Abby, a four year old Golden Retriever, was getting used to her new surroundings, sniffing the foreign plants in the garden and observing life on the street beyond her unfamiliar post box, which if she could read human would have revealed the name LEWIS.
Lizzie Maddox watched her boss, DI Hathaway, enter their shared office. She knew him well enough to read his usually inscrutable face. There was bad news.
"Is it your father sir?"
"What, no, why would you say that?"
"The shape of your face. This is how it looks when there is bad news."
"There is bad news, not for me, but for you." He saw her eyes widen. "No, not Tony."
"Something unsatisfactory about my work?"
"On the contrary." James stared out of the window.
"Will it be today, sir?"
"Will what be today?"
"When you tell me what is going on?"
He put on his boss face. "That'll be enough of that Maddox." Then he walked over to her desk and sat on the edge. "It's a temporary assignment for you."
Lizzie was suspicious. "What kind of assignment?"
"Bodyguard to an essential person. You were highly recommended."
She shook her head. "You mean babysitting."
"Call it what you like, I'm told it's a matter of international security."
"Why me, do I look like a bodyguard?"
James stood up. "Exactly." He went back to his own desk and pulled up a file on his computer.
Lizzie had followed him and read the details of the assignment. She saw the name of her charge. "Is the subject any relation to-"
"He most certainly is, Sergeant Maddox."
Robbie looked around the house at the abundance of extra items. "Laura, are you sure we need all this stuff?"
Laura was busy typing on the keyboard of her laptop. "I've ordered some more toys and equipment from Amazon, should be here tomorrow." She turned to look at Robbie. "Did you say something?"
"In my experience just the basics are necessary."
"Robbie, I can't let Caroline down. She's counting on us, so are Brad and Carole. " He could hear the tension in her voice and walked up behind her to massage her neck and shoulders.
"You're right, best to be prepared. Anything you want me to do besides cook supper?"
"I've ordered pizza. I need you to carry these," she waved her arms at some of their excess baggage, "upstairs. Then I have a shopping list for you." She handed him a piece of paper.
Robbie read over the extensive list. "Can't it wait until tomorr-" he saw the panic in her eyes "of course it can't." He heard a noise and looked out the window. "Carole and Brian are coming up the walk. I'll let them in."
Ken Lewis arrived home late after a busy Friday night at his restaurant. His partner Ryan, greeted him with some news. "The Department of Human Services telephoned asking us to be the foster carers for a set of 8 year old twins, one of each."
Ken smiled at both the good news and the memory of his father always answering the question of whether he had kids with the answer, 'one of each.'
After hugging Ryan, Ken asked for more details. "I didn't think it would happen so soon."
Ryan whistled for the dog who responded by trotting up to his side. "It's Abby. I updated our profile to include her in our household. She's a trained service dog and one of the social workers wanted the twins placed in a home with a dog."
Ken poured them each a glass of wine and they sat at the kitchen table. "She's trained to detect seizures. Does one the twins have...never mind it doesn't matter. We'll rely on Abby to help us."
"No, not a problem with seizures, just these two are particularly fond of dogs and she would be a comfort to them."
They sipped their wine in contented silence for a few moments.
"Ryan, why didn't you call me at the restaurant to tell me?"
"Ken, you hate to be interrupted at work and then you take it out on the kitchen staff, sometimes even the diners." About to protest, Ken had to agree that Ryan was right. Instead he proclaimed, "I am not going to be one of those fathers who puts the job before his kids."
At a small flat in Oxford, Alec Pickman's son sat surrounded by boxes that came from his mother's attic. Inside were the items he inherited from his father. Most of them contained worthless artwork and files containing plagiarized poems. Before he drank himself to death Alec Pickman managed to sink his boat, the one thing of monetary value he owned. Alec was visited by the mother of his son at least one time each year, returning to a firework once lit. She attempted to clean up both the man and the mess on the boat, coming away with artwork and poems, expecting one day they would be valuable. When Alec died, she turned them over to his son, the one he never knew he had.
After her sister-in-law and nephew left and Robbie returned with the shopping, Laura and Robbie had an early night and quickly fell asleep. Laura woke up a couple of hours later to find his side of the bed empty. At first she believed they were still in New Zealand until her eyes adjusted to the dim light coming from the hall and she realized her mistake. Her review of the effects of jet lag on the brain was interrupted by the sound of Robbie's footsteps in the hall. Expecting him to enter the bedroom with a glass of something she was surprised as his vague form passed the door, went to the end of the hall and returned. After the third trip down the hall, she called out to him.
"Robbie, what on earth are you doing out there pacing about?"
"It's the only way to stop the crying."
Laura tried to shake her sleep deprived self awake. "What crying?"
Robbie approached the open bedroom door and rocked back and forth on his feet. "The baby, Laura!"
"Who?"
