The past forty-eight hours had been a challenge for Warren and Susan. As a rule, Warren was a private man; yet it had taken all of his willpower not to announce to the world that after years of trying, he was finally going to become a dad. Despite the all-consuming nature of the investigation, Warren found his mind drifting at quiet moments. More than once, he’d had to force a smile off his face. It was all he could do not to pull out his phone and stare at the black and white image.
As for Susan, she’d already had to confide in her lab technician, Janina, the first week of the school year. That way she could avoid some of the more toxic chemicals used in school science practicals. At least it got her out of teaching radiation to a rather challenging year eleven group; demonstrating the differing properties of the school’s radioactive sources was a definite no-no.
Janina had also discreetly placed metal wastepaper bins behind the fire exits on all of Susan’s teaching labs, and even briefly covered her class for her a couple of times as Susan felt the physical effects of her pregnancy.
However, Susan had resisted the temptation to announce her good news to the rest of her colleagues and friends. They had long ago decided that one special person needed to know about the pregnancy before anyone else.
The car scrunched up the drive to the small visitors’ car park at the rear of the home. Saturday night traffic on the M6 hadn’t been as bad as it could have been, and they’d made good time once Susan had picked Warren up immediately after finishing work.
Warren hated leaving in the middle of a case, even for short periods of time, and so he’d sat in the back of the car, juggling his smartphone and printouts, whilst Susan drove.
‘If we do this again, I’ll have to get you a chauffeur’s cap like Parker out of Thunderbirds,’ Warren suggested.
‘I’ll dress like Parker if you dress like Lady Penelope,’ had been Susan’s response.
After an hour or so, Warren had given up trying to read, mild travel sickness making him feel nauseous. He wondered if that was how Susan felt first thing in the morning. He decided it probably wouldn’t be wise to ask.
The Fir Tree Terrace Respite Home was intended as a stopgap. A step on the way back to the home he’d lived in since he’d married his sweetheart seventy years ago. Granddad Jack had made it clear that he intended to live out his final years at home, dying in the same bed his beloved Betty had passed away in just a few years earlier.
Eyeing up the frail ninety-one-year-old, Warren had no idea if that would be possible.
The broken leg that Jack had suffered back in March was healing remarkably well, and he’d avoided any of the potentially fatal complications, such as pneumonia, that long-term bed confinement could result in.
Nevertheless, Jack looked even smaller than the last time Warren had seen him, barely a fortnight previously. As before, he was sitting in the wing-backed chair next to his bed, fully dressed. A copy of the Coventry Telegraph lay open on his lap, although Jack’s eyes were closed, his reading glasses hanging from a thin chain around his neck.
‘Jack, Warren and Susan are here to see you,’ the carer announced loudly.
Jack’s eyes opened immediately, a smile spreading across his face. ‘Just resting my eyes.’
Despite his appearance, his voice was strong, and clear of any confusion. According to the staff, he’d been in the common room playing cards with other residents earlier in the day. Next week, they were hoping to take him for a short walk around the gardens with his new walker. Nevertheless, progress was slow and there were concerns that Jack’s heart wasn’t really in it.
An active man all of his life, he’d eventually got over the death of Nana Betty by lavishing his attention on the small garden at his home. Now even that would be taken from him. Jack was no fool. Although the specialists spoke of him living independently again, they all knew what that meant. Sitting in his house, alone, waiting for his visits from the carers or whoever else was able to stop by. On a nice day, he may be able to sit in his beloved garden, but its upkeep would now be somebody else’s job.
Aside from Jack, Warren’s closest living relative, who he was in touch with, was his cousin Jane, yet she had her own family and had recently moved to Nottingham.
After the death of his father, Nana Betty and Granddad Jack had become Warren’s de facto parents. In his later teenage years, he’d probably spent more time around theirs than he’d spent with his mother and his increasingly absent older brother.
Moving to Middlesbury to further his career hadn’t been an easy decision, and now Warren wondered if it was time to contemplate a move back to West Midlands Police. Susan’s parents still lived in Warwickshire; they’d be delighted if she moved closer to them. With Susan’s impending maternity leave, maybe now was the time to consider a change?
After handing over some mail that they’d picked up from Jack’s house on the way over, Warren looked at Susan. It was time to reveal the real purpose of their visit.
Jack stared at the black and white photograph for almost a minute. When he finally spoke, the tears clogged his voice.
‘Is this …’
‘Yes, Granddad.’
‘Oh, my. I never thought I’d see …’
He stopped, unable to speak any further.
Warren and Susan took one of his hands each, the three of them crying freely now.
‘When?’ His voice was a croak.
‘May,’ said Warren.
Granddad Jack squeezed his hand tightly and Warren felt the surge of resolve from him. They’d just given him a reason to fight.
‘It gets better,’ said Warren. ‘There’s going to be two of them.’
Visiting hours at Fir Tree Terrace finished at nine. Normally Granddad Jack was beginning to flag by that point and it was all he could do to keep his eyes open as he bid them farewell. It was after nine-thirty when a member of the care team chased Susan and Warren out. Granddad Jack was more chatty than Warren had seen him since before the death of Nana Betty.
Neither of them knew if the next people they told would be as excited.
It was after ten p.m. when they finally arrived at arrived at Susan’s parents’ house. Warren squeezed Susan’s hand.
‘They’ll be over the moon, you’ll see.’
‘I know. It’s just Mum was so set against us having IVF … She still thinks it’s a sin.’
‘Then we don’t tell her,’ said Warren firmly.
Susan snorted. ‘And what about when she asks? Do we lie?’
Warren opened his mouth, then closed it again. Susan was right. Lying to Susan’s mother, Bernice, was a non-starter. Susan had a reputation in school for being able to wring the truth out of even the most skilful liars. Warren had no idea if such a thing could be passed down genetically, but there was no doubt Susan had acquired the skill from her mother.
Despite the late hour, the living room lights shone through the thick curtains. Since Susan’s father had finally taken full retirement, the couple were now busier than ever, with Dennis regularly marvelling that he couldn’t figure out how he’d ever had the time to work. The couple’s sole concession to their new lifestyle was a shifting of their sleep patterns; gone were the six a.m. starts, with them now regularly staying awake until midnight or later, and enjoying a more leisurely morning routine. Typically, when staying over, Susan and Warren went to bed well before her parents.
The security light over the front door gave away Susan and Warren’s presence as soon as they pulled up and Dennis was by the car boot lifting the couple’s overnight bags out before Susan had even managed to say hello properly.
‘Come in, you’ll catch your death,’ admonished Bernice, silhouetted against the open doorway.
‘You’re later than usual. Is everything all right?’ she asked. ‘Jack seemed a bit tired when we saw him earlier in the week.’
‘Everything is fine,’ Warren reassured her, as he gave her a hug. ‘Granddad was in good spirits, so we stayed a little later than usual.’
On the way over, Warren and Susan had discussed at length when to break their news. Should they wait until the morning and spend all night worrying about it, and risk offending Bernice and Dennis who would wonder why they hadn’t been told about it immediately?
Or should they tell them immediately and risk a big row with Bernice right before going to bed?
In the end, Susan had decided to play it by ear.
Ushering the two of them into the living room, Bernice picked up the open bottle of red wine on the coffee table. ‘Would you like a glass?’
Susan shook her head. ‘Not for me thanks.’
Bernice turned to Dennis and smiled in triumph. ‘See, I told you so. A mother always knows.’