A/N: This is set during the episode A War of Nerves in June 1941. I have always been slightly in love with Captain Hammond and find the work of the Royal Engineers very interesting. I disliked the way Sam was written as rather silly in this episode, however, and so hope to rectify that here.
As always, no copyright infringements intended.
Feedback is, as ever, much appreciated.
Part 1
The crash of broken glass startled the entire pub. They all seemed to react as one, as it wasn't unusual to be jumpy these days. Bombs day and night, and the unknown dangers of the blackout was enough to put everyone on edge. Sam Stewart, sitting in the corner with two other girls from the MTC, craned her neck to see what was happening. She couldn't see much but she recognised the voice of the man shouting.
It was Jack Archer, Corporal in the Royal Engineers, and engaged to a friend of hers. Sergeant River's daughter, Gwen, in fact, and Sam had an idea neither would be pleased to see him in this state. She was horrified to see he was holding a pistol and pointing it towards another man. She stood and swallowed hard, coming towards him. Archer himself was swaying, slightly the worse for wear from drink.
"Someone fetch a copper," she heard the barman hiss.
Feeling that Archer being put in the cells by his future father-in-law would do no one any favours, she stepped in.
"Jack, I'm a friend of Gwen's. Samantha Stewart — do you remember?"
He flicked his eyes towards her, narrowing them to see her better through the haze of drink. They lit in recognition. "Get out of it, Sam," he slurred, swaying again.
"I really think you should put the gun down, Jack. Stop this nonsense now before someone gets hurt."
To her further horror, he swung the pistol towards her, "Why don't you make me?"
"We're all on the same side, Jack. You aren't going to shoot anybody so why not put it down?"
He swayed again.
"You don't want to get into any more trouble, do you?" Sam said sharply. It seemed to bring him back to his senses, and he blinked slowly.
"Just trying to make a point," he said, rather petulantly. Sighing, he put the pistol down on the bar, and the barman moved it out of reach.
"You've made your point," Sam said. She put a hand on his arm and made him sit down on the nearest bar stool. The man who had been on the receiving end of the argument, let his breath out in a whoosh. "All right, Jack? You know I didn't mean no harm, mate."
A constable came in then, being led by a harried looking woman, probably the barman's wife. "That's 'im there. 'e was waving a gun!"
Sam sighed, thinking to herself, so much for keeping him out of Sergeant River's cells.
When he was gone, bundled away by the constable with his friend in tow, the barman gave a low whistle. "Drink, miss?"
"Yes, rather!"
He poured her a sherry and she sat with a thump on the stool recently vacated by Archer. Sam's two MTC friends came over, clucking like a pair of hens and patting her on the shoulder.
A low voice near her ear said, "That was either inordinately brave or just plain stupid."
She whipped around to see a man in the same uniform as Archer, though with more insignia on his shoulders. Captain. He had clearly had quite a bit to drink as well, but his eyes were clear and light blue, face smoothly shaven. Sam had the distinct impression of authority from his stance and despite herself, found him rather dashing.
"I beg your pardon," she said, drawing herself up. She felt slightly diminished, dressed for once in a frock instead of her customary MTC uniform.
"Buy me a drink?" the man asked, offering her a cigarette from a silver case.
"I say, you're bit fresh. Why should I?" Sam could have ignored him and turned back to her friends, but there was something about him that peaked her interest. She wanted to know who this overconfident captain was. "Isn't it meant to be the other way around?"
"Well," the man said, "you've already got a drink, and I don't." He snapped the cigarette case closed without taking one. Leaning heavily on his elbows, he added, "Besides, you just stopped my corporal from being a right fool."
"Where were you then? If you're his commanding officer, certainly he would have listened to you."
"I was seeing a man about a dog."
"Ah."
"So, that drink?"
Sam's two friends had watched this interchange silently, but one now leaned forward, "Why don't you leave her alone? You've had enough to drink as it is."
The man brought his eyes slowly round to the young woman and shrugged. "Perhaps I have."
Chuckling, he pushed himself away from the bar. "Thanks anyway, miss."
Sam called after him, "Samantha Stewart."
He inclined his head, "Miss Stewart."
When he was about to turn away again, Sam called, "Captain? I don't know your name."
"Captain Ralph Hammond, at your service." He pronounced it Rafe, and Sam found herself smiling at him. He left the pub, trailing after his corporal.
She turned back to her friends, but the young Captain remained in her mind. Of all the unexpected things that had happened that evening, he had been the most surprising.
"Miss Stewart?"
It was Sergeant Rivers, and she stopped short, leaning over the duty desk. "Yes?"
"I heard about last night. Gwen's right upset. Jack's not a bad lad, just a bit silly at times."
"Well, no one was hurt."
"I know, and I wanted to ask if you would put a good word in for him? You were there and saw what happened. You know he didn't intend to hurt anyone."
"Go to court you mean?"
"Would you mind?"
"No, if you think it will help. I'd better check with Mr Foyle though."
Rivers nodded, looking at her gratefully. Sam didn't much like courtrooms, but it was the least she could do to help Gwen and Jack. It occurred to her that she might see the Captain again, and she felt a slight flutter in her middle.
The courtroom was as intimidating as she had feared, the female judge looking quite stern, but she said her piece about Jack Archer succinctly in a firm, clear voice. She told the truth as her father, Reverend Stewart, had always taught her, and it was with some relief when she was allowed to step down. Captain Hammond was there, sat just to her right, watching carefully. She blushed as she felt his eyes on her.
He had spoken in clear, clipped tones, addressing the judge as if it was something he did everyday. Though, Sam reasoned, going up before a judge was probably less stressful than defusing bombs.
"Corporal Archer is an exemplary member of my squad. Since joining us he has been on over 28 UXBs call outs. His behaviour at the pub was completely out of character."
The judge said in a rather exasperated voice, "He was intoxicated."
"Yes, and if you will pardon me for saying so, ma'am, if you'd been stuck in a hole all day, ankle deep in mud with a ticking bomb between your legs, you might have needed a drink too."
The judge eyed him icily as the rest of the courtroom stifled a laugh, and said without hint of amusement, "Thank you, Captain Hammond."
Jack Archer was dismissed with a caution, and Gwen grabbed Sam's hand giving it a grateful squeeze. They all filed out of the courtroom, making for the large staircase that would take them down and out of Hasting's court. Captain Hammond sidled up beside Sam, giving her a smile. "Seems Corporal Archer and I are indebted to you once again, Miss Stewart."
"I'm sure the judge would have come to the same conclusion without me," she protested modestly.
"Will you let us thank you by allowing us to buy you a drink tonight? At the King's Head? Gwen will be there as well, celebrating with Jack."
Sam took careful hold of the banister as they descended, stomach fluttering pleasantly. "Yes. All right, I will. Thank you."
"Until this evening then, Miss Stewart." Captain Hammond gave her a raffish grin and continued down the steps. He cleared his throat theatrically as he stepped between Jack and Gwen.
"Sorry to interrupt you, Corporal Archer, but oh, what was it now? Oh yes, there's a war on." He grinned and clapped the younger man on the shoulder, "Come on."
"See you tonight." Jack gave Gwen a quick kiss and followed the Captain.
She turned to Sam who was standing rather awkwardly, watching the two men walk away.
"Thank you for what you said, Sam," said Gwen, breaking into Sam's thoughts.
Sam smiled, "Glad to help."
"Will you come for a drink with us tonight?"
"Yes, I will. Captain Hammond did mention it."
Gwen gave her a knowing smile. "He's a good man, is the Captain. Done a lot for Jack."
"Do you know him well?"
"Only met him a few times when I've gone out of an evening with Jack. Terribly funny and a bit, well posh, I suppose. Talks nice, you know."
"Yes…" Sam said, "I'd noticed."
The two young ladies walked away from the court down towards the high street.
"I'd best be getting back to Mr Foyle," Sam said, "well, to the station, I mean."
"See you tonight, Sam."
Sam nodded walking on alone. She was relieved Archer had gotten off so lightly, and she felt pleased that Captain Hammond had seemed to think it was partly due to her. What on earth shall I wear this evening?
Sam had decided on her one decent dress; it was rather her "go to" dress for social evenings, having worn it when she had been out with Tony and Andrew. Never mind — it suited her, and that was all that mattered. It was blue and white, and she had some clip on earrings that matched. She sat fiddling with her hair, now down about her shoulders, until at last it was time to go. She gave herself a firm look in the mirror, no need to be nervous, its just drinks, and went down.
She was nervous because the Captain's presence filled her with butterflies like she'd never known. He was so self-assured, which in itself was attractive, but he was handsome too. The indirect interest he had seemed to show her thrilled her. She tried to tell herself logically that he was just being polite; he was grateful he hadn't lost a reliable Corporal, that's all. Yet, she still allowed the tiniest of hope to flit across her mind, that he was, in fact, interested in her.
The King's Head was already full, smelling warmly of beer and sweat. Gwen spotted her by the door and waved. They were sat in the corner, and Captain Hammond, still in his brown uniform, turned in his seat. Seeing it was her, he set his drink down and stood. He very gentlemanly took her hand and squired her to a chair next to his own at the table.
"Very nice of you to come, Miss Stewart," he said politely, "what would you like to drink?"
"A sherry, please."
"Right away."
Sam exchanged hellos with Gwen and Jack, who were holding hands on the table. When Hammond returned with her drink, they all began to talk cheerfully about the upcoming marriage. Gwen kept looking at Jack dreamily.
"Two weeks," she said happily, "though I don't know what we're going to do about food."
"I'm sure you'll find something," said the Captain. He turned suddenly to Sam, "I say, I hear you drive a policeman about, is that right?"
"Not just any policeman," Gwen put in.
"Oh?"
"Yes. Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle," Sam said, smiling proudly.
"I see. Well, I shall be sure to behave myself around you then."
For some reason Sam began blushing and she cursed silently. Taking a gulp of sherry, which only made her splutter, she flushed even more. Luckily, the Captain had swiftly moved on to a different topic with Jack. It sounded like something to do with their work and she listened with half an ear, all the while observing the man next to her.
She guessed he was about thirty. There was a sense of public school about him in the way he held himself and in his understated manners. She liked his keen eyes, enjoying the feel of his glances. He had soft brown hair that was cropped short, and she saw that the back of his neck was slightly red from being in the sun. Probably from being bent over defusing bombs. His hands too were brown and strong, and he kept them on the table, palms turned down. Must require a steady hand in his line of work. In the soft light of the pub she was reminded of the first time they had met. He had peaked her interest then, and now she wished he would turn back to talk to her.
The two men lead most of the discussions, Captain Hammond rather brash and quick to tease Jack. The younger man obviously admired him, and looked pleased to be the subject of the Captain's attention. They drank quickly, putting away pints like glasses of lemonade. Eventually, about halfway through Sam's second sherry, Gwen and Jack stood to go the bar together, leaving Sam and Hammond to themselves.
"You look very nice, if I may say so, Miss Stewart," Captain Hammond said, giving her figure a nearly imperceptible bold glance.
"Thank you. You can call me Sam — everyone does."
"Short for Samantha. Pretty name."
Gratefully, Sam was able to hold back any further blushes. She realised he was flattering her, and while it pleased her, she was also wary.
"You'd best call me Ralph then. This rank and file business does wear on one, doesn't it?"
"All right, Ralph, it is." She smiled at him. "Are you a very good captain?"
"The chaps seem to think so. We've muddled through all right so far."
"What is your work like?"
His face clouded for a moment before he said, "Ah well, it keeps one guessing and on one's toes."
"How did you end up in it?"
He gave a short sigh, "How do any of us? I volunteered. I was in the Non-Combative Naval Corp. I was a pacifist…well, I suppose I still am, really. I was a Civil Engineer before the War, and it occurred to me that this was the only work I could do without compromising my beliefs."
"I see," said Sam, looking impressed. "But it is such dangerous work…"
"Yes, I'd rather hoped to be building bridges…when I started out in Bomb Disposal we had a life expectancy of seven weeks…that was nine months ago, so that's a bit of luck."
Sam gave him a slightly startled look, surprised by his cavalier tone on such an issue. She wondered slightly if he was always like this. Perhaps this peculiar sense of humour was a by-product of his work. They must work under such terrible pressure…
He leaned a bit closer, "All in day's work, you know."
She nodded quietly, disturbed by the sudden image of sitting on a bomb as the seconds ticked by, knowing full well life could be over within the next minute.
"What do you think of?" she asked softly. "As you are working?"
"Nothing. I focus on the job, otherwise I wouldn't be so lucky."
Hammond cleared his throat, "So, what's it like being with the police?"
"Not overly exciting when there isn't a murder case on."
He laughed, "Do you get to hunt around for clues then?"
"Not really. I just drive; but it can be jolly thrilling racing about the countryside after suspects."
"Well, I wouldn't mind being the prime suspect if I knew you were chasing after me."
They smiled at each other, and she saw his eyes sparkle with soft humour.
"Listen, shall we go for a walk? It feels damned stuffy in here."
"Yes, all right."
They threw back the last of their drinks and went to say goodbye to Jack and Gwen, who were in each other's arms by the bar.
Captain Hammond led Sam out onto the street, the evening dusk drawing long, with summer light still present at the late hour. They walked downhill towards the beach, chatting about Hastings. Sam had been in the area longer than he. She was giving him an interesting account of the time she had knocked out a suspect with a bin lid by the fisherman's shacks when the captain grabbed her hand and swung her into his arms, kissing her.
She pushed him away, taken aback by the suddenness of his movements. She felt affronted too, and she glared at him. "If that's why you asked me to come for a walk, you can jolly well forget it."
"I apologise. I wasn't thinking."
"That much is obvious." She continued to glare and he held up his hands.
"Really, Sam, please, I was just taken up by the moment. You look so lovely and, well, perhaps I had a pint too many. I'm sorry."
"Who knew the Royal Engineers could be worse than the RAF with regard to women…" her voice had grown lighter and he looked at her gratefully, relieved to have been forgiven, even if ever so slightly.
He moved forwards, continuing in their stroll. "So you knocked out this chap with a bin lid? That was very brave of you."
"Or plain stupid," she retorted, throwing his first words to her back at him.
He bit his lip against a smile and shook his head.
"Can I make it up to you?"
She gave him a sideways glance.
"Let me take you to lunch…tomorrow?"
"Yes, all right."
"Shall I call at the station?"
"Yes, but do keep your head down. I don't want to get in trouble with Mr Foyle."
"Ah yes, the Chief Inspector."
"You were going to behave, remember?"
Hammond grinned at her. "Or he'll have my guts for garters, I suppose? Yes, I promise."
They walked on a bit further until Sam finally dared to look at her watch. Her eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw the time. "I must go now, Ralph. I've an early start."
"Let me walk you home?"
She nodded and turned back up the hill towards the Old Town.
"Might I offer you an arm?" He asked, laugher still there on the edge of his voice.
She slipped her arm through his and they walked companionably back to her billet.
At the door, she said, "Thank you for the nice evening."
He took off his hat, turning it in his hands. His voice was sheepish as he said, "I'm sorry about earlier. I did have a nice time with you though."
Sam saw the brashness fade from his eyes, and he looked like any normal young man for a moment. She decided then that if he were to kiss her, she would let him this time. I would rather like him to…
However, he merely took her hand, gave it a squeeze and said softly, "Sweet dreams, Samantha Stewart."
"See you tomorrow," she said, feeling it was a rather feeble reply.
He put his hat back on and watched her go through the door before turning on his heel and striding up the street. Sam leaned against the door as it closed with a click trying to slow her racing heart.
The next day Sam was with Foyle and Sergeant Milner all morning at the docks. It was about a case of missing supplies from the shipyard and held no real interest for her. She kept checking her watch about every ten minutes, feeling it must be nearly lunch time. She was certainly hungry enough. When the low whine of an air raid siren went off, Sam gave a terrific groan. Ruddy Jerry — why now?
Milner shovelled her into the shelter with all the rest, and she sat with her arms crossed, foot tapping, feeling very impatient as the ground above them heaved and shattered. When the all clear signal did finally sound and they were allowed to surface, there was more waiting about. Apparently one bomb hadn't gone off. Of all the rotten days…
It was just as Foyle was saying to the owners, "Shouldn't we clear this area…" that a small lorry pulled up.
Captain Hammond leapt out and strode over quickly, demanding in a strong voice, "Who is in charge here?"
The elder of the two Talbot brothers who owned and ran the shipyard spoke up.
"Right," said the Captain taking charge, "you can help me move these people back at least a hundred yards." He turned to look over the crowd and blinked as he caught sight of Sam.
She gave a small nod in acknowledgement.
"Are you going in there?" Mr Talbot asked.
"Well, seeing as you've got an unexploded bomb in there, it would seem like a good idea."
He surveyed the warehouse carefully, ignoring the two brothers.
"There is no UXB," said the younger of the two, "it went off."
"You think so?" Captain Hammond broke his gaze away from the building. "The windows would all be blown out if the bomb had gone off. There are no scorch marks or splinter damage either…"
The two brothers exchanged a glance.
"What's inside?"
"Old boats, hulls, that sort of thing. Nothing of any value."
"Right, we'll take a look." Hammond turned again, "Can you move back? Please?"
Waving to Jack Archer and another man, Ernest Jones, Hammond called, "You two, with me."
Sam hesitated even after Foyle and Milner had turned away to head back towards the police car. Hammond stood near her and said in a low voice, "Sorry about lunch." He gave her a quick flash of a smile. "Best move back now."
She nodded and took a step back, wanting to say be careful or good luck but finding that her voice was stuck somewhere in her throat. Turning away, she let him get on with his work, cursing Jerry with all her heart.
