‘Seriously, Pierce? I told you: you’re not chaperoning me.’
‘What’s this, then?’ Paul asked.
‘Jemma’s got a bit of trouble in the city, so we’re making sure that she’s not alone there,’ Sam said.
Evie patted Jemma’s hand. ‘What kind of trouble is that, love?’
‘Just low-level intimidation. Goes with the job sometimes.’ The more often she told herself that, the more it would normalise her situation—she hoped.
‘I could come with you,’ Paul offered gleefully. ‘I scrub up all right, you know.’
‘I’m sure you do—’
‘Unless it’s a Friday night, you barely wash, never mind scrub up,’ Evie said.
Paul winked. ‘That’s your fault, my love. Friday nights were always … special.’
‘Ugh, fingers in my ears!’ Sam protested. ‘No wonder you let Jack and me fight over which Friday-night movie to watch on TV, then said you were too tired to stay up for it.’
‘I don’t need a bodyguard,’ Jemma said, hoping to bring the conversation back to a level of normality.
‘That’s what Whitney Houston said,’ Paul replied.
‘No, it’s what Whitney Houston’s character said,’ Evie corrected. ‘And if you’re trying to say you’re a patch on Kevin Costner …’
‘You mean on Kevin Costner’scharacter,’ Paul returned quickly.
Jemma shook her head, unable to control her totally unprofessional chuckle. ‘I can see we won’t have a problem with the “of sound mind” declaration.’
‘The important bits of the body are still pretty good, too,’ Paul boasted.
‘You mean as good as they ever were,’ Evie scoffed.
‘Seriously, though, Pandora,’ Paul said, turning to Jemma. ‘I can come along on Saturday. I might not look like much, but I can always stick a shotty down my trouser leg.’
‘Shotty?’
‘A shotgun,’ Sam clarified. ‘And no, Pops, you can’t. You know Jemma works closely with the police? You’d be arrested in an instant.’
‘If she works with them, I’d have indignity, right, Jem?’
‘Indemnity,’ she corrected gently.
‘Oh, no, he was right enough the first time.’ Evie chortled.
A kerfuffle of yipping drew their attention to the litter of pups beneath the kitchen window. Dad had apparently given up on the conversation and sat on the floor, the puppies climbing and tumbling over his long legs.
‘We might have to get one of these to be a sea dog on thePelicanet, Sam,’ he said.
Jemma was surprised—they hadn’t had pets when she was growing up.
‘Definitely take one. In fact, take three,’ Evie said. ‘They should have been put outside weeks ago, but Paul’s getting soft in his old age. Just because he feels the cold more now, he reckons they will too.’
‘I’m only trying to persuade you to warm me up, Evie,’ Paul said. ‘But you take your pick, Pierce.’
Setting aside the wills, Jemma knelt among the chocolate-coloured tangle of milky-smelling pups. One waddled toward her on unsteady legs, the blue eyes remindingher—ridiculously—of Hamish. Its tongue lolled comically from one side of its mouth, as though walking straight was taking an incredible amount of concentration.
‘There you are, one for you too, Pandora,’ Paul gloated. ‘Can’t go wrong with a good dog. Protector, pal and a good listener to boot.’
