Part 3 of 3

"Lumpy… you need a new mattress… and…"

"And?" he encourages her, holding his breath.

"… and lonesome! I did say I missed you dreadfully, didn't I?"

He smiles in relief now, his fatigue slipping away into the comfortable night air, "Um, yes, you did. But, Camille…" he tightens his hold on her, keeping her to the shadows, "… you DO realize there's a difference between missing a man in the office and missing a man in your bed, don't you?"

"Not my bed, YOUR bed," she mumbles, eyes downcast in sudden unaccustomed shyness.

"Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe," he intones as if this has great meaning. He grins down at her.

"What? What does that even mean?" she has to ask. His grin is doing things to her.

He stoops swiftly and brushes his lips across hers, there and gone again before she can taste him or catch him. She gasps as he straightens up. "It means I'm GLAD I was shipped off so suddenly! Glad to have my eyes opened. Glad to realize how much I didn't WANT to go. I was never so happy to bounce back onto the tarmac in that little pogo-stick of an aeroplane! I wanted to run all the way back to you. Then I saw you and I got all confused once more. I did mention I was a twit, didn't I?"

She smiles up at him, "Yes, you did. And maybe this time I will allow it. What? Couldn't you tell how unhappy I was when you left? You couldn't tell how happy I was to see you again? "

"Oh, I saw it, I just didn't know how to read it. I don't have your skill at Body English. Promise you'll never be parted from me again? Please stay with me, day and night, helping me to cope? This is what I realized while I was away; if I have you then I have everything I need."

It takes her a moment to click her jaw shut before she can stammer, "Of course, Rich… um, may I call you Richard now? And how do we make this work? How do we present ourselves to the world?"

He sighs, "Um, this is the minefield I worry so much about. Professional relationships can be killers. Should you call me 'Sir' at work? Would you be comfortable with that? I'm absolutely no good at negotiating personal issues like this. I depend upon you to guide me but sooner or later I'm going to step on a landmine and anger you. I fear it more than anything."

"DO you? Well, until we understand each other better, let's promise to give each other the benefit of the doubt. I'll check with you and you check with me on whether or not we REALLY meant to say whatever we just said. OK? We're so different that we're bound to find all those landmines you worry about." She strokes his cheek, "Let's promise to be kind to one another, OK?"

He smiles, "OK. I don't mean to be stroppy and pig-headed and insulting. Keep that in mind, will you?"

She smiles, "I will. As for me, remember, I'm French. Sometimes I simply can't help myself."

Very low, he murmurs, "Oh, I know. I'm rather counting on that."

She blinks, "Um, OK, and as for non-verbal communication, let's keep that VERY low-key otherwise…"

"Yes!" he nods firmly, "Otherwise I might be tempted to snog you in public and my head will roll down the street as a result. Let's not tempt fate, hmm?" He checks his watch, "30 minutes, time to go in."

"OK… but only if you promise to show me what a 'snog' is. At your earliest convenience, of course."

He had started to enter the doorway but whirls around to pin her with a gleaming eye. After a moment or two he nods again, "Oh, indeed. One snogging lesson coming right up. Could happen right here, if we happen to find ourselves temporarily out of sight, perhaps in the back hallway leading to the storeroom? In, say, 10 minutes?"

They both check their watches… and smile to see the other doing it too.

"You're on!" she laughs. "Now, let's go back inside so everyone can welcome you back in the manner you deserve! Maman has been fretting over this stew for days now. No matter how it tastes, tell her it is delicious!"

"No worries there. I will endure anything, eat anything, say anything in order to get home and let you welcome me back in the manner I am truly gagging for."

"In-SPEC-tor Poole…" she murmurs low and slow, the French showing itself, "I think this trip has undone your mind. I did NOT offer to welcome you back in any way whatsoever."

He leans in to whisper against her temple, "No, but you test-drove my bed and I'm curious to find out if it's a two-seater or not. Maybe it will be softer with you in it. It's sure to be much cozier."

Her eyes are whirling when he stands back up to look at her. She nods absently, "Hmm, I predict we are buying you a new mattress VERY soon now."

They take synchronized slow breaths and prepare to rejoin the party they can hear revving up inside. The heavenly odors of beef stew and fresh bread are drawing him like a siren call. He tucks a stray strand of her hair behind her ear and she leans her cheek into his palm, her eyelids fluttering closed.

He stills, marveling at how such a simple gesture almost breaks his control. If it weren't for his roaring empty stomach, their waiting friends and family, and the social demands on both of them, he'd be raging to answer THIS siren's call! But he consoles himself with the knowledge of the upcoming snogging lesson in 10 minutes… and whatever awaits him after that.

Back at his place. On his beach of dreams.

He's traveled so far, endured so much, only to end up right back where he started. Yes, he began this journey in fear and anger and loss and loneliness but that is all over now. He's back at the beginning again but this is a NEW beginning. And he can't wait to take that first step.

Just before their friends see them, he mutters to her, "Know any all-night furniture stores?"

END

**Well, I knew this day would come but I didn't expect it to hurt so much. This is the final story from my 2018/2019 winter viewings of S1 and S2. But. The support of loyal readers plus the advice of one in particular (thanks so much, ffh) coaxed me to watch beyond' The Horror' (but not 'The Horror' itself, you understand) and that sage suggestion (plus my annual winter visit to S1 and S2) has spawned new ideas.

The next collection will be 'After Season 2: He Goes On' which picks up the very next day after S2 E8.

I am leaving 'Books and Film series: short story collection' and 'SO English!' open because hope springs eternal and you just never know, you know? 'Sometimes there's more to Life than Life,' to quote a beloved source. (Fidel Best, S1E3, if you don't already know.)

Here's hoping 2020 is as much fun as 2018 and 2019 have been. Please try to leave the occasional comment. It's the only guidance I get on whether or not my stories are even close to the mark. Otherwise, I might wander off the path and into the moors. S/P**