The Guv had been working every day for three weeks. But now Roddy was nicked and the rookies were shaping up. Hawke and Quick Ted were in, combing through the CI file. No reason in the world to stay here, he thought. He drove home to Mrs. The Guv, and their little house--the last one in the neighborhood with a garden and azaleas that bloomed in March.
Mrs. The Guv gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and told him there were beans and some cold pork in the fridge. She was off to help mind the nieces and nephews--should be back by eight, nine tops.
The Guv found a Shandy, and wandered into his "office". Certificates of merit, civic awards, news clippings of a younger man with a smaller nose and a sergeant-major's mustache covered the walls. There were Hornby trains in a glass case, along with his father's medals from the Great War.
The Guv sighed. He knew he'd been working too hard when the room felt like a stranger's.