Silence can be awkward, peaceful or threatening but today in Tommy's car the quietness was reassuring to both of them. They were able to be themselves without fear of needing to conform to strict social mores. Tommy was not trying to comfort Barbara with platitudes about her grief and she was not trying to fill the space with small talk so that he did not think about Helen. That was the thing about their friendship that Tommy appreciated beyond anything, they instinctively understood what the other was feeling and respected the time needed to process their thoughts and order their emotions. It had not always been that way but over the years they had developed an understanding and in many ways they had even become interdependent. It was a word Tommy hated to use but he knew it was true.

Despite her half-hearted protests he had insisted on driving her to the nursing home. When he had held her he had felt her quivering and he knew that the guilt of the past lurked dangerously just below the surface. He recognised the signs because he had walked this path less than twelve months before. He had never forgotten how grateful he had been when Barbara had joined him on the bench after Helen's funeral. She had had no plan except to be there with him, for him. She simply listened and reminded him that life continued, when he was ready. It had been a moment of pure friendship. Tommy was not sure when the equivalent bench moment would be but he wanted to be there for Barbara. He did not want her to sit alone, scared and devoid of hope, as he had done before she arrived. His only regret was that he had then spurned that friendship and enjoyed wallowing in his own self-loathing. That too he would make up to her one day.

The body had already been removed to the funeral parlour so Barbara thanked the staff for their care and collected a box of her mother's belongings. "Not much to signify a life is it," she stated as they reached his car. "A box of trinkets that mean nothing to anyone else."

"They mean something to you." Tommy understood only too well how hopeless and alone she felt. He desperately tried to think of a way to help but nothing but time would ease her pain. At the moment being her chauffeur was the most practical thing to do.

They drove in silence to the funeral directors. Barbara declined to see her mother to say goodbye and decided against a funeral. "No point," she said quietly, "there'd be me, someone from the nursing home and maybe you and Winston. It won't do her any good and it costs a fortune."

"You might regret it later," Tommy said as they drove away but he could tell her mind was made up. In truth the funeral had been no solace for him when Helen died either.

"Nah, I won't."

"Do you fancy breakfast?" He knew Barbara was always hungry when she was stressed.

"Yeah but I can't be bothered with any of those trendy cafes of yours," she said wearily, "I've probably got something at home."

"What if I cook? Bacon and eggs, some fried tomato, some toast."

Barbara seemed to hesitate. "Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to impose."

"I'd like to cook for you." She nodded and he adjusted his route to head for Belgravia. Since Helen had left him Tommy had discovered he enjoyed cooking. He knew even his worst was better than Barbara's best efforts. She was many things but domestically gifted was not one of them.

Her voracious appetite was not harmed by her mother's death and after her third helping Tommy wondered if grief actually made her eat more. She looked at the clock on his wall and saw with horror it had gone ten o'clock. "Damn, look at the time. We're running late."

"It's fine. I sent Winston a text to let him know. I'll have a shave and shower then drop you home before I go in and tidy up our notes on those tapes and sort out a few days off for both of us."

"I don't need time off," she snapped, "I'm fine. Even if I did why do you need time off?"

"There's always things to do. Notifications, closing bank accounts, all sorts of things. It is easier to do it all at once and I thought you might like some moral support. I also thought a few days at Howenstowe for a break might help." He had lied. The last idea had come to him only as he spoke but he did think time away from London would help provide perspective.

Barbara swallowed hard. She was touched by his gentleness and kindness. He was always practical and thoughtful. "I hadn't thought of all that. Really, it's a bit much to contemplate yet and I know you mean well but I'm not up to visiting your mother."

Tommy ignored the waver in her voice. "There's no hurry. Whenever you're up to it. Mother is in Boston so it would just be the two of us in the house but I understand. The offer's there if you change your mind either about helping you or Cornwall." He smiled sympathetically and tried not to look too disappointed. "I'll only be fifteen minutes while I shave and shower then I'll take you home, unless of course you would prefer to stay here. I have the spare room."

Barbara looked at him sentimentally. He was a good man trying hard to find the correct balance between help and pressure. She had got that line wrong with him a few times last year and his reaction had been hurtful. She was determined not to do that to him but to just be honest and trust that he would not push too hard. "Not likely, I'd get home to find my flat painted!" She had said it as a joke but it was a painful reminder of her mother's condition and her father's death. She swallowed back tears that threatened to spill.

Tommy looked up and smiled at her. Tempted though he was to enfold her in his arms, he decided to ignore her tears until she was ready to share them with him. "Even I'm not stupid enough to do that twice. Make yourself at home, I won't be long."

To save time he tried combining his shower and shave but the result was the unintentional loss of a small chunk of skin from his chin. Tommy took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Barbara's loss had brought back many mixed memories for him and he was not sure whether he was helping or hindering. He decided to back off a little and give her space.

Barbara wandered around his living room then sat on his sofa to wait. She felt guilty that she did not feel overly upset by her mother's death. In some ways it was almost a relief. She had lost her mother years ago. The first stage was when Terry was sick, then when he died her parents had withdrawn further. Dementia had been the final thief. Barbara had tried to do the right thing but she had resented them as much as she felt they resented her for surviving when their son had not. She had not always been the angry, embittered person that she had become and ironically it was only her partnership with Lynley that had allowed her to relax and find some small part of what she considered to be the 'real Barbara'. "And how do you find the rest of you then?" she asked the empty room. She closed her eyes and tried to remember who she had been but that person was lost to her.

He would only be in the office for a few hours so Lynley dressed casually in jeans and a chambray shirt. His plan was to take her home, tidy up at the office then buy some food to cook at her place tonight. He would insist she eat and then be led by whether she wanted company or not. "Right! Ready?" he asked as he came into the room.

Tommy stopped speaking when he saw his sergeant was napping. Her head was lolling at an awkward angle and she looked uncomfortable. He toyed with waking her but decided she needed to rest. He tip-toed upstairs and to fetch a blanket and pillow. When he returned she had fallen onto her left side. He carefully lifted her head and laid it onto the soft down pillow then lifted her legs onto the couch. He tucked the blanket around her. She muttered incoherently and wriggled under it, snuggling it around her chin. He sat in the chair and watched her sleep. All of the tension of the last few days had disappeared from her face. She had well-defined features and beautiful thin lips. He loved it when she smiled or laughed because her whole face lit up and those brilliant, wickedly mischievous eyes of hers glowed. Tommy smiled at the memory. He crossed the room and squatted beside the couch so their faces were close. "You know Sergeant, I think I have fallen in love with you," he whispered as quietly as he could before he gave her forehead a featherlight kiss. She stirred slightly and Tommy stood and crept away. He scribbled a hasty note that he left on the table where she would see it and headed for his car.

It was three hours before Barbara woke with a start. She sat up and looked around trying to work out what was happening. She had had a nightmare that Tommy had told her he loved her. He had been running towards her shouting it trying to stop her...jumping. Her foggy confusion started to clear. She was on his couch; she must have fallen asleep. She shuddered as her dream flooded back. She was going to jump off one of his wretched Cornish cliffs and he stopped her with an unexpected but very welcome declaration that he thought he had fallen in love with her. Barbara swore and shook her head. She could not afford those thoughts, especially not at this time and not in his house. She stood up looking for him. "Sir?"

Still disconcerted she picked up and read his note, relieved that he was not there. It promised dinner and then 'stay in the spare room or I will take you home - up to you'. He was trying to be considerate of her needs and she was touched by it. She smiled as she thought about the possibilities. What would you say if I wanted to sleep in your arms like last night? That might test your boundaries! She sighed wistfully thinking about her dream. He might had been uncertain but she knew for sure, she had fallen in love with him years ago.

He would not be back for an hour at least so Barbara decided to look through her mother's belongings. There was nothing of interest or value except a photo of her father, an old watch and her wedding and engagement rings. She had never seen her mother's wedding ring off her finger and she spun it around trying to decide if it symbolised love or apathy. It caught on her nail and she noticed well-worn engraving. She squinted to see it, 'Love Always' followed by her father's initials. It shocked her to think of them once having been happy and in love. Chastened she laid the rings carefully aside and pulled an old crocheted throw rug from the box. Underneath it the next discovery fascinated her. After a few minutes she reached for her phone.

Tommy was just finishing his discussion with Hillier when his phone buzzed. He pulled it from the front pocket of his jeans and frowned. "Text from Havers," he said thankful she had saved him from a lecture.

"Just remember what I said Lynley," the Assistant Commissioner warned him, "it doesn't pay to get too attached."

"She has no one Sir. I'm the only family she has." Tommy turned before he had to look at the inevitable scowl. Their relationship was not something anyone else could understand.

He re-read the message as he left the office, puzzled that she wanted him to bring home such an unexpected object. He dutifully collected it from her drawer and headed for his car pondering what predicament might await his arrival.