Kindred Spirits

Rating: Teen

Standard Disclaimer: Foyle's war quite rightly belongs to Anthony Horowitz, its genius creator and the brilliant cast and crew who brought it to our screens and I'm only borrowing some of the characters for fun.

Summary: Andrew returns home from the war to heal an estrangement with his father and Sam, only to unexpectedly run into another woman from his past. Parings: Foyle/Sam, Andrew/Anne Roberts. Borrows canon characters, dialogue and plotlines from Eagle Day, Bleak Midwinter, Casualties of War and All Clear.

Authors Note: Once again, thanks to all who have been reading and reviewing my work. We now turn our attention to the dramatic events of Casualties of War and soon, Plan of Attack. Both of course will be subtly adjusted to fit my changes to the story line. I do apologize for the lack of a wedding scene, but this fic is primarily centred on Andrew and to write everything that has happened with Sam and Foyle would turn this fic into a massive epic far beyond my original intentions. I do intend a series of companion one shots to cover the action that's not "on camera" as it were once the main fic is done, so you'll get to see the wedding then.

Chapter 6: March 1943: Bombs, Diplomats and Illegal Rambling

Foyle woke up that morning with the uneasy feeling of approaching trouble clouding him. Despite Sam's stellar efforts to take his mind off the approaching visit the previous night years of service to the police as well as his war experiences had honed his instincts to a razors edge. Foyle generally knew better than to ignore his instincts and had no intention no doing so in this instance.

'New A/C that's coming down, most likely another self-absorbed twerp wanting to throw his weight around.'

Glancing across at the illuminated clock beside the bed, Foyle silently cursed realising that if he wanted to get in to the station on time he'd have to move. Turning to his left he gazed down at Sam's sleeping form which was curled into his body, her dreams obviously pleasant judging by the sated smile on her face.

After their engagement on New Year's Eve, there had been a friendly argument among the ranks of the ordained Stewarts over where to hold the wedding before Sam and Foyle had chosen her Uncle Aubrey's parish before grabbing a weekend in a nearby cottage with the demands of war forcing them to avoid a longer honeymoon.

Gently nudging and kissing his young bride awake Foyle listened to her sleepy

'Oh no, is it time already darling? Can't we go in later?'

'As much as I'd love to spend all eternity with you my dearest, the new A/C is supposed to be arriving today, have to meet him eventually.'

Sam mumbled something under her breath and Foyle could only make out the words "twerp" and "better things to do" as she wrapped her arms tighter around him and burrowed herself tighter against his warmth. Foyle had learned that his wife was an adorable sleepyhead but with marriage came the delightful knowledge of how best to wake her. So without too much fuss he was able to coax her to get up before the two of them set about getting ready for the day and having breakfast. But when they had finished their meal and were heading out to the car, Foyle was very surprised to see his goddaughter approaching with a little boy of around six who was quite obviously her son.

'Lydia Wallace? Here, Now? After so long a time.'

'Lydia?'

'Uncle Christopher, this is my son James.'

'Ahh,' Foyle said as he looked down at the boy before turning back to his goddaughter he spoke,

'Lydia, this my wife Samantha.'

'Oh, congratulations, have you been married long?'

'Only since last month,' said Sam proudly. 'I was assigned to drive Christopher in May 1940 and just about everything happening around the two of us seemed to draw us together. Christopher finally proposed at New Year's.'

'But that's wonderful news,' said an astonished Lydia

Lydia began to explain what had happened to her son at his school, Sam's face full of horror as Lydia described the bombing of the school and the effect it had had on James before she began to outline why she had come. As she talked Foyle could tell there was something wrong with her story but figure she should give her the benefit of the doubt for the time being. Looking at his watch Foyle cursed inwardly as he realised he could well be late.

'Lydia, Sam and I really need to head in to the station, I've got a meeting with the new A/C this morning and if he's anything like the last one he'll hate it if I'm even fashionably late.'

'Alright, we'll see you both tonight,' Lydia smiled, Foyle noticing that it didn't seem to reach her eyes.

Passing over a few pound notes, he led Sam out to the car, the pair soon on their way to the station as Sam began.

'Oh Christopher, that poor little boy, it's awful. I didn't think even Jerry could be so cruel as to bomb a school.'

'I know, but the least we can do is try and help them Sam. Lydia's father was my Commanding Officer for a time during the first war. Quite a good man, but he was killed in the blitz.'

'Oh,'

'Keep it under your hat Sam, I'd prefer it if this didn't distract us all too much from the A/C's visit.'

'Mum's the word,' said Sam cheerfully.

Pulling into the station, Brookie confirmed his worst fears as soon as Sam and he reached the front desk.

'Morning Mr Foyle, Mrs Foyle, the new A/C's here, wasn't sure what to do with him so I've put him in your office sir.'

Foyle sighed before with a resigned look into Sam's encouraging eyes he walked into his office to find the new A/C pacing impatiently. The man soon demanding action on local gambling rackets that had been springing up. Foyle managed, if only just to placate him with the file on the gang of saboteurs that he'd been investigating before the man demanded a lift to the regency hotel. Foyle following him out and watching, as the man ruthlessly interrogated Sam on her transfer to the police.

Stepping into Milner's office, Paul reported his progress with the gambling rackets in managing to join a game being held in a warehouse.

When Sam returned from driving the A/C, he noticed the frown on her face and guessed that Parkins hadn't been an obliging passenger and sure enough, when they were alone after dinner that night. Sam was quick to comment.

'I don't know Christopher, I know a lot of senior officers aren't fond of women in the forces or the police. But him…' she shuddered.

Foyle gathered her in his arms, 'we'll get through it together Sam, it's me he's really after and all because I refuse to take part in the high level cronyism that seems of have infected the upper echelons of the force over the past few years. Did he, ask questions about us?'

'No he didn't, he was more interested in asking about you and the way you do your job than me, didn't really think I was worth his notice. I did my best, but he still looked like a man who'd lost a fiver and found a farthing.'

Foyle kissed her before he said, 'even if you'd been an angel singing my worth to him I think he still wouldn't have been satisfied. Let's just hope Milner can deal with these gambling rackets quickly, get him off all our backs and back to London where he can't do much harm.'

However, luck was not with them as Milner came in the next day looking rather the worse for wear, Foyle watched as Sam patched him up before the sergeant announced his attention to look for the two boys.

Foyle couldn't help but think 'Interesting, where would youngsters find that sort of cash? We haven't had a wave of break-ins lately so somebody must be paying them. Something to do with the sabotage perhaps?'

When Sam and he arrived at home that night, Lydia was nowhere in sight despite finding James on his bed reading a comic. Foyle and Sam spread out to look and could find no sign of her, and Sam soon came back from the local shops finding no trace of her going there that day with the strange exception of a post office clerk who remembered selling her some stamps.

Foyle sat down and decided, 'if she isn't back by tomorrow morning I'll get Brooke to put out a bulletin.'

Sam agreed, 'I'll keep an eye on James, we can't leave him on his own Christopher.'

'Good, if anybody can get through to him and draw him out, I'm sure you can.'

By the next morning Lydia had not turned up and so Foyle ordered Brooke to start a search. Milner reported the case of a suspicious gunshot and again Foyle felt his unease grow, his six sense proving right when Milner called him out to view the body of Michael Richards that had been discovered. His long time neighbour Professor Townsend and his assistant were both rather poor liars as they gave accounts of the events of the previous evening, and a bouquet on the floor seemed an odd thing to see in a secret admiralty laboratory. The dead man's widow seemed an even worse liar, evidence clearly visible to doubt the grief she was obviously faking.

Lydia's disappearance was still a mystery and Brooke reported no further news the next morning despite his best efforts at finding Foyle's wayward goddaughter. A letter waiting in his office however chilled his stomach as he read:

Dear Uncle Christopher

Everything has been so difficult for me for so long. But I've often wondered how I could carry on. Please forgive me for writing to you like this but I can't take James with me so I've decided to leave him with the one person I can trust. You and your wife have been so kind to me and will understand what it is that I have to do.

Foyle frowned as he recognised the letter for what it really was, 'a suicide note, Lydia you stupid fool.'

Leaving his office he gave Brooke new orders before leaving the building to have another word with Professor Townsend who urged him to drop the investigation. Foyle's coppers senses immediately sniffed out that his friend was likely more involved than he was saying.

Milner brought good news a few hours later when he brought in their key suspect from the illegal gambling rackets who quickly admitted conspiracy to commit bodily harm and Foyle felt very satisfied as he and Milner left the man in the holding cell.

'Thank heavens for that,' Foyle said to his sergeant, 'if we're lucky, hopefully Parkins will push off and go back to London now, leave us to get on with our jobs.'

Luck and fate had some strange surprises left that day though, first with the news that Lydia had been found near drowned on the beach, but the worst was when Brooke came over shortly after Foyle got back from the hospital, a pale look on his normally cheery face to tell him.

'Sir there's been an incident in the woods, a bomb. It's Mrs Foyle sir.'

Foyle nearly fainted, the words of his desk sergeant seemingly coming from a long way away for a long moment before Brooke continued.

'She's not hurt sir, she and the kid are both at your house. She's the one who called it in.'

'Get me over there sergeant, right now if you would.' Foyle ordered.

'Yes sir.'

Brooke drove the Wolseley through the streets until they reached Steep Lane and Foyle ran inside to find Sam sitting on the settee, her hair and uniform a mess. Upon seeing him, she got up and ran into his arms before the pair both broke down sobbing uncontrollably.

'Oh Sam, what am I going to do with you? I thought you were…'

'I'm alright Christopher, it'd take more than two youths to take me away from you.'

Foyle studied her form, aside from a few smudges of dirt on her face and some leaves in her hair he could see no blemishes and her cheerful smile was infectious. Both leaning in for a long kiss, full of reassurance, Foyle taking joy and comfort in Sam's survival. When both drew away smiling, Foyle asked.

'Two youths dear?'

'One had dark hair, looked a bit older, I think his name was Terry. I heard the other call out to him.'

'His name wasn't Frank by any chance?'

Sam was surprised, 'actually I think that might have been his name, how'd you know Christopher?'

'They were the same men who intervened when Milner was attacked at the dice game.'

Sam huffed, 'oh that's nice, rescue Milner and then blow me up. Wish they'd get their priorities sorted out.'

'How's James?'

'The bomb seemed to unlock something in him, kept calling out for a Mrs Jukes, I think you'll find he's completely changed.'

Indeed he had as he came downstairs calling for his mother, Foyle doing his best to explain where she was before Sam led him upstairs to get him cleaned up. Later that night, when James had reluctantly gone to bed Sam and Foyle were lying in theirs, Sam finally asking the questions that had been bothering her all day.

'Where would those boys have gotten the explosives? Why blow them up in the woods? I don't think they were deliberately trying to kill me, one of them shouted out to try and warn me, just before the explosion.'

Foyle frowned, thinking over his theories and the facts of the case before he answered, 'I think those two boys might be the ones responsible for the sabotage. Somebody must have been paying them to do it, but for some reason they didn't want to do a job and decided to get rid of the bomb.'

Sam frowned ruefully, 'right place, wrong time again?'

Foyle gazed fondly at his wife as he tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear, 'once again you prove just how much of a nose for trouble you have.'

Sam giggled, 'you love me anyway and you jolly well know it.'

Foyle raised his eyebrow, 'you wouldn't be who you are without your instinct for trouble my love. But you're absolutely right, I do love you for it.''

Her breathing had evened out and Foyle found himself simply watching her for a long moment before he fell asleep himself.

With the reluctant racketeer giving more names, Foyle and Milner pulled in the boys with the bomb who soon led them to a rather smug Spanish diplomat who despite seeming every inch the gentleman was inwardly laughing at them throughout the interview.

Arresting Mrs Richards brought no satisfaction to Foyle as A/C Parkins pulled rank with the help of a senior naval officer, both demanding her release. Sam laid a hand on his arm as the pair watched the unknown Captain lead the researcher out of the station.

'I don't know Sam, sometimes I wonder why I do this job if people like them can come along and destroy the rule of law because of the war. Howard Paige was bad enough, but this is worse.'

Sam squeezed his arm, 'you'll be fine Christopher I know you will, and soon they'll see why they shouldn't interfere.'

Sam and Foyle fetched James and took him to the hospital where the nuns agreed to look after him for a few days, Lydia soon confessing her circumstances and her despair. Professor Townsend met him in the lobby and soon informed him of his work and again tried to justify the murder before Foyle let him know of the truth he had discovered. But next came the confrontation Foyle was dreading as he travelled to the Regency to meet Parkins, soon throwing his resignation into A/C's face. Sam met him just outside the room just as he came out and from the look on his face she could tell what had happened.

'You've resigned, haven't you Christopher?'

'I'm not working for a police force that refuses to bring justice to those who commit crime.'

Sam smiled and with a mischievous look as she noticed the pompous man come out of the room. Sam removed her driving gloves to reveal her wedding and engagement rings, threw her arms around Christopher's neck and kissed her husband long and deeply right in front of the dreaded A/C. The disgust clear on the old man's face as he watched.

'Jolly well done Christopher, if he's not going to do his job properly then they don't deserve you. I'll resign too, I'm not letting another fool like Collier send me back to Mrs Bradley.'

Foyle laughed, 'indeed so my dearest, let the old fool talk. While we laugh at him in his ignorance.'

6th May 1945

Andrew was simply amazed, 'wow, I'd have paid to see the look on his face.'

Sam smiled serenely, 'the red of his face certainly didn't match his blue uniform.'

'So what happened next?'

'Wwell, I resigned, thought I'd take some time, decide what to do next. I've never been prone to extravagance so I could afford to take time off. But as you know, the law requires all women between 18 and 60 to choose an occupation to assist the war effort if they have the time available and of course you know how eager Sam has always been to help. She soon found a job not far out of Hastings at a place called Beverly Lodge. Classified of course, but certainly important work and I was very proud of her for it. I began working on another book, about the wartime history of the Hastings Police. However, what neither of us realized at the time of course was that two little angels were already on their way to us.'

Andrew smiled, 'so you conceived the twins around the same time you left the police.'

Sam was glowing, 'yes, I spent just enough time at Beverly Lodge to make a few friends before advancing pregnancy and the MO made me pack it in in. It was jolly lucky I was assigned there though considering that when your father was forced back to the police, his first new case involved an unfortunate young man who worked there who was killed by a Jerry spy.'

Foyle raised his brow, 'what can I say Andrew, Sam has a gift for drawing things out of witnesses, especially other young women. In that case it was the key to everything which helped us catch a very dangerous man who was responsible for the fatal shooting of one detective.'

'Bloody hell,' was Andrew's response, 'how did it happen?'