October 1950

Anthony stared out at the teeming auditorium. His mother would no doubt have the best seats; ahh, there she was. The family took up the entire row—Mims, Ivy and Jane on one side and Nan Mairi on the other. Aunts and uncles galore, including Uncle Tom from Paringa who had been married into his first family. Mrs. Bowen. Several cousins—most of them had been left at home, but Aggie had charmed her way into the event with some well-deployed tears, and Theo was here as a matter of professional interest, intending to follow Ant's path in a year or two.

He watched them from the edge of the stage where graduates had gathered, smiling at the familiar sight. He could see no less than three men watching his mother—she really could command a room—and trying to suss out whether she was one of the many war widows in Melbourne. Her aubergine coat fit her svelte frame and brought a sheen to the silvered strands in her dark hair, and the dress beneath was probably worth more than the men's yearly salaries; she was by far the most stunning woman in the room, even Anthony could see that. She was also his Mims, and when she caught his eye she gave a small wave and smiled at him.

The graduation ceremony began, and Ant shifted his attention back to the stage where the first speaker was welcoming the guests and explaining there had been a slight change in plans; Chief Commissioner Warren was unable to make it, and would be replaced by the Victorian Constabulary's most decorated officer and Chief Detective Inspector for Melbourne.

The man in question took the podium, gave a short speech, then called and greeted each graduating cadet by name.

"Anthony Fisher-Robinson."

Ant stood, taking a deep breath, and crossed the stage; this was the moment he had dreamt of for as long as he could remember, determined even as a child to follow his father's footsteps. O, hush thee, my babie, the time soon will come, he repeated to himself as he often had, When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum. It was not a cheery thought, that sense of obligation he'd seen his father carry and he had taken upon himself, but comforting nonetheless. He smiled as he made the final steps, extending his hand towards the CDI for a firm handshake; he was met by a stern face and amused eyes.

"Not a word, Ant," his father whispered. "I suspect your mother is responsible for the Commissioner's sudden illness, but I'm not giving her the satisfaction of asking."

"Now that you mention it, Mims did have Edie Warren around for lunch last week," Anthony replied, trying not to laugh.

"Of course."

The two men shared a conspiratorial eye roll and then Anthony moved away so the next cadet could be called. It was a small class, and soon enough they were released to greet their guests. Anthony caught his father's attention—he was stuck mid-conversation with the wife of some superior, but he nodded subtly and indicated he'd join them soon—then made his way to where his mother was pushing through the crowd. The sight stopped him short.

"Mims?" he asked as she approached. "Are you crying?"

"I'm so proud, Squirrel."

Anthony raised an eyebrow; she hadn't called him Squirrel in years. Then he hugged her tightly.

"I wouldn't be here if not for your temporary loss of reason," he teased; she'd always called it that, a fact that had made him giggle wildly as a child and now made him realise how very much she had done for him.

"I never had much reason to begin with," she laughed, tears still in her eyes. "Just ask your father."

"You've always had just enough reason for me," he said.

She breathed deeply and smiled. "Are you still insisting on that dreadful posting?"

"Mims, it's a morning's drive. Less at your speeds, though I believe I'll have to feign ignorance on that," he said. "I'll see you all the time. At my age you'd been to war and were flitting around Europe and taking on the world."

"It was a different time!" she protested with a laugh, and Anthony gave her a hug. She wasn't really upset, he knew. "I still don't see why."

"Because if I am going to prove myself, I can't do it under the shadow of Chief Detective Inspector Robinson. In Campbells Creek I'll just be Constable Fisher most of the time."

"You are your father's son," she said with a shake of her head. "Insisting on doing everything the hard way."

"Wouldn't have married you if I didn't," his father said, approaching them.

"Hello, Jack," she said brightly, reaching for his arm. "Wasn't it serendipitous that Charlie Warren was ill?"

"A stunning coincidence," he replied, watching her face.

Anthony sighed. Somehow, despite their disparate personalities, they had managed to remain almost nauseatingly in love with each other; he'd learnt to read it early on, in the subtle head tilts and soft smiles that they shared with nobody else and the sharp banter that filled the home. They were doing it again now, having an entire conversation nobody else was privy to. His father leant towards her and whispered something into her ear—Anthony was grateful not to overhear—and then turned to embrace Ant.

"You'll make a fine officer," he said when he pulled back, voice tight with emotion. "Very fine indeed."

"I learnt from the best," Ant replied.

His dad groaned. "Do not rely on tricks you picked up from your mother, please."

"I meant Uncle Hugh," he smirked.

"I'm not sure whether that's better or worse."

"Don't let Aunt Dot hear you say that. Or Aggie," Anthony grinned, then grew sombre as he looked at his parents.

He didn't know what his life would have been like without them, if the string of coincidences had led him to another bed. He was certain it would not have been half as loving and challenging and wonderful. He enveloped them both in a hug, trusting that they would understand what he meant. I love you. Thank you. I learnt how to be a good man from the two best people in the world. They hugged him back.

"So," he said when it was done; none of them were the type to dwell on sentiment. "Where has the rest of the family gotten to?"