Peggy's assumption is correct; Stella doesn't think she could bring herself to share living space with a man, at least not for any extended length of time. Men can be colleagues, temporary bed partners, and possibly even friends under the absolute right circumstances, but living together is an entirely different issue and one she's never even seriously considered.
"Neither," she says. "She was my age — about nineteen — and studying maths. Beautiful, academically brilliant. Unfortunately, she had, at the time, awful taste in boyfriends. The sort to throw herself wholeheartedly into a relationship with any man who took an interest in her — and there were quite a lot." She is trying not to sound disparaging, because she'd liked Caroline a great deal, but at the same time she recognizes the woman had had a critical deficit in decision-making when it had come to her romantic relationships, a flaw she herself has strenuously tried to avoid developing.
"One evening she came home covered in bruises. She'd been over at her boyfriend's flat; they'd got drunk, had an argument, and he decided the best way to resolve the thing was to beat her within an inch of her life. I drove her to hospital that night, then the police station the next morning after she'd had a chance to sober up. They brought in the boyfriend, and he spun some sort of fantasy about how she'd fallen down the stairs outside his flat and that was where she'd come by the bruises."
Stella's face is very still, the sort of stillness that speaks of holding back anger. Telling this story all these years later still pisses her off, because it's so symptomatic of everything that's still wrong with policing in specific and with society in general. "There'd been no witnesses, it was her word against his. He got off scot-free. Later we found out his older brother was a police officer — so naturally they'd thought there was no way the younger brother could be anything but a model citizen."
She scoffs, just a huff of annoyed breath. There's a pause, and then she adds, "I'd been interested in women's rights and welfare for some time. I suppose at that point I thought that if the police officers we had — if men weren't going to stand up for female victims, then someone ought to.
"After I finished my first degree, I was a special for a couple of years," she says, referring to the Special Constabulary, the volunteer arm of the Metropolitan Police. "I joined the force full-time when I was twenty-four, and CID at twenty-six."
no subject
"Neither," she says. "She was my age — about nineteen — and studying maths. Beautiful, academically brilliant. Unfortunately, she had, at the time, awful taste in boyfriends. The sort to throw herself wholeheartedly into a relationship with any man who took an interest in her — and there were quite a lot." She is trying not to sound disparaging, because she'd liked Caroline a great deal, but at the same time she recognizes the woman had had a critical deficit in decision-making when it had come to her romantic relationships, a flaw she herself has strenuously tried to avoid developing.
"One evening she came home covered in bruises. She'd been over at her boyfriend's flat; they'd got drunk, had an argument, and he decided the best way to resolve the thing was to beat her within an inch of her life. I drove her to hospital that night, then the police station the next morning after she'd had a chance to sober up. They brought in the boyfriend, and he spun some sort of fantasy about how she'd fallen down the stairs outside his flat and that was where she'd come by the bruises."
Stella's face is very still, the sort of stillness that speaks of holding back anger. Telling this story all these years later still pisses her off, because it's so symptomatic of everything that's still wrong with policing in specific and with society in general. "There'd been no witnesses, it was her word against his. He got off scot-free. Later we found out his older brother was a police officer — so naturally they'd thought there was no way the younger brother could be anything but a model citizen."
She scoffs, just a huff of annoyed breath. There's a pause, and then she adds, "I'd been interested in women's rights and welfare for some time. I suppose at that point I thought that if the police officers we had — if men weren't going to stand up for female victims, then someone ought to.
"After I finished my first degree, I was a special for a couple of years," she says, referring to the Special Constabulary, the volunteer arm of the Metropolitan Police. "I joined the force full-time when I was twenty-four, and CID at twenty-six."