Several hours later Rosalind was sitting in bed, sipping the cup of tea that her husband had brought her and listening to the sound of his steady pacing from the floor below.
After his biscuit, warm milk and another dose of pain medication, Andrew had slept for just over an hour. That had given Christopher enough time to wash, change and have a cup of tea while they discussed the past two days.
Unfortunately Andrew had started crying again just as Christopher brought her a second cup and he had kissed her chastely and left the room to comfort their son. That was almost an hour ago now and Andrew's cries had quieted but not quite ceased as Christopher patiently paced back and forth speaking to him in the gentle, warm voice that Rosalind knew he reserved for them alone.
He was so good, her Christopher, that some days it felt too good to be true. He adored her, their son and the life they were building together. He had an important and difficult job that worried her sometimes but he excelled at it, and he was doing so much good.
Some men would have used such a job as an excuse to sit by the fire and smoke and expect to have their slippers brought to them but not Christopher. He came home and played with Andrew, did the washing up and anything else that he saw needed doing.
When she listened to the other women at church complain about their husbands and then wait expectantly for her to add her grievances Rosalind always felt awkward. She didn't have anything to complain about but to say as much would be not be well received so she usually said something about Christopher working long hours sometimes and hoped that would satisfy them.
Rosalind smiled as she heard Christopher begin to sing softly, he had a lovely deep voice but until Andrew was born she'd never heard him sing outside of church. She placed her now empty teacup on the bedside table and snuggled further under the covers, her eyes sliding closed of their own accord.
Fifteen minutes later Foyle stood in the doorway to their bedroom, lips pulling down into a smile as he studied his sleeping wife. He longed to crawl in beside her but their son was asleep in his arms and he was worried that if he tried to put him down Andrew would wake up and start crying again.
So instead he gave his wife one last lingering glance and taking a blanket from the airing cupboard, headed downstairs for a night spent on the settee. It was far from his first night up with his son and Foyle knew it wouldn't be his last. "One of these days you're going to be too big for this aren't you Andrew?"
Andrew's only response was to nuzzle his head more firmly into Foyle's chest and Foyle couldn't help pressing a kiss to his soft hair. For a moment he wished Andrew could stay this small forever, he wanted his arms to always be enough to keep his boy safe but he knew that wasn't realistic.
"I'll always try son," he murmured, "even when you're taller than me and a man in your own right I want you to know you can come to me and I'll always do everything I can to keep you safe and well."
Andrew shifted again, mumbling "Dada" sleepily and Foyle pressed another kiss to the top of his head as he settled them on the settee.
"That's right Andrew, Daddy's got you. Just rest son." And closing his eyes Foyle let himself fall asleep with the comforting warmth of his son resting on his chest.
That was how Rosalind found them, both fast asleep on the settee, when she came downstairs for a cup of tea after her cough woke her in the middle of the night. She smiled softly at the sight and crossed quietly to the settee to tuck her boys in more snugly.
She couldn't help lingering for a moment, in this light Andrew looked so like his father, she could only pray he would grow into as good a man. It was a daunting task when she stopped to think about it, to raise her little boy into a man, but with Christopher by her side it seemed manageable.
Unable to resist she brushed a light kiss against Christopher's forehead and then crept quietly to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.
Dawn was only just starting to creep through the curtains when the insistent squirming and babbling of his son woke Foyle and he opened his eyes to find Andrew staring at him. He smiled, "Good morning Andrew"
"Dada! Ba An ow." Andrew was pulling at his right ear and Foyle sighed as he carefully swung his feet off the settee and sat up, wincing as his back protested.
"Does your ear hurt Andrew?"
"An ow" Andrew replied hand going to his right ear again and Foyle frowned. Getting to his feet he shifted Andrew so he could place his own hand over Andrew's sore ear to stop Andrew pulling at it.
"I'm sorry Andrew, let's get you a clean nappy and then you can have some breakfast and some medicine to make your ear feel better." Andrew snuggled close and gave a whine of discomfort that made Foyle's heartache.
He kissed the top of Andrew's head, "I know it hurts son, I'm sorry…mhmm…let's try not to wake Mummy alright? She needs her rest."
Andrew soon had a clean nappy and Foyle was trying to make breakfast with his son on his hip. Normally he would have just put Andrew in his high chair but when Andrew was ill he clung to his parents like a small kola bear and Foyle didn't want to risk waking Rose by putting him down, incase he started to wail.
So instead he started porridge and tea and put a soft blanket in the warming oven, all the while carrying on a mostly one-sided conversation with his son. Andrew was starting to speak in somewhat more understandable syllables but this morning instead of babbling away like normal, he was sucking his thumb head resting on Foyle's chest.
Foyle chewed on his cheek as he waited impatiently for the porridge to finish and the blanket to warm. He couldn't give Andrew more medication on an empty stomach and he very much hoped that he wouldn't be fussy about eating as he sometimes was when he wasn't feeling well.
The blanket was ready before the porridge so Foyle draped it over one shoulder and then shifted Andrew so his sore ear was resting against the additional warmth. The effect was immediate, Andrew relaxed against him with a little sigh and Foyle kissed the top of his head as he stirred the porridge.
When Rosalind came down twenty minutes later she found her boys sitting at the kitchen table, Andrew in Christopher's lap, eating their breakfast. She couldn't help giggling as she watched Christopher raise his eyebrows and make airplane noises as he delivered a spoonful of porridge into Andrew's mouth.
They both looked up at the sound and smiled warmly, "Mama!" Andrew crowed while Christopher's lips pulled down into a smile, "Morning love."
Rosalind smiled back and crossed to the table, "Good morning, how are my favourite boys this morning?"
"Feeling a bit better now that we've had some breakfast, isn't that right Andrew?"
"An plane zoom!" Andrew explained with almost his usual level of enthusiasm and Rosalind smiled as she kissed his forehead to check for a fever.
"Did an airplane bring you your porridge? What a luck boy you are!"
Andrew smiled but then put a hand to his ear and frowned at his mother, "Ow Mama."
Rosalind sighed and ran a gentle hand through his hair, "I'm sorry Andrew, once you've finished eating you can have some of your medicine."
Andrew's frown deepened, 'No ick!"
Foyle sighed, "It will make you feel better Andrew, and you can have some cocoa with it, that doesn't sound too bad does it?"
"Cocoa? Bicit?"
"Yes, if you're a good boy and eat your porridge and take your medicine." Andrew considered this with more gravity than a two-year-old ought to posses and then nodded. Foyle smiled and offered him another spoonful of porridge before looking up at his wife, "How are you feeling this morning Rose?'
"Better, I think I was just tired. I can take him now so you can go and get ready for work."
Foyle shook his head, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, "I'm not going to work today love; Bradshaw said I could have the day off if I wanted because of all the overtime from the last case and I've decided to take him up on it. I'll call the station after breakfast to let them know."
Rosalind looked like she was about to protest but Foyle caught her hand and gave it a squeeze, "I've hardly seen you both for two days Rose, I'd want to stay home today even if you and Andrew weren't ill."
Rosalind smiled and kissed him softly, "I love you Christopher, so very, very much."
Foyle kissed her back, "I love you too Rose," he paused and looked down at their son, "both of you."
A/N: My thoughts are with the people of Italy following the deadly earthquake there last night and those in Louisiana who continue to deal with the devastating flooding.
