After Eight
Disclaimer; Death in Paradise doesn't belong to me, if it did, series three onwards would have been very different.
Rating; T
This story takes place after the blind date in episode 1 of series 2.
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Chapter 1. Richard.
DCI Richard Poole of the metropolitan police force smiled politely as Juliet Best showed him all the things he may need for the evening, nodding at her as she went through the contents of the nappy bag 'just in case'. Fidel smiled.
"Don't worry Sir. She will sleep through. She never wakes before her eleven o/clock feed, and we'll be back well before that."
"I'm sure it will be fine. Now go before you miss your reservation." He ushered his officer out of the room and pulled the door up as he followed them. He held baby monitor up to show them. "This isn't the first time I've babysat you know, she will be safe as houses."
"Yes Sir, and we're only a phone call away." Fidel beamed as he followed his wife out of the door to the waiting police defender. Richard gave a little wave and closed the door. He went back through the house and out on to the patio where his book and glass of iced water sat on the table, though the ice had long since melted, the water was still refreshing enough to quench the Englishman's thirst, he took a long drink before putting it back on the table and set the monitor with it. He turned the volume up and smiled softly at the quiet baby snores emitting from its speaker. He sat in one of the comfy chairs and picked up his book, opening it where his bookmark had kept his place, he started to read, but sighed a few minutes later as he realised he had just read an entire page yet couldn't remember a word of it.
He re-marked the page and set the book aside and sat watching the night, the sound of crickets and other night animals filled the immediate area, with the noise of the Erzuli festival in full swing carrying over the trees. He knew why he couldn't concentrate on his book, his mind was down there, in a certain little bar with the most beautiful woman he had ever known.
That dress! Oh heaven save him, that dress had almost been his undoing. She had stood there, a goddess in red, a vision that drove all sensible thoughts out of his mind. She had sat down opposite him, almost ordered a drink. She had thought him her date! And she hadn't been disappointed, or angry, and she hadn't laughed at him. In fact, she had seemed a little sad when she had realised that he wasn't there waiting for her.
Richard closed his eyes, imagining for a moment what it may have been like, if she had stayed in that seat, if he had wined and dined her….. He shook his head. "That way lies madness" He muttered to himself. He would have stuttered and stammered his way through the first ten minutes, then said something insulting and she would have stormed off upset. He was useless. He couldn't talk to women outside of work and definitely not in a romantic setting. He was the Dick in a suit. A stuffed shirt, all work and no play. He was a policeman. Nothing more than his job.
The people here laughed at him, at his suit and tie, at his precise ways of doing things. Those who cared for him kept on trying to get him to relax, to dress differently, to blend in. But he couldn't. They didn't understand him, they thought he hated Saint Marie, but he didn't, far from it he actually loved it here, but it didn't love him. He was hot all of the time, the insects bit at him mercilessly, the sun burnt his fair skin. The one and only time he had gone into the sea, he had stepped on an urchin and had ended up at the hospital getting the spines removed. He couldn't eat the food, he was okay with eating fish, but half the stuff served up here looked like some kind of alien, and it always seemed to be looking back at him. And the spices, everything was so highly spiced, and there seemed to be chilli peppers in everything! Richard had never mentioned his IBS, he didn't want to make a fuss, or be set apart from the others, but the cold fact was that most of the local food made him sick, literally. When Catherine had fed him her soup when he was ill, he knew she was trying to help, but the soup really did make him sick, and he hadn't wanted to insult her, but as usual, he had messed things up and Catherine had never quite forgiven him.
He liked it here, but the island hated him.
As for his suit. He couldn't stop wearing it. It was a symbol of who he was, in it he was a respectable English police officer, a bringer of justice, defender of the innocent. Without it he was nothing. He had tried, in the past to be sociable, he had tried to 'fit' in with others, and he had learned his lesson. Richard Poole was nothing more than an idiot, a fool to be laughed at and mocked. Without the suit he was nobody, and he didn't want these people to realise that. He liked having friends, he liked being 'uncle' Richard, he liked the friendly camaraderie he had with Fidel and Dwayne, he liked the friendly antagonism he had with Catherine, he even liked the way the Commissioner like to creep up on him like a ninja. And he liked Camille. He really liked Camille. He didn't want them to know what a complete waste of space he was, that they shouldn't waste their time on him because he wasn't worth the effort. He didn't want to lose them.
A sound brought him out of his melancholy. A whimper from the monitor. 'So much for sleeping till eleven.' Richard thought. He picked up his stuff and went inside, depositing the book and glass on the kitchen table before heading to the source of the soft crying. He opened the bedroom door and peered in, only to be locked onto by a set of big brown eyes. He sighed.
"I'm such a sucker for brown eyes." He muttered as he crossed the room and picked the baby up the whimpering cries continued, gaining momentum. "Okay, what's the problem?" He put the baby girl up against his shoulder, patting her bottom in an effort to comfort her. He stopped patting at he felt the warm wetness under his hand. "Oh, I see, we've had an equipment failure, we'll soon fix that." He carried her over to the bed and lay the babe down on the changing mat, keeping one hand on her while he reached for the changing bag. He knelt in front of the mat and got to work, talking to Rosie as he worked.
"Now, I know your Mum and Dad think I'm a novice at this, but let me let you into a little secret. You are not the first nappy wearing date I've had. When I was a young copper, I was assigned to a station in Bristol. I rented a room in a large house, there were a couple of student nurses from the local hospital also renting rooms, and a few students from the university. One of them was a mature student who was also a single mother. She had dropped out to have a baby and come back to finish her degree. She had the cutest little girl, about a year older than you are now." He spoke to her in soft tones as he changed the wet nappy and dressed her in a fresh Babygro. "Her Mum just wanted the chance to build a good life for the two of them, but childcare was so expensive, so the nurses, who worked the hospital night shifts, and me, we helped out so that Kaye could go to lectures, and also go out to work to put herself through uni. She did it too, she ended up getting a first, and got a job in a big firm of accountants. There, all done." He tidied up and smiled at the now happy baby. "I wonder where that babe is now? She would be about nineteen. I could look her up I suppose, but I don't really want to. I want to remember a cute little toddler, running around with my police helmet on shouting nee-naw." He stood and picked the gurgling baby up. "Come on, it's time for you to go back to sleep. Not that I haven't enjoyed our date, but you know, you are a bit young for me." He sighed. "Who am I kidding. She's too young for me too. You know who I mean, don't you. Your Aunty Camille. She's a long, long way out of my league. She's beautiful, and strong, and so full of life. What am I going to do Rosie? How can I work alongside her everyday, especially after tonight. You should have seen her, she was stunning. So beautiful, every other woman paled into the background." He closed his eyes for a moment. He felt a touch on his lips and he looked down at the little girl in his arms, softly kissing the little fingers which reached out for him. "She deserves the best of everything. What have I got to offer her? A pasty, middle aged body, average in every way. A wooden shack on the beach, with a tree and a lizard. No, this little conversation needs to stay between us, okay, she can never know that this sad old man is madly in love with her. I know I can trust you." He smiled at the baby, as her eyes started to droop. He softly placed her back into her cot and brushed a finger against her soft cheek. "No, this is never going to be my life, Rosie. No happy families for me. I've been alone since the day my parents decided they didn't want me around anymore, and that's how I will die. Alone. It's the only way I know." He straightened and turned, creeping towards the door. He closed it behind him then jumped at the sight of the figure standing in the corridor.
"How long have you been there?" He whispered, "How much did you hear?"
"Enough."