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Sid was returning from a trip to London to visit his gran when he spotted the poster in the train station. He stopped and did a double take at the wording.
`Time Auction` it stated in bold letters.
Would you like to spend an hour with your favourite Kembleford resident? Come to the auction at the town hall on the 6th and be prepared to bid.
All profits to the church roof fund.
Sid stared, he was the last person to call something immoral, but he had to admit it did sound a bit, well, immoral.
So instead of heading back to the caravan he decided to visit the presbytery to find out some more information and what else he might have missed while away.
Lady Felicia, Mrs McCarthy and Father Brown were sitting round the table when he walked into the kitchen.
“Hello Sid,” said Father Brown. “We weren’t expecting you back today.”
“I thought I’d pop in and say hello on the way past” answered Sid getting himself a cup of tea and a slice of cake. “And I wanted to find out a bit about Saturday’s auction.” He hesitated seeing Father Brown’s wince.
“That immoral thing,” stated Mrs McCarthy in a disapproving tone.
“Nonsense,” said Lady Felicia. “It’s simply a fun way to raise some money for the church. Plenty of people have signed up to give their time you know. The mayor, the fire chief, some of the WI ladies, even Inspector Sullivan.”
Sid almost choked on his tea hearing that.
“That miserable ba…person,” he asked after coughing for a few moments. “I don’t expect you’ll get much for ‘im. Who’d pay to spend time with a copper?”
“You’d be surprised,” said Lady Felicia. “Quite a few people have asked me about him already. He is rather dishy after all,” she finished with a smile.
Mrs McCarthy tutted at this comment, obviously thinking it only confirmed her ideas on what the auction was really about.
“I’ve put him in at number four,” continued Lady Felcia. “Just in case there happens to be a crime and he needs to rush off.”
“What number have you put me in at?” asked Sid.
“Oh, I’m afraid I haven’t put you in at all Sid,” said Lady Felicia. “As you were away, I thought it would be unfair to sign you up without your permission.”
“I’ll probably be too busy anyway, what with being away an all,” said Sid trying not to sound put out. “Now I’d better go and put my stuff away,” he said and hurried off not wanting them to realise he was actually feeling left out.
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A couple of days later Sid was walking up to Montague House to drive Lady Felicia into town when Bunty passed him in her sports car.
“Sid! I’m glad to see you,” she called. “I need a favour.”
“Sure, anything for you,” said Sid. “You know you’re the only one of Lady F’s relatives I can stand.”
“I want you to bid for me in Aunt Fliss’s auction,” said Bunty with a smile. “As much as it takes, I’ll pay you back of course, I just don’t want to be stuck having to spend time with some creep,” she finished pulling a face.
“’Course,” said Sid with a grin.
“I’m number five, don’t be late!”
“As if I would,” answered Sid walking off with a wave.
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On Friday night Sid decided to go to the Red Lion. Just for a couple of pints and to see some mates to find out what they’d been getting up to whilst he’d been away. At least a couple of pints was the idea. However, everyone wanted to buy him a drink and soon it turned into three and four, then five and six. He lost count after that.
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Saturday morning, he woke and immediately groaned at his hangover. Still, he thought, at least he didn’t have any work until Sunday morning. As he laid back down, he couldn’t help but think he was forgetting something. Then he remembered. The auction! Bunty! She’d kill him if he missed it. Glancing at his watch he saw he had just fifteen minutes until the auction started.
Scrambling out of bed, mumbling to himself about never drinking again as his head spun and his stomach churned, Sid pulled on some clothes and ran off towards town.
He ran in the door of the town hall just in time to hear Lady Felicia saying –
“That’s number five, going…going…”
Before she could finish Sid frantically waved a hand from where he was bent over at the back of the room, trying to get his breath back and not throw up. Staying where he was, he kept waving until he heard Lady Felica announce him as the winning bidder. Then, finally feeling a bit better, he stood up straight and began to walk down the aisle.
He only noticed the strange looks he was getting from the towns people when he got nearer the stage and saw Inspector Sullivan stand from the row of people sitting on the stage looking seriously annoyed. Sid hesitated, but realised he had no choice now except to keep going.
Sullivan walked down the steps off the stage hissing angrily, “what the hell do you think you’re playing at Carter?”
“Bunty,” stuttered Sid. “You’re supposed to be Bunty.”
Glancing round he spotted Bunty sitting at one of the side tables holding the hand of a very nervous looking young police constable.
“I was running late,” said Sullivan, obviously having worked out what had happened, “so they swapped mine and Miss Windermere’s places.”
“Bleeding hell,” muttered Sid flopping down onto the seat next to Bunty. “How much did I bid?” he asked after a moment as Sullivan sat down next to him.
“Nine pounds, seven shillings and six pence,” answered Bunty with a smile.
“Shiiitt, I haven’t got that kind of money,” Sid put his head in his hands and muttered some more about never drinking again.
“Don’t worry Carter, I’ll pay the fee and I won’t force you to spend time with me, unless you commit another crime,” said Sullivan sourly.
Sid looked like he wanted to argue about that, then he said, “wait a minute, who else was bidding for ya?” and he looked round the room suspiciously.
“It was, ah, Sergeant Goodfellow,” answered Sullivan awkwardly. “I didn’t want to get stuck with who knows who, so I asked him to keep bidding.”
“Don’t worry Inspector,” said Bunty. “I’d asked Sid to do the same for me, and even though he didn’t it worked out alright in the end,” and she patted the hand of the young PC. “Bert’s sister is interested in fashion, so I’ve promised to use our time together to give him some tips,” she continued.
Sid grinned at the two of them. He turned to Sullivan intending to comment that he’d probably raised one of the highest amounts of the auction (knowing how competitive the man was) when Sergeant Goodfellow walked up.
“Ah Sergeant,” started Sullivan.
“I’m sorry Sir, I know you said to keep bidding for you, but Mr Carter seemed so keen I thought it was best to stop,” he said seriously, but Sid noticed a twinkle in the Sergeant’s eye.
“Don’t worry about it Sergeant, it’ll be fine I’m sure,” said Sullivan waving his comment away.
“That’s not actually why I’m here Sir,” continued the Sergeant. “We’ve had a report about a missing child.”
Instantly Sullivan was all business, arranging with Sergeant Goodfellow to start organising a search while he went to interview the missing girl’s father.
Lady Felicia was more than happy to halt the auction and give Sergeant Goodfellow the stage to explain what had happened and start organising the towns people into search parties. Despite her complaints about the day Mrs McCarthy was also there and soon had the WI ladies arranging a tent on the green and food and drink for the searchers as well as acting as a command post.
=====
It was three days later with no sign of the missing girl when Sid stumbled into town. He’d been helping with the search since it started. Knowing the local landscape and some places that might be overlooked, he’d been searching some of the out of the way places with the local gamekeepers.
He’d managed a few naps and some cold food during that time but realised he needed a proper break in case in his exhaustion he missed something. He was about the walk into the Red Lion when he spotted Inspector Sullivan walking up the street. He looked worse than Sid felt, and the younger man sighed and walked over to him.
“Carter,” said Sullivan stopping to look at him. The fact that he didn’t accuse Sid of anything worried Sid, that wasn’t like him.
“Any news Inspector?” he asked.
“Nothing from any of the search teams,” he answered tiredly.
“I’ve been right out in the woods with Lady F’s gamekeeper, but we’ve seen no sign of anyone,” said Sid. “I’m just gonna have some lunch. Want to join me, you look like you need it.”
Sullivan looked like he was about to argue, then he sighed and waved a hand towards the pub.
Sid smiled and said, “how’s the dad coping? I’ve not seen him, and it can’t be easy after loosing his Mrs no so long ago. Running the farm alone and looking after young Molly must be hard. I’ve offered to help but he turned me down. I thought he might decide to sell up and get a job in town.”
Suddenly Sullivan stopped. “You go on Carter, and I’ll join you later,” he said curtly and walked off leaving Sid staring after him.
Rude, he thought. He could have just said he didn’t want to spend time with him. Shaking his head Sid made his way into the pub.
He was finishing his steak and kidney pie, feeling more human again, (Henry’s were even better than Mrs McCarthy’s, not that Sid would tell her that) when the door opened, and Sullivan almost fell in.
If Sid thought he’d looked bad before, it was nothing to how he looked now.
“Anyone in the snug at the moment?” he quickly asked Margaret who was working behind the bar.
“Not at this time of day,” she answered. “You go through, and I’ll keep people out,” she finished looking at Sullivan. She had a soft spot for the Inspector after he’d helped solve a robbery there a few months before.
“Ta, can I take that bottle of scotch? I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna need it. Pop it on my tab and I’ll sort out the money tomorrow.”
She nodded and passed the bottle over with a couple of glasses and Sid took Sullivan’s arm, guiding him through the door to the snug, locking it behind them.
He’d barely sat down when he saw with surprise Sullivan take the bottle and down a large measure of scotch followed immediately by another.
“Want to tell me what’s ‘appened?” asked Sid watching Sullivan pour his third drink. He’d hardly seen Sullivan have more than one before, even at one of Lady Felicia’s parties.
“We’ve found her,” said Sullivan in a dull tone.
“Is she…”
“She’s alive.”
Sid sighed in relief; the way Sullivan was acting he’d thought the worst.
“Her father,” Sullivan hesitated then continued. “After his wife died, he let the work on the farm go and it wasn’t making any money. He knew if he had to sell there wouldn’t be enough money left to support them both so he decided to kill himself knowing his daughter would get all the proceeds of the sale. He didn’t want her to see him like that, so he locked her in her room, with plenty of food and drink, and hung himself in one of the barns. I think he genuinely believed it was the best thing to do.”
“Bloody hell,” Sid swore.
“But…” he knew Sullivan unfortunately must have seen much worse in his career.
“It’s my fault,” said Sullivan in a pained voice, ignoring Sid and downing his fourth drink. “When I first interviewed him, something about the way he spoke. I should have realised, I should have known, I’m a dammed Chief Inspector,” he cursed angrily.
“Hey, it’s not your fault,” said Sid, reaching across the small table to squeeze his hand.
“I should have…” said Sullivan looking at their joined hands.
“No,” insisted Sid. “No one else worked it out. Father Brown didn’t, and he’d spoken to him as well. You worked it out, you rescued her.” He wanted to continue, to call Sullivan a hero. But he knew the man wouldn’t, couldn’t hear that right now. He could tell that there was something more to the Inspectors reaction to the case than he was letting on. But he also knew there would be no getting the story from him any time soon. Certainly not in the state he was currently in (and that would be unfair anyway Sid thought). He knew Sullivan would almost certainly not tell the story to Sid himself, which hurt more than Sid liked. Though the thought of Sullivan talking to anyone if it would help him find some peace would please Sid at the moment.
By this time Sullivan had drunk at least five large glasses of scotch, presumably on an empty or almost empty stomach (Sid had noticed previously how the Inspector often didn’t find time to eat when involved in a case) so Sid decided it was best to take the Inspector home and let him sleep off the day’s trauma, as well as the booze.
Leaving Sullivan staring into his glass, Sid opened the door into the bar and called to Margaret, letting her know they were leaving.
She smiled, “don’t worry, I know, I haven’t seen either of you.”
“Thanks Mrs C, you’re the best,” said Sid going back into the snug.
He opened the door that led into the street and checked to see if the coast was clear. He knew that Sullivan wouldn’t appreciate any of the villagers seeing him drunk. Although Sid thought that seeing him look more human would help them accept him.
As he looked towards the police cottage Sid saw the back of a man he knew to be a reporter for the gazette heading in that direction. Damn, he thought. There was no way he was letting a reporter get near the Inspector while he was in his current state. But looking the other way there was no one in sight. Most people he assumed being unaware that the search was over or were having tea in the tent set up by the WI on the green.
He decided taking the Inspector to the presbytery would be a better idea. No one would expect or need to know he was there, and Father Brown would keep it quiet. Mrs McCarthy would be busy with the WI and would never know he’d been there.
He helped Sullivan to his feet and guided him out the door and down the street. The fact that Sullivan didn’t argue or even seem to notice where they were going worried Sid almost more than anything else that had happened that day.
Fortunately, they didn’t see anyone on the walk to presbytery (during which Sid had to keep an arm round the Inspector to keep him on his feet) and there was no one in the presbytery either. Sid took the Inspector upstairs and, sitting him down on one of the small spare beds, passed him one of the sets of pyjamas Sid kept there. Mrs McCarthy not being a fan of walking in and seeing him in his underwear.
“’er you go Inspector; you get changed and I’ll grab ya some water.”
Sullivan nodded and began to take off his shoes. Giving him a final concerned look Sid went back downstairs to get the water and some aspirin.
Father Brown was in the kitchen when Sid went back in, putting the kettle on.
“I assume you’ve heard the news?” he asked.
“Yeah,” answered Sid. “I’ve got Inspector Sullivan upstairs in the spare room.”
At the Father’s raised eyebrows he explained, “saw him in the pub after he found her, and he had a bit too much to drink. I was going to take ‘im to the police cottage but that new bloke from the gazette was headed that way so I brung him here. Father I know what happened to young Molly was horrible but the way he reacted. I’ve never seen him like that, there’s more to it, I’m sure.”
“Take him his drink,” said Father Brown. “There are some painkillers in the bathroom cabinet. Perhaps eventually you can persuade him to talk about what happened. Be gentle with him and give him time. You’re good with people.”
Sid was unconvinced by Father Brown’s hopes, but took the water and went back upstairs, after Father Brown assured him he’d let Sergeant Goodfellow know the Inspector was being looked after, and neither of them would tell anyone else he was there.
Sid walked back into the bedroom to see Sullivan sprawled out over one of the small beds fast asleep. He’d managed to put the pyjama bottoms on and had the top was on over his vest but not done up. Sid smiled fondly at the sight. The Inspector looked much younger without his characteristic frown.
The peacefulness suited him Sid thought, hoping they might get to see more of it if the Inspector stayed in the village. He shuffled him properly into the bed and tucked him in, leaving the water and painkillers on the bedside table in case the Inspector should wake up in the night and want them.
Once he seemed settled Sid hung the Inspectors suit on a hanger, got changed himself and climbed into the other bed looking across at Sullivan until he also fell asleep.
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Sid didn’t know what time it was when he woke. The early hours he guessed as it was dark and quiet. He wondered what had woken him. Not the Father going out, Sid could faintly hear his snoring drifting from the other room. Then he heard a noise and realised it was Sullivan whimpering and shifting about in the other bed, obviously in the grip of a nightmare.
Sid didn’t hesitate to slip out of his own bed and go over to him.
“Sullivan,” he whispered.
“Sullivan,” he said a bit louder when he didn’t wake up.
It worked, Sullivan’s eyes flew open, and he stared at Sid in shock for a moment, then he relaxed, slumping back as he realised who it was.
“Sid? What are you? Where am I?” he asked confusedly.
“You’re at the pres. D’you remember what ‘appened yesterday?” asked Sid quietly.
Sullivan looked at him, then he flinched obviously remembering.
“D’you want to talk about it?” asked Sid gently.
Sullivan closed his eyes and for a moment Sid thought he’d fallen asleep, then, eyes still closed he spoke.
“When I was a child, a little less than Molly’s age, if my father thought I’d disobeyed him or talked back to him he would lock me in a small cupboard in the back room of the house. He warned me that if I told anyone he would leave me in there forever.”
Sid didn’t say anything, he merely stroked Sullivan’s arm hoping to sooth him. He wanted to swear and curse about Sullivan’s father for what he’d done, but he knew that wouldn’t be the best thing for Sullivan to hear at that moment.
“I looked too much like my mother you see. She died giving birth to me and he never forgave me.”
“Wasn’t your fault, none of it,” stated Sid firmly.
At that Sullivan finally opened his eyes and stared at Sid, seeming surprised at his words.
“I know we’ve got this whole cops and robbers thing going on. But I think you’re a damn good cop and an even better person,” said Sid flushing slightly but determined to try and make Sullivan understand, if not believe, his words.
“Thank you,” said Sullivan softly and Sid wondered if anyone had ever spoken to him like that before.
“Now, take these,” said Sid handing him the aspirin and the glass of water. “Then your hangover won’t feel as bad come morning.”
Once Sullivan had taken the pills Sid said, “now let’s get some more kip, we’ll deal with the rest tomorrow,” he finished keeping a practical but determined tone.
Sullivan gave him a small smile, which made Sid’s heart flip and settled down. Sid patted his arm through the bed covers and went back to his own bed. He’d considered getting in with Sullivan, but it felt too much like taking advantage and he didn’t want to scare Sullivan off.
He watched Sullivan fall back asleep only allowing himself to drop off once he did.
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When Sid woke again the sun was just beginning to shine through a gap in the curtains and Sullivan was still fast asleep with a peaceful expression on his face.
Sid got dressed and slipped downstairs where Father Brown was putting the kettle on.
“Good morning Sid, how is the Inspector this morning?” asked Father Brown.
“Still asleep,” answered Sid. “Little bit of a rough night but better now I reckon.”
“Good,” Father Brown smiled.
“I’m just gonna nip along to the police cottage and get a change of clothes for him,” said Sid.
“That sounds like a good idea,” answered Father Brown. “I’m sure he’d prefer not having to go home and change.”
“And he’d never want to go to work in the same clothes he’d worn the day before,” agreed Sid.
“If he wakes up while you’re out I’ll let him know where you are,” Father Brown assured Sid who thanked him before hurrying off, wanting to be back before Sullivan woke up.
It didn’t take him long to get to the police cottage via the back roads, pick the lock on the back door and slip inside. He grabbed a bag, found some underwear, and added a suit and shirt which he folded as best he could manage. Walking back to the presbytery he took all the quiet streets, knowing which ones to take to keep away from any prying eyes that might be wondering what he was up to.
When he got back there was a cup of tea waiting for him.
“Thanks Father,” said Sid. “I’ll just pop these upstairs then I’ll come down and get breakfast going.”
“I’ll get the bacon out,” said Father Brown. “Yesterday Mrs McCarthy spent quite some time organising taking the marquee down, I’ve managed to persuade her to take this morning off, so we’ll have to fend for ourselves.”
“I’ll sort the bacon,” Sid assured him. Knowing Father Brown might be good at a lot of things but cooking and especially bacon was not one of them as it always turned out either limp as damp lettuce or hard and black as a lump of coal.
Carrying the clothes Sid went upstairs and into the spare room. Sullivan was still asleep but stirred as Sid entered.
“Morning,” said Sid quietly. “I’ve got a change of clothes for you. Bathrooms across the hall and I’m just about to put the bacon on so come down when you’re ready. Some food will help your hangover, trust me,” he smiled and left not wanting Sullivan to think he had to thank him or explain anything about the night before.
They were just dishing up when the Inspector came into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Inspector,” Father Brown greeted him.
“Father, Carter,” Sullivan answered sitting down looking his usual put together self and not like the open man Sid had seen the night before, and he wondered what that meant for his chances of a friendship or relationship with the Inspector.
Sid put a plate down for him, “help yourself to toast. Not as good as one of Mrs M’s breakfasts but it’ll not poison ya.”
“Thank you,” answered Sullivan looking down at the extremely crispy bacon (ok so Sid wasn’t a great cook either). “I like my bacon well done,” he looked like he wanted to say more but seemed hesitant. Perhaps Sid thought not knowing what to say or wanting to speak in front of the Father.
Sid and Father Brown talked quietly, discussing what they were going to do for the day. Sid was helping put the rest of the things away on the green, and Father Brown was going to the hospital to talk to Molly.
When Father Brown excused himself to leave Inspector Sullivan also stood.
“Thank you again for breakfast and for last night. Now I need to be getting to the station.”
“You should go with him,” said Sid now they were alone.
“Oh, I don’t think so, I’m not very good with children,” said Sullivan nervously.
“You’re fine with them,” said Sid. “I’ve seen you with kids before. You’ll be better than some so called expert they’ll get in to talk to her.”
“I’ll, I’ll see. Now I really do need to get to the station. Paperwork, you know.”
Sid nodded. “Well, I’ll see you around.”
“Yes, ah, yes,” Sullivan hesitated in the doorway still looking like he wanted to say something else, but before he could Father Brown walked back in, so he just said goodbye to them once more and left.
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Sid was just finishing packing the marquee away when Mrs McCarthy walked up.
“Sidney, Father Brown is at the hospital talking to poor young Molly. Could you please take this food over to him and make sure he eats?” she asked.
“Of course, Mrs M, anything for you,” Sid smiled. Taking the package he headed to the cottage hospital.
“Afternoon ladies,” he greeted the two young nurses at the nurses’ station.
“Afternoon Sid,” they giggled.
“I’m looking for the Father. He ‘ere?” asked Sid.
“He’s talking to that young girl,” answered one of them with a sad look.
“I’ve brought him lunch,” said Sid indicating the package.
“Down the corridor, then turn left. She’s in room number twelve,” she answered pointing him down the corridor.
“I’ll see you ladies later,” he answered with a grin and sauntered off. And normally he would have. Once he’d given the Father his food, he would have been straight back to the nurse’s station to continue chatting them up, hoping to get one of them to go home with him. But not this time, this time there was only one person he was hoping to see.
When he got to the door, he saw Father Brown outside looking in through the little glass window. As he walked up the Father moved allowing Sid to look in and see Sullivan sitting at a ridiculously small table on a ridiculously small chair helping Molly draw a picture.
They both continued to watch for a few minutes more before Sid was able to tear his gaze away from the adorable scene.
“I’ve brung your lunch Father, courtesy of Mrs M.”
“Thank you, Sid. He’d good with her, isn’t he?” answered Father Brown.
“Yeah,” said Sid quietly unable to resist looking back.
“When are you going to tell him?” asked Father Brown.
“That he’s good with kids?” frowned Sid. “I’ve told him that already.”
“That you have feelings for him,” said Father Brown with a knowing look.
“Ah Father, I can’t. I mean look at him. If he even likes me, I’ll never be able to give him something like that will I?”
“Sid has it not occurred to you that no matter how good he is with Molly that the Inspector might not want a family? And if you don’t think that he’s interested in you, then you are less perceptive than I had ever imagined.”
Before Sid could respond Sullivan looked up and saw them. He gave a smile that made Sid’s heart flip and waved at him to enter.
“Well, I’ve got things to do, homilies to write,” said Father Brown and walked off before Sid could argue.
Looking after him with a smile at his sneakiness Sid eventually turned back to see Sullivan still smiling at him.
There was no way he could stop himself from entering after seeing that.
“Molly, this is Sid. You know him, don’t you?” said Sullivan.
“Yes Edgar,” she answered smiling shyly.
“Course she knows me,” said Sid. “She beat me at the coconut shy at the fete last summer. She’s a better shot than me by a mile.”
Sullivan gave a small smile at Sid’s revelation.
“She’s a great artist too,” he said showing Sid the farm animals and picture of what he guessed to be her family, they’d been drawing as he sat down.
“These are good,” said Sid honestly looking them over. “Why don’t you draw the Inspector?” he continued.
She grinned and took up a fresh sheet of paper.
“What’ll happen to her?” asked Sid once she was properly distracted.
“She’s got an aunt and uncle up in Scotland. They’re travelling down to fetch her. Apparently, they called regularly but her father always told them everything was fine.”
Sid sighed; he’d heard stories like that before unfortunately.
“She talks well of them, so I think she’ll be alright. But I’ll be asking my colleagues up there to keep an eye on her anyway.”
“And you?” asked Sid.
“I’ve still got a bit of a headache, but not too bad thanks to you and your breakfast. In fact, I think I’ve got a lot to thank you for Sid. Especially as I’ve not always been, ah, kind to you in the past.”
“Eh, it’s fine,” answered Sid. “Not exactly gonna endear myself to you when I get involved in cases and nick stuff from crime scenes.”
Sullivan gave a quiet laugh at that, and Sid felt his heart do another flip. Before he could say anything else the door opened and one of the nurses looked in.
“Sorry to interrupt, but Molly’s aunt and uncle are here to collect her.”
“Oh, er, good,” said Sullivan standing and beginning to put things away.
“I’ll do that,” said Sid. “You go with her.”
Sullivan turned to Molly, and she shyly handed him the picture she’d been working on while they’d been talking.
“Is this for me?” he asked. She nodded and smiled at him.
“Me and Sid,” said Sullivan in wondering tones as he looked at the picture of him and Sid appearing to gaze longingly at each other. “Thank you, I shall treasure it,” said Sullivan sounding more emotional than Sid ever remembered hearing, apart from the night before anyway.
Holding the picture carefully Sullivan took Molly by the hand and lead her out.
When Sid had finished putting the pens and paper away, he walked out of the room and saw Sullivan talking to a couple he assumed were Molly’s aunt and uncle. The aunt was hugging Molly and they both seemed to be concentrating on what Sullivan was saying.
Sid remembered Mrs McCarthy talking about them and how nice they were after they visited for a summer fete a few years back and thought the little girl would be alright. Not wanting to intrude on the conversation Sid slipped away leaving Sullivan to continue talking to the small family. Explaining what would happen next with the case.
He went for a long walk trying to work out his feelings which was quite unlike him he realised. Usually, he just went for whatever or whoever he wanted. But this was different, his feelings for Sullivan were different and he didn’t know what to do about it. He was unsure if Sullivan even felt the same despite what Father Brown and apparently Molly thought.
Eventually he knew he had to find out one way or another so as the warm evening settled in, he made his way to the police cottage. He walked round the back door but knocked this time rather than picking the lock and letting himself in.
“Oh, Sid,” said Sullivan seeming surprised to see him.
“Gonna invite me in?” asked Sid after a moment.
“Yes, yes of course,” stuttered Sullivan stepping back and letting him enter.
Now it was just the two of them, for almost the first time in his life, Sid didn’t know what to say.
“About last night,” he managed after staring at Sullivan for a while.
“I’m sorry about that,” said Sullivan. “It won’t happen again.”
“No,” said Sid frustratedly. “That isn’t what I mean. I mean it was nice, having you there, actually talking, rather than arguing or accusing one another of stuff. I’d like to happen again; without the tears I mean. You know, if you want,” he finished awkwardly.
Sullivan smiled, “I think young Molly understood us better than we did ourselves,” he said looking over at the picture she’d drawn of them which was stuck pride of place on the fridge door.
“You mean us staring at one another longingly?” chuckled Sid.
Sullivan nodded, “do you know what I thought when I saw you bidding on me in Lady Felicia’s auction? I thought at least I’d get to spend some time with you that wasn’t in an interrogation room. Even if you didn’t actually want to be there.”
“Yeah? I think I felt something similar,” smiled Sid and he pulled Sullivan into a kiss.