Chapter 2

Tapping the steering wheel absentmindedly, Sam wondered what she would say to Foyle about her feelings for him if indeed the lights were on at his house. As it was, the lights were out, so Sam continued past, cursing herself and her feelings. Arriving at her billet, she turned the motor off, but remained sitting, staring out at the pouring rain miserably.

She couldn't decide on what to do. It all seemed like it could only go one way: badly. Mr Foyle couldn't possibly have any reciprocal feelings, no, surely not, and even so, he was her boss. Immense feelings of foolishness kept washing over her as she sat there. Eventually it became too cold, and she shook her head slightly to stir herself. Dashing through the rain to the front door, she reasoned with herself: she would not make her feelings known.

What Brookie had said was true enough, about the bombs and fluidity of life, but she felt such mortification at even the thought of mentioning her feelings to Foyle, that it decided it for her. Sliding into bed, rubbing her feet back to warmth, she cried a little, feeling a bit hopeless. Why on earth couldn't she love a decent, attainable man her own age, like Brookie?

The thought of Brookie's kiss and his hands on her body made her tremble slightly with remembering. It had felt nice, and he was a good man. Sam toyed with the idea of what life would be like married to Brookie – she would still be in touch with Police life at least. He seemed a resourceful sort of chap, and would surely provide a decent home for them. With these comforting thoughts, Sam fell asleep, her dreams dancing in her mind of a small cottage with a faceless man beside the hearth playing chess with bright eyed boys.

The next day was the sort that poems are written about, with skies washed clean and blue with last night's rain. Foyle poked his head out of his bedroom window briefly, breathing in the sea air and absorbing the sound of the gulls. The dark and wet of the blackout from last night seemed far away. He remembered watching Sam and Brookie driving away and he heard himself sigh.

Pushing thoughts of the two away from his mind, he began to make ready for the day. He contemplated himself in the mirror as he knotted his tie, realising he felt a bit tired, but no worse for wear after the questionable alcohol from the Benefit. That brought his thoughts back around to Sam and the way he had felt all yesterday evening…jealous? - surely not. Foyle frowned at his reflection and tutted.

Hearing a smart knock on the door, he hurried down, slipping on his jacket as he stepped onto the front step. Sam smiled up at him, fresh and bright as the day around them. He felt his heart give an involuntary leap.

"Good morning, sir," she said, as always, sliding back into the car.

"Good morning, Sam – what a fine day it is," Foyle heard himself say, "You arrive home all right last night?"

He was surprised to see Sam blush slightly.

"Yes sir," slipping into gear as they pulled away.

"Good." He stopped himself from clearing his throat by biting his lip. There were so many questions bubbling up, all of the answers becoming worse as he contemplated them.

"Brookie got home in one piece too?" he asked, in what he hoped was a casual voice.

"Yes, sir, I drove him back."

He noticed Sam concentrating hard on the road, which was unusual. Not to say that she was not a careful driver, but this was a route they took everyday. Foyle felt compelled to mention it – what if he had said something out of turn last night when all those feelings were whirling around inside him?

"Are you feeling quite yourself, Sam? It's just you seem...er...quite focused."

"On driving, sir? It is my job to get you to and fro safely...sir."

Foyle mentally kicked himself – he should have considered she might take it as an affront rather than concern.

"I would agree, Miss Stewart," he said more sharply than he intended, "I am merely concerned."

She relaxed her grip on the wheel and flicked a quick glance at him.

"Yes sir, thank you. Perhaps a bit tired from a late night."

Foyle nodded, looking out at Hastings rolling by. He had a sudden urge to walk beside the sea.

"Sam, I would like to walk by the beach for a moment – to enjoy the weather a bit before being inside behind a desk for the rest of the day."

Sam half smiled at him, "Jolly good idea, sir." She turned into the next lane, driving down towards the sea front.

Foyle felt pleased with himself. A fresh sea breeze might be just the thing to clear the air between them.

As they rolled to a stop near the pier, Foyle paused before opening the door, "You'll join me, Sam?"

"Thank you, sir, I'd like that."

They both stepped out into the fresh air, each enjoying the feeling of freedom the sun and sea seemed to bring upon the moment. The time for talking, especially in such stilted terms, was over. Her good humour restored, Sam grinned gaily at Foyle before following him down the path towards the beach.

Foyle felt young again, walking along the beach front on a fine day with a lovely young woman at his side. He put his hands in his pockets, gazing out at the fishing boats coming in from their morning's catch. Hard to imagine just across the Channel war was raging. The pebbles shifted under their weight and he bumped unsteadily into Sam.

"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly.

Sam put her arm through his, saying by way of explanation, "Must get you there safely, sir."

They walked on like that for a moment, each hardly believing it to be true - were they really walking arm in arm along the beach? Foyle wondered if he were dreaming.

He said softly, "You are so good to me, my dear Sam, what would I do without you?"

She breathed in sharply, his words sinking in slowly to her mind.

Finally, she said, "Walk to work each day I expect, sir."

Foyle laughed out loud, pulling her closer, "Indeed."

Then Sam added, "But I should be at a loss without you, sir, if you don't mind me saying so. And certainly the MTC would have chucked me out by now."

They caught each other's eyes, holding their gaze and reading what lay behind them. If Foyle hadn't nearly tripped again, who knows who might have broken the gaze first? They walked slowly back to the Wolseley, neither wanting to pull away from the other.

On the way to the station, Sam kept glancing over at Foyle only to find him contemplating her with a soft smile, his forefinger resting over his lips. She felt her colour rising, but this time in a most pleasing manner, sending waves of butterflies through her stomach.

The question of what would happen once they actually arrived at the station kept forming at the back of her mind, with the knowledge that she would also have to face Brookie and his supposedly all seeing eye. As they pulled up to the station, Sam felt her heart pounding unlike anything before.