An Epilogue of Sorts
By elfin
Loosening his tie, Andy leaned against the doorframe and happily
watched Peter attempting to set fire to his kitchen.
He didn't want to tempt fate, but it seemed as if they might have
cracked it. In the last six months Peter had suffered only one
minor seizure.
The VNS, the doctors were telling them, was definitely suiting his
epilepsy. Even if its implantation hadn't been as straightforward
as in most other cases.
A simple two-hour operation had turned into a three hour nightmare when
Peter had suffered a seizure in theatre, close to the end of the
procedure.
He hadn't regained consciousness after the anaesthetic had worn off and
from Recovery they'd taken him straight into intensive care.
Andy had gone back to the office when they'd first taken Peter
down. He'd be out of it for a couple of hours, they'd said.
He was out of it for a lot longer.
When he'd got the call from the hospital, he'd lost it for a minute or
two, throwing his mobile through one of the panes of glass that served
as walls for his office. Luckily no one had been hurt.
Wieldy had driven him to the hospital where he'd almost strangled the
surgeon and the anaesthetist before they'd managed to calm him down.
For four days Peter had remained in the coma.
Then, while Andy was reading to him from one of his favourite novels,
he'd just woken up and complained that his throat hurt.
"You're home early," Andy commented as whatever Peter was cooking
finally gave up the struggle and started to burn nicely.
"My suspect confessed," Peter told him proudly. "You owe me a
tenner."
"Yer can't be serious? Craigy coughed to armed robbery of The
Commerce Rooms bar?"
"Aye. But he said he didn't realise it was a bar until he was
inside waving his replica shotgun around."
"What did he think it was? Oh, don't tell me."
Peter nodded. "A bank."
Andy rolled his eyes. "Idiot. Thought it was a bit out of
character for 'im."
"What about yours? I was startin' to worry I'd have to eat this
all by myself."
Glancing at his watch, Andy saw that actually he was late. It was
gone nine. "Sorry. Lost track of time." Crossing the
kitchen, he leaned against the cupboards next to the oven. Next
to Peter. "Rebecca accosted me in my office."
"Oh, aye? Thought she'd given up chasin' you."
"She wanted to know about you actually, wanted to make sure we weren't
overworking you."
"I think I'm overworking Wieldy."
"Don't worry about 'im. 'e'll soon let you know if 'e thinks 'e's
being 'ard done by." Leaning over, he studied the blackened
pieces of meat in the frying pan. "I know a good steak 'ouse in
town."
To his amusement, Peter smiled at him in relief. "Thank god for
that. I thought for a minute there I'd actually have to eat this."
~
Lateef raised his beer glass, smiling Maria across the table as she did
the same.
"Happy Birthday for Saturday."
She smiled. "Thanks. And thanks for the meal."
"The least I could do."
A familiar voice made them both turn towards the door. Dalziel
and Pascoe were being shown to a table up on the mezzanine. They
were laughing at some shared joke, relaxed. Definitely off duty.
Jackson turned back to Lateef with a smile. "It's so sweet, don't
you think?"
"What is?"
"That they're happy together."
Furrowing his eyebrows, he asked, "How do you mean?"
She nudged his arm with hers. "You know! The Super's wife
walked out on him ages ago, and the DCI's wife upped and left for the
states with their daughter."
"You're saying they are living together?"
"Of course! Come on, everyone knows! Just no one says
anything because they're all scared of the big man."
"But they're not..." he stalled, groping for the right words,
"...not...."
"Sleeping together," she supplied, nodding. "All the girls talk
about it - the looks they give one another, the way they call each
other by their first names. When was the last time you heard the
DCI call the Super
'Sir'?" He frowned, and she said, "What's up? Not
homophobic are you?"
"No! It's just not right...."
"Why not?" She sounded shocked.
"The Super is the DCI's superior."
"Only in rank," she winked, then realised he wasn't laughing. "I
say live and let live. Besides, they look really happy."
~
Ellie pulled the hire car into the car park and gazed up out of the
windscreen at the third floor flat she still had down as her
ex-husband's address.
There was a large 'For Sale' sign in the window. She couldn't
read any more details from that distance but she recognised the sigh's
colour scheme - a local estate agency - and rang directory enquiries to
get the number.
Once through she asked if the flat came furnished and the agent said it
did, and it was empty - the owner had already moved out and there was
no chain. She could move straight in. Did she want to make
an appointment to view?
She declined.
~
Rosie thanked her Dad for the ice cream and sat down on the park
bench. Peter sat next to her, watching for a minute, committing
every little detail to memory.
Then he asked, "What do you think of Uncle Andy?"
She looked up at him thoughtfully and smiled. "He's nice.
He's funny - he makes me laugh." Peter was glad of that.
"But... I think the real question is, what do you think of him?
Right, Dad?"
Andy would be proud when he reported back on this particular
conversation later that evening. He could hear it now - 'She's
got 'er Dad's brains, Sunbeam. She'll end up as one of them CSRs
- you know, like that smart-arsed git with the ginger 'air on tele.'
Peter smiled to himself and met his daughter's scrutinizing gaze.
"I like him a lot."
"I think he loves you," she stated happily. "You love him too,
don't you?"
"Would that bother you? If I did?"
She shrugged, pulling the chocolate flake from her icecream and biting
it in half. "No. Why would it?"
"Not everyone would be comfortable with the idea of their dad living
with another man."
"But it's not just any other man, it's Uncle Andy." She reached
over and squeezed his hand. "I don't mind, Dad. And I don't
care what other people think."
Peter returned the gesture, resisting the urge to pull her into his
arms and hug her in the middle of the park.
"Are you all right now, Dad? Only, Mom told me about the car
accident. I looked up 'epilepsy' on the internet and found out
all about it."
He smiled at her. "You and Uncle Andy'll have a lot to talk about
then."
"Does he look after you when you're ill?"
"Yes, he does."
"Then he must love you."
Peter took a deep breath and released it. "Yeah."
~
Peter and Andy spoilt Rosie rotten, taking her to the cinema that
evening, plying her with popcorn and chocolate and a bucket of some
brightly coloured soft drink.
Neither of them understood the gist of the animated movie she insisted
on them all seeing, but it was enough to hear her laughing for two
hours, and to have her quoting the more memorable lines in the car on
the way home.
It was late when Peter finally put her to bed in the spare room,
tucking her in despite her reassurances that she was too old for her
Dad to be fussing like he was. But she let him anyway.
He kissed her goodnight and was about to turn out the light when she
said, "You don't have to sleep on the sofa tonight, Dad. It's
okay. I don't mind you sleeping in the same bed as Uncle Andy."
From out in the corridor they both heard Uncle Andy's riotous laughter.
~
Ellie picked her up the following morning, cornering Peter as Rosie was
hugging Andy goodbye.
"You're selling the flat," she stated. He nodded. "You've
moved in here, haven't you?"
Another nod. And a smile. "Rosie's fine with it."
"And you expect me to be too?"
"I don't care, Ellie."
The house was quiet after they'd gone. Peter stood in the lounge
looking lost, looking around at the evidence of his daughter’s visit.
"I'll clear up," he said as Andy walked up to him.
"Leave it, do it later." Hands on Peter's hips, he turned him
around. "We still have half a day of holiday left. Half a
day with no interruptions guaranteed."
Peter's mouth turned slowly up into a smile. "What are we going
to do?"
"Don't you worry, Sunbeam. I'll show you."
fin
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