Chapter 4

One week passed since the case of Rowan McCoy, and there had been plenty of little jobs since. A weak spectre on Thursday, a raw-bones on Saturday, the usual business. The morning was bright; birds a-singing, cars a-speeding, and tea a-brewing. The four agents crouched, still in their colourful pyjamas, over the table. The remains of a pile of crumpets sat between them all, mostly devoured by George. Everyone was smiley and happy, for once no-one felt tense. Lockwood stood, and as if on que the kettle let out a pitiful wail. "Who wants tea?" He asked.

"Me, please." The others replied in unison.

"I'll help you." Lucy offered and left George and Holly to continue their conversation on the subject of socks. Following Lockwood through to the kitchen, she commented, "You're happy this morning."

"When am I not?" He asked, smirking, as he methodically placed tea bags in each mug.

It was true that he did seem to be content all the time, to say the least. Unless a sensitive area is mentioned. Then he sometimes seems to retract into himself and can be very reserved for periods from about an hour up to a few days. "Well, you know what I mean. More happy."

Lockwood chuckled and shrugged dismissively. "I'm just looking forwards to later."

"Why, what's happening later?" Lucy probed, suddenly becoming curious. She hadn't heard about anything happening later! Had he planned something without her?

"There's going to be a big thunderstorm. That's if the weatherman was right for once." He poured the water into the mugs, one by one, then swivelled round to face Lucy. "There hasn't been one in ages. I do love thunderstorms."

Relaxing, Lucy smiled. She was relieved to hear this, and a little bit amused. "Well, they're ok I guess." She commented. Tea isn't complete without a good biscuit to go with it. Frowning, she crouched down and dug around in the cupboard. Warmly, Lockwood smiled and watched her. He felt this serenity when he watched her, that he'd never felt before whilst being near anyone else. Suddenly, this was broken as she pulled her head out of the cupboard, bringing a couple of sweet wrappers with her. "Hey, Lockwood, we're running low on biscuits. There's just loads of empty packets!" She said, concerned. Eventually she found a leftover packet of Nices and flourished them. "These are all we have left!"

"Well, they'll have to do. We can stock up later." He said, grabbing two of the mugs. Lucy, holding the biscuit packet under her chin like some sort of weird circus act, took the remaining two and carried them out into the living room. She ignored the sniggers from George and presented the biscuits like a prize. "It's all we have. Make the most of it." Before she could take one for herself, they all heard a familiar thump from the front door that signified the newspaper being delivered. Lucy volunteered and practically skipped through the hallway. Suddenly, her smile was wiped from her face as she read the headline on the front page: Two Dead, Killed by Solitary.