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The night air was warm and gentle as Florence and Neville returned to their room at the quiet seaside inn in Guadeloupe. Their room was simple but cozy, with white linen curtains billowing slightly in the breeze and the soft hum of the ocean drifting in through the open window.
Neville kicked off his shoes with a sigh of contentment, watching as Florence moved to the vanity and began taking out the pins from her hair. She looked radiant, the glow of her pregnancy subtle but unmistakable, at least to him. He still couldn’t quite believe they were here, on the verge of returning to Saint Marie, starting their next chapter with a baby on the way.
After brushing their teeth and changing into comfortable clothes, Neville in a cotton T-shirt and shorts and Florence in one of his oversized button down shirts that she liked to sleep in with shorts, they slid under the cool sheets. Neville lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching her as she got settled.
“You all right?” he asked softly, brushing her curls back from her face.
She nodded, her smile soft and tired. “Yeah. Just full from dinner. And sleepy.”
They snuggled together, Florence’s head resting on his chest, his arm draped protectively around her. The gentle rhythm of their breathing began to slow into something easy and familiar, but Neville’s mind wasn’t quite ready to settle yet.
“Sweetheart?” he asked after a quiet moment.
“Mmm?”
“How. How do you want to tell people? About the baby, I mean.”
She was silent for a beat too long.
Neville felt her body tense ever so slightly against him. He frowned and sat up a little. “What’s wrong?”
Florence lifted her head from his chest and turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. Her hand drifted over her bump without thinking.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said quietly.
“About telling people?” he asked, surprised.
She nodded, still not meeting his gaze. “I know I said we’d share the news when we got back, but I don’t want to. Not yet.”
Neville's concern began to rise. “Are you scared?” he asked gently.
“No,” she said quickly, turning to face him now. “It’s not that. It’s just that I like it. This. That it’s just you and me who know. That it’s ours.” Her voice softened, almost wistful. “There’s something about keeping it to ourselves for just a bit longer that feels peaceful.”
Neville stared at her, his heart swelling. That she trusted him this much and wanted to keep their growing little world close between them, melted him in a way he hadn’t expected.
“I love this too,” he said honestly. “And I get it. I really do. I love our Saint Marie family, but they are a bit nosey.”
Florence let out a laugh that lit up her face. “Very.”
He grinned. “You know someone, probably Catherine, will let it slip and next thing you know everyone on the island will know.” She laughed in agreement. “Wait, what if we’re seen going into the baby unit at the hospital?”
“I’ve thought about that,” Florence said, shifting closer. “Our next scan isn’t until eighteen weeks. That gives us six more weeks of just us. We can lay low, settle in.”
Neville’s brows furrowed slightly. “But shouldn’t we let the hospital know we’re back? You know, get on the books properly? I mean, they’ll want to know where you are, just in case anything happens.”
She reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his. “I promise, if anything feels off, I’ll call. But everything’s been fine so far. No cramps, no spotting, no dizziness. I feel good. And we’ve travelled before, so I think we’re good. Just trust me. Just a few more weeks of quiet.”
He looked at her, her eyes full of warmth and certainty. He wanted to protect her, to make sure everything went perfectly. But he also saw what this meant to her, the quiet joy of something not yet shared with the world.
He exhaled slowly. “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay, we wait. Just us, for now.”
She smiled and kissed him sweetly. “Thank you.”
Neville pulled her close again, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “You know,” he murmured, “I already talk to them when you’re asleep.”
Florence chuckled, her hand moving to his chest. “I know. I heard you the other morning.”
He grinned, slightly sheepish. “They know you’re the best already.”
She closed her eyes, her heart full. “I hope they turn out like you.”
He kissed her temple. “Let’s aim for a balance. I panic over blood, and you run towards danger. We need some middle ground.”
They lay in a comfortable silence after that, listening to the waves outside, wrapped in their quiet little bubble.
Neville, still curled around Florence, shifted slightly and looked down at her. He had one more thing on his mind. “So, what do you want to do about the commissioner’s offer?” he asked quietly. “You’ve had a bit of time to think now.”
Florence tilted her head thoughtfully. “I think, I want to take it,” she said softly. “I didn’t realise how much I missed it until he called. I’ve loved the break, loved travelling with you, being free and spontaneous, just living in the moment. But being a police officer is part of who I am. And this offer of part time sounds like the perfect balance.”
Neville smiled, relieved. “I thought you might say that.”
“I just couldn’t do full time again, it was too much pressure and too much time spend overworking” she added, resting a hand over her belly. “and I definitely can’t do full time now. But this new offer, this feels right.”
He nodded but then looked a little uncertain. “We’ll have to tell the commissioner about the baby eventually, though.”
Florence gave him a small smile. “We will. But not yet. The job’s not for a few weeks, right? We can say we need time to settle in. No one’s going to question that.”
Neville relaxed, reassured. “True. And it gives us a bit more time to enjoy the quiet.”
They smiled at each other, their fingers intertwining again.
“Back to being officers soon,” Florence said with a sparkle in her eye.
“But this time with better boundaries, less burnout, and a baby on the way,” Neville added.
They both laughed, kissed gently, and nestled closer under the covers.
Tomorrow, they would start the journey back to Saint Marie. But tonight, their world was still just the two of them and the tiny life they were building together.
------
The boat pulled up to the familiar dock just as the afternoon sun began to dip, casting golden light across the sea and bathing Saint Marie in that unmistakable warmth that had never truly left Florence’s heart.
Neville stood beside her, a canvas duffel slung over one shoulder, watching as locals bustled along the waterfront. His hand brushed hers, and without thinking, she laced their fingers together.
“Still smells the same,” he murmured with a soft smile. “A bit like rum, sea salt and mango.”
Florence laughed. “And maybe just a hint of fish.” He chuckled in agreement.
Together, they made their way through the little streets, the colours of Saint Marie vibrant and full of life. It didn’t take long for them to be spotted.
“Florence! Neville!” a familiar voice called from across the market square.
They turned to see Mrs. Johnson, from the bakery waving enthusiastically, flour still smudged across her apron. “You’re back! Look at you two!” she beamed.
And from there, the welcome committee only grew. Word travelled fast on the island. In minutes, they were surrounded by old neighbours, acquaintances, and curious bystanders.
Everyone wanted to say hello. To hug Florence. To shake Neville’s hand, sometimes even slap him on the back, which made him jump every time.
“Didn’t expect this much enthusiasm,” he whispered to Florence as yet another cheerful man clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m not exactly universally charming.”
Florence smirked. “You grew on them.”
He gave her a sideways glance. “Like moss?”
“Like something warm, solid and dependable,” she corrected, squeezing his hand.
Multiple people offered them help with their bags. A few congratulated them on their travels. And more than a few, with knowing smiles, congratulated them on their relationship.
“You two finally came to your senses, eh?” said Mr. Laroque from the post office, winking.
Florence laughed. Neville, however, turned a remarkable shade of crimson.
“I’m not embarrassed of you,” he muttered to her under his breath. “Just of everyone knowing. Feels like they’ve had a town meeting about our love life.”
But she could tell he didn’t really mind. Not that much.
It was all going perfectly, until a voice called out from the edge of the crowd.
“Well now, Florence! If you decide you want someone a bit better, my grandson is newly single,” said Mrs. Delphine, an elderly woman known for her brutally honest opinions and potent homemade punch.
Neville froze. His awkward British panic flickered to the surface like a reflex. “Oh, um, well, I’m sure he’s. That’s very flattering, really, but Flo”
Florence stepped forward before he could finish, her voice firm but calm.
“With all due respect, Mrs. Delphine, I have exactly who I want. Neville is kind, loyal, thoughtful and the love of my life.”
A hush fell around the onlookers.
Neville’s eyes widened in alarm, but she gave his side a gentle squeeze. The crowd were stunned by the boldness of her defence.
Mrs. Delphine blinked, clearly taken aback, then gave a gruff nod. “Well. Good for you then.”
With that, the group broke into soft chuckles and the conversation drifted elsewhere.
Neville, still pink around the ears, leaned in. “You’re not worried about what people think?”
Florence smiled, proud and resolute. “No. Because I will always stand up for my little family. You and me, and this baby, that’s what matters.” She said just for him to hear.
He looked at her then like he always did when she surprised him.
And as they finally reached her old house, their new home, Neville unlocked the gate with shaking hands and a full heart, knowing that they were exactly where they were meant to be.
Home.
------
The house was full of boxes, stacked neatly along the walls and already gathering flecks of dust in the Saint Marie sun. Florence stood at the threshold of the living room, barefoot on the cool tile floor, hands resting on her lower back as she surveyed the scene.
Her aunt had done them a favour, a huge one, really. All their belongings, which had been carefully stored while they were off exploring the islands, had been delivered earlier that week in anticipation of their return. The gesture saved them a trip and half day of hauling, but now they were faced with the task of actually unpacking it all.
“I forgot how much stuff we owned,” Neville said from behind a teetering box marked Kitchen, fragile. He peeked inside and frowned. “Why do we have three cafetières?”
“One’s mine,” Florence said distractedly as she opened another box. “One’s a backup, and one was a gift, I think?”
Neville raised a brow. “You realise we don’t even drink that much coffee?”
She laughed softly, then winced as she bent down. The bump, while still small, was now making itself known in moments like this. In the way the waistband of her underwear pressed or how her balance shifted slightly. She straightened up, smoothing her flowy sundress over her midsection, and caught Neville watching her with quiet concern.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly.
“I didn’t say anything,” he replied, but his eyes said plenty. He watched her for a while but soon decided she was indeed fine.
They worked in silence for a little while, stacking books on shelves, sorting through kitchenware, folding linens into drawers. It felt good, domestic and grounding but also a little overwhelming. After months of moving from island to island, living out of bags, settling back in was its own kind of adjustment.
Eventually, Neville dropped onto the couch with a sigh and looked up at her. “We could spend the whole day doing this or,” he added carefully, “we could pop out, get some air. Maybe check in with the Commissioner?”
Florence tilted her head. “You think we should?”
“Well, he’s bound to know we’re back by now. This is Saint Marie, word spreads faster than the breeze.”
She grinned. “You’ve definitely been here long enough to sound like a local.”
Neville gave her a look that said, “please don’t encourage that”, and she laughed.
“But you’re right,” she continued. “We should stop by to see the commissioner. And then maybe lunch at Catherine’s?”
His face lit up. “Now that sounds like a plan. I could do with a proper lunch. Preferably something not served in a takeaway box.”
“I agree. Plus, I’ve really missed catherines goat curry.”
They grabbed their bags and locked the door behind them, leaving the boxes, and the slightly chaotic return to normality behind for a little while.
-----
The town square looked exactly as they remembered it, the same sun washed buildings, the buzz of conversation filtering from open office windows and the small park in the centre, and the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance. It was comfortingly familiar, like slipping on a well worn pair of shoes.
Neville stepped aside to let Florence go ahead of him as they made their way through the entrance of the government house. The moment she stepped inside, a wave of nostalgia washed over her, and Neville saw it in the way her shoulders lifted slightly, like coming home.
They barely had time to knock on the Commissioner’s office door before it swung open. Commissioner Selwyn Patterson stood there, a proud and stoic smile on his face.
“Florence Cassell,” he said warmly, and then, as if it were a bonus prize, added, “And Neville Parker. Back on Saint Marie at last.”
“It’s good to be back, sir,” Florence replied with a grin.
Neville nodded. “Hello, Commissioner. You’re looking well.”
“Of course I am,” Patterson said dryly, then turned his eyes back to Florence. “And so are you.” He gestured for them to come in, closing the door behind them.
The office hadn’t changed much, but Florence noticed a few more papers than usual stacked on his desk, and a new photograph of what looked like the entire team from the New Year’s celebration last year.
“Have a seat,” he said, motioning to the chairs opposite him. “Now, I presume you’re not just visiting to say hello?”
Florence exchanged a glance with Neville and smiled. “No sir, we wanted to drop by to let you know that we want to accept your offer, sir. The part time posts. We’ve talked it through, and we’re ready.”
The Commissioner’s lips twitched in what might have been his version of a smile. “I thought as much.”
As they explained how they planned to ease back into the job, sharing the duties and giving the current team some well earned breathing room, Selwyn listened with folded arms, studying them more closely than he let on.
He noticed that Neville was different. He still fidgeted slightly and still had that constant hum of alertness but the nervous energy that once clouded him was no longer front and centre. There was a calmness about him now, a quiet confidence.
And Florence she looked radiant, not just in appearance but in spirit. There was a settledness in her that Selwyn hadn’t seen before. Peace.
He’d always admired her strength, her dedication, but now there was something softer too.
“You’ve both changed,” he said finally.
Neville blinked. “Changed?”
“In a good way,” the Commissioner clarified. “You’re still yourself DI Parker. But I’d say Saint Marie suits you now, rather than frightens you.”
Neville chuckled. “I still remember my first week here, wasn’t the greatest of times or impressions.”
“I remember,” Patterson said with a smirk.
Neville looked sheepish but not embarrassed. “Well, it only took two years and a bit of island hopping to knock the edge off.”
The Commissioner leaned back in his chair, hands folded. “I’m glad you worked it out. The two of you. I always thought there was something between you.”
Florence smiled, warmth blooming in her chest.
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
“I’ll draw up the paperwork,” he said briskly, changing the topic. “You’ll both start officially in a few weeks. Enjoy the time to settle back in until then.”
They stood and shook his hand, and as they turned to leave, Selwyn added, “And Florence?”
She paused in the doorway.
“It’s good to have you back.”
-----
The mid afternoon sun bathed the streets of Honoré in golden warmth as Florence and Neville made their way down the familiar path toward Catherine’s Bar. The ocean glistened in the distance, a shimmering blue that stretched to the horizon, and the scent of grilled fish and spiced fruit drifted from nearby market stalls. It was a perfect Saint Marie afternoon.
Florence dress fluttered gently in the breeze but luckily it still did its job of disguising the small bump now beginning to show. Neville, walking beside her with hands in his pockets, looked relaxed, more than he had in weeks. The commissioner’s blessing seemed to have settled something in him.
“He looks good,” Florence said after a few moments of silence.
Neville glanced sideways. “The Commissioner?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Exactly the same but also a little softer somehow. I don’t know, maybe it’s just being away that made me notice.”
Neville smirked. “I still half expect him to pop up behind me whenever I do something mildly unorthodox.”
“That does sound like him,” she chuckled.
“I’m glad he didn’t realise you’re pregnant, though,” Neville added, his voice lowering slightly.
Florence gave him a knowing look. “Darling, he probably did realise.”
He blinked. “Really? You think so?”
She nodded. “You know what he’s like, observant to a fault. I’d be surprised if he didn’t pick up on something. But he’s also respectful and thoughtful. If he suspects anything, he’s waiting for us to tell him. On our terms.”
Neville looked ahead, processing that. “That’s unnervingly considerate. I feel like he’s evolved into some kind of quiet island oracle.”
Florence burst out laughing. “Well, he always did have his own way of watching everything without saying a word.”
“I just hope no one else figures it out before we’re ready,” Neville said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know what it’s like here, everyone knows everything.”
Florence smiled as she reached for his hand. “Which is why we are keeping things quiet a little longer. We’ve got time.”
They reached the road of Catherine’s Bar just as a burst of laughter rang out. The gentle hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, and the sea breeze made it feel like they’d never left. A few patrons sat beneath the shade of the umbrellas, sipping drinks and catching up on local gossip.
Florence looked around, soaking it all in. Neville paused, giving her a moment. Then they carried on, ready to step back into another place that had always felt like home.
-----
The moment Florence and Neville stepped onto the sun bleached deck of Catherine’s Bar, a familiar voice rang out from behind the counter.
“Florence! Neville!” Catherine dropped the glass she’d been drying into a cloth and hurried around the bar, her smile stretching ear to ear.
Florence was swept into a warm embrace first. “You’re glowing, chérie,” Catherine said, stepping back to take in her old friend. “Island life agrees with you.”
Florence chuckled. “You always say that.”
“Well, this time I mean it more than ever,” Catherine grinned, then turned to Neville and pulled him into a surprise hug. “And you! Look at you. Relaxed for once!”
Neville blushed, hands half raised, awkward in the embrace but touched nonetheless. “Well, I suppose a year off duty and a few boat rides will do that to a man.”
Catherine winked. “Florence must be a very good influence.”
They all laughed, as Catherine gestured to a shaded table. “Come, sit. Drinks are on the house, your usuals?”
Neville hesitated just a beat too long before Florence spoke. “Actually, I’ll just have an iced tea today.”
Catherine paused, clearly surprised. “Iced tea? No beer? No little fruity cocktail?”
Florence smiled politely. “Not today.”
Neville, ever the quick thinker under pressure, leaned forward and said, “We both stopped drinking while we were travelling, actually. I had to start taking a new antihistamine daily, new allergy stuff, and alcohol doesn’t mix too well. Florence was just being supportive and, well, she got used to it too.”
Catherine’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Hmm.”
There was a long pause, and Neville added, too quickly, “Besides, it’s hot out, and iced tea’s refreshing!”
Florence kept her expression even, but her foot nudged Neville’s under the table. Catherine looked between them for a moment longer, then gave a slow, knowing smile, the kind that didn’t quite believe them but was too polite to call it out.
“If you say so,” she said lightly. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
As she walked back to the bar, Florence leaned in and whispered, “That was close.”
Neville rubbed the back of his neck. “I panicked. Was it convincing?”
“She’s suspicious.”
“Oh, absolutely,” he muttered, then gave her a side glance. “But maybe she’ll chalk it up to the island heat.”
Florence stifled a laugh as Catherine returned with two tall glasses of iced tea, each clinking with ice cubes and fresh lemon slices.
“To Saint Marie,” Catherine toasted.
“To being home,” Florence echoed, raising her glass.
Before long, the three of them settled at a shaded table with chilled drinks and steaming plates of grilled snapper, grilled chicken for Neville, with rice, and plantains. They chatted about everything and nothing, their travels through the islands, quiet beaches in St. Vincent, the tiny cottage they’d rented in Dominica, and the time Neville got wildly sunburned because he forgot to reapply sunscreen after snorkelling.
“You?” Catherine raised a brow. “Forgot suncream?”
“I was distracted because I had a jellyfish related incident,” Neville muttered.
Florence couldn’t hold in her laughter. “It swam past him. Didn’t even touch him.”
Catherine roared with laughter. “Oh, Neville. You haven’t changed too much after all.”
Just as their plates were being cleared, the sound of footsteps and familiar voices drifted up from the beach path. A moment later, Naomi and Darlene appeared at the entrance, followed closely by two unfamiliar faces, a tall, lean man with an easy smile and an older man with a commanding presence and kind eyes.
“Florence!” Darlene squealed as she rushed forward. “Oh my God, you’re back!”
Florence stood and hugged her tightly, laughing. “We are. It’s so good to see you.”
Naomi followed, just as enthusiastic. “This is the best surprise! You both look amazing.”
Florence beamed, and Neville received warm hugs from both women, albeit with a bit more British stiffness.
Naomi gestured to the two men behind her. “This is Mervin, our new DI, and Seb, our new tech officer. Guys, meet Florence Cassell and Neville Parker.”
Mervin shook Florence’s hand firmly, smiling. “Pleasure to meet you. The Commissioner told me about you two. Big shoes to fill.”
Neville glanced down at his feet. In his typical awkward fashion, he joked “Well, I suppose mine are literally quite big.” Which made them all laugh.
Seb gave a quick nod and a curious smile. “It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard all about your old cases. Some incredible work.”
Florence and Neville exchanged a look and smiled modestly. “We’re just happy to be back,” Florence said.
Everyone pulled up chairs, drinks were passed around, and the bar filled with laughter and chatter. The new and old members of the team blended with ease, stories of cases shared, nicknames traded, and even a few inside jokes quickly caught on.
Florence rested her hand lightly on her stomach beneath the table, a quiet reminder to herself of the secret she and Neville were still keeping close. But surrounded by the warmth of friends and the rhythm of the waves in the background, she knew they were exactly where they were meant to be.
------
Two weeks had passed since the joyful reunion at Catherine’s Bar, and Florence and Neville had settled back into the rhythm of life on Saint Marie with surprising ease. The days were a mix of golden sun, cooling sea breezes, and lazy afternoons exploring familiar streets or enjoying long breakfasts on the veranda of Florence’s little house.
But now, with their official return to work just a week and a half away, it was time to have a conversation they had both been putting off, telling the Commissioner about the pregnancy.
Neville paced the front room nervously, glancing at his watch as Florence calmly fixed her earrings in the hallway mirror.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t have written it in an email first?” Neville asked, his brow creased with worry. “I mean, just so he has time to absorb it. We just told him we are starting back at work and now we are telling him that we’re expecting a baby.”
Florence stepped into the room and smoothed down her flowy blue dress, the one that still cleverly concealed her growing bump. “Neville, Selwyn isn’t going to be angry or shocked. He’s not that kind of man. If anything, he’ll be pleased. And plus, he probably already knows.”
Neville raised an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because he sees everything,” she replied, grabbing the keys. “And because I’ve caught him giving me that knowing look.”
A short walk later, they arrived at the government house, stepping towards the building with a strange mix of nostalgia and anticipation. The sounds of the island buzzed in the background, the murmur of waves, the occasional bird cry, and the rustle of palm trees in the breeze.
The Commissioner was standing on the balcony overlooking the courtyard, reading a file in one hand and sipping from a porcelain teacup in the other. He looked down as they approached, his face lighting with a reserved but unmistakable smile.
“Florence. Neville. Right on time.”
“Always,” Florence said. They made their way inside and met him outside his office, giving him a warm hug. Neville gave an awkward but respectful nod. “Good to see you again, Commissioner.”
“Likewise. Come, sit.” He led them inside his office, motioning toward the two chairs opposite his desk.
Neville shifted in his seat as Florence sat calmly beside him. Selwyn sat back, hands folded over his midsection, waiting patiently.
Florence took a breath. “Before we officially return to work next week, we wanted to share something with you.”
Neville gave her a quick, nervous glance, then added, “Yes, and we wanted to be transparent about it as it might change things.”
Selwyn regarded them both for a long moment, then said gently “You’re expecting.”
Neville blinked. “I. How did you know?”
Florence grinned knowingly.
The Commissioner allowed himself the faintest of smiles. “Florence, you’ve had a glow about you since you stepped back on the island. And I’ve seen you holding your stomach more than once. It doesn’t take a trained detective to put the pieces together.”
Neville let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.
“I didn’t want to assume,” Selwyn continued. “But I suspected. Congratulations to both of you.”
“Thank you,” Florence said, her voice warm.
“We’re just hitting fifteen weeks now,” Neville added, voice steadier. “And the baby’s doing well. We’re excited. Nervous, of course. But mostly excited.”
The Commissioner nodded, thoughtful. “It’s a beautiful thing. And I’m pleased for you both. You’ll make a fine family.”
Florence’s smile deepened. “We’d still like to return to work next week, on the part time schedule you mentioned.”
Selwyn gave a nod. “Absolutely. That offer stands. I think the team will benefit from your presence and experience. Just know, Florence, if at any point you need to adjust your schedule, take time, or step back temporarily, all you have to do is ask.”
She inclined her head gratefully. “Thank you, Selwyn.”
Neville looked surprised but touched by the Commissioner’s sensitivity. “That’s very kind of you, sir.”
Selwyn gave a small, approving nod. “Now, I’m not known for being sentimental but it will be good to have both of you back on the team. Just try not to outshine the others too quickly.”
Florence laughed lightly. “We’ll do our best.”
As they stood to leave, Selwyn looked at them both a little longer than usual and said, “I knew you two would work out. And I’m glad you did.”
They exchanged a look, one that held years of history, heartbreak, and healing. Then, hand in hand, they left the station, walking back into the sunlit courtyard and into their next adventure a little more at peace than they had been just an hour earlier.
------
Florence had spent the day catching up with her auntie and cousin over iced drinks and laughter, the sort of breezy, sun drenched time that only Saint Marie could offer. She felt lighter with every step as she made her way home, her sandals crunching softly on the stone path. The island breeze danced with the edges of her dress, and she hummed to herself as she reached the front door, unlocking it with a familiar click.
Unfortunately, the serenity of the afternoon vanished the moment she stepped inside.
She blinked.
Sheets hung from furniture like ghostly silhouettes. The floor was completely covered with drop cloths, and in the middle of it all sat laundry baskets, cleaning supplies, their ironing board and even their washing machine. None of which belonged in the front room.
A low whirring noise, followed by a bang, echoed from the back of the house. The unmistakable sound of power tools.
“What on earth?” she muttered, stepping gingerly over a laundry hamper. The scent of dust and sawdust met her halfway.
“Neville?” she called out, her voice cautious but edged with growing alarm.
A moment later, his head popped round the corner from the hallway, wearing a dust mask around his neck and smudges of white plaster and grime streaking his cheeks and forehead. His hair stuck up in all directions, and he looked delighted.
“Florence! You’re back!” he beamed.
“What’s happening?” she asked slowly, her gaze drifting over the chaos. “Why is our front room a war zone? And what is that noise?”
Neville gestured excitedly. “Come and see! You’re going to love it!”
She followed him, carefully, toward the back of the house, and as she stepped into what used to be the laundry room, she stopped short.
The entire wall that made up their storage cupboard was gone.
Gone. As in, not there. In its place was a yawning open space where boards, wiring and insulation had been removed. Dust hung in the air like fog in the sunlight, and the unmistakable smell of cement and plaster filled her nose. Tools and extension cords were scattered across the floor, and there, kneeling near the foundation, was Darrell, the local electrician and handyman, giving her a sheepish nod hello.
Florence stared. Then stared harder.
“Okay,” she said, hands on hips. “What the hell is going on?”
Neville, unfazed by her reaction, bounced on the balls of his feet like an over excited schoolboy. “Right, so! I was reading this parenting blog this morning at breakfast”
Florence raised her brows. “This already sounds like a warning sign.”
“and they all kept saying how they wished they’d started on the baby room earlier. You know, regrets about not being ready, having to rush everything in the last month. And I thought, well, we don’t have a dedicated room, and it’s going to get tight in the house once we have the crib and changing table and other stuff.”
She folded her arms, still processing.
“So,” he continued, brushing dust from his shirt, “I thought, hey! I’ll make us a baby room. I mean, it’s not like we use the laundry room for anything but laundry, and we could shift that out into the kitchen like we do in the uk with a bit of creative rearranging. And we already had that small back porch we never used which can be incorporated into it and, so I called Darrell, and well, voilà!” He gestured proudly to the half demolished wall.
Florence gaped at him. “You demolished the laundry room.”
“Converted,” Neville corrected. “Demolished sounds very aggressive.”
“And you did this today?”
“I rang Darrell after you left. And as luck would have it he had a cancellation,” he explained cheerfully, waving to the handyman, who gave a brief thumbs up before returning to some kind of wiring work. “I may have panic cleaned half the house while I waited.”
She blinked at him. “I’m a bit surprised, I mean you aren’t exactly the DIY type, Neville.”
“Well, I held the torch while Darrell did all the cutting and wiring,” he said, proudly brushing dust off his chest. “It counts.”
Florence stared at the open wall again. There was something deeply chaotic about the scene. It looked like an accident. It felt like an accident. But there was something undeniably sweet about the gleam in Neville’s eyes, the way he looked so pleased with himself, like he’d just built her a castle rather than opened up a hole in their house.
And, truthfully, she couldn’t be mad. Not when he was this earnest.
“You do realise this is not the way most people prep for a baby?”
He grinned. “I thought I’d get ahead of the curve.”
Florence sighed with a half laugh, walking carefully over to him. “Alright, ambitious man. So what’s your grand vision for this laundry room turned nursery?”
He perked up, grabbing a notepad from a nearby surface. “Okay, so! First, natural light. We open the back wall a little and install a door and window where the porch is. I figured you might like to sit out on the pouch with little hummingbird at night. Then inside we will do soft wood flooring, maybe something sustainable, and I thought we could do an animal theme, nothing over the top, just calm colours and maybe a small mural. Then I also thought we might add a reading nook. You know, for when they’re older.”
She arched a brow. “You’ve put some real thought into this.”
He nodded enthusiastically. “I just want it to be perfect.”
Florence looked around at the mess again, then at him, covered in dust, hair wild and grinning like he’d just discovered gold.
And in that moment, even with the chaos, she felt deeply, inexplicably lucky.
She leaned in, brushing her fingers along his cheek. “It already is.”
-----
The days that followed Neville’s impromptu demolition passed in a whirlwind of activity, dusty floors, humming power tools, and the kind of chaos that only comes from tearing down a part of your home to make room for something new. But beneath the noise and mess, there was a quiet joy that settled into the bones of the house, a kind of breathless anticipation that made the dust and disorder feel like part of something sacred.
True to his word, Darrell arrived every morning just after nine. He always carried two takeaway coffees, one for himself and one for Neville, who had quickly become his willing apprentice despite knowing next to nothing about construction. They made an odd pair, Darrell, large and capable with hands that knew how to shape a space into something functional and beautiful, and Neville, who was slightly awkward with tools but determined to learn and ready to get his hands dirty.
Florence, at first, kept her distance. She’d told herself it was better to let them handle it, too much noise, too many moving parts. But as the outline of the room began to take shape, as fresh wood slotted into place and sunlight streamed through what used to be a cracked laundry window, she found herself drawn in.
One morning, after Darrell and Neville started work, she wandered down to the local hardware and décor shop. It was a small place, a bit dusty and dim, but she found herself pausing in front of the paint display. Dozens of sample cards were pinned up haphazardly on a corkboard, faded slightly by the sun. Her fingers brushed over sky blues, muted yellows, and soft greys until she found it, a shade of pale, sea glass green that made her heart skip.
It reminded her of Saint Marie’s calm mornings. Of dew on the porch rail. Of the ocean just after sunrise.
She chose it without second guessing and arranged to have the paint delivered that afternoon. Walking home with the sample card clutched in her fingers, she felt lighter, like she had finally, truly said yes to the life growing inside her.
Back home, Neville greeted her at the porch, beaming, smudged in dust and plaster. “You found a colour?” he asked, voice warm with curiosity.
She nodded, showing him the card. “Sea glass green.”
He looked at it for a moment and then, without hesitation, said, “If you love it, I love it.”
That simple response made something flutter in her chest. He wasn’t just building a room, he was building a world with her.
By day three, the room’s frame was complete. The wall had come down, the old fittings gone, and a door and window had been added to bring in more light and add space. Florence had been hesitant about losing the laundry space, but as she stood in the new room, she saw what Neville had envisioned. It wasn’t just a nursery, it was a haven.
They had even added a small reading nook in the corner, framed by low wooden shelving and a bench seat Neville had painted himself, badly, at first, but lovingly. It would be perfect for story time, for quiet moments of bonding, for rainy afternoons with books and lullabies.
That evening, the three of them, Darrell, Florence, and Neville, stood in the nearly finished room, sweat on their brows, hands on their hips.
Darrell nodded approvingly. “You two make a good team,” he said.
Florence smiled. “We do.”
Darrell left not long after with a promise to return the next day for final touch ups. As the sky turned gold with the setting sun, Florence wandered barefoot into the nursery, the sea glass green paint cans resting beside the wall. The new, open, porch doors let in a soft breeze, and outside, the newly sectioned space was covered in sheer mosquito netting, creating a little space that was safe for her and the little hummingbird to sit on.
Neville came to stand behind her, his hand resting on her lower back. “Can you see it?” he asked quietly.
She nodded. “I can see us sitting out there, rocking them to sleep, reading them stories here in the corner.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “It feels real now.”
He slipped his arms around her, hands gently cradling her bump. “We’re going to fill this room with so much love.”
Florence turned, pressing her forehead to his. “I know.”
They stood there in silence for a while, the room around them humming with possibility. Then Florence smirked and pulled back slightly, eyeing the washing machine now awkwardly squeezed into the kitchen.
“Still not sure about the washer being in the kitchen, though.”
Neville laughed, arms still around her. “It’s perfectly normal. In England, most houses are like that. It’s practical.”
“I’m sure,” she teased.
She leaned up and kissed him, slow and grateful, then let herself look around one more time.
The room wasn’t just ready, it was waiting.
And so were they.
------
The sun was already high in the sky by the time Darrell arrived the next morning, toolbox in hand and a familiar grin on his face. The air buzzed with island heat and the scent of sawdust still lingered faintly in the newly converted nursery. Florence greeted him at the door with a glass of cold lemonade and a grateful smile. “Final touches today?” she asked.
Darrell nodded, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “Shouldn’t take more than a couple hours. Then it’s all yours.”
Inside, Neville was already pottering around with a small paintbrush, touching up the trim by the reading nook even though the lines were already perfectly neat. Darrell chuckled as he passed him. “You keep that up, Neville, I’ll be out of a job.”
Neville flushed a little, but smiled proudly. “Just making sure.”
Florence leaned against the doorframe and watched the two of them for a moment. There was something deeply comforting about the scene, the soft rhythm of creation, the evidence of care in every corner of the room. She still couldn’t quite believe how quickly it had all come together.
By early afternoon, Darrell had packed up his tools, swept the floor, and stepped back to admire his work one final time.
“It’s a good room,” he said with a satisfied nod. “Peaceful. Feels like a space for something special.”
Florence’s eyes flicked to Neville, and her heart warmed. “It is.”
Darrell gave them both a wink. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Congrats, on whatever or whoever this is for.” He didn’t linger for clarification, and true to his nature, he didn’t ask. Darrell wasn’t one to gossip, but Florence knew the same couldn’t be said for the neighbours. On an island like Saint Marie, it didn’t take long for speculation to spread.
Once Darrell’s truck had disappeared down the road, Florence and Neville sat on the couch, a light breeze filtering through the open windows.
“So,” Neville said, resting his hand gently on her knee, “what’s next? Paint or Furniture?
Florence smiled, then hesitated. “Actually, I was thinking, maybe it’s time.”
Neville looked at her curiously. “Time for what?”
“To tell the team,” she said softly. “About the baby.”
He blinked. “Really? Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Yes. The neighbours already have questions about the renovation, and Darrell might not gossip, but people talk. I want our friends to hear it from us, not through island whispers. Besides” she reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze, “we’re starting back at work next week. I want them to know before then.”
Neville exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right. They deserve to know. And I suppose it’ll feel good to stop dancing around it.”
They sat together in thoughtful silence for a moment, letting the weight of the decision settle. It wasn’t fear holding them back now, it was simply the magic of the secret, the intimacy of something just theirs. But they both knew it couldn’t last forever.
Florence picked up her phone and opened the group chat with the team. “How about tomorrow?” she asked. “We could ask them to meet us at Catherine’s.”
“Perfect,” Neville agreed. “Catherine’s bar is where all the good stories begin.”
Florence smiled and began typing out the message, her heart fluttering with anticipation.
Tomorrow, their secret would become something shared. And that, somehow, made it feel even more real.
-------
The first golden hints of morning filtered in through the shutters, painting soft patterns on the sheets and gently stirring Neville from sleep. He shifted slightly, blinking against the light, and instinctively reached for Florence beside him. She was already awake, propped on one elbow, eyes sleepy but smiling.
"Morning," she murmured.
"Morning," he replied, voice still thick with sleep.
As had become his habit, Neville slid down the bed slightly, resting his head on Florence's stomach. He pressed a gentle kiss to the same spot he had every morning for the past few weeks. But today, something felt different. He paused, lifting the sheet slightly and blinking in surprise.
It wasn’t just a soft swell anymore. The curve was firmer, more defined, noticeable in a way that had snuck up overnight. He reached out tentatively, fingertips brushing the gentle rise just beneath her navel.
“Florence” he whispered in awe. “You’ve popped.”
She raised an eyebrow, sleep vanishing in an instant. “What?”
He looked up at her with wide, delighted eyes. “It’s not just a little soft bloating baby bump anymore. Look.” He gently pulled the sheet back further so she could see, then scooted aside as Florence sat up straighter and looked down.
Her breath caught. “Oh.”
There it was. Unmistakably, a real baby bump. The smooth, round curve of her belly was like a quiet announcement. Her hands instinctively went to cradle it, palms warm against her skin.
She laughed softly, brushing her fingers over the curve. “Well, I guess the baby knows we’re telling people today. Decided to help us out.”
Neville chuckled, the sound caught somewhere between wonder and disbelief. “It’s beautiful.” He looked up at her, “You’re beautiful.” She smiled and blushed, still not use to the way he looked at her with such love in his eyes.
Florence leaned back against the headboard, eyes still fixed on her growing belly, and let him scoot closer again. He was transfixed, his hands hovering as if afraid to disturb something sacred.
“Can I?” he asked.
She nodded, and he gently placed both hands over the bump, warm and steady. “Good morning, little hummingbird,” he said quietly. “You’ve been busy growing, haven’t you?”
Florence watched, heart full, as Neville spoke softly to the bump, telling their child how loved they already were. He told them how proud he was of Florence, how excited he was to meet them, how he hoped they liked books because he’d already started picking some out. He talked for a few minutes before stopping.
“You can keep going, you know,” Florence said, smiling. “They’re listening.”
He looked up, his cheeks flushing a little. “I just don’t want to talk their ear off.”
Florence grinned and tugged him back up beside her. “They’ll have to get used to that.”
Neville gave her a playful nudge, but his hand never left her belly. He was mesmerised by it, tracing the curve absentmindedly as they lay there, soaking in the moment.
Everything felt more real now. The bump. The baby. The life ahead.
Eventually, Florence glanced at the clock. “We should probably get ready. We’ve got something big to share today.”
Neville leaned down to press one last kiss to her belly. “See you later, little one. You’re about to meet the best and nosiest workmates on the island.”
Florence laughed, heart full to bursting.
Today was the day.
-----
Florence and Neville shared breakfast out on the porch, their shared secret now gently protruding beneath the light cotton of Florence’s sundress.
They’d agreed that today they would tell Florence’s family before they tell the team and so after clearing away the plates, they made their way to a small café where Florence’s aunt and cousin were already waiting at a shaded table. The meal passed with laughter, the usual catching up and shared stories. And then, with a squeeze of Neville’s hand and a knowing smile, Florence told them.
Her aunt’s eyes went wide, then immediately filled with tears of joy. Her cousin squealed loud enough to turn heads. There were hugs, kisses, and the kind of overwhelming excitement that only family could deliver. It was short, sweet, and full of love.
Before they left, Florence gently asked them to keep the news quiet, just for one day. They wanted the team to hear it from them directly, not from gossip. Her aunt agreed instantly, though her cousin looked like she might burst from holding it in.
With that first reveal behind them, Neville and Florence took a slow walk through the town square, stopping into the small baby boutique tucked between the bakery and the bookstore. They didn’t buy much, just a little onesie with a palm tree pattern and a stuffed turtle that Neville became inexplicably attached to.
After dropping their little purchases back home, they headed to Catherine’s Bar, their nerves starting to settle in.
The late afternoon sun lit the deck beautifully, the ocean breeze soft and warm. Catherine had reserved a table out front. She beamed when she saw them.
Neville looked sideways at Florence, eyes trailing down to the faint curve now visible beneath her floaty dress. “Sure you’re ready?” he asked softly, squeezing her hand.
Florence smiled, calm and certain. “More than ready.”
They walked over to where Catherine was already waiting, two chilled drinks in hand. She welcomed them with her signature warmth, kissing each of their cheeks before handing them some iced tea.
“It’s good to see you both again,” she grinned. “And you’re glowing, Florence. Positively glowing.”
Florence chuckled and gave her a knowing look, but before she could say more, the rest of the team began to arrive, Naomi and Darlene first, chatting animatedly, then Mervin and Seb just behind, both with wide smiles.
The Commissioner was already seated with a drink in hand and gave them a subtle nod and a small smile. After they had all taken a seat and had drinks in hand, Florence cleared her throat, glancing briefly at Neville beside her. His hand brushed hers for reassurance.
“We asked you all here because, well, we’ve got a bit of news,” she said.
Naomi leaned forward with a grin. Darlene’s eyes were already sparkling.
Florence placed a hand gently over her small bump. “We’re expecting a baby.”
The table erupted in a wave of excited gasps and exclamations.
Naomi jumped to her feet and pulled Florence into a tight hug, her voice high with excitement. “I knew something was different! This is amazing!”
Darlene clapped her hands together, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh my gosh! This is the best news! You two are going to be the most adorable parents.”
Even Seb looked properly pleased. “Congrats, both of you. That’s really wonderful.”
Mervin nodded in agreement. “Well done, mate. That’s good news.”
Neville blushed at the attention, mumbling a quiet, “Thanks,” while Florence just laughed and let herself be wrapped in hugs.
Catherine, of course, beamed brighter than anyone. “I always knew it,” she said, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a napkin. “You two were meant for each other. This baby is lucky to have you.”
Then she raised her glass, already filled with something fruity and fizzy. “To Florence and Neville, and the next generation of Saint Marie.”
The Commissioner lifted his glass too, his voice calm but kind. “You’ve both come a long way. I’m proud of you.”
Neville looked across the table, his hand still gently resting on Florence’s. “We’re lucky,” he said quietly. “To have all of you.”
As the sun dipped lower and the ocean shimmered in the distance, their laughter echoed around the bar, a sound full of joy, belonging, and beginnings.
And in that perfect moment, surrounded by their island family, it all felt just right.
As the night wore on, the team had slowly trickled out, hugs and well wishes shared more than once. It had been a lovely relaxing evening, even Neville looked comfortably at ease now, the nervous tension from earlier replaced with a calm sort of happiness.
Florence glanced over at Catherine and Selwyn, now seated at the far end of the bar chatting quietly, sipping the last of their drinks.
“Now?” Neville asked softly beside her.
She nodded. “Yes. Now.”
They walked over together, and Catherine looked up with a warm smile. “Sneaking off already?”
“Not quite,” Florence said, sitting beside her. “We were wondering if we could have a quick word. Just the four of us?”
Selwyn arched an eyebrow with polite curiosity but nodded, gesturing for Neville to sit.
Once settled, Neville glanced at Florence, who gave him a gentle smile and took his hand before turning to the two people who had become such constants in their lives.
“There’s something important we wanted to ask you both,” she said, voice steady but soft. “Something that means a lot to us.”
Catherine leaned in slightly, curious. Selwyn simply waited, composed but attentive.
Florence took a breath. “We’d like you to be the baby’s godparents.”
For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke.
Then Catherine gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “Me? Really?” Her eyes already filled with tears. “Yes. Yes, of course! Oh, Florence!”
She leapt forward, hugging Florence tightly, then turned to Neville and threw her arms around him too. “Thank you, thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
Selwyn, on the other hand, blinked and looked stunned. He sat straighter, hands resting still on the table.
“Me?” he asked, almost cautiously. “Are you sure?”
Florence turned her full attention to him, reaching out to rest a hand over his. “Yes, Selwyn. You’ve always been there for me. You’ve looked out for me, challenged me, and believed in me. You’ve been more than just a boss, you’ve been a mentor, a father figure, family. And to Neville too.”
Neville nodded, quietly emotional. “You gave me a chance when I first came here. You pushed me to grow. You’ve become someone I deeply respect.”
Florence smiled. “Our baby would be lucky to have you as a guide, and a role model. As someone they can turn to. Like a grandparent.”
Selwyn looked between them, clearly moved. The silence that followed was gentle, thoughtful.
Then, finally, he nodded. His voice was lower than usual, thick with emotion. “I would be honoured.”
Florence reached over and squeezed his hand, her own eyes shimmering now. Catherine dabbed her cheeks with a napkin again, beaming at them all.
“We wanted the baby to have people in their life who feel like home,” Florence said softly. “And that’s what you are to us.”
The four of them sat there for a long moment, the quiet between them filled with warmth and quiet tears and the depth of chosen family.
Outside, the ocean rolled on, steady and calm, just like the love that now surrounded them.