"So, Dad – who are these people? I mean, I know Abby, of course, but… I don't think I met anyone of these," Daisy muttered as the three of them entered the room his sister held her party in. Abby was easy to spot – tall and wiry, with a head full of dark, slightly reddish curls and a long, sparkling green dress, she stood above most of the people like a queen holding court. A wave of fondness passed over Hardy, seeing her like that. Abby had always been elegant and eloquent, had drawn people into her spell without effort. And yet she'd never abused that, never been anything but kind and gracious, to everyone.

Maybe that was why his eight-year old self had thought she should have taken him with her to university and he'd been incredibly angry at her and – Hardy cringed a little – maybe he hadn't ever really forgiven her. He'd not seen her for so long, and the random phone-calls had started to get less and less over the years.

Tess had always reminded him of Abby's birthdays and that he should send a card for Christmas or call her, but since the divorce, he'd simply not bothered. First too occupied and then too chickenshit to make the first step until Abby had taken it on herself to contact him. It was easier nursing a misplaced grouch when not confronted with the target of it, and he'd quite happily indulged in his childish grudge.

Looking at her now, he realized that nothing of that lingering resentment remained, and to think he might have died without her even knowing made him wince. He really was a sorry excuse for a brother. Maybe that award was still an option.

He was still alive, though, so maybe there was a chance he could change his own attitude a little. Shame, though, that her husband was still in the picture.

Resolution made for the next few years – that should count for New Year's Eve, right? – he smiled at Daisy and nodded towards the man close to his sister. "Well, that big bloke with the silver hair, looking like a true-blooded pillock, is her lovely husband, Howard. You should call him George. He hates that." Daisy giggled and Hardy could have sworn Tom smiled as well. "There's your cousin Emmet behind Abby, the one taking all the flowers, and I don't know the girl next to him. Oh, and that's …whatshisname," he snapped his fingers until her remembered his second nephews name, "Steward, right. Pretentious name, but that's not his fault."

Hardy turned around to see if he could spot any other familiar faces, to no avail. "As for the rest – not a clue. Probably friends? Oh, wait… I think that's Aunt Bethel over there, with the purple hair and the toy-poodle on her lap. She's your gran's sister. Well… yeah, that's it. Don't know anyone else here." What joy. Hopefully, he could slip away by mid-afternoon. There were things to be done, and anything was better than standing in a room full of people he didn't know, didn't like – except for his sister – and didn't care for.

"Well, at least they have cake," Daisy grinned towards the buffet, which was stacked high with cakes and tartes and pudding and little sandwiches and smoked salmon and all kinds of things that would feed a nation of hungry orphans. Oh yay. Hardy could feel his arteries clogging. "Come on, Tom. Let's see what we can get."

"Oh no, you wait, young lady. You're going to congratulate your aunt for her birthday and then you can go find something to fill your stomach. Unbelievable, you just ate breakfast!"

"Dad… that was two hours ago. I bet Tom's really hungry. Aren't ya, Tom?"

Awkwardly, Tom shrugged but dutifully kept close to the Hardys as he'd promised. He still looked miserable underneath a constructed layer of bored petulance, so maybe eating lots of cake and other unhealthy stuff would do him good.

With a sigh, Hardy braced himself and made his way through the throng of party-goers to give his sister her present. It was a bracelet, like the one she used to have as a teenager. He remembered that she'd lost hers and it had never been found, and so finding this thing in a little jewellery shop by chance one day had been such a lucky coincidence that he'd not even looked at the price.

It had lived in his pocket for a long time. He'd picked it up before the Gillespie-case, before his world had imploded and left him literally broken-hearted and angry and not able to show anyone just how much. With his earlier realization of where his deliberate distancing had come from, Hardy was doubly glad that he'd found this particular gem for her and not some trivial book or worse, a flower-pot.

"Abby," he said as he stood in front of her, and as she pulled her gaze away from the person she'd been talking to, for a second she didn't seem to recognize him. It was fleeting, though, and Hardy felt a smile creep up on his face when it clicked and she beamed at him with true joy.

"Alec! Oh my goodness," she drew him in a big, long hug, "I nearly didn't recognize you! Wow, you look scruffy, is that a statement or did you really forget to shave?"

Daisy, by his side, laughed out loud. "Hey, Aunt Abby. And no, he looks always that way now. It goes well with the un-ironed clothes but he made an effort today so the suit is impeccable."

"Right. Abbs, happy birthday. This is your annoying niece; in case you didn't recognize her beneath all the sass." He grabbed Daisy gently by the neck and playfully wiggled her, to which she squeaked and slapped his hand away.

"Oh, of course," Abby beamed, bending down to give Daisy a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I don't have enough nieces not to recognize you. You look so much like your father did back then." Hardy raised his eyebrows and looked at his daughter. Surely not? "My, you've grown. How long was it since I saw you? Must've been up to ten years!"

"Should be right, Abigail. Long time not seen my favourite brother-in-law. Good to see you again, Alexander. Did you bring your lovely wife?"

Enter bloody Howard bloody Thornton, the thorn in the side of his sister. Even Tess had agreed with him on that assessment.

But before Hardy could answer through his gritted teeth, Daisy stepped in. "Hello Uncle George," she said, smiling innocently and offering her hand. "Good to see you again. How're the stamps?"

Startled, Howard blinked at her. "What?"

"Oh, didn't you used to have a stamp-collection? Am I mixing that up? So sorry. What was it then? Football-cards?"

If he didn't know better, Hardy would see her guileless expression and believe her to be genuinely mistaken. Since he did know better, a wave of pride swelled in his chest – along with a bit of worry about her acting-skills. Yet for this, he silently made a vow to give her the best Christmas-gift he could imagine.

Abby, always the peacemaker for Howard, put herself between them. "Oh, no – haha, no. Howard is all about rugby. Maybe you mixed it up somehow, sweetheart. Alec, come, have a mingle. I'll come over to talk later, I promise." She kissed his cheek. "He didn't mean it like that," she whispered in his ear, but he knew Howard meant it exactly like that.

While he hadn't connected with his sister after that disaster of a case and all that followed, he knew she'd talked to Tess once or twice. Both Thorntons were aware of the divorce, he was certain, so the dig had been very deliberate. But right now, not even Howard's incessant meanness would ruin his mood.

His daughter had stepped in to defend him, and she'd been bloody brilliant!

With a kiss in return, Hardy tapped his pocket to let Abby know she would get her present once she came to talk with him, and he went towards the buffet so his entourage would be happy and satisfied. Maybe he could find some fruity things he actually liked.

O

Tom was sticking to Daisy like glue and Hardy was very glad that he didn't have to pay too close attention to him. The two had tried talking to his nephews, but it seemed that nothing had come of it and now they were sitting at a table with food piled between them, playing some game on Daisy's phone.

Abby had yet to come by, and that meant they couldn't leave yet, sadly. After Howard had intercepted him at the buffet only to start his barbs, Hardy's will to endure this so-called party for his sister's sake had vanished down the drain. Surely there were better ways to show Abby he cared about her than set himself up to be provoked by her sodding husband?

'Alexander', Howard had said with a false smile. 'So, how's your job going? Heard you had a bit of a celebrity-status there for a while?'

Forcing the corners of his mouth upwards to imitate his brother-in-law's impression of cheerfulness, Hardy had remained silent and simply nodded briskly. His appetite had vanished, though, and he'd returned his plate to the stack.

'Must be fantastic, to be in the papers so much. I imagine it gives one a real sense of importance. I especially liked the articles in the Herald.'

Even with every bit of imagination and suspended disbelief, there had not been a chance that Howard had meant anything but the 'Worst Cop in Britain'-thing. 'Really? Even those without pictures?'

Howard was in general just intelligent enough to understand when he had been insulted. It had always infuriated him when someone could outwit him and show him up, which was one reason why Hardy and he wouldn't ever get along. The other was that he was a complete twat.

Instead of leaving in a huff to have a wee cry, Howard had leaned with an outstretched arm against one of the pillars of the room, cutting off Hardy's path quite deliberately while appearing casual. 'I wish you'd been able to bring Tess. She'd been such a nice person – shame about the divorce. Who's that lad you keep dragging around? Your daughter old enough to have a … boyfriend? Does Tess know about it?'

Hardy was sure the creaking of his clenched teeth must have been audible through the room. 'First of all – none of your business. Second of all…. No, still none of your business. Now, please get out of my way.'

'Oh, like that, is it? So… Is he like your lad? I won't judge, I mean' he'd raised his hands up high to show that he truly, really was judging already 'bit old for being your new kid. Is he from another woman? Got a new wify, Alexander?'

It had taken Hardy every conceivable calming-technique to not punch his shiny teeth out right then. In the end, his experience with reporters had given him the ability to walk away and not react outwardly to the open provocation. Anything he would have given him would have been used to sting him even more, and so he'd simply left him standing, gave him a tight-lipped smile and nothing else before slipping out of the room and out of the restaurant for a few minutes to get some fresh air.

Not for the first time he wondered what could have possibly driven his sister to marry – and stay married with – that bawbag. What would they even talk about? Howard couldn't possibly be that good in bed.

When he'd come back in, Howard had been gone and Hardy had sat down at a random table to nurse a cuppa and nibble on some tiny sandwiches. The table had been occupied, so for about twenty excruciating minutes now, he had been the victim of Mrs Eloise Brightham-Viscant, who'd been telling him about her husband's new gardenia-obsession and subsequent problems with getting the dirt out from under his nails.

It made Hardy think of SOCO Brian and what kinds of things would be stuck underneath his nails after work.

"And let me tell you, even with the dirt it's so much less of a hassle than the poultry. Really, Bob and his birds had nearly driven me up the wall, but of course I never would have wanted it to end like that!" Eloise was prattling on and on, talking about the difficulties of poultry-upkeep now and Hardy was hardly listening, her words a white noise in the back of his attention.

He was watching his sister interact with her friends, bright and happy and fully in her element. Howard kept intercepting his wife at every opportunity, injecting himself in every conversation Abby had and touching her at every opportunity.

It was worrying, possessive and demeaning, and Hardy wished he could just blend it out at least for a day. It wasn't the first time he noticed that behaviour. Tess had commented on it, too, back in the days. But he and Abby'd had a big fight about Howard once, years ago when he'd still been happily married and Daisy just a wee toddler. Abby had insisted everything was fine, that her husband was just a sweetheart and attentive and would never harm her and Alec should leave his badge at the front door in the future. She'd gotten really cross with him and maybe, now that Hardy thought of it, that, too, had played a role in cutting Abby out of his life more thoroughly. If his suspicions were correct, he knew that was probably the exact wrong reaction. Looking at her now, though, she clearly had a firm circle of friends who very obviously loved her.

Maybe his sister was right and he was reading too much into Howard because he hated his guts? Well – the feeling was definitely mutual, so if he could keep true to his resolution in the future, Hardy would just have to ignore Howard's existence or make sure they were never at the same place at the same time.

"There you are, little brother." He'd not paid attention, too lost being 'broody and Scottish' as Miller would have said, and suddenly Abby was sitting beside him, happy and content in her little world and thankfully not privy to his thoughts.

He deliberately banished the gloominess and smiled brightly. "Abbs, you're looking great today! How are you?"

They chatted a little while Howard was distracted at the bar, and he listened to her stories about school – she was a maths-teacher – and told her very rough outlines of his life in Broadchurch.

"It's so funny. Really, I never would have figured you to end up there, of all places. Thought you hated that place when Mom and Dad took you there?"

Abby hadn't been on that particular holiday; she must have been at university already. Good for her.

"I did. Sometimes I still do. But… it's a good place, helped me a lot. Though maybe that's not the town as such…"

"Ahh, that big case you cracked there, Alexander?"

Hardy rolled his eyes and scowled into his teacup. Of bloody course Howard would come back now to haunt them with his personality. "Fuck off," he said before he could stop himself but refused to feel bad about it. Instead, he added, "I'm having a talk with my sister for her birthday. Go bother someone else for a few minutes – I won't pack her in my bag and carry her off to Dorset. George."

Abby rolled her eyes as well. "Behave, you two. Howard, darling, please leave us alone for a few minutes, yes? I don't see Alec half as much as I'd like to."

Grumbling, Howard obliged and Hardy felt a trickle of understanding. The ease with which his sister handled her husband was remarkable – maybe it wasn't so much possessiveness and male pride that drove Howard to his behaviour but fear? Fear and belief that Abby was so far out of his league that she could easily leave him behind. It was still a dangerous mindset, he knew, but at least it put his sister in a much better position than the other option.

"I wish you two would get along," Abby sighed. "At least a little bit better. Can't you leave your grumpy attitude at home for a few hours?"

"Well, I wish your husband would stop being an arsehole, then maybe I'll be less of a grump. But sorry, it's your birthday, not… well. Not something else. Here, I … here." Awkwardly, he handed over his gift, trying not to show his anxiety about her reaction.

She smiled and opened it, gasping when she realized what she was seeing. "Oh, Alec!" Having her around his neck and squeezing him felt good, oddly freeing. He knew he'd been a bit starved of contact since the Gillespie-case and only recently, with the addition of Daisy in his home, it had gotten better.

Knowing he'd done something right felt very good, too.

"Happy Birthday," he whispered again. "Been meaning to give it to you for ages but… stuff happened and all. Sorry that I was so distant. Didn't mean to be, but…"

"I know," she sniffed and leaned back, carefully taking the bracelet out and putting it on. "It's so wonderful. Can't believe you remembered… you must have been what, six? Seven? when I lost mine." She hugged him again. "Thank you, it's perfect." Looking at her wrist and moving it so the bracelet caught the light, she smiled and with a pang, Hardy was reminded of their mother one Christmas Morning, when Alan had been on shift and they'd unpacked their presents without him. It had been bright and happy, and their mom had looked so beautiful. Just like Abby was looking now. Radiant. Abby took her eyes off the bracelet and looked him in the eyes. Something in them softened her gaze, and she put a hand on his on the table. "Alec… You desperately want to leave, am I right?" He wanted to deny it but she squeezed his fingers. "Please, don't insult me with a lie. I know you, little brother; you hate crowds and unfamiliar people, and this is all of the above. So," she smiled and kissed his cheek, "go. It's okay. I'm really glad you came by, and I'll give you a call and I expect you to return it! Understood? If not, our next holiday might just be in Broadchurch!"

He chuckled, grateful. "It'll bore you to tears. But … if you ever need anything, make sure you call me." Hardy couldn't help seeking out Howard in the crowd, spotting him with some blokes laughing and keeping a sharp eye towards him and Abby. "Anything. If I don't answer, call Daisy."

Abby petted his arm. "There's no need to worry, Alec. I promise. But thank you for the sentiment. I do appreciate it. Now – off you go. And, by the way – who's that boy that's hanging around my niece? For some reason I doubt he's her boyfriend."

Hardy noisily blew out a breath. "Long story. He's my …" Friend's? Partner's? Social guideline's? "he's Miller's son and one of the reasons I have to leave. I… well. Maybe another time I'll stay longer."

He kissed her goodbye and went to collect the kids and they left with half as much trouble as he'd imagined, feeling a few hundred pounds lighter. Now, on to the next task.

It would probably not feel half as good as this.