**OK, I think I'm done spinning tales off of S1E1. I'm sure there are more lurking but they will have to wait until I watch the entire Poole/Bordey dream over again and/or finish this series of stories.**
Lily Abides
Part 1 of 10
"Alone?"
The word hangs in the air, almost visible, in size 100 font, bold and underlined, twisting and turning like poisonous smoke. It is such a simple small everyday common word yet weighted with such well-crafted questioning nuance… Are you lonely? Longing? Unhappy? Empty?
Lily watches with fearful dread as a myriad of emotions flit across DI Poole's face in response to her seemingly polite query. She'd just flung the word out in desperation like a barbed and baited fish hook, not really knowing what his reaction would be, and now she sees something in his eyes that tells her that, against all the odds, she's hit a nerve.
Oh, yes, she's hit a nerve all right! The man is practically choking trying to save face and cover up the deep personal pain he's revealed to someone he's only just met… and a junior officer at that!
Sweet cool relief floods through her because… because his words back at the shack, his unerring nose for the discrepancies in the case, his very-close-to-the-truth suppositions, had alarmed her mightily! Somehow, after less than 24 hours on the island, he has hit on all the things that made no sense; the book, the missing murder weapon, gunshot THEN alarm, the locked room… everything, oh, everything! She couldn't stand to listen to any more of his acutely perceptive questions. He sounded like he was ready to solve the case! She HAD to distract him and quickly!
And so she'd plucked the ignored beer out of his hand and dragged him down onto the beach under the pretense of giving him a break… but, really, it was to stop his accurate guesswork. The man was a machine! A robot! Despite the total upheaval in his life, he was hot on the trail that led right to her very heels. She had to side-track him! How do you side-track a machine? Well, you look for its weak point and then shove a reefing great spanner into the works! And, more by luck than design, she'd found the exact right spanner for the job!
Women. He couldn't handle women. And Lily is JUST the woman to take advantage of that!
She had set him up beautifully with just a few words, a smile, wide guileless gaze… and he'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book! Look directly into a man's eyes like he is the most fascinating thing you've ever seen and ask him to talk about himself. Of course, it didn't hurt that they were standing on a twilight beach in a tropical paradise with the sun setting oh-so-cosily into the gently heaving ocean. And, of course, it didn't hurt that he was jet-lagged, hopelessly socially inept, and almost screaming to be sent back to where he belonged. But there was something else at play here, something her sharpened sense of self-preservation had picked up on; an abject need to be accepted, to be liked, maybe even to be admired just a little… as a newcomer, the boss, and perhaps even as a man.
A man, he's just a man. And men are something Lily knows ALL about!
And it is her feminine instincts that leap upon this last idea. Now that his words of fondness for his pub have stumbled to a confused halt, now as he fidgets and stammers, she makes a snap decision. Instead of looking away from his nervous jittery smile, she softens her eyes and gives him a shy smile in return.
She knows immediately that she has guessed right as her next words bring a faint blush to his cheeks,
"That can't be right, sir, not for a man like you. Alone? I'm sure there's an unwritten rule that handsome men with perfect manners deserve feminine company wherever an' whenever they wish. Don't you agree?" She gives him another gentle smile and sees her words arrow right to his heart.
His nervous smile fades and he just stands there above the tide-line like something thrown up onto the beach after a storm. He looks like someone has pulled his plug; eyes blank, lips slightly parted. She frowns tiny and takes a step towards him, suddenly concerned that she has misread him. Maybe he doesn't like women? Maybe he's… but his next move proves that she has not. He almost falls over taking a huge step backwards, stumbling, stuttering, "H… h… handsome? You think I'm…?"
She sighs with relief, drops her eyes demurely and nods, twists away, all the better to show her profile to best advantage as she lisps quietly, "Oh, I'm so sorry, sir, I shouldna said that. Please forgive me. You won't report me, will you?" She waits to see if he takes the bait.
He coughs, tries to regain his equilibrium, and walks right into her trap, "Um, no, no, of course not, why should I? It was just an unguarded comment made on the spur of the moment between colleagues. I'm sure you didn't mean to imply anything untoward." He sounds like he's brushing it off but she sees him preening just a tiny bit and is pleased. He's the type of man to say one thing but mean another. I will have to be very careful with this one!
She keeps her eyes down and gloats inwardly, murmuring, "Oh, no sir, I didn't mean anythin' by it. It's been a long hard day an' you've been so good an' kind an' patient with me." She dips her eyes up to see his cautious face then looks down again, "I'm sorry I said you was handsome. If I embarrassed you then I apologize. I'm sure you're told that by most of the women you meet anyways. Those green eyes, your authoritative manner, your gentlemanly ways, your professional attitude; how can women NOT notice you, mmm? It don't seem possible."
To this he has absolutely no reply. His mouth moves but no sound comes out. He couldn't look more astonished if he tried. Finally he schools his face, finds some air, and manages, "Oh, ah, well, no, not EVERY woman… not… um… not that I've noticed anyway. I don't get to meet many women, you see, not on the job, especially not during a murder investigation. They are usually the victim or lying or trying to frame someone else for the crime. So, ah, um, what were we talking about?"
She nods then, sure of herself, "We was talkin' about your pub back home but I'm tellin' you right now, sir, you are goin' to attract a LOT of attention here on the island. There's no one like you anywhere on Sainte-Marie and the women are goin' to be drawn to you like moths to a flame."
Richard's mind instantly floods with images of the exquisite island beauty that he'd met earlier that day right inside his own house, popping up like a heavenly vision from behind the bed… but Lily doesn't let him dwell on this thought for long. She sees he is slightly off-stride and wants to push her advantage.
She steps in, takes his arm, and he takes her hand by reflex as she continues, "Tell you what, DI Poole, why don't you let ME worry about all the island women, hmm? I'll keep them offa you so's you can concentrate on the case, OK?"
He looks down at her like a bull elk caught in a poacher's illegal night-time sniper's headlight, slightly askance and more than a little stunned, "You will? I can?"
She nods happily, pats his arm, and starts him walking back to his shed, "Yes, I will! An' I'll start by escortin' you back to your lovely secluded bachelor's beach-side home where I'll make sure you're tucked up nice an' safe for the night, hmm?"
He walks without looking. He can't seem to take his eyes off her, "Hmm? Oh, yes, thank you, I'd appreciate that actually. The place is in a bit of a mess, I'm afraid. Can you recommend any good cleaners? There's one in particular I met just today but I didn't get her name."
They chat chummily as they walk, leaving dents in the sand that get a bit closer the farther they go up the beach. By the time the couple reach the little house, her head is practically resting on his shoulder. He is surprised but also a trifle delighted although he tries not to show it. His body is blaring, TWO women in ONE day! Maybe my luck is turning! while his kill-joy brain whispers warnings.
END – part 1
