May 1945
Christopher Foyle watched in horror as his son, who had only returned from Malta three weeks ago, broke off mid-sentence and raced into the path of an oncoming car.
There was a squeal of breaks and a woman screaming, "JIMMY" and then an awful silence and all he could hear was his own half-strangled cry of "Andrew!" hanging in the air, as he stood rooted to the spot.
"Bloody hell, are you alright?" The question jolted Foyle back to life and with a quick instinctive glance for oncoming traffic he darted across the road unsure of what he'd find and almost too afraid to look.
Andrew was lying on his side, his arms wrapped tightly around a crying little boy and he was breathing. Foyle took his first full breathe in an unknown number of minutes and fell to his knees beside his son, barely aware of the driver and the woman he assumed was the boy's mother who were already crouching beside the pair.
"Andrew? Andrew, are you alright?" He laid a hand on his son's shoulder as he spoke, eyes desperately searching for any signs of injury.
"Yes?"
Andrew's voice was rough and hesitant and quite possibly one of the most beautiful sounds Foyle had ever heard. "R-right just lie still a minute while I look you over. Does anything hurt?"
Andrew squinted at him as if he was having a hard time focusing his eyes and Foyle's gut clenched with worry. "Not sure…sorry"
"No, no that's alright…"
"Jimmy, let me have my Jimmy please!" Foyle looked up and saw his own fear reflected in the younger woman's face.
He looked back at the little boy in Andrew's arms. He was crying and clinging tightly to Andrew's jacket but he appeared unhurt. "Andrew, I'm going to give the lad to his Mum now alright? Just relax your arms and I'll pick him up."
"Alright" Andrew's grip slackened but Jimmy gave a whimper of fright and tightened his grip. "It's alright Jimmy, I'm going to pass you to your Mum alright?"
Foyle's voice was gentle but the little boy tensed and buried his head in Andrew's chest, "Shh shh" Andrew murmured soothingly, "We're safe now and you can let go."
"Pwomise?"
Andrew nodded and forced a smile, "Yes I promise, now go and give your Mum a hug."
Jimmy nodded and allowed Foyle to pick him up and pass him to his mother who clung to him desperately crying, "Oh my Jimmy" over and over again.
Foyle turned his attention back to his own son. Andrew's eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and the band of fear around Foyle's chest tightened. "Andrew, open your eyes."
His son complied and Foyle ran his hands gently over his limps trying to determine if anything was broken. "I'm alright Dad, just winded I think."
Foyle was sure he had been but he was worried there was something more to it. "How's your head?"
"Bit sore" Was the honest answer and Foyle frowned, "Right, think you can sit up? We'll need to have Dr. White look you over in case you've got concussion."
"Dad, I'm fine." Andrew protested although he didn't object to the steadying hand his father placed on his back as he managed to lever himself into a sitting position. For several long minutes no one spoke as Andrew focused on his breathing and Foyle continued to search for signs of injury.
The right side of Andrew's face was scrapped and Foyle suspected the entire right side of his body was as well although his clothes should have lessened the damage of hitting the pavement at high speed.
"Alright?" He asked quietly when he felt Andrew's shoulders relax a little.
Andrew nodded, "Yeah, can we go home?"
Foyle nodded and glanced up to find the driver hovering anxiously at his shoulder, "Is he alright?" The man asked, his face still pale with fright. "The kiddie just came out of nowhere, chasing a ball I think and as I started to break your son came diving in front of the car and picked him up. I swear I didn't hit them."
Foyle nodded again and took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm, "I see and I do think he's more or less alright. If you would help me get him home though I'd appreciate it."
The man nodded at once, "Of course, anything I can do."
Foyle nodded his thanks and glanced up at Jimmy and his mother, "How is your son?"
"He's fine thanks to your son. I don't know how I can ever repay him."
Foyle smiled tightly, "I think Jimmy being safe and sound is all the payment he'll want." He glanced down at Andrew as he spoke and Andrew nodded, "Dad's right, I'm just glad he wasn't hurt."
Jimmy's mother still insisted on getting their names and after thanking them profusely carried her son home. This left Foyle to get Andrew home with the help of Mr. Gillis, the car's driver.
Dr. White came to assess and bandage Andrew's scraps and assured Foyle that he was unlikely to have concussion although he encouraged him to keep a close eye on him just in case and promised to be back the next day.
After Andrew had slept for a few hours, had supper and they each had a cup of tea Foyle asked the question that had been bothering him all afternoon; "Andrew, why?"
Andrew frowned, "Because he'd have been hurt, possibly even killed if I hadn't Dad. What else could I do?"
"Oh I don't know, not throw yourself in the path of oncoming traffic?" Foyle's voice shook at little and he took a sip of tea trying to ease the lump in his throat.
"Dad I…"
"Could have been seriously injured or killed? Yes you could have. I understand that you did what you felt was best Andrew but your life is worth just as much as Jimmy's."
Andrew looked down, "I…Dad I know that…it wasn't…I didn't…you know…"
"Jump in front of that car on purpose?" Foyle asked softly. The words hurt to say, almost as much as the shocked look on Andrew's face did but he had to be sure, had to make sure Andrew understood that no matter how guilty he felt about surviving when so many of his friends had fallen it didn't change the fact that he deserved to be alive.
"No! Of course not! Dad I'd never…"
Foyle closed his eyes with a sigh of relief and then opened them again and offered his son a watery smile. "I'm sorry Andrew but I had to be sure, seeing you run into the street like that…" He shuddered at the memory, recalling the way his heart had stuttered in his chest.
"Oh Dad I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you but there wasn't time to explain." Andrew's face was all earnest concern and Foyle smiled again and patted his knee through the bedclothes.
"It was a very brave thing to do Andrew and I'm proud of you but please don't do it again if you can possibly help it."
"Do my best Dad." Andrew promised with the cheeky grin Foyle had missed so badly the last few years and the worry in his chest finally eased.
He knew Andrew would always do what he felt was right headless of the consequences, like father like son Rosalind had said more than once. He could only pray that whatever providence had kept his son alive for the last 5 years would continue to watch over him. He glanced at the small photograph of Rosalind on Andrew's desk and smiled sadly to himself, 'thank you my love.'