Note: As some plotlines wind down, I wanted to delve into a short standalone story here about an unresolved issue from S2E3 "Blood Is Thicker."

Chapter 47: Interlude Part 1: Aunt Joan's Secret

Friday Afternoon

"Martin, are you sure you don't want some tea?"

"Er, no thank you Auntie Joan. I'll just have some water."

"Suit yourself." She helped to another cup, with cream and sugar

Martin filled his glass at the kitchen tap, then sat down again. "Well, your ankle seems to have healed nicely. And things seem to have settled down around here finally, now that the film crew is wrapping up and… other things have been sorted. Glad to see Al Large has gotten your new boiler installed."

"I don't know when I'll be able to repay you," she said, over Martin's protests that it wasn't necessary. "But it will be nice to have plenty of hot water in the meantime," she added.

Martin gave her a little half smile and went outside to talk with Al, who was loading his equipment into the van. He handed the plumber an envelope. "I want to thank you. I know I can trust you to do good work."

"Just doing the job." Al climbed into the driver's seat and couldn't resist a peek in the envelope at the cheque inside. "Just a minute, Doc. You've overpaid what we agreed on. By quite a bit I might add."

Martin had hoped Al wouldn't see the cheque until he was home, but he realized an explanation was in order.

"Er, well, I also want to thank you for all your help with the… situation at Wenn Hall; and also with the medical emergency and the other situation at the cliffs a few weeks ago. The, er, Baker…"

"Ted Hammett," Al prompted him.

"Yes, Mr. Hammett. He's making a good recovery, thanks in part to your assistance."

"Yeah, I talked to him a few days ago. He was doing pretty bad before all this, wife left him, business going down the crapper. The Colonel was pretty mad at him for trying to steal the chough eggs too, but he decided not to rat him out to the police. Now Ted's planning to sell the bakery, move to Slough to live with his sister, and train to be a chef."

"Hm. Let's hope he learns to follow some basic hygiene rules in the kitchen."

Al gave a little half-smile to that comment.

"In any case," Martin continued, "yesterday aside, I haven't seen much of you since then and I'm sure we'd all like to put these unfortunate events behind us and not dwell on them. Still, you are one of the more sensible and intelligent people in this village, and… I, er, want you to know I appreciate that."

"I appreciate you saying that, Doc. Means more coming from you somehow, I know you're not one for empty praise."

"Al… how old are you now?"

"I'm 26, Doc."

"Old enough that you shouldn't let yourself be held back by your father. There's more to life than plumbing and perhaps… since you've been able to earn a bit of money lately, you might want to consider looking beyond Portwenn for a while and, er, seeing more of the world."

"Funny you mention that," Al said. "I've been thinking along those very lines, Doc. I guess great minds think alike. If Ted Hammett can make a change after all that happened to him, maybe I should too. Got my sights set a little farther than Slough though."

"Do come back eventually," Martin added. "Now that the farmhouse has adequate heat and hot water there is quite a bit of other work that needs to be done."

"Hm. I'll keep that in mind. Cheers, Doc."

Al stuck his hand out through the driver's window and Martin shook it. Then Martin got in the Lexus and they both departed.

ooOOOOOOOoo

Joan regarded them through the kitchen window. The men of her generation were all gone, and these were the men in her life now. They were a study in contrasts. Her nephew was his usual stiff, stern, bespoke-suited self, while Al was all casual talk and gestures. She studied Al in particular, discreetly, as she had done many times over his young lifetime.

She and his late mother Mary had once been the best and closest of friends. Mary Dowd was the barmaid at the Crab and Lobster when she married the local plumber. Bert Large was not exactly handsome then, and not exactly thin either, but he was full of fresh youthful ardour and endowed with a full head of dark hair. However, even back then Bert was prone to spending his time and money on impractical, get-rich-quick schemes, something that caused many an argument with his lovely young bride.

Joan had been something of a mentor to the younger woman and gave her a shoulder to cry on when Mary and Bert had one of their terrible rows. In turn, Mary was a sympathetic and non-judgemental confidante when Joan was smitten with the adventurous yachtsman John Slater and had to end turn her back on him to care for her ill husband.

But what really brought them together was their shared heartache over their mutual seeming infertility. That is, until Al was born.

Now a young man, Al was so much like Mary, practical and guileless, with a simple, honest personality that seemed baffled by any hint of duplicity in others. Like her, he was tall and thin, with light brown hair, and a slightly upturned nose. He had her slow, sauntering walk, and her way of scratching the back of her neck and squinting when puzzling over something; and he could be intelligent in surprising ways, like the time he won a trophy for chess when he was in school. He was his mother's son, and Joan had always been very fond of him, whether his father was Bert Large or… well, Joan sometimes still wondered about the alternative.

The only thing strikingly different from his mother was his eyes. Not light brown like Mary's or even dark brown like Bert's, but blue. They weren't the pale blue-grey that Martin and all the men in Joan's own family had, but a brighter shade, rather more like her own eyes or those of her sister Ruth.

And now Al was old enough to wonder about the differences between him and Bert. Joan thought back to when he had asked her, his late mother's friend, about those differences when Bert had stubbornly refused to provide his birth certificate.

"Dad's short, I'm tall. He's big, I'm not. He thinks differently. We're totally different," Al told her.

"That's got nothing to do with it, he's your father," Joan said.

"He still won't give me my birth certificate."

"Al, I knew your Mum very well. When you were born she and Bert were overjoyed."

"So you do know something then."

Joan tried to change the subject, directing Al to get to work on the pipe she needed replaced in the field. "If you don't get on with it then that job'll never get done."

Al would not be deterred. "Joan! Joan! Did my Mum have an affair?!"

"Al, your father loved your mother very much. Your father loves you very much. There's nothing more to be said."

Then Joan couldn't help thinking back further, so many years ago, to the day Christopher came to visit.

To be continued…