Well, here it is, the final chapter/prologue- just tying up all the loose ends really. Thanks to everyone who has followed and favourited this story, I'm really glad for all your assistance over the past godness knows how long and apologise once again for my lateness. Lyrics belong to The Carpenters. Happy reading
Joseph was, by no means, and easy child to take care of. If he wasn't crying because he was hungry, he was tired or needed changing or entertaining or a million and one other things that meant sleep levels had dropped considerably since that day six months ago.
The birth was almost oxymoronic to his son's boisterous behaviour Alex was sure had come from him. Taking a small fraction of the time that Alex had spent in labour with Molly, they were in and out of the hospital within seventy-two hours, a bundle of blue gurgling contentedly in 1984's finest pram. Though originally protesting that night feeding was not something he was willing to participate in, on several occasions within his paternity leave he was found soothing his partner and their son as she fed and rocked him back to his previous slumber. Naturally, the frequency changed when he returned to CID with news of their 8lbs treasure, but he was still eager as ever to interact with his little lion cub after his afternoon nap. The daily "Have yer been good for yer Mam?" routine always left his son with the giggles as he was tickled by his daddy.
On rare occasions when he though nobody was listening, Alex would catch him singing old lullabies to his snoozing boy in the gruff baritone she had grown to love so dearly. She was yet to make this a topic of conversation in case he ceased their little ritual; the sight of his gaze into their wriggly boy as they slowly swayed on a rocking chair installed in the nursery was a sight she would never tire witnessing.
Arguably the most daunting task in their journey of parenthood was Alex's first return to Fenchurch East to show off the little lad, and, of course, give the troops an excuse for a single malt to 'wet the baby's head'. Although initially met with a somewhat awkward silence after the usual greetings of 'Guv', it was almost as if the past year had never occurred, mumbled apologies deemed unnecessary;
"Aww Ma'am, ain't he sweet, doesn't half look like the Guv!"
"Oh definitely, not half the little terror, aren't you hmm? Still, I wouldn't change a hair on his head."
"Yeah, he's right bonny isn't he!...Listen, Ma'am, I am awful sorry for all that stuff, if I'd've known all that stupid nattering would-"
"Shaz, don't beat yourself up about it. Yes, it did hurt and obviously I wish the first part of my pregnancy had gone different, but that's all in the past now, you're forgiven I'm just glad our family made it through- we're stronger than ever now."
"Oh I am glad…Thanks. Um, can I…can I hold him Ma'am?"
"Yes! Of course, I'm sure he'd love to meet his godmother, wouldn't you eyy?"
"Oh Ma'am! You can't be serious?"
"Alex, please, and of course I am, see, you're a natural"
Little Joseph was spoilt rotten with toys and clothes and a little collection fund they'd all put towards, courtesy of Ray. They put it towards a new camera and over the next few months their hallway was scattered all over with photos of the little unit Gene was so honoured to be a part of. One took pride of place in his office, fond memories of when they took their little boy to the swings for the first time replaying in his mind every time he looked at it.
The only real regret, apart from his foolishness all those months ago, was that his own Mam was no longer around to have seen him become a father. Something that he always felt was almost her goal in later years. This he confided in Alex, on a rare occasion that Joseph was sleeping in a Moses basket to one side of them;
"I wish she were here to meet him.."
"Who?"
"Me Mam."
"Oh, what..what was she like?"
"The best. She brought me up didn't she eyy-what you giggling at?"
"Nothing; go on, please,"
"She told the best bedtime stories to me an' Stu, no books or nothing, straight out of 'er 'ead, and we learnt cards and she were always the lady on our road she'd go to if yer 'urt yerself playing, she'd never shout at yer 'cause there was a hole in yer trousers. Sh'd just clean yerup , ruffle yer 'air and you could go back to your game. It wasn't always easy, what wi' mi dad and all, but the smell of lavender soap never failed to make me feel better."
"She sounds wonderful; I do like it when you tell me things like that."
"Yeah, she were great, I wish she could've met you…What about your Mam anyways? Take yer out for pony rides and opera?"
"No, no, not quite. She never really had time for real 'mumsy' things, it was hard to sit round the dining table sometimes because of all that paperwork…sometimes I felt like I was just an inconvenience but- looking back, I do think she loved me, I just think, I hope, she just didn't uite know how to show it."
"She loved yer sweetheart."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Trust the Gene Genie- how could she not eyy? Now, c'mere."
"Hmmm…'kay,"
"Gene?"
"Yes love?"
"Do you think I'll make a good mum? It's just, I never thought I was any good, Molly deserved so much more than I gave her and what with my mum and everything I just-"
"Hey, hey, it's alright." He soothed, stroking her hair in this rare evening of shared vulnerability.
"What's happened to my Bollyknickers eyy? Have yer not seen how you are with 'im? How he's always got his arms out when yer get near him, big grin on his little face, right little mummy's boy is our little fella- yer great with 'im Alex."
There was a long pause, before a sleepy "Thank you."
"C'mon Bollykecks, get off ter bed, I'll bring the lad in."
Maternity leave, like all good things, must come to an end. Being unable to return to Fenchurch East, much to Shaz's dismay, she reluctantly left little Joseph with Gene's neighbour, a retired Nanny, who had him when both Gene and Alex were working. At weekends her assistance was usually not required though on occasion she cooked for Gene and his boy. The new DSI job he had recently been appointed meant his hours were much more manageable. Less than a year later the Nanny was needed even less, though she had become a dear friend as word had crossed the Atlantic about the success of psychological profiling in the states. Alex was soon heading to Scotland Yard three days a week plus working at home some days to educate and assist with on-going cases. Quality time as a family soared and neither remembered a time when they had been happier.
The pair too, were beginning to spend more time as a couple, either taking the occasional 'date night' or just having a quiet evening together. It was nice to leave work outside at times like this, what used to take up their whole lives was still a very important to both parties, but there was now room for other things to leak in, family being the most important priority. This new closeness also helped restore the feistiness they once shared together, filling the house with their quiet laughter as they tried to keep their son asleep.
"This is my favourite part of the day Bolls."
"What? The ten o'clock news?"
"No yer daft tart. This, us: you in my arms; Joseph dreaming away; a finger of whiskey if I feel like it. No phone calls, no crime scenes, just our own little bit of heaven."
"You really are quite the charmer when you want to be Gene Hunt."
"Yer know me, right ladies man."
"I bloody well hope not!"
"Nah! Only got room for one- Britt Ekland of course. Don't Gimmie that look You know how much I like James bond! Only joking love, it's only ever been you since 'eighty-one, probably even before that knowing you and yer fruitcake ways."
"Should I feel complimented or not?- C'mere you big softie and gimmie a kiss."
1989
She stood by the kitchen window, washing the pots from dinner that he was too excited to do himself. Men. He'd been teaching the 5 year-old Joseph to play cricket, much to her protests that he should wait another year or so,. Try as he might, for the past week or so, he'd nearly mastered catching, throwing, bowling and the like, but batting was just not coming to him, the boll swinging past the already swung at most of the time. Gene was adamant that he would manage it this evening- "copper's nouse" apparently.
She idly dried the plates as she watched her son's look of concentration, tongue poking out from the pout he had so obviously inherited form his father. A brow was mopped. The tennis ball was bowled. The bat was swung. It bounced, nearly destroying the wicker of the hanging basket on the shed but the look of sheer joy on his little face as he jumped up and down with excitement was enough for her to forget about that, at least for a little while. His pride and astonishment was met with cheers from all witnesses, and, as she watched her son being swooped on his father's shoulders and carted around the garden like an aeroplane, a song filtered in from the radio…
'On the day that you were born the angels got together and decided to create a dream come true,
So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of golden starlight in your eyes of blue'
She often sang it to Joseph when he was little. The song was practically made for him. And now, seeing the two of them, with identical mischievous grins, gesturing her to come and join the fun, she couldn't help thinking; perhaps it could just be about Gene too."
There we are, all finished, probably a little shorter than I had hoped, and I would love to hear what you all thought. Perhaps I'll see you all again soon. Happy writing, CE xxx