Crime Traveller: Three people, two plates
"You're sure I can't help with the washing up?" his father asked, as he put on his overcoat. "In the five years I was inside I washed more dishes than you probably had hot dinners."
"All the more reason for you to leave these ones for us," Slade replied, picking up a tea towel.
Jack Slade turned to Holly, who hovered behind them in the hallway.
"I hope you'll make him do them, after all the work you put into dinner."
Slade saw Holly squirm for a moment, clearly toying with whether she should confess before opting to keep quiet. His dad would never believe that any son of his could cook that well.
"Well, I'd best be off," his dad said, as Holly moved past him to open the front door. "Thank you for the meal."
Slade watched his father give Holly a quick peck on the cheek, and then turn to him.
"Jeff," Jack said, offering his hand. Slade took it, and they shook firmly; he would recognise his dad's handshake anywhere.
"I'll let you two get some sleep," his father said, winking.
When Holly closed the door and turned back to face Slade, she was blushing, and Slade offered her what he realised was probably an awkward smile. His father had, no doubt about it, come to a very particular conclusion.
"You know that's your fault," Holly told him, as she made her way purposefully towards the kitchen.
Slade grinned to himself, instantly feeling his whole body relax now his father was on his way and the purpose of the evening had been accomplished.
"What's my fault?"
"It's because you insisted that we have dinner here and not at your flat," she elaborated.
"I told you-"
"Three people, two plates, I know," Holly said, anticipating his response. "You hadn't considered buying a third one?"
"I only bought a second one because of you," Slade told her.
This seemed to stop Holly in her tracks, because her expression suddenly softened. He watched as she picked up her half-empty wine glass from the table and took a sip.
"So, are you going to do those dishes?"
Slade snorted.
"Can I remind you who actually did the cooking?"
"And can I remind you who provided the time machine?"
Slade smiled. That was the trump card he would never have an adequate response to. Holly held up the washing up brush in one hand and a tea towel in the other, looking at him and waiting for his move. He leaned forward and took the brush from her hand, setting it back down on the counter so he could roll up his sleeves.
"I thought that went well," Slade said, as he waited for the bowl to fill with water.
Holly gave a short laugh.
"That's an interesting view of events," Holly said. "What part of it did you think went well? The part where your father practically deduced that we were using time-travel to solve this case – or maybe the way we so casually disabused him of that idea?"
Slade smiled.
"I was handling that fine until you joined in," he told her. "I hope you never consider high-stakes gambling to raise money for the machine; you've got a terrible poker face."
"I haven't had as much practice as you," she replied.
He had that coming. They continued doing the dishes in silence for a few moments, but he saw Holly looking at him, and quickly looked away when he caught her. She had been acting strangely nervous all evening, and while he had assumed it was due to his father's visit, he wondered whether it was more than that. Maybe it was just strange having him in her flat; being there for the brief time it took to use the machine was one thing, but cooking dinner, spending the evening there was something else entirely. Slade understood why she might feel that way, because one of the few things they had in common was a familiarity with their own company.
"You really don't think any of it went well?"
Holly looked across at him, and that back down at the glass in her hand.
"The food was good," she conceded. "Well, until I suddenly lost my appetite."
"Well, there's more where that came from," Slade said, realising almost immediately what he'd just said. Still, he could think of worse things than cooking dinner for Holly Turner every night of the week.
"Where's your father staying?" Holly asked.
"Grisham apparently made some calls and found him somewhere for a few nights," Slade told her. "I would have offered him the couch at mine but...well, I thought we might need it."
This didn't come out sounding as he intended.
"For a place to stay," he clarified.
Holly, despite blushing, managed a response.
"Perhaps we need to stop using the machine," she said with a sigh. "We're using it too casually. If your father has suspicions now, do you honestly think that he'll just let it drop?"
Slade smiled. He got the impression that Holly's relationship with her father was somewhat different to his own.
"Relax, Holly," he said. "He was just stirring. He likes to keep people on their toes."
"How did he even make the connection between me and my father?"
Slade shrugged.
"He asked me about you; you know, about your work for the police."
"And what did you say?"
"Just that you're a brilliant quantum physicist with an interest in the practical applications of time-travel."
Holly looked at him through narrowed eyes, not fooled for a second.
"Anyway, he likes you," Slade continued, handing Holly a plate. "So something did go well this evening."
This time, Holly was blushing so profusely he thought she might make an excuse to leave the room. Again, he hadn't intended to make that statement as pointed as it sounded – after all, it sounded as though this had been his plan, to properly introduce Holly to his father. As he dunked a saucepan in the sink, he acknowledged the fact that this was, on some level, true. Yes, he only had two plates and yes, he was slightly ashamed of the Spartan condition of his flat, but there were other advantages of hosting the meal at Holly's place. It was a long time since Slade had spent any time alone with his father, and even then they had never been very good at it. Having a third person there acted as a buffer, which was great, but there was a small part of him that also wanted to - how else could he put it? - show Holly off to his father. Jack was not easy to impress – God knows following his footsteps into the police hadn't done it – but Slade knew he would be disarmed and impressed by Holly. Although he may have left with an impression that was a little at odds from reality...
"I like him, too," Holly said eventually. "For someone who has spent the past five years in prison, he seemed incredibly...together."
"Yeah," Slade agreed. "It can't have been easy, especially with the ex-cop label."
"What will he do now?"
Slade shook his head. Everything in the past few days had been such a whirl that this wasn't something he'd had the time or space to consider.
"I can't see him coming back to the force," he replied. "Not after everything that's happened; not even if Gareth Oldroyd gets the punishment he deserves."
"I'm not sure Grisham could cope with two Detective Slades in the same division," Holly observed, smiling
"I'm not sure I could either," he replied, returning the smile.
By this time the dishes were done, and Slade wondered whether this was his cue to leave. That would make sense, seeing as it was now after ten and he had still drunk sufficiently little to make driving home both safe and legal.
"I'm going to make a coffee, do you want one?" Holly asked, picking up the kettle. "I mean, unless you have to go."
"What, back to my two plates?"
Holly laughed, taking the milk from the fridge. Slade noted that their friendship had reached the stage where they no longer needed to ask how the other took their coffee.
Coffee in hand, Slade followed Holly to the living room, waiting while Holly cleared a number of components and circuit-boards from the table. She sat at one end of the couch, and Slade tried to gauge where he should arrange himself. Sitting at the other end made them seem like they were strangers in a doctor's waiting room, but at the same time he didn't want to deprive Holly of her personal space.
"I've just realised that I never thanked you properly," he said, setting his mug down on the table. "Without you and the machine, I might be on my way to Force 9 myself right about now."
"You don't have to thank me," she replied. "Besides, I think a diamond thief like you would be heading somewhere much more high-security."
Slade smiled.
"You never doubted me?" he asked. "I mean, thought that I might have done it?"
It hadn't gone unnoticed to him that even his father had felt the need to ask.
"Of course not," Holly said, softly. "There are plenty of other nefarious things I would believe you capable of doing, but this one would have been going too far even for you."
"Well, I'm still grateful. At least someone would have come to see me at visiting time."
There was a silence while they both drank their coffee. Something had been on Slade's mind since his father arrived, and he was still weighing up whether to raise it with Holly. After all, people misspeak all the time – and maybe had embarrassed Holly enough for one evening.
"You look as though you're plotting something," Holly said, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Slade took a breath.
"When my father got here, you told him we were painting the sitting room."
Holly's eyes flicked down to her knees before looking up at him again.
"Did I? Well, I had to think of something."
"I just...well, that's probably where my dad got the idea...where the thing that you say is my fault came from."
He saw Holly blanch and then quickly recover herself.
"Because I said 'we'? It was just a figure of speech. Anyway, would it be so hard for your father to believe that you might help me out with some decorating?"
Slade laughed and shook his head. Holly's face was priceless, and he felt that pang again, the one he had been feeling more regularly recently, when he knew he couldn't reasonably stretch out his visit any longer.
"He's right about one thing, though," Slade said, setting down his now-empty mug. "We should get some sleep."
He stood to go and Holly followed him towards the front door. As his hand connected with the latch, Slade wondered whether a quick kiss on the cheek would be straying outside the boundaries of their friendship. During this split second of indecision, Holly spoke up.
"Oh, I nearly forgot," she said, in a tone he recognised as an attempt at being casual. She went over to the table in the hallway and picked something up; it was a key.
"After what happened today, I thought you might need this sometime," Holly said, by way of explanation, adding more firmly: "In an emergency."
Slade took the key, with its neat plastic fob and blue rubber cover, and looked at it for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. The significance of this gesture was not lost on him.
"Thanks," he told her.
The kiss on the cheek still seemed a plausible option, but again Holly spoke first.
"See you tomorrow?"
"Well, it's Saturday tomorrow, and seeing as you Science Officers get to put your feet up at the weekend..."
"See you Monday, then," Holly corrected, smiling.
Slade nodded.
"Well, g'night," he said.
Was Holly waiting for something? He couldn't be sure. He also didn't remember being so bad at this.
"'Night," she replied, her voice barely audible.
A second later, Slade was back in the corridor. Through the frosted glass, he saw Holly's silhouette retreat down the hallway and he exhaled deeply. Hands stuffed into pockets, he made his way along the corridor, and started to think how he could concoct a reason to be back at Sundown Court tomorrow night.
End