Last waltz

I can feel the tension building inside, the knot in the pit of my stomach. Tonight is my night. It has to be. It's now or never.

Since we heard of Fraser's promotion and transfer back to the Yukon, we have hardly seen him at the police station. Lots to do at the Consulate I suppose, preparing for the handover, clearing his desk. But yesterday he finished his work. Tonight is his farewell party. And tonight he is going to be mine!

Yes, I know I have tried before. I try every time I see him! I shouldn't, but there is something about him, about the red serge, that I just need to touch. He says little, is always polite, but I am sure that he really does like me. He is just shy. Tonight he will have no choice. I spent hours deciding what to wear, my bedroom was a mess with discarded clothes everywhere. But not now. Now it is pristine. Everything put away, or at least out of sight, neat and tidy just as he keeps his room. Clean sheets, all prepared.

From the way I am having to fend off these other guys, I must look great. The skirt is short enough to show off my legs, tight enough to emphasize the curve of my backside. Maybe if I'd put a reserved for Fraser sticker on it they would be less free with their hands. But I don't mind. Knowing they want me just gives me more confidence. Naked midriff and crop top don't leave much to the imagination, but why should they? I have it, so why shouldn't I flaunt it? I can just imagine Fraser's eyes popping out of their sockets when he sees me. It won't do any harm for him to feel jealous, to know that other men find me attractive.

Oh my lord, there he is. Not in red serge for once, but a dark suit. I hardly know how to breathe. Lieutenant Welsh is introducing him to his wife. They are smiling, shaking hands. That Thatcher woman is there too. Why is she always around? She's a cold-hearted so-and-so. The Ice Queen or the Dragon Lady the Rays call her. I don't know how Fraser puts up with her. Duty, I suppose. Since his promotion came through she has kept him working so many evenings. Every weekend has been taken up with "hush hush" training courses or something. He hasn't been allowed to talk about them. She is a slave driver, yet he won't hear a word against her Well, she is not spoiling his party tonight.

I adjust the straps of my top, pull down my skirt a fraction, and start across the room to rescue him. Suddenly there are hands on my shoulders and a quiet but intense voice in my ear.

*Don't do it, Frannie*

I spin round, enraged. Ray was bad enough, but I am not taking this from a pretend brother, from Kowalski. I gather my breath to tell him just what I think. But I can't. There is something in his face. My anger is gone, replaced by desperation almost.

*But it's my last chance*

I try not to sound pleading

*You never had any chance, Fran*

His hands are back on my shoulders, not threatening or gloating, but caring and with sympathy.

*If you're telling me he's gay, I don't believe it*

Kowalski shook his head

Worse than that

I allow myself to be turned around.

The Welshes and the Canadians are laughing, there is back slapping and pecks on the cheek. The Lieutenant sends someone to speak to the musicians. They change the tune, are now playing Lady in Red. It's for Thatcher. Fraser takes her onto the dance floor. OK, yes, I admit, they do dance well together, and yes, the dark red dress does suit her. It's too simple for my taste, not revealing enough. It doesn't even cling, merely hinting at the curves beneath. Occasionally as she moves, there is a glimpse of leg through the concealed slash in the skirt.

She has a fine gold chain round her neck, carrying a medallion of sorts. I expect it is a Mountie thing, to make sure he remembers she outranks him. There are plain gold studs in her ears. They match the plain gold ring on her finger.