A/N: Again, thank you for the kind reviews and for sticking with this story. It is much appreciated.

Chapter 11

Sam got up from Foyle's lap, quickly switching off the lamp. They heard footsteps coming up the stairs and Sam held her breath. A soft voice began to sing and the footsteps continued up another flight.

Sam let out her breath in relief with a whoosh, whispering, "It's all right. It's only Milly."

She turned from the lamp to find Foyle's arms coming around her middle. He was still chuckling.

"Are we going to sneak out then?" He asked, "Because I'm rather in no fit state to be seen."

Sam giggled, "Well, in that case..."

She pulled him down beside her on the narrow bed. It squeaked mercilessly and Sam groaned.

"I'm certainly going to be in for the high jump."

"Why don't we have that cup of tea?" Foyle asked. Adding, "In five minutes or so? It would help if you let me up."

Sam didn't answer, but instead found his lips, "Or maybe I should keep you captive here?"

Foyle grinned against her kiss. "Oh?" he murmured.

Her hands were at his back, pulling him to her. She sighed contentedly.

"N-not helping, Sam."

"What do you mean?" she asked lazily, tracing the features of his face with her fingertips.

Foyle pushed his hips gently against hers.

"Oh."

Sam grinned wickedly and slipped a hand between them. Foyle gave an undignified, but hushed, yelp and grabbed her wrist.

"Really, Sam. Your landlady might be home any minute."

"But…I'm curious…"

"Yes, well. Curiosity killed the cat, so they say."

Sam laughed and kissed his cheek, sitting up. "Tea it is then."

Going to the window, Foyle opened it carefully, letting the cool night air wash over him. Sam came to stand next to him.

"Can we be married as soon as possible?"

Foyle snorted. "We'll have to be at this rate."

She gave him a dig in the ribs before saying seriously, "I don't want anything fancy; I don't want to deliberate over place settings or who to invite. I just want to begin our life together. That's all that matters."

He put an arm around her. "We'll do just that, then."

"What about Andrew?"

"I'll telephone his Wing Commander. See if he can't get some compassionate leave."

"He'll think we've gone mad."

"He'll come around."

A thump from above roused them from their hushed talk.

"Quick, downstairs, now," said Foyle firmly, propelling Sam for the door.

****

The swinging doors into the station thumped, causing Sergeant Brooke to look up from his logbook.

"Miss Stewart," he said beaming, "how lovely to see you."

Sam was positively glowing, and out of uniform she looked bright and fresh. The station was quiet and it was clear he was glad of the distraction. He leaned on the desk towards her.

She grinned at him, but put up a hand, "I'm not staying, Brookie, just returning the Wolseley."

His face fell, "Oh, I see."

"I'm not coming back to work with the Police."

His face was a picture of disappointment and questions.

Sam leaned in towards him, saying conspiratorially, "We — Mr Foyle and I — are to be married, Brookie!"

"Goodness, well that's wonderful. When?"

"Soon. My place has always been beside him in work, and now, well… it will remain so. I'm resigning from the MTC as well."

"What will you do with yourself?"

"I'm hoping the WVS will help me find a place; I still want to be useful and help the war effort."

Brookie nodded, feeling a bit sad that an unknown DCS would be coming in, and Sam would no longer be around.

He looked up suddenly, "Congratulations! I should have said it sooner…"

Sam came around the desk to stand beside him, "Thank you, Brookie." She lay a hand on his arm, "And not just for…you know…"

He nodded, smiling at her. "It won't be the same around here, love."

"I will miss it. And you all. I know Chris—Mr Foyle will too. Police work was his life."

"Yes, I can't imagine not being a Policeman," mused Brookie.

"Is Milner in yet? I wanted to tell him, and to say goodbye."

"No, it's still early."

"True. I couldn't sleep, so here I am."

Brookie gave her a quizzical smirk.

She coloured, "I don't think I will be able to sleep properly for the rest of the week, if I'm honest, Brookie."

"Nerves?"

"Not entirely. Too excited perhaps."

"Cuppa?" he asked, motioning with his head towards the kitchenette.

"Rather! I haven't even had breakfast yet."

"Oh? Well that will never do."

"We were away most of the weekend — I wanted to see my parents and tell them. And I'm going to Christopher's later. I didn't have a moment to look at the shops. Not that I expect there will be much in them…"

Brookie busied himself with the tea. He rattled a tin, "Might be something in here for you?"

Sam opened it eagerly before looking at him, "Brookie?"

"Hmm," he hummed in acknowledgement.

"Will you come to the wedding? I wanted to ask you to drive…if you wouldn't mind?"

He turned to her with a soft smile, "I should be delighted, Miss Stewart."

Sam saw a brightness come into his eyes and she stood, hugging him to her.

"You are a darling, and I won't ever forget the friendship you've shown me. I am so grateful."

He gave her a squeeze, "You are a breath of fresh air in these dark times, Sam. I won't forget you either, you know. I am so very happy for you, lovely girl."

Sam felt her throat constrict.

"Now, a cuppa and a chat, and then we'd best send you on your way." He broke away from her, handing her a steaming cup.

He added with a cheeky grin, "It wouldn't be Monday morning if you didn't knock on his door, now would it?"

"Speaking of doors; we had quite a fright from my landlady. It would have been jolly funny if I hadn't been so worried. She's a bit of dragon at times."

Brookie snorted, "Getting up to no good?" He waggled his eyebrows before laughing again.

She gave him a push, "No, you rotter. I asked him in for a cup of tea, then showed him my…where I live. We rather… er…forgot the time." She ignored another of Brookie's snorts.

"Anyway, just as we returned downstairs, my landlady came through the door. He jammed on his hat before she could see him, as if we had only just come in from outside."

"Always a quick thinker, our Mr Foyle," said Brookie with a smirk.

Sam put on a mimicking high voice, "Mr Foyle, what are you doing here? Miss Stewart isn't in some sort of pickle again is she?"

Brookie chuckled.

Sam continued, "Well he said no, of course, but that he had been offered a cup of tea. She invited him in, and he explained we were going to be married. She was astounded. I don't understand why people keep looking so shocked."

"That's their trouble, innit?" Brookie said sensibly.

"I suppose so." Sam traced the rim of her tea cup, suddenly slightly subdued. "I don't like people to think badly of him though."

Brookie smiled, "Trust you to think of him first. Don't you worry a bit about what others think. You love each other, yeah? That's all that matters."

"Right as always, Brookie. I'll try not to think of them."

Milner suddenly made them both jump by putting his head around the corner.

"Morning, you two. Any tea left for me?"

Sam sprang up, seizing his hand. "Paul, I want to tell you something, come sit down."

He allowed himself to be dragged into the small space, sitting down awkwardly on the chair. He gave her a half smile, "What is it, Sam? Are you going to be my driver now?"

"No, nothing like that. Mr Foyle and I are engaged to be married, and we want you to be there at the wedding." She said this quickly, searching his face.

For a worried moment, she thought he too would be shocked, but instead his face brightened into a smile that she hadn't seen him give in a long time.

"But that's wonderful!" He beamed at her proudly. "And about time."

Sam spluttered, "What?"

"It was clear as day, Sam." Milner grinned as her mouth dropped.

She rounded on Brookie, "Did you…?"

He held up his hands, "Weren't me!"

Milner took one of her hands and patted it gently. "I'm not Detective Sergeant for nothing…and how long have we worked together, Sam?" He winked.

"Oh, I'm so pleased that you are both pleased," Sam said, feeling all of a muddle, and wondering whether crying would be awfully silly. Milner gave her hand a squeeze.

Sam did allow a few tears to slip across her cheek, gazing back fondly at the two men who had been as much a part of her life as the one waiting for her on Steep Lane. What a time they'd had all together. She gave a watery smile; yes, what a jolly grand time it had been.