What Makes A Detective.

Chapter 13

When Toby next opened his eyes, he was lying on his front, in his bed, in his light, airy room, and with Quinne sitting worriedly by his side. When he saw him moving, the elder Smart brother heaved a sigh of relief.

"You took your time" he then commented. Toby frowned blearily at him.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Too long" Quinne replied tiredly. "Mother's been in bed too, and I've had D.I. Carmen and D.S. Barnes running around my feet constantly. The lounge is chock-a-block with well wishers and presents, and I'm the only one fit enough to do anything."

"You sound like Mother. What's wrong with her?" Toby murmured drowsily.

"You" Tarquin replied curtly. "You didn't half give her a scare, Toby."

Toby cringed and buried his face in the pillow.

"Where's Rosie?"

"Downstairs" Quinne replied promptly. "She woke up about an hour or so after we all got back, and was right as rain. She's a cheeky little madam."

Toby cracked a feeble smile.

"That girl's got some sass, I'll say that" Quinne carried on, also smirking. "You should have heard her speak to Mrs. Llewellyn."

"Oh, no" Toby said, propping himself up on his elbows interestedly. "What did she say?"

"Long and short, she told her quite firmly to leave presents in the lounge if she had any, that thank yous and well wishings would be courteously passed on, and if otherwise would she mind getting out from under everyone else's feet" Quinne replied, with a grin.

"Can we keep her?" Toby asked seriously. Quinne laughed properly now, shaking his head sadly.

"Carmen and Barnes are on the hunt for her family."

"But say, if they don't find them?" Toby pestered keenly. Quinne shook his head again.

"Don't think I've already tried that. But there's legal stuff to do with it, apparently, I was chatting to Detective Sargeant Barnes. If we can't find Rosie's parents, she's off to a children's home."

Toby pouted, folding his arms on the pillow and looking away. Quinne sighed.

"Doctor says you'll be on your feet in a day or so. I'm glad. I'm getting a little snowed under, with all these people wanting to see you, or meet Rosie, or check up on Mother..."

"What actually happened?" Toby asked suddenly. Quinne looked annoyed at having been cut off.

"Seriously, though" Toby pressed. "I've got no idea. I've been going off little leads. What's been going on?"

Tarquin looked shifty.

"Come on, Quinne" Toby reasoned. "It's either I ask you or I ask Barnes or Carmen."

Quinne gave in.

"Ask questions, and I'll try to answer them" he conceded, sighing again. Toby smiled, settling comfortably down and pulling the bedsheets up close to his chin.

"What's the relationship between Mrs. Horton and our crazy lady?" he first asked. Quinne shook his head in disbelief.

"What a way to start" he laughed. "She's her elder sister. Her name's Jillian Lewis, and she married some bloke forty years or so ago. They had a child, but it died very young. From then on in, apparently she's had a very unhealthy obsession with children, and stories..."

"To try and distract from her ruined life" Toby chipped in. Quinne considered this and nodded.

"Rather. She was put away when she tried to kidnap a little boy, but it seems our librarian's been on the hunt for her ever since."

"So what?" Toby asked. "Mrs. Horton found her sister, and broke her out of the mental hospital..."

"And locked her up in the old woodcutter's cottage, hoping she was cured" Quinne finished.

"Yeah" Toby agreed. "I sort of don't blame her. Sibling love is a strange thing, and she probably thought she was helping, in the long and short. To be honest, I wouldn't trust those mental places either."

"It was still selfish" Quinne pointed out. "And quite egotistical, thinking she could deal with her sister when the professionals couldn't..."

"Well, they're not exactly professionals" Toby scoffed. "I've read up on that sort of stuff. They don't do anything to help, which explains why Mrs. Horton wanted her sister out of there."

Quinne opened his mouth to speak again, but Toby carried on.

"You're bitter because of Bridge, aren't you?" he asked his elder brother. Quinne looked at his feet.

"You were right" he admitted, sniffing a little and rubbing his eyes vigorously. "She was in the pantry of that house. Stone cold. I didn't see, but Carmen told me."

"Are they holding a funeral?" Toby asked, feeling the heavy weight press down on his heart. He curled up again in the bed and prepared to sleep some more. Talking time was almost over.

"They'll hold one for all of the children, together" Quinne told him sadly. "I'm not sure when."

"Alright" Toby murmured, shutting his eyes and snuggling down under the duvet. He still wasn't quite in total acceptance of what had happened, over the past few days. It had all been rather blurry, and he'd learnt so much, and seen so much, and been through so much, but he had also lost so much as well. Everything was as if he could just blink, and none of it had happened. Surreal, Toby decided, was the word. Surreal. Very surreal. Either that or anticlimactic. Things like this weren't supposed to happen to people like him, they were the stuff of stories, and books. But despite it all, Toby couldn't help but love it. He'd had to live off his wits, of course, but he'd survived, and he was free to live all over again. And there was a part of him that longed to do it all over again.

As he thought this, his burns on his back and his shins twinged, and he mentally corrected himself. He'd do it all over again, yes, but perhaps without the nearly being burned to death part.

Toby then thought of Bridget. She'd been a such a big part of his life, and now she wasn't there at all. It was all going to be different now. Very different.

But, Toby reminded himself. He still had Quinne, and he still had his mother, providing she forgave him for being so utterly reckless.

He would be in for quite the telling off when she was out of bed.