Work Text:
“Cheers.”
“Cheers, sir.”
They sip their pints silently, enjoying the peace and calm of this early evening by the river. Robbie just wants to let it all wash over him for a while, and that’s one thing about James: he always knows when it’s best just to hold his tongue. Unlike some coppers Robbie’s worked with over the years, always yakking on about nonsense.
It’s been a bugger of a case, this one, and for too many reasons. The barbaric nature of the murders, to start with, and imagining the kind of warped mind that could actually do such things to fellow human beings. Running into that cocky ex-con all over the place. Finding out that Caroline Hope was that child killer Sally Bond. And then he and James have both been out of sorts the whole time, haven’t they? While he should have been celebrating Lyn’s news, and James... well, what is up with the bloke?
Early retirement — should he take it or shouldn’t he? And, while he’s been agonising over that, James — if he was serious about it — has been contemplating voluntary redundancy. Not said why, though. He’s just been more than usually morose and unenthusiastic — almost fatalistic at times. Going through the motions. The only thing he’s shown any interest in, really, is that bloody St Gerard’s Hall.
Where he’s been offered a research job. Well, the possibility of one, anyway. As far as Robbie knows, he hasn’t made a decision on applying, but that may just be due to Professor Pinnock’s bereavement meaning he hasn’t had a chance to discuss it further.
It’s also possible that James hasn’t told Robbie his decision yet, or even tried to talk it through with him, because Robbie’s been preoccupied by his own concerns, and by impending grandfatherhood. Maybe James has felt as if his governor wouldn’t be interested — which is bollocks, of course, and the bloke should know better, but then again James has always tended to put his own interests aside when he thinks Robbie needs him to.
Time to do better. He catches the bloke’s eye. “James...”
Hathaway shuffles a little in his chair, acknowledging Robbie’s prompt. “This... change of direction... opportunity for me with Professor Pinnock.” He pauses, meeting Robbie’s gaze squarely. “It depends on whether you take early retirement.”
Like that, is it?
Well, Robbie can hardly be surprised — or blame the bloke. He’d said it himself, after all, hadn’t he? If he takes the package that’s on the table, there’s an opportunity for James. And James is ready for it. He’s had seven or so years as a sergeant, and more than proven himself. James Hathaway’s not the sort of copper who’s destined to cool his heels for a decade or more as a junior officer. He’ll make Chief Super before he’s fifty, like as not — if he gets the right opportunities at the right time.
And right now there’s a shortage of opportunities. Posts are being eliminated. Without some weeding out in the senior ranks, there won’t be a senior officer position for James to move into. Whereas, if Robbie retires, his position will be vacant, and Innocent’s going to have to fill it — the work’s definitely there.
James obviously knows all this, too; knows that if Robbie stays around then it’ll be another three, four years before he gets a chance at an inspector position, unless he does a McKendrick and applies elsewhere. There are no other DIs in CID in the city within striking distance of retirement right now.
He’d be a bloody hypocrite to blame James for his ambition, even if it feels as if his sergeant can’t wait to shove him out of the way to get where he wants. It’s not that long ago, after all, that Robbie himself was cursing his own governor for not retiring and freeing up a senior job. Didn’t mean he didn’t care about Morse, or saw him as past it, or anything like that. The man was a year away from retirement, and not in the best of health; to the younger, frustrated Sergeant Lewis, it had just made sense that he should go.
Just as, no doubt, to the younger still and more talented Sergeant Hathaway, Inspector Lewis has had his successful career, and now has a decent financial incentive as well as good family reasons to pack it all in — so why not?
Robbie nods, conceding the fairness of James’s position. “I’ll talk to Innocent tomorrow. Should have the paperwork done in a few days, an’ then it’ll just be a matter of finalising a date.”
James’s expression is suddenly inscrutable. “I see, sir. Well, we should drink to your happy retirement.” He nods at Robbie’s near-empty glass. “Can I get you another?”
But Robbie’s abruptly lost interest in the attractions of a pint and good companionship. “Nah. Think I’ll go home an’ phone Lyn. Let her know me decision.”
He should wish James well in his promotion application; should tell the bloke that he’ll be putting in the strongest possible recommendation to Innocent. But somehow the words stick in his craw.
He drains his glass and stands, nodding at his sergeant. “See you tomorrow.”
“You’re absolutely sure about this, Robbie?”
“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath. “Been thinkin’ about it ever since Lyn told me — an’ I won’t get anything like as good as this package again. Just makes sense.”
Innocent taps her pen on the desk. “I can see it does, from a financial perspective, certainly. It’s just... won’t you be bored? Honestly, I can’t see you sitting at home watching Countdown!”
“Won’t be, will I?” Watching daytime telly — as if! “I’ll be helpin’ Lyn with the little one. An’ probably babysitting, at least some of the time, when she goes back to work.”
“I can’t deny that’ll be rewarding.” Innocent sighs. “I hope I don’t need to say that you’ll be missed, Robbie. Locally, we have no choice but to implement the cost-cutting scheme, but you are absolutely not one of the officers I might have—” She hesitates. “Would hoped be too strong a word? Well, anyway. That I thought may consider applying.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” It is gratifying to hear Innocent say that — especially considering their rocky start. And ironic, isn’t it, that he’s hearing more regret from the Chief Super than from his own sergeant? James, who hasn’t said a word about his impending retirement today, nor yesterday evening once Robbie confirmed his decision.
Though that reminds him. “There is something else, ma’am.” Innocent raises an eyebrow, giving permission to proceed. “I expect Hathaway’ll be applying for promotion on the back of this. He’ll be after my position, and he’s ready for it, too.”
Innocent nods. “Makes sense. Are you giving him your formal endorsement, then?”
“Aye. Erm... yes, ma’am. I’ll have it in writing to you in a couple of days, an’ me retirement application will be with HR in about the same time.”
“Well, if you really have made up your mind, then of course I’ll need to start planning for your departure. But, should you change your mind...” She gives him a keen look, full of concern and, he’s surprised to see, sadness.
“Don’t think I will, ma’am. But thanks.”
James glances up as Robbie re-enters their shared office, but looks away just as quickly. Not, though, before Robbie notices the hint of anxiety in his expression. Bloody hell, is the bloke in that much of a hurry?
“Spoke to Innocent. It’s all sorted — I only have to submit the paperwork.”
James nods, his gaze half-tracking Robbie as Robbie returns to his desk. “When will you leave?”
That’s something Robbie’s spent hours wrestling with since leaving the pub yesterday evening. His first instinct was to stay in the job for as long as it took to see James through OSPRE: not just the exam, but whatever post-exam training and experience Innocent would want to see him gain before moving into a senior role. James is excellent at what he does, but he’s never led a major investigation, and even with the more minor cases he has managed he’s always had Robbie’s support in the background when needed.
But... he doesn’t want to. Not because he’s itching to be done with the job and spend all day on the allotment, but because of James himself. The bloke’s complete lack of interest in Robbie’s plans and his future, the fact that he’s shown no regret about the fact that their partnership is ending and Robbie’s leaving — and now, that the only thing he’s asked is how soon Robbie is leaving...
He shouldn’t let that affect him. He’s the bloke’s governor, after all, and he has a responsibility to James. All the same... he can’t pretend an interest he’s not feeling right now, and that would mean he wouldn’t be providing the best coaching. James will be far better off working with another DI as he prepares for promotion.
“Soon as I can. I’ll obviously wrap up whatever’s most important here, but I’ve got leave due, so it won’t be the full month. Two or three weeks.”
He drops into his chair and pulls his keyboard towards him, ending the conversation. After a moment, he hears typing from James’s side of the room as well.
It’s been a bloody awful day. He and James have hardly talked unless it was essential for whatever it was each was working on; case reports and organising evidence related to Felix Sansome’s arrest. James has been polite and formal, without any hint of Robbie’s normal smartarse awkward sod of a sergeant, even to the point of asking permission to go for a smoke.
It doesn’t really make sense. This is what James wants, Robbie’s retirement. That’s what he said. So why he’s being distant now, Robbie can’t fathom at first, until he realises: maybe James had been hoping he’d stick around long enough to see him through promotion. Maybe his nose is out of joint that Robbie apparently isn’t interested enough in his career progression to be there for him.
Fair enough. If that is what James wants... well, it’s worth thinking about. Be a shame to end nearly six years of a good working relationship — and, if he’s honest, a good friendship — on a sour note just because Robbie’s nursing bruised feelings. Especially when, if he’s honest, James is only behaving like he did with Morse. He was worse himself, in fact — he even let off steam to Strange about Morse’s unwillingness to retire. James hasn’t done anything like that.
He shuts down the form he’s working on. It’s almost six, and he’s had more than enough of this room for the day. “Pint?” He rolls his chair to the side of his desk so that he can look at James. “Thought we could have a chat about OSPRE, transitioning to DI an’ all that?”
James goes very still, and it’s a moment or two before he turns around. His expression’s neutral as he shakes his head. “It’s thoughtful of you, sir, but I have rehearsal this evening. In fact, I need to get going now.”
Bugger. Oh, well, the lad can’t help it if he’s already busy. “Yeah, all right, go on. Maybe tomorrow, then?”
“Maybe.” Non-committal. What, has the bloke not got over his snit from this morning? Robbie sighs. A good night’s sleep should sort him. “Have a good evening, sir.” And with that, James has gone.
Robbie heads home himself a few minutes later, and wanders aimlessly around the flat for a while before he realises that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s not particularly hungry, and doesn’t fancy a beer after all. There’s nothing decent on telly, and he doesn’t seem to have anything interesting enough to bother reading. He’s almost tempted to go back to the nick and start working through his open case files, to see what he needs to finish up himself and what can be handed off to James or passed to another team. But he can’t face the empty, silent office.
He should, of course, phone Lyn, since he didn’t get around to it yesterday evening, after all; tell her that he’s taking early retirement and that he’ll be free of the job in a matter of weeks. But he knows she’ll want to talk about him moving to Manchester, and wanting him to come and stay with her and Tim immediately after their Italian holiday so that he can look for flats near them. And... well, somehow the prospect of all that is making him reluctant to pick up the phone.
It’s just all the stuff with James, no doubt. He’s got no enthusiasm for doing anything this evening.
In the end, Robbie makes himself eat a couple of slices of toast with a cuppa, and after watching some documentary he knows he won’t be able to remember a word of once it’s over, he has an early — and almost sleepless — night.
He wakes to a miserable, grey morning, which has turned to a persistent drizzle by the time he leaves his flat. As luck would have it, there’d been no empty spaces outside the flat last night and he’d had to park down the road a bit. So he’s damp and pissed off by the time he starts the car.
The office is empty, and James’s computer hasn’t been turned on. His sergeant’s late today, which also means that there’s no welcoming mug of coffee waiting on Robbie’s desk. Damn the bloke, anyway. James knows he’s supposed to phone or at least send a text if he’s going to be late, or if he’s doing something else on the way to the nick.
Grumbling silently, he heads to the canteen for a coffee, buying a cereal bar as well while he’s there; he hadn’t felt in the mood for breakfast this morning. There’s still no James by the time he gets back, and he almost rings the man to ask him where the hell he is, but stops himself. Talking to James while he’s in a bad mood won’t make this atmosphere that seems to be between them any better.
It’s Innocent, not James, who appears in the doorway around fifteen minutes later. She’s frowning, looking concerned rather than angry. “Robbie.” She comes in and closes the door behind her. “I thought you said James was going to be applying for promotion?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looks back at her, asking a silent question.
She comes closer, and it’s never good when Innocent’s wearing this expression. He just knows he’s going to hear something he really doesn’t want to. “Read this.” And she’s holding out a piece of plain white paper.
The first thing Robbie sees when he glances at it is the signature. It’s one he sees on a frequent basis, on case files and CPS reports and expense claims, on interview transcripts, arrest reports and performance reviews. It’s a signature he knows as well as his own.
What’s James doing writing letters to the Chief Super?
Then his eye skims down the letter itself, and his bewilderment intensifies.
I have come to the conclusion that I am no longer suited to a career in the police force and have decided to explore other options... It has been a privilege to work under your management and I have learned many valuable lessons... With this letter I am hereby tendering my resignation and giving the required one month’s notice... I have calculated that, with accrued annual leave and time off in lieu to which I am entitled, I should have, at most, four days of work time to serve, and would prefer, if possible, to be assigned to night shifts at times convenient to yourself... In sincere appreciation, James Hathaway.
Robbie has to read the letter three times before the meaning sinks in. James is resigning. He’s not applying for promotion. He’s not after Robbie’s job. He’s leaving.
It doesn’t make sense. Why would he say he’d stay with the force if Robbie went, and then go and do something like this? And without even telling Robbie, his own governor — and, Robbie’d thought, friend and mentor?
He looks down at the letter again, and another fact strikes him. There’s not one mention of himself in the letter. James talks about how much he’s learned from Innocent, but nothing about what he’s learned from Robbie, or even that he’s enjoyed working with his DI. Not one word.
“When did this come?” he asks, and is astonished that his voice is actually calm. Inside, he’s reeling.
“It had been pushed under my assistant’s door at some point between yesterday evening and eight o’clock this morning.” Innocent’s leaning against James’s desk now, watching Robbie, and the frown she was wearing has creased into concern. “I take it you knew nothing of this?”
He shakes his head, his gaze flicking to his in-tray. James must have left him a letter too, then, and he just hasn’t seen it yet. But a quick rummage through what’s there yields nothing. He isn’t worth a farewell letter from his sergeant, or even a word of explanation.
But, even as he’s thinking that, rationality tells him otherwise. James wouldn’t just leave without a word to him. Not after all the time they’ve been together, all the ways they’ve cared for and about each other during that time. Maybe he just hadn’t worked out how to tell Robbie, but this won’t be all there is. He’ll be in touch—
But what’s that about working out his remaining time owed as night shifts? And at Innocent’s convenience? He is James’s boss, not Innocent.
“Robbie,” Innocent prompts. He meets her gaze, in full realisation that all his confusion and, yes, hurt is fully visible to her. “Sort this. I don’t want to lose both of you.”
And with that, she’s gone, and Robbie slumps forward over his desk in disbelief.
James isn’t answering his phone — either phone. Robbie leaves a message asking the lad to call him back immediately.
When there’s been no call half an hour later, Robbie considers going around to his sergeant’s flat straight away, but rejects the idea. James hates being cornered, and Robbie would find himself standing on the doorstep with a door shut in his face, or confronting an overly polite, silent sergeant. Because, having read that resignation letter a few more times, what’s obvious is that James is wounded and withdrawing in self-defence. It doesn’t make sense, but that’s what it is.
Robbie gets on with working his way through the reports that he should have had his sergeant’s help with, though his mind keeps drifting back to that letter, and to wondering what could have provoked it. James wanted promotion, he’d thought. So why resign?
Unless... Well, he’s been bloody thick, hasn’t he? James never actually said he’d apply for promotion if Robbie took early retirement. What was it he’d said, exactly? Robbie tilts his chair back, eyes half-closed as he remembers. James had brought it up, and he’d mentioned the job offer at St Gerards — and then he’d said It depends on whether you take early retirement.
And Robbie had made the mistake every probationary PC is warned against over and over: he made an assumption without checking his facts. A completely erroneous assumption, as it turns out. What James must have meant was the complete opposite of what Robbie’d thought.
Which leaves him with two dilemmas. Because, if he’s to achieve the task Innocent’s left him with, of keeping James in the force, it looks like he needs to decide what he’s willing to do about his own future. And he’s also got to persuade his stubborn sergeant to talk to him.
But for now, there’s a day-job needing to be done, and without a sergeant to help, it looks like Robbie’s on his own. Oh, he could call on one of the DCs to fill in for James, but it honestly doesn’t feel like worth the effort. He’ll pass some things out to the team, but he really doesn’t want anyone else filling the empty space. Not today.
It’s too quiet here today. Normally, their wrapping up of the bureaucratic details of a solved case is punctuated by sardonic or mocking asides from James as he reads through the details of statements taken and reports written by DCs and others working on the case. At this stage of an investigation, when they’re both weary from long days and sometimes nights, Robbie’s sergeant’s patience is occasionally worn thin, and trivial details like poor spelling and grammar, or wildly incredible excuses and alibis, cause him to erupt. It usually adds entertainment to an otherwise fairly monotonous day.
Not today, though. The lack of shared grumbling opportunities, coffee appearing on his desk at odd moments, or a companion for a shared lunch out of the nick, all combine to make Robbie’s day go by so much more slowly. And if this is a taste of what it would be like if he weren’t retiring and James left, which is what he’d thought James had meant when he’d said his decision depended on Robbie’s, then he’s bloody glad he’ll be out of here in a few weeks.
By the time Robbie leaves the office, he’s reached the reluctant conclusion that there’s no point in seeking James out this evening. Because if he tries to talk to the bloke without rethinking his own plans in the light of what he’s now figured out, it won’t go well. And he honestly doesn’t know what he wants to do himself. He’d thought taking the early retirement package was the right thing to do. But does the possibility that James had actually wanted him to stay on make a difference? That his retiring isn’t paving the way for James’s own career advancement?
But then there’s Lyn, and the grandchild on the way, and the very real reasons Robbie’d given James as to why he was considering the package, not to mention the sheer bloody exhaustion he’s been feeling during this last case; worse than usual, it’s been.
He stops for fish and chips on the way home, buys too much and doesn’t realise until he’s almost served it up onto two plates.
He sighs. Even when James isn’t physically present, making himself at home and indispensible in Robbie’s life, he’s still making his presence felt. And, really, had he seriously believed that he could turn his back on the lad, and on their partnership — the friendship that’s been more than five years in the making?
“You’re a daft sod, that’s what you are,” he tells himself as he throws the leftover fish and chips in the bin.
Every morning, except when he has an early start to the working day, James goes for a run down by the canal. This morning, Robbie’s waiting on a bench near where James parks. He’s already checked; James’s car is there, so it won’t be long before the man himself comes jogging back. And Robbie’s ready for him.
It’s a lovely day today, such a contrast from the grey drizzle of the previous morning. Not too warm yet, but the sun’s pulling clear of clouds and once the low-lying early morning fog’s burned off it’ll be a scorcher.
It’s restful sitting here, watching the water flow by, and the occasional passing narrowboat. And the thought strikes him, not for the first time, that he’d miss this if he did move to Manchester. Aye — this, and other things as well.
A few minutes later, the lanky, loose-limbed shape that’s James Hathaway comes into view, dressed in a tight T-shirt and Lycra running shorts. He notices Robbie a second or two later, and his steps falter briefly, before he takes a deep breath and jogs up to Robbie’s bench.
“Coffee?” Robbie holds out the first part of his peace offering — James’s favourite coffee, from his favourite coffee vendor. “Got chocolate croissants, too.”
“Pain au chocolat.” James simply can’t help himself, can he? And he seems to realise himself that he’s being ridiculous, because he shakes his head, drops down on the bench beside Robbie and takes the coffee.
For a few minutes, they sit side by side in silence, neither looking at the other, sipping coffee and staring at the water. And then James shifts, his head dropping, shoulders bowed as he stares at the ground in front of him. “I owe you an apology, sir. I should have... talked to you, told you what I was going to do. Writing to Innocent like that... It was the coward’s way out.”
“Yeah, you should have,” Robbie says, deliberately casual. He takes the croissants out of their paper bag and hands one out to James, nudging the bloke when he doesn’t immediately react. Although he gets a quick, appreciative smile when James takes the pastry, the unhappiness in his eyes is evident.
Robbie relaxes back into the bench seat and takes a bite of his croissant, doing everything he can to convey his good humour and lack of pissed-off-ness where James is concerned. “But I should’ve asked you what you meant when you said taking that job with Professor Pinnock depended on my decision. Thought you meant you’d stay an’ go for promotion if I left.”
Next to him, the blond head shakes. “If you go, I go. That’s what I meant.”
“Yeah. Would’ve helped if I’d worked that out before I talked to Innocent the other day. Only figured out I’d got it wrong after she brought me your letter.”
James straightens and half-turns in Robbie’s direction. “I wondered if you’d misunderstood when you mentioned OSPRE at the end of the day. But by then... well, what could I have said? You’d made your choice, so it seemed as if whatever I decided was irrelevant, really.”
“Not to me, it’s not.” He turns his gaze on James, making sure the bloke sees he means it. “Been thinking about it since yesterday. If I’d known what you really meant, I’d’ve decided differently.”
James had felt abandoned, that’s what it was. Makes complete sense now. To James, the governor he’d grown close to and done so much for, and whom he’d believed cared about him in return, was walking away from him without a second thought, when James had believed he’d made clear that he only wanted to stay a copper if Robbie did too. Crossed wires, and it had almost led to an irrevocable parting of the ways, but fortunately it looks as if they’ll be able to sort it out.
Fortunately for himself as well as James, of course. It’s a shame it’s taken something like this for Robbie to realise just how essential a part of his life James Hathaway has become. How much he doesn’t want to spend the next however many years without regular contact with the man, without his cleverclogs quotes and smartarse mockery and just the unique person that he is. There’s very little he wouldn’t do for James, and he’s got no doubt that there’s very little James wouldn’t do for him, either.
“You’re not retiring?” The disbelief in James’s voice tugs at Robbie’s heart. Ah, why couldn’t he have just asked James what he’d meant that evening? All this bloody confusion and wounded feelings — on both sides — could have been avoided.
“Sent Innocent an email last night telling her. Said I still had to talk to you, but that if I could persuade you to stay then I’d be withdrawin’ me application.”
“I’m glad, but it sounded as if you had good reasons for wanting to go.” James is frowning now, and it doesn’t take Robbie’s years of police experience to work out that the daft sod’s now feeling guilty about Robbie’s change of mind.
He shrugs. “It was more Lyn than me. Yeah, I know I mentioned me dad dying young, but what I didn’t say is that he had a desk job all his life, never exercised, lived on a diet of fried food, an’ he smoked. Heart attack waiting to happen, o’ course. And, no, I’m not saying I’m perfect in that respect, but I’m a lot healthier than he was at my age.”
“Mmm.” James eats the last of his croissant, then tilts his head as he looks back at Robbie. “Sure that staying on is what you want, sir?”
“What would I do with meself if I was retired?” He shakes his head. “Especially if I was up in Manchester where I don’t know anyone other than Lyn an’ her partner. Be bored out of my mind in a couple of weeks.” Pulling a face, he adds, “Probably even be desperate enough to miss you takin’ the piss.” He sips at his coffee. “But what about you? Still resigning?”
James gives a quick shake of his head. “Taking the job at St Gerard’s was always a second choice for me. I wouldn’t even have considered it if you hadn’t been thinking about retiring.”
Robbie pats James’s arm. “Well, I’m not retiring. So, I can tear up your letter, then?”
“Give it to me and I’ll tear it up myself,” James answers immediately. “As long as Innocent’s all right with me changing my mind.”
Robbie snorts. “Told me to sort it, she did. And I got the feeling that me life wasn’t going to be worth living if I didn’t. Wouldn’t put it past her to line me up for a couple of speeches a week until I got you back.”
“A fate worse than death, clearly, sir.” James smirks. “At least I can spare you that, then.”
“Not till I’ve told her.” James waves his hand towards Robbie, as clear a get on with it gesture as Robbie’s ever seen. “In me own time, sergeant,” he adds. “Finish me coffee first.”
James sits back, an expression of perfect patience on his face, but his fingers are thrumming a staccato beat on his lap. Robbie sighs and reaches inside his jacket for his mobile.
This really is going to be his future, isn’t it? Letting James Hathaway find new and inventive ways of wrapping him around the bloke’s little finger. On the other hand — apart from when they’re at work and it’s operationally necessary for him to be in charge — he can’t say that he really minds it. Give and take, that’s what it is, and it’s not as if he’s not perfectly capable of extracting his own pound of flesh when he needs to.
He bumps his shoulder against James’s and hits the third number on his speed dial, watching a family of ducks swim past as he waits for an answer.
“Chief Superintendent Innocent.”
“Morning, ma’am. Lewis here.”
“Lewis! Have you talked with Hathaway, then?”
“I have, ma’am. With him now, as a matter of fact. Thought you’d want to know as soon as possible that we’ll both be withdrawing our notice.” As he speaks, James’s gaze is intent on him, a hint of anxiety in his expression.
“I’m very glad to hear that, Robbie. Did you manage to find out what on earth was going through Hathaway’s mind? Not to mention your own,” she adds with a familiar sigh.
Robbie gives James a crooked grin, and gets a quizzical look in response. “Must’ve been that last case. Did say it was causin’ a lot of stress.”
“Yes, I realise that. But, Robbie, there are resources—”
“I know, ma’am. Just difficult when you’re in the thick of an investigation. Different now, though. An’ in that light, I’m requesting a long weekend off for both James and meself. This coming weekend, preferably.” James’s eyebrows shoot up, but he keeps silent.
He can almost hear Innocent’s frown. “Robbie, you know there are staffing pressures at the moment. And don’t you have your Italian holiday coming up?”
“In three weeks, yes, ma’am. But I think the need’s immediate. And we did put in a lot of hours...”
“You did.” He hears the click of nails on a keyboard. “All right. Friday to Sunday, yes? You’ll be back, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, first thing Monday morning?”
“We will. An’ we’ll be on our way in shortly.”
“Good. And... good result, Robbie.”
He grins. “Thanks, ma’am.” Ending the call, he just grins at the still-shocked expression on James’s face.
“Did you just decide my time off?”
“I did.” Robbie stands, jerking his head in the direction of the car park. ”You got a problem with that?”
“Well, you’re right that a few days off wouldn’t go amiss.” James jogs a little on the spot before falling into step with Robbie. Right — bloke must be feeling cold now. They’ve been sitting here for close to half an hour, and it’s not all that warm this time of day. “And, yes, I know I’ve just had a day off, but it wasn’t especially restful.”
“Mmm.” No, it won’t have been, now he understands the situation. James would have spent the day brooding and contemplating a future he wasn’t at all certain he wanted, in the sincere and unhappy belief that his governor, the boss it’s now clear matters far more to James than Robbie’d realised, was walking away from him without a second’s thought.
Well, time to show James it’s not all one-way. He lays his hand against James’s back as they walk up to the car park. “So, that weekend off I’ve just got us. How d’you feel about doing a bit of walking?”
“Eh?” James looks mystified, but intrigued at the same time.
“Was thinking of taking a look around the South Downs — you know it was made a national park a few months back? Lots of decent scenery an’ country walks. Stuff that’d interest you, too — museums, literary and cultural heritage an’ all that. And most importantly, decent pubs. What do you think?”
James stops in his tracks and turns to look at Robbie. “You’re inviting me away for a weekend?”
Robbie shrugs. “Got a better offer?”
“I’ll start researching bed and breakfasts over lunch.” To someone who doesn’t know him, James would appear almost indifferent, but Robbie knows better. His sergeant is in better spirits than Robbie’s seen him in weeks.
Good. And if Robbie has his way, that’s how it’ll stay. And, if this weekend goes as well as Robbie hopes, it won’t be the last holiday he and James take together. He’s already visualising touring the Scottish highlands with the man, or maybe a week in France, alternating chateaux and vineyards. He’ll just bet James speaks French, just as he’s also certain James has no idea that Robbie’s French isn’t half bad either.
“Nah, it’ll keep. Bring your laptop over to mine after work and we can take a look. After you’ve cooked dinner, o’course.” He pauses beside his car, enjoying the moment. “You’re always saying I should eat more vegetables. Got a couple of pounds of carrots that need using. Get researching recipes for those, man.”
James smirks. “I remember a recipe for a carrot and chick-pea chilli, sir. I could even make it with tofu if you need the extra protein.”
“You’ll use minced beef an’ be happy with it.” Robbie bumps James’s shoulder. “Bring that resignation letter, too. We can have a ritual burning over a beer.”
James’s smile widens. “Of course, we also need to celebrate your impending grandfatherhood properly. I’ll have to buy you a present. Hmm.” Standing between his car and Robbie’s, goose-pimples forming on his arm, James nevertheless looks the picture of relaxed enjoyment. “I was looking online the other day. There’s a Complete Idiot’s Guide to Grandparenting...”
Robbie swipes at the cheeky sod’s arm. “You’ll be laughin’ on the other side of your face when I take you up to Manchester wi’ me and teach you to change a nappy.”
“I’m a dab hand, actually.” James pats Robbie’s shoulder. “See, something you didn’t know about me.”
Oh, there’s a lot Robbie doesn’t know about his awkward sod. But this weekend away should present opportunities to remedy that.
For now, he gives James a mock-exasperated look. “What I do know is that you’re gonna be late for work if you don’t get a move on.”
James shakes his head, turning away to unlock his car. “It’ll be fine. I’m fortunate enough that my boss seems to like me.”
Robbie snorts. “Don’t let it go to your head. Got an evidence list waiting for you to finish, among other things.”
“Oh?” James turns back to look at him, eyebrows raised. “I assumed you’d have handed tasks like that off to one of the DCs — or that Innocent would’ve assigned you a temporary bagman?”
“You don’t get out of doin’ your job as easily as that, sergeant.” Robbie leans against his open door. “Besides, not many I’d trust to do the job right.” It’s true, and he knows James knows his standards are high. Won’t do any harm at all to let the bloke know how much Robbie values him on the job. As for off the job — well, that’s where their weekend in the South Downs will come in.
James’s smile widens, and for once it’s neither mocking or cheeky; it’s genuine pleasure and delight at what he’s just been told. “I’ll be in as soon as I’ve been home and changed, sir.”
“Yeah, don’t think Innocent’d be too happy to see you in the nick dressed like that. She’d assume you’re even more stressed than I said.”
James nods, and a wondering smile creeps over his long face. “You should do it too, sir. She might even put us both on stress leave. A month off... we could go walking in New Zealand, sir!”
“Nah, the beer tastes like piss. That’s one thing Morse had right about Australia.” But he’s not said no to the idea of a longer holiday together, and he knows James will have taken note of that.
Looks like James has decided that, wherever they go from here, they’ll be going together — and Robbie doesn’t have a problem with that at all.