Foyle walked briskly through the streets of Hastings carrying a large bouquet of flowers. He was strangely excited, had been ever since he got the news.
Reaching his destination, he knocked softly on the front door. Within moments, it was opened by a smiling Adam Wainwright.
Tipping his hat, he said, “Adam. Congratulations!”
“Thank you Christopher. Come in.”
The house was quiet, which was strange since Sam lived there. But as soon as Foyle entered the lounge he understood why. Sam was far too wrapped up in the little bundle in her arms to talk. She looked up as he entered and her face lit up in a broad smile.
“Sir!” she exclaimed happily. He gave her a look. “Sorry. Christopher,” she amended with a smile.
“Congratulations, Sam,” Foyle said softly, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
Adam came in, carrying a vase with Foyle’s bouquet and he sat down next to his wife on the settee.
“Have a seat Christopher,” he offered, and Foyle sat down.
“How are you feeling?” he asked Sam, watching the new mother and her child.
“Oh just tickety-boo! Really, it’s been days, I’m fine.”
Foyle smiled. “I’m very pleased to hear it. Have you thought of a name for him yet?”
Adam laughed. “I think Sam decided on a name the minute she found out she was pregnant. Thank God it actually turned out to be a boy.”
Foyle turned a questioning glance to Sam who was looking down, trying to hide a blush.
“Well, yes,” she said softly, smiling down at the child in her arms. “Christopher, I would like you to meet my son, Christopher Iain Wainwright.” She hesitated. “If that’s all right with you, sir.”
Foyle was speechless. For a few moments he just stared at the radiant young woman who had been a part of his life for so long and whom he loved like a daughter. For a second, scenes from their time together passed through his mind, from the first time he saw her over the years through bombs and crooks and too much talking until he finally settled on the young woman sitting here in her own house with her husband and her child. The child that she was going to name after him. He felt his chest constrict with something akin to tears and a strange warmth spread through his body. He discreetly swallowed a few times, hoping to get rid of the lump in his throat but failing.
“Of course it’s all right. I’m honoured,” he said softly. He felt more than heard Sam’s sigh of relief.
“Thank you. Would you like to hold him?” she offered, smiling hopefully at him.
“I would, yes. Thank you,” he said as the child was handed over to him. It had been years since he’d held an infant but he seemed to still have the touch. Placed comfortably in his strong arms, the little boy opened his eyes blinkingly and glanced up at the older man. Foyle smiled softly.
I’ll have to take extra good care of you then, my little namesake.