Chapter 4

Brookie was balancing on a step ladder the next morning, removing a light bulb in the Police Station foyer. Both Foyle and Sam looked up questioningly when they came in, wondering what on earth he was doing.

"Sergeant?"

"Good morning, Mr Foyle. Miss Stewart."

"Umm..." Foyle began.

"Fuel targets, sir."

"I see?" Foyle wasn't so sure he did.

"I doubt you will for much longer, sir, I've removed most of the bulbs in this part of the station." He grinned, "War effort and all, sir."

"Of course." Foyle gave Sam a small smile and left Brookie to it, heading towards his office.

Brookie came down and moved the A frame ladder to the next fixture, stomping up the treads as if this were an every day occurrence.

"Give us hand?" Brookie asked, head nearly inside the lamp fixture in the middle of the station foyer.

Sam came forwards, standing just behind the ladder. "What can I do?"

Brookie looked down and grinned, "Bring us that screwdriver - some idiot's fastened the fixture down so tight I can't reach the bulb."

Sam grinned back at him and did as he asked.

Voice muffled from above, Brookie said, "You all right this morning, Sam?"

"Yes, thanks, Brookie. I'm glad we talked." She had felt immensely better once she and Brookie had gone over things the previous evening in the car. Brookie is right, she thought, it is easier sharing the burden.

"Me too," said Brookie, handing her the screwdriver, "Hold that, there's a love, and I'll have this bleedin' thing out in no time."

"Surely you aren't taking them all out, Brookie," said Sam in alarm, "We shan't see a thing at night time."

"Not all, just most."

Sam grinned. "But why now all of a sudden?"

"Had the Assistant Commissioner on the blower this morning - gave me strict instructions and all. Don't know what his plan is, but the war effort is the war effort."

There was a clunk from above and Brookie came down the ladder triumphantly, holding the bulb as if it were a fragile flower.

"Well done, Brookie."

"Have to do the offices next." He grinned, "Perhaps you'd like to do Mr Foyle's?"

But for the bulb he was holding she would have given him a punch in the arm.

They did the other offices first, before soon rapping on the door that read DCS Foyle, with Brookie holding the ladder awkwardly.

"Enter."

Foyle was sat behind his desk, elbow deep in paperwork. He eyed Brookie's ladder suspiciously. "Come to scavenge mine now, eh?"

"Only if you wouldn't mind, sir." He grinned and it occurred to Foyle that the young sergeant could be very charming when he wanted.

"Yes, all right." Foyle twitched his lips wryly, "But do leave me one, Sergeant, it would help if I can see what I'm doing."

"But of course, sir."

Brookie sprang up the ladder with his usual grace, but looked back down at Sam once he'd reached the top. His eyes had a mischievous glint and she suddenly felt worried.

"Do you know, Miss Stewart, I think I may need your help with this one. Your hands are smaller and can reach into the fixture better. Would you mind?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, but nodded stiffly. "If you think it would help."

Brookie slid down, then offered his hand to help her climb up.

"This would be easier without a uniform," she muttered under her breath, hitching her skirt a little higher in order to climb upwards.

"Don't worry, Miss, we'll hold the ol' ladder safe and secure for you, won't we Mr Foyle?" He looked over inquiringly at the detective, who at once stood and said, "Er... of course."

The two men stood holding the ladder, Brookie looking most pleased with himself. Foyle swallowed hard, not entirely sure where to look. Finally, he looked up, eyes trying not to notice Sam's stockings, or the legs beneath them, or the straining back of the skirt as she leaned to reach the bulb.

He cleared his throat and looked away quickly, "Um...you all right up there, Sam?"

"Yes, nearly there, sir."

There was a click, and the bulb came free. Handing it to Brookie, Sam came down the ladder, placing each step carefully. Her face was flushed and Foyle felt his heart beating more quickly.

"Well done, Miss, that's nearly forty now."

Foyle moved away back behind the safety of his desk. "I should think that's enough bulbs for now, Sergeant," he said briskly, "Sam, see if Milner's in yet and we'll follow up this lead he mentioned." Foyle waved the memo that had been waiting for him with one hand, the other tapping his pocket in unconscious agitation. He felt rather flushed himself.

Once in outside in the corridor, Sam hissed at Brookie, "You rotter, Brookie, what did you do that for?"

He grinned cheekily, and said in an innocent voice, "I don't know what you mean, Miss Stewart."

"You're a terrible liar."

"Just trying to help."

"Goodness me, how? I feel awfully exposed."

"Nice, innit?"

She gaped at him, hating that he could read on her face the pleasure she had felt when Foyle's eyes had been on her.

He put the ladder away and took the bulb from her, putting it carefully in a box with the others. Once his hands were free, Sam gave him a light punch on the arm. "You are terrible, Brookie."

"I know. Sorry, Sam."

They grinned at each other then, laughing slightly. Brookie shook his head, "Poor Mr Foyle..."

"And poor me," said Sam, still grinning, "I don't take kindly to being... manipulated and ... manhandled."

"Oh, really? Because I seem to remember..."

She gave him a push.