Pros Bingo! 2016 - Individual - Bodie 'Flu - Pt III
As he mused, Doyle cleared away the evidence of their meal and took Bodie's bedding back into the cottage. Bodie had managed to move himself to the garden bench unaided and Doyle folded up the lounger and took it into the kitchen. Protecting it from dew, unexpected showers and creepy crawlies, in case they should need it again before they left.
Bodie looked up expectantly when he re-emerged and struggled to his feet, Doyle moved swiftly to support him.
''We're going to look a prize pair like this'' Bodie observed as he shuffled his way along the side of the cottage, towards the gate.
''Who you worried about?'' asked Doyle ''The mermaids or the seagulls?''
Bodie opened his mouth to respond, but Doyle cut him off. ''I'm not going to believe you saw a mermaid, Bodie, so save your breath.''
''Saw a three legged seagull, once.''
''Not surprised'' replied Doyle ''the amount I've seen you put away.''
''I was on duty'' protested Bodie.
''Just concentrate on staying on your feet, twinkle toes'' urged Doyle ''leave the fairy stories to Jackanory.''
Doyle guided his partner through the gate, round the capri and towards the cliff edge.
''Set me down here, Doyle'' Bodie instructed as they reached a patch of level grassland.
''As you wish, your Lordship'' acknowledged Doyle as he helped Bodie ease himself to the ground. Bodie stretched out on his side, facing seaward, propping himself up on an elbow.
''Wonder if you can get down to the sea?'' Doyle mused aloud as he seated himself next to his partner.
''Doubt it'' answered Bodie, indicating the remains of a chimney poking up from below the cliff edge ''That lot only went over five years ago, probably just a sheer drop. Might be a path further down the coast, though.''
''Fancy a swim?'' asked Doyle.
''Didn't bring a cossie'' replied Bodie.
''Used to swim without one when I was a kid'' said Doyle.
''Your local council was a bit broad minded, wasn't it?'' observed Bodie, pulling up a long stem of grass and sucking on the sweet end.
''Not at the baths, you clot. In the river'' responded Doyle. ''Freezin' mind, but you don't care when you're a kid, do you?''
''I've always liked me comforts, mate'' said Bodie, rolling to lie on his back and squint at the sun.
''That why you ran away to sea?'' asked Doyle, staring out across the uninterrupted expanse of sparkling water beneath the cliffs.
''Who says I ran, Doyle?'' countered Bodie, still chewing on his grass stem.
''Just always figured...''
''Long story, sunshine'' replied Bodie ''But if you're wondering why, I found this map, see? Marked with a skull and crossbones and there was this - ''
''Idiot'' interrupted Doyle amiably.
''Straight up'' insisted Bodie half-heartedly.
''Think I'm gonna look'' announced Doyle, getting to his feet.
''Don't go near the edge'' Bodie warned lazily ''Whole lot's unstable.''
''Used to that'' retorted Doyle, looking pointedly at his partner.
''Under-appreciated, that's what I am'' Bodie complained to the freewheeling seabirds soaring above him.
Doyle smiled contentedly and turned back to the cliff edge, Bodie looked happy. Well as happy as you could with a roaring temperature and congested sinuses.
Careful of his footing, Doyle walked the margins of the cliff edge. Looking out to sea and dazzling himself with the reflected light.
Below him he glimpsed more of the wrecked houses already tumbled to their doom. It reminded him of the blitz damage he'd seen, which the passage of thirty-odd years had still not quite erased. He was overwhelmed by the sense of a turning world. A childhood begun in rationing culminating in the crispness of chardonnay.
Sun blinded and distracted by his reveries, Doyle stepped on a tussock of insecurely rooted grass. His foot went straight through to thin air and he stumbled forward, cartwheeling his arms in an extravagant denial of gravity.
The ground hit him suddenly and hard, less than five feet below the cliff edge. Pain shot through his ankle and he clung to the earth, grinding his teeth together, panting it out until the pain eased off and he could stand.
He could hear Bodie on the clifftop above him, barely over his head, simultaneously yelling his name and hacking his lungs up.
He tried to shout for Bodie to stay clear, but his voice had deserted him. He tried again and this time Bodie's name sprang from his lips like the squeal of a rusty gate.
Bodie's ashen face suddenly appeared over the edge of the cliff, obviously lying prone to distribute his weight.
''I'm okay'' Doyle assured him ''I've wrenched me ankle. Just give me a minute, then you can give me a hand up.''
''You stupid bastard, Doyle'' Bodie exploded venomously, the violence of it setting off another coughing fit.
''I'm okay, Bodie'' Doyle repeated patiently ''Just a bit of a tumble, that's all.''
''You never bloody listen'' Bodie spat back ''You could have been killed.''
''Just like another day at the office then, innit?'' reasoned Doyle flippantly.
''It's not a ruddy joke'' Bodie yelled back angrily.
''Bodie'' Doyle tried again, unsuccessfully stifling his mirth at the situation ''I'm fine. I've pulled me ankle a bit, probably have to strap it to drive home, but I'm just a bit bruised. Nothing to worry about. We've both done worse in training.''
''It looked like you'd gone over'' Bodie replied icily.
''I 'ad'' Doyle laughed ''All of five feet. C'mon, give us a hand to get up. I don't fancy falling off this thing for real.''
Bodie put out his hand, he didn't have the strength to haul Doyle up, but Doyle used his partner's prone weight as an anchor to steady himself as he scrambled to safety on his damaged ankle.
Once his partner was safely back on solid ground Bodie climbed to his own feet with some difficulty, angrily shaking off any assistance from Doyle.
''Bodie, don't be like that'' grumbled Doyle.
Bodie turned deliberately to face his partner. ''You never listen, Doyle'' he said in a low rumble ''Not about this, not about anything. It's all a game to you. So long as Raymond Doyle is calling the shots you don't give a damn about anybody else.''
''That's not true, Bodie'' objected Doyle.
''Oh yeah?'' replied Bodie nastily ''What about Ann Holly? Remember that, mate? Listening to anybody then, were you? And what about those bloody locks? How many times do I have to nag you about those?''
''What locks?'' asked Doyle in consternation.
''You've left your place improperly secured twice in the last two months alone, I've seen the bloody duty logs'' snapped Bodie.
''You've been spying on me?'' asked Doyle incredulously.
''No'' Bodie denied tersely ''So you can forget about playing the martyr, this is just between you and me. That bloody ex-bird of yours told me. The one you were seeing before Ann. One of ours, wasn't she? Asked me to keep an eye, thought you were overworked. Losing your edge. Distracted. But that's not it, is it, Doyle? You just don't give a damn. Not about anyone.''
''Bodie, I'm not an idiot, I always lock the place'' insisted Doyle.
''Oh yeah?'' sneered Bodie ''Still managed to lose Cowley's precious bloody rifle though, didn't you? And where was that, eh?''
''That's not fair, Bodie'' remonstrated Doyle ''I was targeted.''
The words had barely left his partner's mouth, when into the recoil of Doyle's horrified sudden self-awareness Bodie murmured mockingly ''Targeted.''
Then, abruptly, Bodie turned to leave, conveying the bottomless depths of his contempt with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.
''Bodie'' Doyle called, hobbling clumsily after him.
Bodie walked steadily ahead, hampered by his lack of condition.
Doyle reached out and pulled his partner round to face him, impatiently demanding ''Bodie.''
Bodie's eyes scoured Doyle in disgust. The undiluted condemnation exuding from his partner stopped Doyle in his tracks.
''Yeah, that's right, Ray'' Bodie confirmed in a sardonic drawl ''I'm mug enough to actually care. Some bloody joke, eh?''
''Bodie...'' faltered Doyle.
''Don't worry, Doyle'' Bodie assured his partner bitterly ''Go ahead and get yourself killed. You wouldn't be the first mate I've buried. Just don't ask me to do all this'' Bodie waved a hand encompassing the cottage ''And then ask me to watch you go out in a blaze of stupidity.''
''Bodie...'' Doyle tried again, reaching for his partner a second time, but Bodie shook him off.
''There's enough bastards out there looking to kill us, without you jumping up and down, asking to get shot'' said Bodie wearily ''So you carry on as you are, Ray. Don't give the rest of us a second thought. Not that you ever do, eh mate?''
''Bodie...'' breathed Doyle helplessly as his partner made his way back to the cottage.
Doyle stood and watched, hope lifting him for an instant, then plummeting him into despondency, as Bodie hesitated then elected to endure the extra effort of taking himself to the back door rather than ask Doyle to unlock the front for him.
Doyle limped slowly after him. His ankle had been overextended and was feeling sorry for itself, but nothing was broken or even truly sprained. Despite being on leave, he'd still get merry hell from Cowley for the injury, but when all was said and done, it wasn't serious. The rift with Bodie was another magnitude of wound altogether.
Doyle limped through to sit on the garden bench, staring sightlessly ahead, theoretically giving Bodie enough time to calm down. But Bodie wouldn't, he knew that.
He knew it as he limped into the cottage to help himself to the second bottle of white wine he'd bought. He knew it as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom and saw Bodie's door resolutely shut against him. He knew it as he pulled a book from his holdall and made his way back downstairs.
Weak and ill, Bodie had climbed these same stairs on his own, rather than seek his help.
Doyle settled full length on the settee, its three seats would have taken Bodie. All jokes aside, he and Bodie were almost of a height. Matched in that as in so much else. Two miss-shapes making a whole.
Doyle poured himself a glass of wine from the newly opened bottle and sought refuge in what Germaine Greer had to say for herself, when she wasn't all over the box sticking a spanner in his love life. His mind wandered from the text at frequent intervals, partly because it wasn't exactly easy reading for a human being built to his specifications, and partly because his inclination to maudlin introspection had revealed an unsettling truth.
He knew he hadn't been fair to Siobhan. He'd been on the rebound from Ann and she had been unlike Ann in every way. This had played in her favour to begin with, then against her as every way she wasn't like Ann left a void reminding him of what he'd lost. None of it her fault. None of it his. Just bad timing. His bad timing.
The rebound from Ann had been as whirlwind as the romance. Over in a little more than a week. Siobhan had accused him of using her, of taking her for granted, of never really seeing her.
And between Germaine's ego-battering polemic and the mind coddling properties of the wine he slowly realised Bodie was accusing him of much the same thing.
The black mirth conjured by the picture of Bodie as the epitome of oppressed womanhood had him slurping wine down himself. Germaine would probably be willing to pop her clogs, just for the pleasure of turning in her grave.
He got up to find something to sponge the wine from his front. As he stood in front of the kitchen sink tipsily soaking his shirt and trying, whilst still wearing it, to wring the material dry again, he became aware of a solid, laboured presence behind him.
He came to a stop. Motionless in the kitchen. His own breathing loud in his ears.
''Made a right mess of that'' Bodie observed dryly.
''It's not the only thing'' replied Doyle, addressing himself to the window above the sink.
''Wanted a drink of water'' said Bodie ''You brought the jug back down.''
Mentally kicking himself for second time that day, this time for being too self absorbed to think of Bodie's needs, Doyle took a glass from the cupboard and began to fill it. He turned to hand it to his partner and, as Bodie reached to take it, he blurted out ''I'm sorry, Bodie. About everything.''
Bodie raised the glass to his lips and drank, but his breathing was too constricted to allow him to finish it. He was out of breath when he handed the glass back to Doyle and said ''Mind if I have another?''
Doyle topped up the glass and returned it to Bodie without a word passing between them. Bodie sipped the refill more slowly and then said ''Mind if I sit down?''
Doyle's already guilty conscience went into overdrive as he realised Bodie was probably on his feet through sheer force of will alone.
''This way, mate'' he said as he took hold of Bodie's elbow and, mindful of the glass of water his partner was still holding, supported him through to the settee in the living room, instructing ''Settle yourself in there and I'll grab something to cover you with.''
Doyle retrieved his duvet and pillows from the armchair where he had unceremoniously dumped them and swaddled them round Bodie. Then he grabbed his wine glass from beside Bodie's tumbler on the coffee table and retired to the now empty armchair.
Bodie pulled the book Doyle had been reading from under the covers where Doyle had inadvertently tucked it in with him.
''Any good?'' Bodie asked.
''Made me think'' said Doyle.
Bodie pulled a wry face and examined the book cover ''You do know you're a bloke, don't you, Doyle?''
''I'm sorry, Bodie'' Doyle repeated.
''Yeah'' acknowledged Bodie ''You said that.''
''I mean it'' said Doyle.
''Must do, if it's got you reading this'' said Bodie, looking pointedly at the book ''Guess I'll have to forgive you then, won't I?''
''For what?'' asked Doyle, not sure what Bodie was offering.
''For being an awkward bastard'' replied Bodie evenly.
''Fancy a lager?'' asked Doyle, still uncertain of his ground.
''Yeah, go on then, Goldilocks'' agreed Bodie, relaxing visibly, as if a switch had been thrown ''We got any cards? We can play snap.''
''You cheat'' Doyle accused on his way to the kitchen, relieved and happy at the promise of reconciliation.
''Strategy, Doyle'' Bodie retorted, unabashed.
''It's snap'' objected Doyle, returning with Bodie's lager.
''Exactly, game of skill'' Bodie observed unrepentantly as he took the can from Doyle. The peace was still brittle, their banter superficial, but they both knew this stilted ritual paved the way to reuniting them.
Doyle crossed to a small cupboard under the front window and opened the doors. It contained an assortment of puzzles and games in various states of completeness, but no cards. ''Woman at the co-op said 'compendium''' said Doyle.
''Must mean something different down here'' suggested Bodie.
''We could do this jigsaw'' offered Doyle, holding up a box with an artist's idealised portrait of a pretty brown cow on the lid, chewing the cud.
''Perfect'' approved Bodie, beaming.
''Might not have all its bits'' warned Doyle as he took the lid off the box and propped it against his wine bottle on the coffee table.
''I'll let you tell 'im that'' said Bodie.
''I really am sorry, Bodie'' repeated Doyle ''Just used to being on me own, thinking about meself.''
''Been a team for a while now, Ermintrude '' observed Bodie gently.
''I know'' admitted Doyle ''Not above giving me a few grey hairs yourself, sunshine. Gave me a proper turn seeing you burning up with fever like that.''
''Yeah, maybe I should 'ave been straight about that'' agreed Bodie.
''Pax'' said Doyle.
Bodie's eyebrow arched like a bow string.
''Ann used to say it'' said Doyle.
''You had time to fight?'' asked Bodie incredulously.
''Yeah'' replied Doyle sadly ''We had quite a bit of time for that.''
Bodie leaned over and ruffled Doyle's curls in a gesture of solidarity, then he leaned back and said ''First one to find the Old Man's udder, wins.''
Doyle smiled gamely, objecting on cue ''It's a jigsaw puzzle.''
''Yeah, and I'm winning'' announced Bodie gleefully, sifting through the box for corner pieces and adding by way of encouragement ''C'mon Doyle, get stuck in.''
They worked together industriously, if not soberly. Doyle having quietly pushed the coffee table closer to the settee to help Bodie in the awkward effort of reaching it. Bodie must have noticed, but said nothing. Doyle was buoyed by this, Bodie didn't accept such favours easily. Back up, support, the rational pragmatisms of injury and efficiency, yes, but such unobtrusive acts of kindness were something he shied away from.
Doyle had seated himself on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. Every now and then, as the evening wore on and Bodie pondered the position of a piece, he rested his head on the tabletop, pillowed on his folded arms. Once or twice he actually fell asleep.
Eventually, between them, they found a home for every piece in the box. The wine had been finished, as had the lager, and Doyle rose to his feet, with remarkably fluidity, given the circumstances. Bodie's gaze rose with his partner, awaiting Doyle's verdict.
Doyle stuck his hands in his back pockets, conscientiously considering their masterpiece, and said ''D'you reckon those last three pieces could be in the cupboard?''
Bodie turned his gaze to their handiwork and replied ''Don't reckon it matters, it's just some grass and that bit of sky, the Cow looks happy enough, doesn't he? I say we call it quits.''
Doyle wrinkled his nose, lacking Bodie's ingrained sense of self preservation, honed in the discipline of services both civilian and military.
Sensing an impending attack of Doyle diligence, Bodie said ''It's three pieces Doyle, you're dead on your feet, and if you're not, I am.''
Doyle hesitated, his innate perfectionism calling its irrational siren song.
Bodie made the decision for him, sloughing off Doyle's duvet and struggling to his feet. Before Bodie could bundle the bedding into something he could attempt the stairs with, Doyle was at his side, all thought of the jigsaw puzzle forgotten.
''I'll take that'' said Doyle ''You just concentrate on staying on your feet.''
''Yes, Mum'' replied Bodie impishly.
''Watch it, mate. You won't be ill forever'' admonished Doyle goodnaturedly.
Bodie shuffled out to the stairs and began climbing. Taking them with methodical concentration, the way Doyle had seen him pull himself through the last leg of an assault course when all physical energy had been spent.
Doyle moved slowly behind him, trying not to crowd him or distract him. But Bodie's concentration held good and he reached the last step without pause. Then, zombielike, he moved towards his bedroom. Behind him Doyle's flibbertigibbet brain pondered the variables on the last time Bodie could have cleaned his teeth.
Dropping his bundle at the top of the stairs, Doyle followed his partner into his bedroom. At some point during the afternoon, Bodie must have closed the window, so Doyle just settled him in his bed. Then he returned to pick up his bedding and do the same for himself. Less afraid now to leave Bodie alone, and mindful of the journey in the morning, Doyle slept in his own room. Driving tired was an occupational hazard in CI5, but because of it, Doyle had a prescient understanding of the risks. He had developed an almost superstitious aversion to risk, gambling with his life too often for cause to be tempted into it for none. Although his superstition was not consistent and Bodie was not alone in thinking him reckless.
Doyle slept soundly and awoke to the kind of crisp golden light which had been turning the heads of English poets for centuries. He stretched with abandon, wrinkling his nose and yawning, luxuriating in the pull of sinew and muscle and ignoring the dull pain in his ankle.
He couldn't hear anything from Bodie's room, so he got up and padded across the landing to see how his partner was faring. Sticking his head round Bodie's door, he was confronted by an outcrop of dark hair peeping from under the mountainous heap of Bodie's duvet. Bodie appeared to be sleeping face down. Doyle crept in and crouched by his partner's bed, confident that, all indications to the contrary, Bodie had not smothered himself in his sleep.
Doyle tugged the duvet down a little and enquired ''Anybody home?''
''No'' Bodie rumbled into his pillow.
''We have to leave today.''
''You leave'' Bodie replied ''I'll stay here.''
''Lucky I booked an extra day then, otherwise we'd have to be out of here by ten.''
Bodie turned in his bed like a humpbacked whale breeching the surface of the ocean and said ''Eh?''
Doyle smiled angelically ''Technically we don't have to be out of here until tomorrow at ten. Thought it might be nice to have lunch first, leave in our own sweet time.''
''So I can have another hour's kip?'' clarified Bodie.
''You can have another three, if you like, sunshine.''
''Goodbye, Doyle'' said Bodie, pulling the duvet over his head.
''I'll wake you up for lunch'' acknowledged Doyle, feeling ridiculously at peace with his lot.
Doyle washed, dressed and packed. Then he cleared away their things from the previous evening, including the imperfect jigsaw. He made a swift reconnaissance of the games cupboard, but the missing three pieces appeared to be lost for good.
There was very little left of the provisions he'd bought. Some milk and sugar lumps, some butter and a small loaf of bread he'd bought with the express intention of making sandwiches for the return journey. A few tea bags. What remained of the eggs, bacon and sausages. An unopened packet of ham, a small jar of mustard and a packet of jammie dodgers. When it came to biscuits, Bodie was nothing if not a traditionalist.
For him they were a reminder of the dark days of the police canteen. Whatever the shadows of Bodie's past, he'd never been a pariah amongst his own.
Doyle set to, making ham and mustard sandwiches. Which he kept fresh by tying them into the bag the bread had come in and popping them into the fridge.
He cooked the left over bacon and sausages, chopped them up and left them to one side until Bodie chose to grace the day with his presence. He had plans for breakfast omelettes. An idiosyncratic, Spanish inspired culinary invention of which he was sure Bodie would approve.
Then he took himself into the garden with a mug of tea and a book. This one was a scholarly examination of the struggle for women's suffrage and was a lot easier going than Germaine had been. He had a few uncomfortable moments over the role of his predecessors in blue, but then he'd had a few uncomfortable moments over the doings of their current incarnations. Instead, he took heart at those from his own half of the gender divide who received honourable mention as supporters of the cause. By the time Bodie appeared at the kitchen door, looking more spruce than he had done in days, he was feeling thoroughly vindicated as a knight errant in the maidenly struggle.
''Says here that suffragettes were a dab hand at jujitsu'' Doyle informed his partner, by way of welcome.
''Doyle, has it ever occurred to you that you're gonna scare the birds off with that stuff?''
'''S not what Siobhan said'' replied Doyle.
''Look, mate'' said Bodie deliberately ''Birds like blokes.''
Doyle raised a scurrilous eyebrow by way of riposte.
Bodie grinned back lopsidedly ''Okay, not all birds, but the ones that don't, you're gonna have to go on dreamin' about, sunshine.''
'''S gotta help to understand them, though, hasn't it?''
''Help what, Ray? They don't want another bird'' Bodie interrupted himself at the sight of Doyle's ready primed eyebrow to concede ''Yeah, okay, apart from the ones that do. They want a fella.''
''Things are changing though, Bodie'' said Doyle ''We're gonna get left behind.''
Bodie sent a longsuffering glance heavenward before replying ''Doyle, I know you've been through the ringer a bit lately, but trust me, you don't need a manual. Birds like blokes.''
''Then why couldn't I hold onto her?'' asked Doyle ''You tell me that, Bodie. She liked me, she didn't like the job, but she liked me. Really liked me. It could've worked, if she'd've let it, if I'd've known how to get through to her.''
Bodie took as deep a breath as his still congested lungs would allow, his lashes sweeping down for a moment as he contemplated his answer. Then he sat beside his partner and gently removed the book from Doyle's hands ''I had a feeling all this wasn't about Siobhan. She's gone, mate. This isn't going to bring her back.''
Doyle looked up hopefully for a second, but whatever had caused the spark died in his eyes.
''Ray, you tried. It was lousy timing, you did some stupid things. But not because of this'' Bodie handed the book back to his partner ''The girls would have done just the same. It's the job. You have to choose, mate. Family or job.''
Doyle looked forlornly at the book ''Some of the squad manage it.''
''Cowley didn't. Being the best, there's a price.''
''So that's me lot, is it?'' asked Doyle as he stood up ''Lonely old man?''
Rising to be with his partner, Bodie said ''Ray, you spend half your life telling me to eat better, look after me heart, drive more carefully...''
''Yeah?'' prompted Doyle despondently.
''So maybe I've made my choice'' said Bodie quietly.
The air was suddenly very still, the muted industry of buzzing insects and the piercing call of the gulls the only sounds left in the world.
When the air returned to his lungs Doyle exhaled his partner's name like a prayer ''Bodie...''
Bodie gave him a impenetrably diffident grin and said ''Me stomach thinks me throat's been cut, how about some food, Doyle?''
''Bodie...''
''Look, Doyle, it's no big deal. Old bones are your hang up, not mine.''
''Bodie'' repeated Doyle, but this time with a sudden whispered urgency.
''Oh for - Ray, I don't need one of your - ''
''No'' Doyle interrupted his partner, pointing insistently at the undergrowth ''Look.''
Bodie peered into the shadows, his face folding into a disbelieving grin.
''It is, isn't it?'' asked Doyle incredulously.
''Yeah'' agreed Bodie reverently ''An adder, it must be hunting.''
Together, they watched in breathless wonder as the snake slithered from view. Only when it had gone did they turn and make their way back across the garden to the cottage.
''I've seen an adder'' said Doyle.
''Told you'' acknowledged Bodie smugly.
''A bloody adder, Bodie'' Doyle repeated in wonderment.
''Happy now, aren't you, you daft bugger?'' asked Bodie indulgently.
Doyle grinned, unashamedly nodding his happiness to his partner as they entered the kitchen.
Bodie fondly ruffled his partner's curls, before setting to work laying the table as Doyle set about cooking the breakfast omelettes. Unconsciously working in seamless unison.
They ate the omelettes, followed by a couple of rounds of buttered toast, made with the last of the bread.
Doyle was heartened to see a revival in Bodie's appetite. His energy levels appeared to be picking up too.
After lunch, sustained by tea and jammie dodgers, they washed up and cleared up, double checking they'd left everything as they'd found it. Finally, with everything in its place, they threw the last of their rubbish into a venerable corrugated dustbin, nestled unobtrusively in its own little store by the locker containing the garden furniture, and climbed into the underused capri.
Doyle rolled his damaged ankle assessingly, satisfying himself as to its stability.
''Doyle'' Bodie asked his partner as he settled himself into the passenger seat ''What is that smell?''
The pungent aroma of the disinfectant had waned considerably on the journey down, but trapped in the confined airless warmth of the car, a lingering scent still remained. Doyle wound down his window and Bodie did the same.
''Doyle?'' repeated Bodie.
''Must be feeling better, if you can smell it'' Doyle prevaricated.
''Doyle?'' Bodie repeated patiently a third time.
''I disinfected me car'' admitted Doyle.
Bodie blinked slowly at his partner in disbelief.
''You sneezed all over it'' Doyle defended himself.
Bodie leaned over and tried to peer into his partner's ear.
''What are you doing?'' Doyle protested, irritably shrugging his partner away.
''I'm checking to see if those curls have started to grow on the inside'' said Bodie.
''I didn't want the lurgy'' argued Doyle.
''So you thought you'd avoid it by spending three days down here with me?'' enquired Bodie reasonably.
Having no answer for this, Doyle instead offered helpfully ''It'll blow away if we keep the windows open.''
Bodie's eyebrows were eloquent in their assessment of his partner's sanity.
Ignoring him, Doyle turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the cottage.
Bodie leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, pointedly wrinkling his nose at intermittent intervals.
The smell had all but gone by the time they reached the co-op. Doyle parked the car and got out to return the cottage keys. He disappeared into the little shop, leaving Bodie dozing in the afternoon sun.
He re-emerged with a carrier bag containing several cans of fizzy drink, to assuage their thirst on the way home, and was confronted by the sight of Bodie, flat on his back, lying on the pavement beside the capri, playing with the large black labrador which had taken such an interest in him on the way down.
''Put him down'' instructed Doyle as he dumped his bag on the back seat ''You don't know where he's been.''
Bodie dutifully extricated himself from the dog's enthusiastic attentions and said ''Have a heart, Doyle. I thought it was supposed to be postmen who didn't like dogs, not coppers.''
''I was talking to the dog'' replied Doyle.
''Oh, very funny'' said Bodie as he regained his seat in the car. The dog danced round in the lee of the passenger door, preventing Bodie from closing it. ''He likes me'' announced Bodie happily.
''He's met you before'' said Doyle.
''Have you, boy?'' Bodie asked the dog, playfully scrubbing at its ears.
''Yeah, but you were spark out. He slobbered all over the window, only remembered to clean it this morning when we were tidying up.''
''Did you, boy?'' Bodie asked the dog.
Doyle walked round to the passenger side to shoo the dog from the door, since Bodie appeared to have no inclination to do it himself.
The dog suddenly dropped and snarled.
''What's got into you, then?'' Bodie cooed soothingly at the dog ''Doyle's not going to hurt you. He might disinfect you, he's gone a bit funny that way, but he won't hurt you.''
''Don't worry'' Doyle found himself telling the dog ''I told you he'd be alright with me. Turns out we both had a few daft notions, but it's okay because we've got it sorted now.''
Bodie turned in his seat to enquire ''Doyle, what are you prattling on about?''
''Us'' said Doyle, smiling with dopey fondness at his partner.
''Doyle, do I have to begin pulling teeth to get any sense out of you?'' asked Bodie.
''Bodie, you said it'' Doyle replied earnestly ''Family or job. Only you had it wrong. What if it's not a choice? What if it is the choice?''
''They build funny farms for people like you'' Bodie sagely informed his partner.
''No, Bodie. Don't you get it?'' Doyle insisted urgently ''We're a given, right? You and me. Cowley hasn't got anyone, 'cos he never really trusts anyone. Probably never been able to, not the way he works. But we can. We do. Every day. You and me, sunshine. It's more than just the job. Only we take it for granted.''
Bodie pondered this as the dog padded over to lick his fingers.
''It's family'' added Doyle.
''It's soppy'' objected Bodie scornfully.
''Yeah'' Doyle grinned, unrepentantly ''It is, innit?
''What if I get married?'' asked Bodie.
Doyle raised a patently disparaging eyebrow, the dog sat down and let out a confused whine. In answer to such unwarranted mistreatment, Bodie lifted a sardonic eyebrow of his own and conceded ungraciously ''Okay, what if you do?''
''She'd be taking on both of us'' Doyle proclaimed happily.
Bodie looked thoroughly scandalised and eminently pleased with himself.
''Not like that, you moron'' admonished Doyle with resigned exasperation ''I'm marrying a nice girl.''
''I like nice girls'' protested Bodie.
''Then find one of your own'' ordered Doyle emphatically.
The dog sat down and put its muzzle in Bodie's lap, solemn dark eyes peering up at him from under anxiously twitching brows.
Bodie seized its jowls with affectionate boisterousness and said ''You know, daft as it sounds, I think the lunatic might actually have something. What d'you say, eh boy?''
The dog disentangled its head from Bodie's grasp and looked questioningly at Doyle.
''I promise to look after 'im'' said Doyle.
The dog turned back to Bodie.
''I'm with Goldilocks'' Bodie informed the dog, continuing as he squinted up at his partner ''Needs a keeper. Can't let 'im out of your sight, never know what might be going through that woolly head.''
The dog barked once and then turned and moved hesitantly away from the car.
Bodie closed his door and Doyle skirted back round the capri to climb into the driver's seat and pull away from the kerb. The dog sat on the pavement and watched them go.
''I made ham and mustard sandwiches'' said Doyle, keeping an eye on the dog in the rear view mirror.
Succumbing contentedly to recuperative lassitude, Bodie settled himself into his seat and shut his eyes, snuffling peacefully.
''Thought salad would wilt'' added Doyle.
Bodie peeled open an eyelid and observed ''Been thinking I should do something about me diet.''
''Yeah'' agreed Doyle ''Always pays to look after your heart.''
In the depths of the rear view mirror, Doyle saw the dog get up and trot away.
END