nikki was already in bed and managed to put on a passable show of interest until her partner shut up. She thought it best to head straight down to Wall Street the next morning. She genuinely had a lot to do, since she had to leave early to see Trish off. "You sure you won't come, Nik?" her girlfriend wheedled as they waited at home for the car. Nikki sighed, "I told you, I'm staying here. What would I do in DC anyway?" "Keep me company...Come on, please?" She stared up at Nikki winningly, moving to embrace her. Nik stepped out of her reach. "No!" "God, you hardly leave the house these days. What the hell are you doing that's so damn important?" Trish turned away sulkily. Nikki grabbed her and spun her back round, the famous Wade temper in full flow. "Look, Tricia, in the past week I've been threatened, insulted, and almost bloody killed! - I think I deserve some fuckin' peace and quiet! If that makes me boring then- " "- I'm sorry, I didn't think." She was suitably chastened. "Do you ever?" Nikki paced back and forth while Trish looked on impotently. The entryphone buzzed, cutting through the deafening silence. "That's the car." "- I..." "Just go." She went. - - -- - - -- - - -- - - Nikki lay in bed Saturday morning, just enjoying having some time to herself. She could stay there all day, with no-one to say otherwise. Her thoughts drifted back to Trish, fanning her still-smouldering irritation. But lazy mornings are not the time for resentment - her mind drifted to pleasanter things. And who is to say that Nikki's train of thought did not end up at a certain appartment, where a certain woman lay sleeping. Eventually, her stomach's protests became too insistent to ignore. She slouched over to the kitchen and threw something together. Now she was up, Nikki stirred herself enough to get showered and dressed, then collapsed again on the couch in front of some mindless daytime TV. Around two o'clock, the fascinating discourse on tile-grouting was rudely interrupted by the ring of the telephone. After searching frantically, Nikki actually found the phone and picked up. "Hello?" A small, lost voice on the other end mumbled, "Nikki...is that you?" "Helen?" Nikki hardly recognised her. All she heard in response was the sound of ragged, gulping breaths as Helen struggled to speak. "What is it? What's wrong?" "It's Sean" Nikki frowned and began to pace the room, really worried now. "What's happened? Is he OK?" A strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "Oh, he's never been better." Nikki was shocked at the black despair in her friend's voice. "What's he done?!" "He..." She had to strain to hear the answer, "...He dumped me." Nik was struck dumb. "The bastard!" she thought, listening helplessly as Helen dissolved into tears once more. She was already shrugging into her jacket and grabbing for her purse when she heard the plaintive cry for help; "What am I going to do, Nikki?" "Don't move. I'm coming right over" Nikki jumped on the train and was soon there. She rang the bell. Helen answered the door, then just stood in the hallway, head bowed, the very picture of misery. "Oh, Helen," she murmured, feeling nothing but compassion She gathered the smaller woman in her arms and held her there, Helen's tears damp against her chest. "What's wrong with me, Nikki?" Nik winced, feeling her friend's pain. Gently, she led her to the sofa. They sat down, Nikki supporting the other woman against her shoulder. "Don't talk like that. It'll be all right." Helen calmed down a little, enough to voice her worst fear; "What's happening to me? Yesterday I was engaged to the man I love...Now look at me - Thirty years old and I'm washed up." "No!" Helen looked glumly at the floor, but Nikki was having none of this. She took the Scot's head in her hands saying, "Look at me, Helen. You're a lovely, intelligent, talented woman. And if Sean didn't see that, he doesn't deserve you." She wasn't convinced. "No-one'll want me now." Nikki held her gaze, looked deep into her eyes, and whispered, "Do you really think so?" An electric pause. Neither moved or breathed. Nothing needed to be said. The past and the future no longer mattered - this moment was everything. Helen watched, entranced, as Nikki moved closer. Time seemed to stand still as she approached, eyes clouded with desire. Helen gasped as Nikki's lips found her own. For an instant, both thought this would never end, then Helen's eyes snapped open, and Nikki leaped up, horrified at what she'd done. "Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I should never have..." "No you shouldn't!" Now eyes blazed with anger, not passion. "Fucking hell, Nikki! Are you crazy?" "What!? You're beautiful Helen, everything about you, it's... Is it so hard to believe I'm attracted to you?" Another pause while Helen looked at her, seeing nothing but the truth. She looked away. "I should go." "Yes." "I really am sorry. It won't happen again." "It'd better not. You still have to work for me, Nikki." Nothing more was said. Helen didn't move until she was safely out of the door. Nikki wandered west across town, her thoughts a maze of conflicting wants, needs and regrets. Prominent among these were disbelief at what she'd done, and shame at her lack of restraint. "What was I thinking?" she said to herself, "Helen needed a friend, not - God, what's the matter with me!" She walked on rapidly, heedless of the stifling heat. The reality of what she had done began to dawn on her - to Helen, to Trish...At that thought, Nikki's guilt and disgust overpowered all other sensations, sickening her. She blindly crossed 5th Avenue, oblivious to the blaring horns of onrushing cabs, entered the Park, and sank onto a bench, head in her hands. "What's happening to me? I've got Trish, we're great together. Nearly six years, I've never looked at another woman. Then some sexy Scot comes along and I..." she groaned and clenched her fists, "This is shit!" Sitting there in the hot sun, Nikki could find no solution, no explanation. And try as she might, the memory of those fatal few seconds kept coming back to her. The hunger of Helen's lips on her own, the fire that raged through her at the other's slightest touch...These things could not be forgotten. - - -- - - -- - - -- - - "Forget it, Helen." Back at the flat, Miss Stewart was trying to convince herself nothing had changed. "Shit happens - just forget it. Friends have kissed you before." Helen continued talking out loud, trying to drown out the little voice in her head; "Not like that, they haven't." At least she wasn't thinking about Sean. back to top