A flash of white catches her eye, and she looks over to see Bobby flourishing his handkerchief. From the cheers and claps of his adoring young audience it is obviously the finale to one of his many magic tricks. She sees the laughter, and watches Bobby stand, scoop up one of the boys and swing him round onto his back. She can't help but smile at the ensuing piggyback chase.

"He's so good with the kids."

Alex agrees with her sister but her words prompt a moment of sadness. She knows her sister thinks that Bobby's ease is due to a childhood filled with family, friends and laughter.

Days like these, in fact.

They are at one of the many Eames family gatherings; the unexpected warm spell of sunshine prompting Sunday dinner to be turned into a barbecue and for once, she and Bobby did not have a case.

And as usual, he had shunned the adults and made a beeline for the youngsters, just as they flocked to him. She knows this endears him to her family and troubles them, but it is not her place to reveal his secrets. He had confided in her: revealing that with the adults he was constantly "reading" them, could not turn off his analytical skills, and was always looking for the subtext. But with the children, he could relax. She suspects that it runs a lot deeper than that. That through these playful moments, he could experience the childhood he never had...

Bobby is now lost to view, buried under a mountain of giggling children and she tears her eyes away. Her sister's yard is filled with people, clustered in small groups or cosy pairs and she knows this is another reason for Bobby's avoidance. Everywhere there are touches, gestures, public displays of affection and devotion and this was a constant source of frustration for him.

Because this was something she denied him.

In private, it was different. From resting her feet on his under the breakfast table to resting her head in his lap as they shared quiet reading times at the end of the day; there was barely a moment when they weren't connected in some way.

But not in public.

She cited reasons of years of professional discretion, of wanting this to be something just between them. But her deep down irrational fear was that as soon as it was public, exposed to the world, then he would be torn from her, just as Joe had been.

She's distracted from her thoughts by Bobby's panting arrival, his cheeks flushed, and eyes shining.

"Got one of those for me?"

She passes him the spare hot dog, slathered in her brother in law's special homemade sauce, watches him greedily take a bite. Watches the sauce smear on his lips, watches him reach for a napkin and thinks;

"Oh, what the hell!"

She interrupts his movement, grabs his neck and pulls him down for a wonderfully sloppy sauce-flavoured kiss.

She is oblivious to the woops and cheers of delight around them, as he picks her up and swings her around, never once breaking the kiss.

This is very public but it is also something very special, just between them.