What The Constable Saw

or "The Case Of The Couple Under The Parasol"

Disclaimer : This story is for non-profit fan purposes only. DC Seddon is my invention, the other characters including those whose names are not mentioned belong to ITV (as far as I know). I only borrowed them.

All mistakes are mine ...

Detective Constable Peter Seddon made himself comfortable in his window niche in the pub. He took a sip of his pint. Tomorrow would be his first day with Oxford Police after his transfer down here from Manchester. He was due to report to Chief Superintendent Innocent the next morning and he was a bit nervous. Peter had been informed that probably he would be assigned to the team of DI Hathaway. He tried to distract himself by watching the people coming and going. It was a warm and humid summer evening and the young man was glad that he had found a seat in a niche inside the pub. Leaning against the cool brick wall he was pleased that the open window allowed him a view into the beergarden.

Peter simply loved observing people, guessing about their professions, trying to figure out how old they were or where they were going, what mood they were in. Good training for the job. The beergarden was slowly filling with people, the fringes of a few huge mushroom-shaped sunshades were moving lightly in the evening breeze.

All of a sudden, the breeze turned into violent gusts of wind, the sky took on nasty shades of darkest blue, grey and black and it startet to rain. It was a real downpour, the water was gushing down as if someone was emptying a bucket somewhere above them. Within seconds, everyone in the beergarden was on their feet, rushing towards the pub.

Not everyone - at the other end of the beergarden, about 20 yards from Peter's niche, one couple obviously had decided that standing under the parasol made more sense than running towards the pub through the torrential rain and get soaked. Peter noticed a pint and a gin & tonic on the small table next to them. The man was tall and wore a dark suit. There was something solid about him but he slouched a bit and had stuffed both hands deeply into his pockets. His head and a bit of his shoulders were hidden by the fringes of the parasol. The woman seemed to be tall, too. Peter could see only her chinline. No, wait - she was standing on the concrete base of the parasol. Now she was playfully touching her companion's tie.

DC Seddon tried to calculate their difference in height. When she was not standing on this concrete thing, the woman must be tiny, maybe just about 5'1'' but certainly not more than 5'2''... Considering the concrete base, the man in the dark suit seemed to be nine or ten inches taller than the woman. She was wearing a dark blue, airy, knee-long summer dress, ingeniously cut, the fabric wrapping softly around her figure. The lower part of the skirt was already drenched by the rain, and it clung tightly to her legs. Shapely, lightly tanned bare legs with slim ankles, clad in blue sandals.

'He's a lucky guy', was Peter's first thought and immediately he reminded himself that this was unprofessional behaviour.

The couple under the sunshade was ignoring the world. The petite woman had slipped her arms around the man underneath his jacket. A white and grey glistening curtain of massive rain was shielding them from curious glances.

The young detective constable tried to convince himself that he was not spying on these two people, this was just like training for his job. He could not take his eyes off them. The dark suit of the man under the parasol was too dressed-up for a pub crawl, Peter thought. It matched the lady's dress nicely - they must have been to some posh event like a concert or the theatre earlier...

The woman now bowed her head and looked at their feet; Peter could see her head for a moment - wavey blonde hair, pinned up casually. A few strands were framing her face. A beautiful face, high cheek bones and big blue eyes, as far as he could see. She turned her face upwards, leaning closely against her companion. Husband? Lover? Judging from her movement Peter assumed that she was kissing him now. Not just a friend then, that much was sure...

The man in the dark suit took his hands out of his pockets and put them on her hips, then slowly moved them upwards over her ribcage. Peter chuckled and asked himself how far the man would dare to go up ... His hands appeared to be confident to be allowed access to where they were going.

And soon Peter had his answer: the hands moved just a little bit higher, the tip of one thumb a hair's breadth from touching the soft curve of her breasts. Good manners or self control in a public place, Peter mused.

The rain had formed a puddle around the feet of the man in the dark suit and his trouser legs were wet now, but it seemed he did not care. The lady's feet were safe on the base of the parasol. Despite the unfavourable circumstances, these two seemed to feel comfortable.

Peter, however, began to feel uncomfortable - he had to admit to himself that he found these two very interesting, endearing somehow. And he was invading their privacy without any reason.

Both of them were not exactly spring chicken anymore - he estimated the lady to be something between 45 and 50, difficult to say. She looked well-trained in a sensual way, her legs showed well-toned muscles. Although he could not see the gentleman's face, Peter was sure that the man was quite a bit older than the woman in his arms. Early sixties, maybe. Peter felt reminded of his parents and not by any stretch of the imagination could he see them cuddling under a parasol ...

After about 10 minutes, the rain subsided and turned into a light drizzle. The man in the dark suit gestured at their drinks and then towards the pub. He turned his back to Peter, took the drinks from the table, handed the lady her glass and then sipped from his pint. Peter could see that the lady was talking. She pointed to her companion's soaked shoes and laughed. Then she moved her right hand up towards his face and seemed to tell him something really interesting.

Peter got up to get himself another pint. When he came back only one moment later, a pint and a G&T had been left behind on the small table under the parasol, nearly untouched.

The beautiful blonde in the blue dress and the man in the dark suit strolled towards the wrought-iron gate of the pub's beergarden, hand in hand.

Now that they had left their hiding place under the parasol, DC Seddon could see that the man really was in his early sixties, he had a friendly lined face, dark hair, greyish around the ears, and he had slight knock knees.

Peter turned his attention back to his own pint and, with a last glance at the abandoned drinks under the parasol, thought 'Seems she had a better idea...'