Page 54 of A Shop Girl’s Christmas (Pennington’s Department Store #3)

Having finished typing up the last of his reports for the day, Stephen leaned back at his desk at Scotland Yard and stretched his arms above his head, releasing the knots in his shoulders. The one thing he hadn’t missed when he’d been in Bath was paperwork. It seemed to be increasing with every case, actual policing becoming lower and lower in importance.

A month had passed since he’d returned to the Yard, and his instinct that the force was where he belonged hadn’t waned. He loved the job. Loved making a difference.

After receiving a lengthy talking-to from Inspector King, Stephen had admitted he’d felt the deaths of Constable Walker, Hettie Brown and Fay Morris had been the final nails in the coffin of his career. Yet, his mindset had slowly changed over the last few months, and he knew the reason was because he had found Lillian Carter’s killer and brought peace to Joseph Carter.

That, and his newly thawed heart.

Each person he’d met in Bath had managed to slip beneath his carefully tended armour. The sights he’d seen, and the brutality he’d had to make sense of before leaving London, had made him a colder, more distant person, but now he’d changed.

His heart was open… and vulnerable.

Yet, he was tired of protecting it. Tired of watching his colleagues being met by wives, children and lovers at the end of the day. Tired of only drinking with work colleagues and other men who had no one waiting for them at home.

He pushed up from his chair. It was nearly ten o’clock at night and the shifts had changed a couple of hours ago. There was only a skeleton staff in the offices, as well as Inspector King across the way in his private office, his door open.

Stephen took his suit jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged it on. He stared towards King’s office, his mind reeling with an impossible idea.

He’d been in since eight that morning and had enough work to justify another hour at his desk. Yet, tonight, he didn’t want to stay.

Tonight, he wanted to telephone Cornelia. Have her soft voice fill his ear and his heart.

Lifting his overcoat from the stand in the corner, he pulled it on and snatched his hat from the hook beside him.

Despite picking up the phone, only to replace it in its cradle a hundred times over the last five long weeks, Stephen hadn’t contacted Cornelia. He hadn’t penned her a letter or dictated a telegram. Instead, he’d imposed a purposeful distance in an effort to cool his love and need for her.

His actions had failed dismally.

He couldn’t avoid what was in his heart.

He’d finally accepted he was not to blame for Walker’s, Hettie’s and Fay’s deaths. The man who’d beaten them was guilty of taking their lives, but Stephen could certainly be blamed for too hastily dismissing what the women had tried to tell him. He’d allowed another case to steal his attention and thought that he could only focus on one problem at a time. Cornelia had taught him that a cry for help from a stranger might be just as important as a cry for help from a loved one. A plea for sympathy might be as vital to a person’s happiness as finding a killer and bringing a grieving family peace.

Life and humanity were constant. Who knew when anyone might have cause to reach out to someone else? And what if the person they begged to listen turned their back? What if a stranger needed saving? A young son or daughter so unhappy they would leave home and risk life on the streets?

Family. He wanted to be a part of Cornelia’s family. To learn what it truly meant to open his heart and trust in God that his loved ones would come home safely every evening.

Life was not only made up of police files and cases. He’d been living with that belief for far too long.

He took a long breath, approached Inspector King’s office and rapped on the open door.

King had his back to Stephen and was gazing out of his window into the city’s darkness. He abruptly turned in his chair. ‘Gower. What are you still doing here? You were in first thing.’

‘I could say the same to you, sir.’

The inspector drew his hand over his face, exhaustion etched in the lines at the corners of his eyes. ‘Close the door. Let’s have a drink, shall we?’

Stephen slowly closed the door. A drink might go some way towards easing the inspector’s nerves, once Stephen had finished what he had to say. ‘How was your day? I thought I saw you dressing down McDonald earlier.’

‘I was. He’s all right. A bit wet behind the ears, but he’ll learn the way of things soon enough.’ King smiled as he poured a measure of brandy into two short tumblers. ‘After all, you picked things up. Eventually.’

‘I did.’ Stephen took a seat at the desk and accepted the offered glass of brandy. ‘I want to speak to you about something.’

‘Oh?’

Stephen cleared his throat. ‘Life.’

The inspector raised his eyebrows. ‘Life?’

‘Yes, and my lack of one.’

‘I see. And might I ask what’s brought on this soul-searching? Anything to do with your time in Bath?’

Stephen sipped his drink, unnerved by King’s wily instinct. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact. I met someone while I was there. Someone who’s made a bigger impact on my thinking than I appreciated when I left.’

‘Ah, a woman.’ King smiled and shook his head. ‘Yep, they have a way of doing that, I’m afraid. So, what are you telling me?’ His expression sobered. ‘God, man, don’t tell me you’re going to be father in a few months’ time.’

‘No, nothing like that.’ Stephen laughed, the mention of fatherhood not altogether as unwelcome as he would have expected. ‘She’s left Bath and now lives at her family’s estate in Oxfordshire. Or should I say her estate. Hers, her brother’s and sister’s.’

‘Not short of a penny or two then?’

‘No. Not that I could care less if she was as rich as a queen or as poor as a pauper.’

‘I see. So, why are you telling me this?’ King lifted his drink to his lips and stopped. ‘Wait. Please don’t say you want to be transferred to Oxford? For the love of God, Gower. Are you trying to send me to an early grave?’

‘Is it possible? A straight transfer, I mean?’

‘It’s possible, but I’ve only just got you back and now you’re asking me to release you for a second time in as many months.’

‘This will be the last time. I promise you.’

‘And if things don’t work out with this woman as you’d like them to? Then what, you come back to me with your tail between your legs?’

‘It will work. I know it will.’ Stephen swirled the liquid in his glass. And he did know. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Cornelia. The rest of his life with her children. ‘She’s all I want.’

King raised his eyebrows again. ‘All you want? Well, she must be someone pretty special, indeed.’

‘She is.’

The inspector drained his glass. ‘It’s late. Get yourself home, get some sleep and if you still feel the same in the morning, I’ll see what can be done. At least this time you’re not saying you’re giving up the job altogether.’

‘No, sir. The job is what I do. What I want to do, but I love Cornelia. She’s who I want to be with for the rest of my life.’

‘All right, I understand. Get out of here before I start crying.’

Laughing, Stephen stood, picked up his hat and left King’s office, his smile wide and his heart full.