The sky had become darker since he had entered the supermarket and Tommy expected that he was about to get very wet. He made it to the car dry and was almost home when the heavens opened. He parked, grabbed the groceries and made a dash for his door. "Barbara, I'm home." He grinned idiotically at no one. He had never thought he would say those words but they were both comfortable and comforting on his tongue; words he could get used to saying.
Barbara arrived to help him. "Do you always grin like that when you get wet?" she asked. Her hair was still disorderly where she had slept on it and her eyes were shining at him fondly.
"Instant idiot, just add water?" He grinned impishly at her. It stopped him reaching out and kissing her which was a very tempting option. He looked away hoping his feelings were not too transparent.
"It's beer. Just add beer, but maybe they can re-print the tee-shirts just for you."
"Did you sleep well?" he asked glad to see her laugh but happy to change the subject away from his shortcomings.
"Not bad," she said keen to avoid thinking about that nightmare, "I think everything just caught up with me."
"Understandable," he said walking to the kitchen, "dinner first or whatever mischief you have in mind?"
"Is all that for one meal?" she asked suspiciously, "how many people have you invited over?"
"Only you. I know your appetite."
"Yeah ha ha. A pint and chips would do me."
"What and waste all this? There's some beer in the fridge if you fancy it while I get ready. I'll have one too."
Tommy was an efficient cook and quickly chopped his tomatoes and blended his sauce. He dropped the pasta into a large stainless steel pot of bubbling, steamy water and listened to the satisfying hiss as the water cooled. As soon as it was boiling again he turned down the gas and took another sip of his beer. He looked up and smiled then started to grate his parmesan.
Barbara shyly returned his smile. She had hovered nearby watching with fascination a side of her boss she had not imagined. She thought she knew him well but there was obviously a lot she did not know and she speculated what other talents he might have hidden away. "I didn't know you could cook."
"I taught myself after...well recently. I thought I should look after myself more after months of neglect. Actually you're my first dinner guest so it might not be any good."
"Better than my cooking. Anything more than toast and it is better to eat out."
Tommy had no reply that could not be construed as rude so he changed the subject. "So why did I need to bring home a lock-pick kit?"
Barbara disappeared and returned with a battered, green metal box. "This," she said as she sat on a stool at his breakfast bar. "I found it in Mum's belongings. I've got no idea what's in it and I can't find a key."
Tommy pulled the kit from his pocket and tossed it on the bench. She picked up a couple of picks and tried the lock. By the time the pasta was ready she had made no progress but had bruised her thumb and bent one of the picks. "Do you want me to try after dinner?" Tommy asked cautiously, "Judith and I used to break into the old locks in Dad's study quite regularly."
The confession made her laugh. "So you had a choice of career then, police or crime."
"Never a choice, I used to always confess to my father. I think he only locked things up so we could enjoy breaking in," he said as he skillfully plated the pasta.
Barbara waited for him to pull the crusty bread from the oven. As soon as he sat she began to hoover up her pasta. "Hmm, this is really good," she said layering enough butter on her bread to create a national shortage. "But bread with pasta? Aren't we mixing our carbs?"
Tommy liked her twinkling smile as she mocked him. He was tempted to laugh but played deliberately into her hands. "No, pasta and bread both come from wheat so it's the same carb. Yesterday was rice and wheat, different carbs."
Barbara rolled her eyes and laughed. "Well that's all right then, we can't have the etiquette police raiding us."
They stacked his dishwasher then sat at his bench and cautiously eyed the box. Tommy felt a little apprehensive but had decided he would try to open it then leave Barbara to look inside. It took him just under three minutes before he felt the last pin line up. "There," he said as he turned the lock so it was open. He pushed the unlocked box across to Barbara. "I'll leave you to it," he said tenderly.
"No, stay. I have no idea what's inside but it can't be anything that shocking can it?"
Tommy grinned at her. "Remember that old lady in Harrowgate and what was in her drawer?"
Barbara blushed; visions of the shiny ebony vibrator in a rosewood case leapt into her mind's eye. "Oh God no, not my mother!"
Tommy was instantly remorseful and could have hit himself for his tactlessness "Oh Barbara, sorry. I wasn't trying to be disrespectful. That was a ridiculous thing to have said."
Barbara had not been offended in the slightest but he looked so mortified that she had to act. His arm was lying on the bench and she reached out and squeezed it just above the wrist. "It's fine Sir. It's good to laugh, really. Now let's see what we have in here."
She opened the box slowly. It seemed to be filled with neatly folded papers. Barbara was a little disappointed. "Probably just their income tax returns."
"Maybe it's the deeds to a long lost family fortune," he joked trying to cover his embarrassment at his earlier gaff.
She unfolded the top page. It was her brother's death certificate and the unexpected reminder made her shudder. The next was an envelope that contained photos of Terry in hospital. She stared at them briefly then placed them on the table next to the certificate. "My brother," she said trying hard to control her emotions.
Tommy could hear the effort it was taking her to not react. "Maybe you should leave this for another time?" he said gently.
"No, I want to see what's here."
"Would you like me to wait in the lounge? I don't want to intrude."
She looked up at him with pleading eyes. At first Tommy was unsure if they wanted him to stay or leave. She looked again at the photos of her brother and began to cry softly. He could not leave her. He stood and moved closer to her putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her towards his chest. With his other hand he fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief which he gave her with the very unsoothing words, "it's clean."
"Thanks. I'm sorry Sir, I just...wasn't anticipating that."
Tommy looked at the photos. He could understand why it upset her to be painfully reminded of her brother and his suffering. Terry had the same features and cheeky grin as Barbara and although he had no hair Tommy could see he also had her colouring. It made Tommy swallow hard. The lad could be no more than about ten. He imagined it must be harder to lose a child you knew and loved than to lose an unborn child, although he still struggled with the unnecessary death of his unborn son. "At least he had a name."
"Sorry?" Barbara was frowning at him totally perplexed by his statement.
Tommy realised he had spoken aloud. Again he was devastated by his lack of tact. "No, I'm sorry, I was away with the fairies."
"I know they loved him. They just couldn't cope with him being ill and dying is all. I was too hard on them. I drove them to early deaths. I think Mum developed Alzheimers to escape you know."
Tommy hugged her again. "You can't think like that. You did everything you could. We're never perfect Barbara, none of us but we do the best we can."
Barbara stood for a minute or so looking at her brother before she pulled the next envelope from the box. It was a series of photographs of the two of them as children. The first few were of her after her brother had died. There was a surly resentment in her surprisingly dull eyes. Most though were of them playing, some were school photos and others were shots she remembered her father had made them pose for so he could record more than two blurs.
Tommy was fascinated by the photos as she continued to lay them out. Barbara had been a happy, smiling child who looked like she had no cares at all. How different that was to the defensive, bitter woman she had been on their first case. Even then though he could tell that underneath her anger she had a pure heart, one that she had shown him on many, many occasions. "You look happy."
"I was," she said wistfully. She smiled at some of the memories. "Oh look, here's one in front of the caravan on the coast!"
"They don't seem to have changed." He had known then that staying in the van had transported Barbara back to a time when she was happy but it only dawned on him now that she had wanted to share that with him. She had wanted him to understand that she had not always been the socially awkward and lonely person she had become. He nestled closer to to her and regretted having secretly mocked the van with Helen. He had been a judgmental snob trying to match Helen's view of the world to impress her. He should have realised then that if he was prepared to sacrifice Barbara's unfailing loyalty like that, getting back with Helen would ultimately rob him of his humanity. Perhaps that was too harsh but her values had not been his and he had tried to bend to fit in. It would never have lasted, even if she had not been shot.
Barbara mistook his sigh for unpleasant memories. "I know the caravan was torturous for you Sir but it reminded me of some of these better times."
"I know. I think 'he doth protest too much'," he replied recognising that he had had fun sharing the van with Barbara. It was not the location but the proximity and the company. At the time he had written it off as sentimentality rubbing off from Barbara but now he understood he had relished being so close to her. "I enjoyed it more than you think."
Barbara felt the tension in his arm. She had forgotten it was still around her shoulders. It had seemed automatic to stand so close but now she became aware of it she knew it was far from natural. She should step aside, break contact, re-establish their boundaries but she stayed still, unwilling to forego the pleasure of having him touch her. She looked up into his eyes. Her confusion and uncertainty was matched by his and there seemed to be just a trace of desire too. She would not object if he tried to kiss her, in fact she willed him to do it.
Her eyes mesmerised him and seemed to call to him like Odysseyian sirens. He wanted desperately to kiss her and he even lowered his head slightly before common sense prevailed. She was his friend and grieving, to act now would be taking advantage of her and would doom any chance they had of a future together. "What else is in that box?"
