FOYLE'S WAR- FAUX PAS- CHAPTER 5
Disclaimer- Foyle's War is the creation of Anthony Horowitz. It is brilliant television and the actors are wonderful. Rachel Roberts springs from my own imagination.
As Rachel walked into the lobby of the Hotel Harrington, relief and a grimace of pain flickered across her face at the same time.
Foyle placed his hand on her arm and turned to face her. "Not fine, are you?"
She pulled away and looked up at him with a touch of defiance in her green eyes, like a child who'd been caught in a lie. "What do you mean?"
He pointed at her bloody knee. "Why didn't you tell me about that when you fell?"
Rachel looked down at her feet and mumbled, "Didn't want to be a bother."
Foyle let out an exasperated sigh. "Not necessary. We could have taken a taxi the rest of the way back to the hotel."
She shrugged and purposely rubbed the scar on her right hand, "I've been hurt before and managed to survive."
"What does she mean by that? Managed to survive…what? An accident? An assault? Why didn't she tell me she was hurt when she fell?" His eyes reflected concern and disappointment as he told her, "I wish you would have told me that you were hurt."
A wave of guilt washed over Rachel and she regretted what she'd just said to him. She reached out and put her hand on his arm. "Oh Mr. Foyle, I am so sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Please forgive me."
He placed his hand over hers and felt a little thrill akin to something a teenage boy might experience the first time he held hands with a girl. Foyle started to mentally chide himself for feeling that way but decided to enjoy it instead. "I do forgive you Miss Roberts…Rachel, but please don't keep things from me. Earlier today you said you trusted me, didn't you?"
"Yes sir, I did," she acknowledged.
His lips turned up ever so slightly in a smile. "Well trust me then and let me help you when you need it."
Rachel returned his smile with one of her own. "I will from now on."
"Right…Don't you think you should go to your room and take care of that knee?"
Rachel inclined her head in the direction of the Pink Elephant Cocktail Lounge. "I should, but all I want right now is a stiff drink. You don't mind being seen with a woman with bloody knee and a hole in her stocking the size of the Grand Canyon, do you?"
Foyle tilted his head to one side and shrugged. "I suppose I'll cope." He steered her towards a table close to the entrance of the Pink Elephant and helped her take off her coat. "What would like to drink?"
"I don't care what they call this place, I sure don't want anything pink," she told him with a tired smile. "Single malt whiskey is my preference."
"Then that's what you shall have." Foyle removed his hat and coat and handed them to her.
As he walked away from the table, Rachel got her first look at him from the back. Christopher Foyle appeared to be a man who was sure of himself and his place in the world. It showed in the way he moved. His stride was purposeful and unhurried; a pure pleasure to watch.
Still musing on his appearance, Rachel was unaware that Foyle had returned to the table with their drinks until he pressed a glass into her hand. "Th…thanks. Sorry. My mind was a thousand miles away. Been a long day, hasn't it?" She was not about to admit that she had been engrossed in watching him move across the room.
"Yep, it has."
Rachel let out a deep, throaty chuckle and told him, "If it didn't sound so disrespectful, I'd call you Coop."
"Why?" He was pretty certain he already knew the answer; he just wanted the pleasure of hearing Rachel explain why she had called him Gary Cooper earlier that evening.
"Hm…well…um…" She ran her finger around the rim of her glass trying to formulate an answer in her mind before saying it out loud and possibly offending him or embarrassing herself. Rachel closed her eyes as she took a quick swallow of whiskey, stalling for a little more time. She opened her eyes to "I'm waiting" look from him.
"Well, you both have blue eyes. And…you're men of few words- strong, silent types. However, Mr. Cooper is a "long, tall drink of water" and you're…ah…ah…" Rachel danced around saying anything else about Foyle's height.
"Not," he finished her sentence.
"Um, yeah. But the main difference between you and Gary Cooper is that I've only seen him in the movies and you're…" The tone of Rachel's voice suddenly changed completely and she continued, "Mr. Foyle, you're here right now and…very real." She reached out and briefly touched his arm as a means of confirming what she'd just told him.
He closed his eyes tightly for a second and then opened them. Telling her goodnight and goodbye when they finished their drinks and returned to their rooms had gone from being difficult to nearly impossible. "Why did you say that? What does it mean?"
The look on his face made Rachel think he was upset by what she'd said. "I'm sorry Mr. Foyle, did I say something wrong?"
"Nup." He shook his head ever so slightly. "Not wrong, just unsettling." He quickly finished his whiskey and Rachel took it as a cue to do the same. Their evening together was at an end.
During the elevator ride to the seventh floor of the hotel, Rachel fretted silently, feeling sure that she'd offended him by the comparison to Gary Cooper. She exhaled a long sigh of disappointment. "Oh well, it was nice while it lasted. He'll probably be glad to be rid of me."
If she had only known what was going through his mind, the disappointment she was feeling would have faded away. Foyle studied the face of the young woman standing next to of dark wavy hair hung in her eyes. The auburn highlights in her hair shown in the dim light of the elevator like a forest fire seen from a distance. He had a strong urge to touch those strands of hair. "Just brush them away, out of her eyes so she can see a little better. Then what's next? You touch her hair, then her cheek and then maybe you'll want to…kiss… Oh come now Foyle, don't go down this path!"
When the elevator doors opened on the seventh floor both of them slowly walked out towards their rooms. Rachel decided to "get it over with" and say good night and perhaps goodbye to the man she'd share her day with. "Well Mr. Foyle, thank you for dinner and the drink. More than that; thank you for the company. I hope you haven't regretted our accidental meeting. "
By this time they were standing in front of her door. Rachel turned away from him and slipped her room key into the lock.
In a matter of seconds she would be on the other side of that door and Foyle knew he'd better take his chance to tell her what spending the day with her had meant to him. "You're glad she "bumped" into you, aren't you? Yes. Well, tell her then!"
"Miss Roberts, I'm glad we met and I would like…"
The ringing of the phone in her room interrupted him. She hurriedly unlocked the door and then turned back to face him. "I'm sorry, but I've got to take this call. I'm sure it's my parents wanting to make sure I got to Washington safe and sound. Well, good night."
Rachel was so focused on answering the phone's insistent ring that she failed to close the door completely as she hurried inside her room. Foyle reached out to pull the door shut, but hesitated. He knew he should close the door and let her have privacy, but something compelled him to stay where he was.
Snatching the phone's receiver off its cradle, Rachel answered with a breathy "hello". "Yes ma'am, I'm fine. I'm sorry I didn't call you and Daddy when I got here. "
Through the barely open door Foyle could see Rachel pace back and forth as she listened to the caller on the other end of the line. It seemed the more she listened, the more agitated she became and her actions showed it. First she kicked off her shoes, sending them flying across the room and landing with a thud. Next, she raked her fingers raked through her tresses and hairpins scattered all over the floor. "I haven't been alone today. I met a gentleman on the train and we had dinner tonight."
Rachel sighed. "Good grief! The man is old enough to be my father. I was perfectly safe." She punctuated the remark by tossing her handbag on the bed, while she gripped the receiver with a choke hold in the other one. All the while, this drama was punctuated by the occasional "yes, but" and "I know".
"Look Mama, I am a grown woman and I can take care of myself. I've lived through a war and I survived Pearl…"
An idea coalesced in his mind- the label in her hat that had the name of a hat shop in Honolulu, the scar on her right hand and the word Pearl. She must have been present when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Now he understood what she'd meant by telling him that she had been hurt before and survived.
Rachel's voice began to quaver and she ended the call in one terse sentence, "Good night Mama, I love you and I'll call you tomorrow." She hung up the phone and collapsed on the bed, sobbing.
Now he was torn between going in to comfort Rachel and risking her being angry for listening in on the conversation with her mother. Out of a desire not to add to her distress, Christopher Foyle reluctantly decided to leave her alone and closed the door. He went into his room and prepared for bed, hoping she would be alright.
After putting on pajamas and crawling into bed, Foyle switched off the lamp and lay in the dark thinking about how his expectations of the day had been totally turned upside down. It was one of the rare days since he'd arrived in the States that the major thing on his mind wasn't the pursuit of Howard Paige. He had waited for years to have the opportunity to bring the man to justice, would he throw it all away because of a woman he he'd known for less than 24 hours?
Hmm…what's next for the pair? Christopher Foyle has been drawn in by Rachel Roberts and his interest in her is growing. Will she want to spend more time with him?
Thanks so much for reading! More to come.
