Return of the Sun - 23. Chapter 23

Scott was waiting for Luke; he'd managed to wrangle another early night off of work, a reward for finally getting the fax program working. Zulee was always willing to make a deal time-for-time and somehow Scott always seemed to be the one to lose out in those deals. But then he didn't really mind, it was extra money in the bank to help pay down the Rover.

Gran had been surprised to see him bustle in early; Uncle Nigel and Aunt Debbie had gone back to Nottingham the day before and he was sure she was feeling a little lonely so had talked his ear off as she prepared the customary sandwich for Luke's evening patrol. She was telling him about how Doctor Hanratti had tricked her into buying tickets for the Medieval Festival.

"So I am in getting my blood pressure done," she said, buttering the bread, "and that rascal Hanratti asks me if I was going to the fair; I said I hadn't thought about it." She walked to the fridge and pulled out some lettuce and tomato, "So he asked me if I'd like some tickets." She rolled her eyes, "So when he gives them to me he says 'That'll be twenty pounds, please'; he should be locked up for conning little old ladies."

Scott chuckled, that was Hanratti all right. Invariably he found a way to get exactly what he needed out of people. He had managed to finally catch Zulee the other day by turning up for the weekly checkup a day early. Poor old Zulee really didn't stand a chance against the eccentrically determined physician.

"Well, Luke should be by soon," Gran said, cutting the sandwich neatly. "Would you be a dear and run it out to him when he stops by? I need to get started on your tea."

Scott nodded, picking up the sandwich and walking to the door. He put it down, pulled on his coat and walked out to the front gate, resting on it and looking up at the dark grey sky. It was almost as if the sun had decided that it was taking a well-earned vacation, leaving Britain to its typical rain-soaked weather.

Scott blew out a long sigh as he waited; there was no sign of the usual gaggle of children playing football on the green and even Mister Roberts had decided to avoid the rain by remaining indoors. It was drearily depressing in a way, Scott actually found he liked the evenings on Meadow Road; there was something familiar about them, soulful.

A police car pulled up across the road, a Vuxhall Astra done in the garish yellow-and-blue-check patterns that were unmistakably English Police patterns. It was bright and easily spotted, and Scott wondered if they were actually able to catch anyone speeding, a person could spot a speed trap a mile away.

Luke got out of the small police car, tucking his cap on his head, wrapped in the fluorescent yellow safety coat that all traffic policemen wore; it looked warm but strangely made Luke look like an oversized banana. He crossed the road carefully and walked up to Scott.

"Hey," Scott greeted, holding up the sandwich.

Luke glanced about him, his eyes hard searching for anyone; finding no one he relaxed a little, "Hi, Scott."

Scott smiled warmly, noting the look of uncertainty in Luke's eyes, "Gran made you Chicken Tika today." Scott decided to play it safe and build to the questions he had to ask.

"I like Tika," Luke replied hesitantly.

Scott nodded, "Figures; can't stand it myself, it tastes too much like curry."

"It is curry," Luke replied, blinking at Scott.

"Oh," Scott said looking down at the sandwich lamely; now he just felt stupid. He extended the plate still smiling, "Well, there you go, then."

"Thanks," Luke replied, taking it from him, his voice still quiet.

"Everything okay?" Scott asked, trying to catch Luke's eyes, but Luke seemed focused on his sandwich.

"I'm fine," Luke reassured emptily.

Scott heard the lie, and he felt his heart sink, "You're upset about the other night."

Luke glanced away back towards his patrol car, "I got promoted," he said trying to change the subject. "I'm working traffic duty for the next little while."

Scott drew a long breath, "Congratulations, yellow's your colour."

"Bugger off," Luke said with a half-grin. "I look like a lemon."

"No," Scott said, shaking his head, "you look great, always have to me."

"You're a terrible liar," Luke observed.

"So are you," Scott shot back. "Look if you want us to take a step back from this so that you can catch up..."

Luke swallowed, "I just don't know Scott... it's all a bit much to take in all at once. It hit me that this was for real the other night. It's like we're running when I haven't learned how to walk yet..."

A two-way radio burst into action, giving out a harsh crackling sound. Against that background a string of staccato police jargon struck up.

"Dispatch to any patrol car near Upper Dicker, we have a stolen car that needs intercept. Turn."

Luke shook his head abandoning his sandwich. "Car four to dispatch I'm inbound, what direction. Turn."

"Heading south on the A22. Turn."

"Right, I'm responding. Turn." He threw Scott an apologetic look as he clicked off the mic.

"Car four, suspect is a young male in his mid-twenties driving a blue Ford Escort C reg. Turn."

"Roger. Turn."

"Tango. Turn and off."

There was a harsh crackling sound of PC Allston's two-way radio as the conversation died and it sank to a buzzing. He looked at Scott again and reached out to brush his hand. "We'll talk later," he promised as he jogged back to the car, and in a peal of sirens, was gone.

Scott watched him leave, and looked down at the half-eaten sandwich, swallowing back the rush of emotion. That was it then, Luke rushing off to his life and he was left standing there, holding a half-eaten sandwich as it started to rain. Ben had been right, Luke wasn't ready, couldn't be ready. And that was it.

"Are you coming in?" Gran called from the doorway behind him. "You'll catch a cold standing there in the rain."

He swallowed down his emotion as he wiped his eyes quickly before smiling as he turned back to her. He didn't want her to realize how upset he was; she wouldn't understand and he didn't feel like explaining anything just then. He walked back in and Gran handed him a towel.

"You're soaked," she said absently as she took his coat. "Did Luke get a call?"

Scott nodded towelling off his hair. "Something about a stolen car," he murmured, still holding the soggy sandwich.

"Well you go sit down in the living room; your tea's ready, it'll help warm you up," she said with a maternal smile.

Once settled she turned on the television, greeted by a movie on the BBC; she stayed there a moment as Scott chewed absently on his beans on toast. The movie was pretty heavy, about a family and the secrets it harboured. Ironic, considering. And as it progressed it unfolded that one of the children was having a gay affair with a servant.

"Well, at least they're in love," Gran said, looking up from her knitting and breaking the silence. "The only normal relationship out of the bunch."

"Huh?" Scott said, glancing at her.

She nodded to the screen, "Well, the husband is having an affair, the wife can't stand him either, and the daughter fights with her husband. The only happy couple is the son and that."

"Oh, right." Scott said, his mind wandering back to Luke.

"I knew a gay couple once," she said, continuing her train of thought. "Wonderful men, kept themselves to themselves, didn't advertise it though everyone knew. Your grandfather helped build their house. Apparently they met during the war..."

"Right," he said, wondering what she was hinting at.

"The point is," Gran said, setting her knitting into her lap, "that they were in love, it didn't matter what they told anyone or what anyone thought about them. They didn't need one of those parades, and no one bothered them about it."

The way she was looking at him left him in no doubt she was trying to tell him something. He blinked at her a moment and opened his mouth to tell her.

"I never asked them, it was none of my business what goes on in someone else's bedroom," she said pointedly, almost as if she knew what he was going to say, and stopping him before he did. "It really didn't matter at the end of the day."

"Right," he said again, looking at her, trying to work out if she did in fact know or this was just a conversation arising from the movie.

She was giving him a look as she picked up her knitting again. "So how was Luke?" she asked. Scott wasn't sure if she was changing the subject on him or not.

"He seemed a little off today," Scott replied honestly. "But he's been promoted to traffic duty so he gets to ride around in a patrol car and hand out tickets."

"You'd best stop speeding, then," Gran joked back to him. "He might give you a ticket."

Scott nodded, "He thinks I go too fast," he said dryly, all too aware of the double entandre that existed in what he was saying.

"Then you should learn to slow down, then," Gran replied as she completed her row. "You always were in so much of a hurry, just like your father." She smiled at him again, "I never told you this, but your father got married to your mother after a week."

He gaped at her, "Really?"

She nodded, "Oh yes, he wrote us a letter the day before the wedding to tell us all about it, and a week later he turned up with your mother."

Scott scratched his head. "No wonder it didn't work out," he reflected in surprise.

"It's all about taking your time," she said sagely. "Take your Uncle Nigel and Aunt Debbie, now there's a marriage that will last for a long time. He did it right, took his time and got to know her instead of rushing headlong into a mess. Unlike his first wife..."

Scott blinked, all the family secrets were coming out now, "I didn't know Uncle Nigel was married before."

"Oh yes," Gran said shaking her head sadly. "Marie, she wasn't really interested in getting married, it's just she wanted the name..."

"The name?" Scott asked doubtfully.

"Walker," Gran responded. "She was from Town Farm and looking to get out; she felt if she had a respectable name like Walker it would help her. She and your Uncle Nigel divorced after about a year and she moved to Rye."

"People actually do that?" Scott was incredulous, he thought that sort of thing only ever happened in films or bad literature, not in real life, especially not in modern England...

"Oh yes," Gran responded. "Happens quite often around here. Some young women will do whatever they have to do to change their station."

"Wow," Scott said in surprise, looking at the film that suddenly held a lot more relevance to him. "Things are a lot simpler in the States."

"Oh no," Gran said cheerfully. "It goes on over there as well, it's just we're more open about it."

"Right..." Scott said slowly.

"But back to my original point," Gran said, working her knitting. "Some things are just best left unsaid, a person is still a person regardless of his choices."

Scott looked at her, no doubt in his mind at that point that she knew exactly what she was saying. And he loved her all the more for it. It didn't matter what he did, she would continue to love him.