It takes love over gold and mind over matter
To do what you do that you must
When the things that you hold can fall and be shattered
Or run through your fingers like dust
- Dire Straits, "Love Over Gold"
"Morning, Sir." As usual, Detective Sergeant James Hathaway was already at his desk peering at something on his computer screen when Detective Inspector Robert Lewis came in, cheeks ruddied from the chill, winter-morning air.
"You seem cheery this morning." Lewis switched on his computer.
"I'm just happy to see your amazing face again, as always."
Lewis snorted and began sorting through his inbox. The two sheets on top of the papers caught his immediate attention: duplicate copies of Hathaway's request for leave time over the holidays, submitted last week and now officially approved by Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent.
"I think I've detected the real reason for your joy," Lewis said, handing James the one marked "Employee Copy" and putting the other aside to be filed.
"Oh, you are good, Sir. So good, in fact, you might even be able to get by without me for a few days."
"I wonder if I'll even notice the difference." Lewis dodged the pencil Hathaway lobbed at him. "Oy, now! Assaulting a police officer is a serious offense!" They grinned at each other. "You spending some time at the Hathaway ancestral manor?"
"Oh, yes. The whole extended family gathers for days of holiday revelry. It's loads of fun." Hathaway's tone indicated quite the opposite. "Will you be seeing family at all, Sir?"
"Not this year. Our Lyn has to work straight through until New Year's Day."
Hathaway sobered a bit at the thought of his boss spending the holidays alone. "Don't tell me you plan to work straight through, too?"
"No, I won't be coming in every day. I have me own holiday traditions to observe." Lewis became more serious, too.
"Such as?" Hathaway felt a growing concern.
Lewis looked a bit grim. "Making it through to the other side. It's something I try to manage every year. Just a question of mind over matter."
Hathaway resolved to remember to telephone during his week-long absence. He felt a nagging misgiving about Lewis's "holiday traditions."
At the end of the workday that Friday, they went out for a farewell holiday pint. Dr. Laura Hobson joined them, as usual, and Hathaway was a bit surprised that Lewis also invited D.S. Adrian Kershaw along with the group. James didn't know Kershaw well, but had heard well of him and liked what he had seen of the man. Kershaw, like Hathaway, came from a background of privilege and both men had come in on the fast track. Both also seemed to be languishing a bit, career-wise, as well, James thought. Hathaway and Hobson went to stake out a table in the rather crowded pub while Lewis and Kershaw waited for the barman to fill the glasses.
"You know what's up with Kershaw coming along?" James asked Laura, keeping his voice low.
"I suppose this time of year reminds Lewis of all that Kershaw has done for him. Feels like he owes Kershaw a pint or two."
"What do you mean?"
"He used to be Lewis's bagman, after Lewis made inspector and before he got shipped to the islands. You didn't know that?"
"He never said. He doesn't talk to me about that time." Nor does anyone else, James thought. There was some kind of code of silence about that period. Almost everyone at the station liked Lewis, so James figured Lewis must not have done his finest work after his former boss, Chief Inspector Morse, died, followed two years later by the death of Lewis's wife, Valerie.
"It wasn't easy to be around him then. But Kershaw served him well. Probably better than he deserved, given how badly Lewis was doing his job at the time."
James cocked his head at her, inquiringly.
But she shook her head. "Sorry. It's not my story to tell."
The arrival of the two men with the glasses helped improve the mood again, and soon the group was laughing animatedly at Kershaw's hilarious description of D.I. Knox trying to talk his way out of a traffic ticket. Kershaw worked with D.C.I. Stevens now, and the two got along well, both of them dedicated to doing things by the book.
At last the foursome split up, calling cheery holiday farewells as they headed off through the crisp night in different directions. Hathaway, energized by the cold, was actually looking forward to a whole week off and fairly bounced to his car. He didn't have to be back until after Boxing Day. It would be a welcome break after a rather rugged year. He drove home, singing Christmas carols in Latin as he motored through the night.