Gosh, I knew I woefully behind with this but only just now realized how bad. The muse seemed to desert me for awhile and now she's filling my brain with all my stories. I am trying to write my way back into this one and will endeavor to be better at keeping current. But it will depend on the muse. Of course, she loves to read your comments so if you'd like more soon, then feed the muse, haha.
Soon the senior Foyle was back downstairs. He stepped into the front room and allowed a small covert smile to work at the corners of his mouth as he heard the chatter going on between his wife and his son. Crossing to his chair, he settled in, willing to let their conversation wind down to the eventual end.
Andrew glanced over at him as he finished what he was saying about how many of the neighbors from his childhood were gone and new faces in their place. Christopher gave him a half smile and nod, letting him finish.
As he did, Sam turned to Christopher. "Fish are in the ice box?"
"Yes love, I'll sort them in a bit, if that's alright?"
"Of course. It sounds as if you caught quite a few."
"Three plump ones and two smaller. Enough for dinner tonight and perhaps lunch tomorrow, if that one over there," he said as he tilted his head toward Andrew, "doesn't consume them all tonight."
"Dad!" Andrew exclaimed in a somewhat whiny voice. "I don't each that much; well, not anymore anyway."
"No?" Foyle responded in a teasing tone, his eyes dancing with mischief.
"No." Andrew replied, trying to sound offended but the twinkle in his own eyes gave away his mood. "But speaking of hungry mouths, I understand you outdid yourself and not only is Sam pregnant, but with twins?"
Christopher's face darkened. "I'll not have you speaking like that, Andrew, not about me or about Sam. I'm not one of your chums and Sam is certainly not to be mocked."
Andrew looked at his father with a bit of shock in his expression. "No, of course not. It's just, well, …" he glanced at Sam to gauge her reaction. She was staring at his father with a slight frown. "Well, I suppose I knew there might be children but I wasn't expecting things to happen quite so soon and… well, not in multiples. I'm really happy for you both though; I really am."
Christopher chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully before looking back at his son. "Right. Umm, sorry if I sounded harsh. Just… more being made of the fact that its twins than I'm comfortable with. Some people have commented out of turn and…"
"What?" Sam piped in with surprise. "What has been said? And by whom?"
Christopher waved his hand as if to dismiss it all but Sam was having none of it. "No, I want to know. I should know!"
Foyle glanced guiltily at Andrew as if to say he'd been the one to put his foot in it but Andrew simply shrugged. Glancing back at his wife, Christopher cleared his throat. "Erm, mmight've overheard something at church last week. And er, wull…. Met Hugh Reid at the pub for a pint and…"
"That doesn't sound like Mr. Reid, Dad," Andrew said.
"Doesn't it? Never misses a chance to needle me. But nno…. Not him. We were overheard talking about coming events though and old Mr. Patterson had a comment."
"Who's this Mr. Patterson?" Sam wanted to know.
"He erm…. Used to have a shop over on the high street before the war. Closed it in the early days. Spends more time than he should at the pub these days. His wife was killed in one of the first bombings and he's been on his own too much with nothing to do except put his bloody nose in places where it doesn't belong." Christopher seemed to get more agitated as he spoke.
"What did he say, Dad? Must've been awful for you to get this worked up."
Christopher glanced at Sam and then looked back at his son with pleading eyes. "Rather not say."
Andrew's eyes widened as he got his father's meaning. "Right."
"Well it isn't alright with me. I want to know what that man said, Christopher." Sam matched Christopher's agitation.
"Nnnoooo, don't think you do. Doesn't make any difference really, anyway. We're having the twins and we're quite pleased with it. Nnone of his business." With that, he stood. "I'll just go see to the fish now."
As Sam watched him disappear through the door, she turned to Andrew. "Will you please see if you can get it out of him, Andrew?'
"Not on your life, Sam. I know that look. He won't budge and I'll get a proper dressing down for even asking. Besides, he's probably right, you don't want to know. Old man Patterson always had a foul mouth and I imagine its only gotten worse. Dad's not going to repeat what the man said because it isn't fit for a lady's ears and especially, in his estimation, for his lady's ears."
"Oh," she huffed. "You Foyle men are impossible Does he really think I haven't heard bad language before?"
"I doubt it's the language as much as it is the meaning, Sam. Besides, he's right. The two of you are happy with the situation. Don't let a miserable old man upset you. No one else's opinion matters anyway."
"Yours does!" She shot back.
"Well, yes, I suppose, since the twins will be my little brothers or sisters." He paused and quirked his head. "Funny, I used to wish for siblings, when Mom was still with us. Then after she died, I knew it would never be. Dad was too lost in his grief to remarry, or so I thought until you came along," he chuckled. "I didn't realize how completely you knocked him off his rails though until he told me that you were getting married. Oh, he would have puttered along on his own just fine. But you've brought him real happiness, Sam. Concentrate on that. You and Dad have something unusual and very special. Don't let miserable old buggers with big mouths upset you."
Sometime later in the afternoon, Sam was resting, as was becoming her habit. Andrew and Christopher had finished cleaning the dishes from lunch and were settled in the parlor, enjoying a cuppa and some biscuits Christopher had uncovered in the pantry. "Want to thank you, Andrew," Christopher said.
"You're welcome. For what?"
"Earlier with Sam."
"You mean for putting you in that awkward spot? I'm really sorry about that, Dad."
"As you should be," Christopher admonished before letting his mouth drift down into a small smile. "But that's not what I mean. After I left the room…. Don't know what you said to her but it seems to have calmed her down and…. Wull, seems she's going to let the matter drop."
"Oh, that. Just told her what a miserable old man Mr. Patterson is and that she shouldn't let his misery disturb her happiness, or yours."
"Ppreciate it anyway. Truth is, I'm having a bit of difficulty with it all. Not that she's expecting and that its twins, mind you. Jjust don't quite know how I'm going to support us all."
"Can you go back to the police?"
"Maybe. Would rather not. Did work briefly for a barrister doing some investigating but that didn't work out."
"Oh? Is he crooked?" Andrew asked.
"Nnot in the legal sense, no. But, unscrupulous. Ruined a man even though he knew the information he was working with was incomplete and it cast a false cloud over the man. Did it in court for all to hear. That was it for me."
"Yes, I can see why. You're right not to work for someone like that."
"Yup. But my principles aren't going to put food in the mouths of my family."
"You'll find something else, Dad."
"Sam says I should write one of those mystery novels, like Agatha Christie or Dorothy Sayers or Leo Bruce. Says I could make a fortune."
"Don't know about a fortune, but you'd certainly have plenty of material to work with."
Christopher harrumphed. "Would read as dry as one of my police reports."
"You could use a ghost writer. Look, I have a friend in the publishing business. Let me speak with him and see how it would work."
Christopher started to decline the effort but then looked contemplatively at his son and leaned forward. Andrew hadn't scoffed at the notion and even seemed to think it good enough to make further inquiries on his behalf. "You really think anyone would be interested?"
"Of course. You must've had some pretty strange things happening here during the war, along with the usual robberies and killings. There has to be at least a book or two in all that."
Right. Wull, if you think there might be anything to it…."
"I'll see what he thinks. Won't hurt to ask."
"No, no I suppose it won't," Christopher said as he relaxed back into his chair. It wasn't that he was keen on the idea of writing a book. But it would allow him the freedom of managing his own schedule. And with twins, Samantha might need extra hands from time to time. And perhaps it would bring in enough extra income to smooth over any rough patches. As Andrew had said, it wouldn't hurt to inquire.