AN: I write this story chapter by chapter each week with only some planned plot points to base it on. That means there's room for new ideas and improvisation as I go along, but for the first time my muse decided to take a little detour from what I had planned to do next when writing the previous chapter. She wanted to spend some more time with Mrs Miller and getting to know her and parts of her family better. I guess it'll work as something of a transition into the last section of the story that is the basis for why I chose family as the second genre rather than drama. Still a few chapters to go, though, but things will start to come to a head and confrontation draws ever closer.

This chapter, we'll deal with some new gossip and having family over for Christmas while pushing baby Black and the blondes to next chapter. However, the latter has a small debut in this one anyway, because I just couldn't help myself. (Standard disclaimer applies.)

And once again I want to thank everyone who found their way to this story and took the time to read it. And a special thanks to everyone who "liked, subscribed and commented" as some say on youtube. I cannot express how much it means to me to get feedback on this. So why not write a line to let me know if you think it's good, if there's something you think could be improved (preferably in a constructive way ^^) or you just want to say hi.

Like I said above, the work is still in progress so you might very well influence it in some way, which has already happened. Mrs Miller would not have had a godmother (named Hyacinth) without those reviews. Also, thank you to those reviewers who let me know about her. It was a pleasure to do the research. ^^


By the time Christmas arrived, Mrs Miller, along with Mrs Sutton and Mrs Jones, had written and sent numerous letters to various prisons and courts of law, asking if they had Mr Black in their records. Every reply had been in the negative, with a few even wondering if they were sure there was a person with such a strange name. And while she agreed that his parents must have been silly, mad, high or all of the above to bestow it, she hardly felt the need to reply that she agreed, seeing that it would not change anything. So far, they could not find anything to support the man's criminal history.

Mrs Sutton's cousin had also let them know he had found nothing in his research about any family named Black and they were running out of ideas.

Then, just a week before the holiday, another bombshell shook the neighbourhood and the Blacks were put on the back burner until they could all wrap their heads around what Robert Henderson had done. While the man had never been anything but fodder for gossip, ranging from disapproving to scandalous, as well as an annoyance when having to interact with him, this was on a whole new level.

The story about Miss Hoyle was still the worst, seeing as it involved a pretty young woman and embezzlement. However, Mr Henderson, the perpetual single who always bragged about working with The Sun's page three, must surely claim second place with how he had quit his job to become a freelancer so he could go and live with his lover down in Spain. His male lover.

Apparently the two had met when Mr Henderson had been on holidays down there the summer last year and their relationship had now grown strong enough that they no longer wished to live apart. In a way it was sweet, but why did they have to inconvenience her neighbourhood with it all?

And what had the man been thinking, basically lying to them all by presenting himself as some sort of deprived ladies' man? If he was determined to hide his true inclinations, could he not have chosen a more considerate method of doing so? No one would complain if a professor, for example, was so devoted to his work he had no time for the opposite sex, or the same as it was in this case. Or at the very least worked with a more serious topic as a journalist. Maybe he could have covered economic or political news? If so, he would have spared those forced to associate with him, even of it was only his mother's neighbours, the unpleasantness of a detrimental acquaintance. For was it not the duty of every true Englishman - or woman - to consider all of these things and be as little trouble as possible to those around them. That was the foundation of their polite society, after all; keeping mum and carrying on.

The news had reached her and Mrs Sutton through Mrs Jones after Mrs Henderson had told the news about her son during the last D.R.A.B.S. meeting for the year. The woman had apparently been overwhelmed by it all, having been fully unaware herself, and hurt by her son's secrecy. It was a true comfort in moments like this for Mrs Miller to know that her own two children would never behave in such a way as they were both upstanding citizens as well as already properly settled with families of their own.

Their excited discussion on the subject had, however, been a bit marred by Mrs Sutton's view on who Mr Henderson had been found to be in a romantic entanglement with. The notion that straying from the norm of heterosexuality being something bad, or even sinful, was perhaps still not uncommon in their generation, but Mrs Miller had never developed a strong stance in either direction and had not focused on that aspect of the sordid affair until her friend had commented on it. It struck her then that Mrs Henderson might be ashamed of her son and that maybe that was why he had not told her. Maybe the woman had suddenly found herself without steady footing in life and was grasping for some way to find balance again. Maybe she should offer her some words of sympathy the next time they met? It could not be too much, however, seeing as Mrs Sutton would not approve and she valued her friendship more.

"Mum?"

The hand on her shoulder along with being addressed pulled Mrs Miller out of her contemplation and she looked up into the face of her son. Oliver stood in front of her armchair, leaning slightly over her with a questioning expression on his face.

"Yes, dear?"

"I've called you three times already. I was wondering if you wanted to have some mulled wine. I've just heated some."

"What? Oh, no thank you. I am perfectly happy with my tea."

"You seemed far away" he commented while sitting down on the sofa, next to his wife, who already held a small steaming cup filled with the spicy brew.

Mr Miller was to be found in the other armchair, one of the crossword puzzle magazines she had gifted him yesterday in his lap. Eleanor, her husband and their children were over at her in-laws for a Boxing day lunch. Matthew and Aidan were up in the guestroom they always used on longer visits, playing with their new toys.

"She's thinking about Mr Henderson again, I believe" Mr Miller commented, his eyes still glued to whatever puzzle he was currently on, the top of his pencil tapping against his chin while he contemplated one of the words.

"Well, yes, if you must know."

"What's he done now? Is page three especially outrageous in the latest issue or something?" Oliver asked, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He had inherited a little bit too much of his father's wit for her taste, but there was no helping it.

"No, he's given up on that career now" Mr Miller continued, "and found solace in the arms of a señor Mauricio Navarro."

"Really?"

"Yes. He moved to Spain a few weeks ago, so we'll be seeing a lot less of him from now on. Sadly, I have a strong suspicion it will be much longer until we no longer hear about him. Ah! Tundra" Mr Miller said, jotting down the word in the magazine.

"So, you think him working for The Sun, with those horrid pictures, was nothing but a way to hide that he likes men?" Julia asked.

"Yeah, if I remember correctly, you had a theory about that a few years ago, dad."

Mrs Miller whipped her head around towards her husband. That was news to her, and she could not believe he would have withheld such a thing from her for so long. He knew how important the respectability of their neighbourhood was to her, not to mention how much she deplored being taken by surprise by the people who shared it with them. Both of those things meant she needed to know what was going on.

"A theory I have considered confirmed since a few months back" her husband replied, finally looking up at them.

"What do you mean? Why have you not told me about this?" Mrs Miller asked, before taking a large gulp of tea, almost scalding her mouth and throat in the process.

"For many years I thought nothing of it, but some time back I began to wonder why he talked so much about women and his work while there was never any talk about him being with any women. I would've imagined that plenty of young women who wanted their share of fame, even if it meant ending up on the wrong end of The Sun's camera, would try to find their way there through him, but still, nothing. And we know his mother would have let everyone know if he went on so much as a single date."

"That's what you told me back then" Oliver said, nodding along. "But what happened to make you sure?"

"Yes, please enlighten us about what you could possibly have witnessed that I and the rest of the neighbourhood missed" Mrs Miller said, stubbornly taking another sip of her tea, least she lose her calm. This piece of news had been major and to think that she might have been the one to break it. It was simply too much to endure.

"You remember the Black's housewarming party."

Mrs Miller nodded, thinking back to that pivotal day when she had learned about Mr Black's time behind bars. Could she have missed something in her excitement over that discovery? But then, everyone else seemed to have come out of it as oblivious as she had.

"Robert and his mother arrived just as we did, and we witnessed them being welcomed."

"Yes, yes. I remember that clear as day. But what of it?" Mrs Miller asked, becoming more and more impatient.

"Of course, he was his usual overbearing self when he greeted Mrs Black, flirting a little with her and kissing her hand. His usual routine. But what happened when he saw Mr Black, up close at least?"

"He stopped" she said, unable to see the significance of that situation. "Clearly intimidated by the man's displeasure at his improper interaction with his wife."

"You did stand directly behind him, so I guess cannot fault you for not noticing, but there was not an ounce of intimidation in him, I can assure you. No, his face expressed stunned admiration. After that, Mr Black had to nearly fight the man to get his hand back. Sure, Robert might have started some damage control then, talking about his job and sending a last wink at Mrs Black, but ever since that unguarded moment I have known."

"That still does not explain why you have never told me."

"So long as I was unsure I didn't wish to start any speculation. I could have been wrong and such a rumour could, sadly, have done the man harm. And when I did know, I simply thought it wasn't my secret to tell."

"And now he's gone off to live with this man in Spain?" Oliver asked.

"Yes. With the Mauricio fellow."

"Mauricio you said?" Julia asked.

"Yes, how so?"

"Wasn't your father's name something like that?"

"Not at all" Mrs Miller interrupted. "My father-in-law was as English as they come. A true gentleman. Not a hint of foreign in him. Just like everyone else in the family."

"Dear, let's not exaggerate. My father wasn't-"

A loud crash from the floor above suddenly sounded, startling them all. A moment later the sound of a child crying could be heard and in an instant they were all on their feet and hurrying towards the stairs. Whatever the children could have done to cause such a ruckus might very well have harmed them beyond a small bruise.

The scene that met them in the children's room was one of chaos. Somehow, they had managed to topple the large chest of drawers, sending shards of pottery, dirt and pieces of the Peace Lily, which had stood on top of it, across the floor. Little Aidan stood by the window, tears streaming down his cheeks as he wailed, while Matthew stood closer to the wreckage, some dirt and one leaf covering his socks, but otherwise unharmed. He was simply staring at the mess while shaking his head slowly and wringing his hands. Julia went for her youngest child while Oliver made his way through the clutter that separated him from their oldest, careful not to step on any sharp pieces of the smashed pot.

"Are you alright? What happened?" Oliver asked after laying his arms on his son's shoulders and crouching down in front of him so he could catch and meet his gaze.

"I'm so-sorry" the boy stuttered in his upset. "I-I didn't… I d-didn't mean to."

"Did you climb it?"

"Aidan w-wanted to, b-but I t-told him it i-is dangerous. H-he wouldn't li-listen so I sh-showed him."

"So, you climbed it yourself? To show him?"

"I-I just wan-wanted him to see wh-why he could n-not. S-so I sh-showed him."

"That's alright. You're both alright. Come here."

Enclosing his son in a tight hug, Oliver looked back over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. We'll have to deal with this now, but don't worry, we'll clean up after them."

"Are you sure they're alright?" Mr Miller asked, looking on the verge of entering the fray himself, eager to comfort his grandchildren.

"Yes" Julia replied, having calmed Aidan down to mere sniffling. "We have it under control. It's not the first time they've played a little too rough."

"I will go and get the hoover and something for you to put the plant and pot in, then" Mrs Miller said, also wishing to be of use as it pained her too to see her little darlings so distressed.

Turning around, she hurried down towards the cupboard under the stairs. After the promised items were extracted, she had the idea to bring a bowl with warm water and a dishcloth as well, in case there was something that needed to be scrubbed clean. Just as she was about to turn on the tap, movement on the other side of the street caught her eye. It was early enough for the sun to still be up, so she could easily make out the black car that stopped in front of number eleven, as well as the four people who got out of it.

While it was too far to see which brand it was - not that she would recognise all that many anyway - it was clearly a highly expensive vehicle, but in the classical and tasteful way she could approve of. The same could be said about what the guests were wearing.

First out of the car were two men, the younger having been the driver, both with pale blond hair, though the older man wore his long, reaching past his shoulders. Though not the same model, they both wore stylish black winter coats, with similar green scarves around their necks. They looked around them shortly before going to open the doors to the backseat, offering their hands and helping a woman each step out. The older man helped a woman who appeared close to him in age, had almost exactly the same hair colour and wore a dark green coat that seemed to match the man's scarf and a black scarf to go with it. Her blonde locks were pulled up in a simple but elegant French twist and something dangling from her ears caught the sunlight and glittered.

The other woman, who also seemed to match the age of the man who helped her out of the car, was the only one not light of hair. Dark brown locks were pulled up in a chignon and her outwear also differed from the matching colours the others had opted for. Her coat was a deep purple, which also matched her boots, while the others all wore black footwear, and had a pale pink scarf to top it all off with. She was also the only one smiling. The young man and the older woman appeared more neutral in their expressions, while the older man seemed to have nothing but contempt for his surroundings.

How dare he criticise her neighbourhood! While it was obvious he must be much wealthier than the average inhabitant of Carnation Lane, she doubted many fancy addresses could boast of such a fine set of people. And with an influx of newly rich people in society who lacked completely in style and threw their money at anything expensive, the kind of street where these people must live was surely on the decline these days. No, good breeding always shone through and no amount of money in the world could ever make up for a lack of it. And this neighbourhood had it in spades.

Mrs Miller started thinking that Matthew's accident had brought something good with it in the end. Without it, she would not be standing here, able to see this new set of peculiar visitors the Blacks seemed so fond of having. And with Mrs Sutton and her husband away to visit family this was her news to share. Her positive perception of the situation would soon turn a bit murky, however.

The younger couple started moving towards number eleven just then, but the older couple lingered by the car. The man especially seemed eager to continue his canvass of the area, his frown deepening every second that ticked by. Without warning, his eyes stopped, not only on her house, but seemingly straight at her. Even at that distance she could see the terrible sneer that appeared on his face and a sudden chill settled over her. In her numbness the bowl slipped from her fingers and clattered against the floor, rousing her from whatever spell, or perhaps curse, those cold eyes had put her under.

After bending down to pick it back up, she threw a cautious glance out the window and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the older couple was also on their way towards the door of number eleven, where the Blacks had now appeared. The greeting was much more formal than she had ever seen them perform before, including during their housewarming party. The older man was particularly standoffish, but they had soon all disappeared inside.

"Enid! Enid, where are you?!"

Mr Miller was coming down the stairs, calling for her. Turning around just as he entered the kitchen, Mrs Miller managed a smile, even if there was a lingering discomfort in her mind.

"Sorry, dear. I was about to come back upstairs. I will just fill this bowl with some water first. Are the boys well now?"

"On their way. Aidan's a bit drowsy after all that crying so I'd wager he'll take a little nap. Matthew is still a little shaken, but Oliver's still talking to him, calming him down."

"That boy has a knack for trouble. Oliver and Julia better watch up or he might take that with him when he grows up. He might even influence sweet little Aidan" Mrs Miller said, unable to resist imagining the horror it would be to have a troublemaker in the family in her unsettled state of mind.

"No need to worry. Matthew's a good lad. Most boys tend to go through such a period in their childhood. I would frankly be more worried if he did not get into mischief every now and then."

"Jack has always been well behaved."

"Julia inherited your impeccable manners, dear, and passed them on to her children."

"So, you are saying I should blame you for this?"

"Well, Oliver did inherit a lot from me, so… yes, I guess. But let's just be happy no one was hurt and show both of them that we are not angry with them, alright."

"Very well. Come and help carry the hoover then."

Happy to throw off the thought of the visitors to number eleven for the moment, Mrs Miller dedicated the rest of the day to restoring the holiday cheer. Soon enough both her grandsons were all smiles again and playing peacefully, though this time under their supervision in the sitting room. Aidan soon abandoned his brother and came crawling up into Julia's lap, where he soon did fall asleep. Matthew was luckily happy to enjoy his gifts on his own for a while.

Not until she lay in bed that evening, did Mrs Miller remembered what she had witnessed earlier. Mulling it over for a little while, she came to the conclusion that those people must have been the relatives Mr Black mentioned he was doing some business with. It was no trouble imagining that, frankly frightening, man ending up in some political trouble. It was even easier imagining him being the head of some criminal organisation since danger was written all over him. If only she had thought to take a look at the registration number so she could have been able to find out who they were. Her only hope was that they would return sometime in the near future, even if the thought of seeing them again made her uneasy.

In the coming month Mrs Miller did not see even a glimpse of the expensive black car, nor any of the four people who had arrived in it. Gossip was still mostly centred around Mr Henderson and Mrs Sutton continued to disparage the man for his choices in life. In particular the one where he had gone off with a foreign man, with the man part barely beating out the foreign in which she found the most offensive. Mrs Miller allowed her friend to rant while keeping quiet herself during those sections of their conversations, being more interested in finding out about the man's new life abroad.

She had offered Mrs Henderson a few words of condolence for the situation she now found herself in the one time she had run into her down in the local shop. The woman had simply kept quiet and only nodded her thanks before turning her sorrow filled eyes away and leaving. It was unnerving to see a person who was never bereft of something to say stay silent.

With no older Mr Henderson to be a part of the crossword group, Mrs Jones was her only source of information since she was still a member of D.R.A.B.S. She reported that while Mrs Henderson still attended every meeting, she was uncharacteristically withdrawn, barely speaking a word unless spoken to. A few of the other members were treating her with some coldness, but Mrs Black seemed determined to talk to her as well as cheer her up, throwing some dirty looks at those who did not do the same. Surprisingly, those looks worked as no one said a single negative word about the whole business during the meetings.

Though, it was hard to tell if it was the force of her personality which had such a strong impact on the assembled ladies, few of which suffered from weak minds themselves, or if it was simply frightening enough to be faced with an irritated highly pregnant woman to properly intimidate them.

It was not long after that, only a little over a week into February, that Mrs Miller heard the huge news that would come to bury the story of Mr Henderson. For once it did not come from Mrs Jones, but from Mr Miller. It was Friday evening when the phone rang and he got up to answer it. Since she remained by the tv, she could not hear what he was saying out in the kitchen, but could not help but notice the smile on his face when he returned, along with a distracted look.

"Who was it?"

"Sirius."

"And what did he want?" she asked, feeling that it was sometimes like pulling teeth when trying to get information out of her husband; slow and painful.

"That he won't be coming tomorrow."

"Oh. Are they off to visit some strange set of friends again?"

"They have hardly missed a single Saturday since moving here, dear. No, they'll not be here because they're at the hospital."

"The hospital?" Mrs Miller asked, the implication not reaching her before Mr Miller continued.

"Yes, to have their baby."

The baby.

The baby!

Having interacted blissfully little with the Blacks over the past months, mostly hearing reports on them from her husband and Mrs Jones, the baby had become something of an abstract. It did not help that Mrs Black had one of those bodies that were somehow capable of looking a lot less pregnant than it actually was, meaning that all those times she happened to spot the young woman out the window, there was no great reminder either.

But a baby required preparations. There were certain things one simply had to do. Things that would be hard to get out of now that Mr Miller had managed to start a friendship with Mr Black. The man was even a semiregular at The Monday Dining Club by now and becoming a fast fixture in the neighbourhood among the men. Mrs Black was achieving the same with the women trough D.R.A.B.S. More or less everyone would welcome and adore their baby. The first baby to live on the street in a long, long time.

Turning towards the screen again while Mr Miller sat down, she could not get back into the show. The fact that baby Black was about to make its entrance into the world had the potential to completely upend the dynamics on Carnation Lane, and with the lack of progress in operation 'Exposing Mr Black', she would have no way of countering it. For now, all she could do was find an appropriate gift to present to the parents whenever they would meet properly for the first time after they returned home. Mr Miller would no doubt insist they be invited over for tea, or would maybe garner an invitation over to the Blacks for them.

Now, what could she possible find to gift the baby that was acceptable for such an occasion while simultaneously letting the parent know - on a subconscious level of course - that they needed to leave. With all the joke shops the world had to offer, could there not be someplace that specialised in such items instead? Why, it would be a far more useful and proper thing, seeing as a smelly piece of plastic dog excrement would simply be too on the nose.


Next chapter: More or less the same as the previous one promised, I guess. Meeting baby Black as well as more screen time for the Malfoys. There will also be an issue concerning names.