A/N: Thanks as always to LauraRaposa for editing this chapter. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed the story especially Utopia who has done so very diligently, it really means a lot.

I clearly own nothing but hope that you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 11

When Foyle finally opened his eyes it was dusk. He blinked, glanced at his watch and found he had been asleep for almost two hours. He ran a hand over his face and felt his usual teatime stubble. God, I'm tired. He sighed, pushed himself up and began drawing the curtains for the blackout. DCS Foyle certainly didn't want a visit from the warden.

He had just started his nightly ritual when he heard a knock at the door. Who can that be? Can't be the ARP already. There's still some light in the sky. As he moved into the hallway to answer the door, he noted Andrew's coat and hat were still missing from the rack. He's still out then. Maybe stopped at the pub.

Foyle made sure he was presentable and then opened the door. He found Hugh Reid walking away from his front stoop. He called out to him.

"Ah, Christopher, I thought you must be out," Reid said as he retraced his steps to No. 31.

"No, no, just doing the blackout. Do come in," said Foyle as he stepped aside to allow his friend to enter.

"Thank you, old chap," said Reid as he removed his hat and gave his friend the once-over. Hmm. He looks tired and somewhat rumbled. As he removed his coat and went to hang it on the rack he noticed the absence of Andrew's RAF leather jacket. He swallowed hard. Had Andrew been ordered to return to active duty?

He looked back at Foyle and the question died on his lips, as he took in the far away look in his friend's tired eyes. "Right, well, we'd best get a move on if you don't want the warden at your door. I can handle downstairs if you want to tackle the bedrooms."

Foyle roused himself. "Hmm, quite right. Very kind of you to help, Hugh. Thank you."

Reid smiled and pressed a hand to his friend's shoulder as he made his way to the lounge. "Don't mention it, Christopher, although some of your fine scotch would be acceptable recompense."

A smile came to Foyle's lips as he shook his head and made his way up the stairs.

Between the two of them, the blackout was completed in record time. And within minutes the old friends were seated comfortably in the lounge in front of the fire with tumblers of Glenlivet.

Reid watched Foyle rub a hand across his forehead for the third time since they'd sat down and frowned. Christopher Foyle was a reticent man by nature but this evening he had scarcely said two words. Reid felt his gut twist with unease.

As a parent you always worried about your children. But there was normal worry and then there was war. Ever since Andrew had enlisted and been attached to a squadron Reid had become accustomed to the shadow that would cross over Foyle's face when the RAF's latest death toll was reported on the wireless or in the newspaper, and sometimes when the phone on his desk rang.

He had watched his friend age almost overnight when Andrew had been held on false charges and again when he had been injured in a crash. But tonight there seemed to be a new depth to the worry in Foyle's eyes. Hugh frowned.

He took a sip of Speyside's finest and asked, "So did the Wing Commander come by this afternoon?"

Foyle looked up and nodded. "Yes, he did. Sorry. I said I would call you, didn't I?"

"Couldn't matter less," said Hugh as he waved away the apology. He waited for Foyle to elaborate, but there was only silence. Reid felt his heart sink.

Christopher's behaviour would suggest that Andrew had been recalled to active service. But surely the Commander would have given Andrew one last night at home. But if so where was the lad? Best to just ask I suppose.

"So, eh, how did it go then?"

"Hmm, oh, fine, I guess," said Foyle. "He and Andrew seemed to have a good talk."

"And?"

"And Andrew is to report to Debden on Tuesday to take up a training position."

A broad smile broke out over Reid's face. "Christopher, that's wonderful!"

"Well, I certainly think so," said Foyle, staring into his glass.

"Andrew didn't take the news well then?"

Foyle sighed and once again ran a hand across his face. "He was shocked more than anything I think. But he went for a walk right after the Commander left and I haven't seen him since. So I'm not really sure."

Reid frowned. He had the feeling that wasn't the entire story. Although it was the outcome that Foyle wanted, he didn't seem to be relieved. In fact, he appeared preoccupied. He's just exhausted.

Hugh cleared his throat, "Have you had your tea yet?"

Foyle looked up at him. "Err no, not yet. I suppose I should see to it. Andrew will be hungry when he turns up. He always is." He forced a smile and moved to stand but Reid held up a hand to stop him.

"Look, Christopher, you look done in and you probably haven't had time to go to the shops since Andrew got home. Why don't I nip around the corner and pick us up something from the pub?"

Foyle frowned and shook his head. "You don't have to do that, Hugh. Besides Elaine will have dinner waiting for you at home. Andrew and I will be fine."

Reid shook his head. "Elaine and the girls have gone up to see her mother. I'm going to join them there at the weekend but we thought it would be good to get the girls away from Hastings for a bit, especially with the raids increasing again. You'll be saving me from myself, old man. You might be able to cook but anything past eggs and toast is a little out of my league I'm afraid."

He smiled and Foyle smiled back. "Well, if you're sure, Hugh?"

Reid nodded, knocked back the rest of his single malt, and stood as Foyle dug a few bills out of his wallet and handed them to him. "Andrew will eat anything, and you know what I like. I'll put some tea on, and perhaps by the time you get back my son will have returned."

Reid smiled and headed to the hallway to fetch his coat. "I'm sure he'll be along soon and, if not, I'll eat his helping."

Foyle smiled, looked up at his friend and said, "Thank you, Hugh. This is decent of you."

"Not at all, Christopher. I'm saving myself from eggs and toast again not to mention another lonely evening at home. I won't be long," said Reid as he let himself out the door.

Foyle stood listening to the stillness of the house around him and remembered how Rosalind used to hum in the kitchen while she cooked and the cacophony of noise that seemed to arise from whatever room Andrew occupied at the time. He smiled sadly; the house felt so empty these days with Andrew away. He had taken to listening to the wireless in the evenings just to combat the silence. But now, he sighed, Andrew would be home - for a few more days at least - and Foyle let himself bask the in the relief and joy of having his boy home again before heading to the kitchen to make tea.