discoveredinalj | Discovered in the Wassail Bowl - 13th December - Three of a Kind by Felicity M. Parkinson

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(If you're not sure who the characters are, please see the notes at the end.)

Three of a Kind

by
Felicity M. Parkinson

Captain Skellen and his bride-to be sat on the sofa in his quarters checking over the guest list for their forthcoming wedding.

“… and you know how it is,” he was saying. “Families! My mother would be upset if I didn’t invite Aunt Dora –”

“I’ve met your Aunt Dora,” Jenny reminded him.

“- and I couldn’t invite Aunt Dora and leave Gavin off the list. I don’t want to create another cause for bad feeling. There’s enough trouble in our family already.”

Jenny snuggled closer and gave him a quick kiss. “I’m not objecting, Peter darling. I just hope Gavin doesn’t run off with one of the bridesmaids. I’ve met him, too, remember. And from what you’ve told me, he sounds quite capable of doing such a thing.” She turned her attention back to the list. “I don’t know this name,” she pointed her finger at it, “and I thought I’d met most of your friends. Who is he?”

Skellen looked down at the name. “William Bodie?” He smiled. “Ah, the skeleton in the family cupboard. He’s my other cousin.”

“Your other cousin,” Jenny echoed. “Is he Gavin’s brother? How is it I haven’t met him?”

Skellen chuckled. “Gavin’s a one-off. Probably just as well. No, it’s like this – if I can remember the family history properly. My mother’s the eldest of three sisters. Aunt Dora is the youngest, and in between was Aunt Mary, William’s mother.”

“You’ve never mentioned her,” said Jenny, puzzled.

“There’s not much to tell. I believe she married against everybody’s advice, and it didn’t turn out too well.”

“Poor woman. But obviously she had a son – this William. Didn’t you see him at all when you were growing up?” Jenny had sympathy for the unfortunate family.

Skellen shook his head. “Not at all. I think my parents would have nothing to do with her. Probably my mother’s doing. You know how she can be about things! So I never met William when we were children, and then when I was in my teens, I heard from my mother (and god knows how she knew – probably from Dora) that he’d run away from home. Terrific family scandal as far as my mother was concerned. I gather they never caught up with him.”

“Oh how awful. What about his parents?”

“Apparently they were already divorced. And anyway, his mother, my aunt, had died a couple of years before this happened, so I suppose he ran away from his father. As far as I know, he’s dead now too.”

Jenny looked down at the list. “But you must have… um, found William again, for him to be on our guest list.”

“That’s the strange thing.” Skellen cuddled his fiancée closer. “When I joined the SAS, somebody asked me if I had a twin brother and of course I said no. And then they said, well, the names were different, so was I related to a William Bodie. I still didn’t twig, but then the name began ringing a bell and I asked him why. Turned out there’d been a chap by that name who’d just left the SAS and who looked very much like me. That was why I’d been asked. Of course after that I did a bit of investigating – I was curious – and to cut a long story short, it was my missing cousin, William. Turned out he’d been in the army and I didn’t know, and he left the SAS just as I joined.”

“But that’s amazing.” Jenny was entranced. “What a wonderful story, you finally finding him. Did you meet him after that?”

“Yes. Luckily he was quite straightforward to track down. I pulled a few strings and found he’d left to join CI5.”

Jenny looked blank. “What’s that?”

“Oh, one of those government organisations you don’t hear much about – Criminal Intelligence 5 to give it its full name. I’m not quite sure exactly what they do, they certainly don’t advertise themselves.”

“A bit like MI5?”

“That sort of thing, I think. And once I knew where he was I went through official channels and eventually met up with him.” Skellen smiled. “And yes, I could see the family likeness.”

“So you want him to come to our wedding.”

“An ex-SAS man can’t be all bad.” Skellen grinned. “And to be honest, I want him to meet Gavin.”

***

Hearing the post drop onto the mat out in the hallway, Bodie decided it was time to face the day. It was a rare day off and not one to be wasted. Reluctantly leaving the warmth of the body curled next to his, he slid out of bed, hauled on his dressing-gown and went through to the kitchen, collecting the post on the way. A short while later he returned to the bedroom, bearing two mugs of tea and a printed card. Setting the tea down carefully on the table at the far side of the bed, he gave a prod to the inert bundle beneath the duvet.

“It’s the middle of the night,” came the indistinct mumble from beneath the bedclothes. “Go back to sleep.”

Bodie prodded again, more forcefully. “It’s daylight,” he said.

The form shifted, an untidy mop of curls emerging from the bed.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Bodie told the half-asleep occupant.

“Wha’? Wha’ time’s it?” Doyle muttered and half-opened one bleary eye. “Oh my head.” He collapsed back, face down on the pillows.

“You’re getting old, lover boy. One night of passion too much for you, then?” But there was no sting in the words. “I’ve brought you some tea.”

Doyle grunted into the pillow. “Too many pints. Shouldn’t have had that brandy, either.” He gradually raised himself, turning over and pushing himself up on one elbow, then pulled the pillows behind him against the headboard, sat up, and fumbled for the mug.

“Hey,” Bodie said, “don’t you go tipping that over my sheets. The stains won’t come out.”

“They can join the other lot,” Doyle muttered, grasping the mug a little more firmly.

“No need to be crude, 4.5.” Bodie waited till the mug was steady, then picked up his own tea from the table and carried it back to his side of the bed, discarded his dressing-gown and got back in.

Both were silent for a while, occasionally taking a mouthful of tea as it cooled enough to be drinkable. Swallowing, Bodie remarked casually, “Got a wedding invitation this morning.”

“Good for you.” Doyle had gone back to closed eyes, not yet prepared to face the day.

“Yeah. I was surprised to get it.”

They continued to drink their tea. Doyle took a large slurp, then asked, “Anyone I know?”

“No,” Bodie paused, “but it’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Not one of your old girlfriends, is it?” Doyle opened half an eye, staring down at his drink as if it fascinated him.

“Don’t be daft. Why would I be invited to their wedding? No, it’s an army bloke.”

“Oh, one of your old mob. Surprised any of ’em are still around to get married.” Doyle opened both eyes. “Which lot? Army? SAS? Before all that…?” He moved closer to Bodie and leaned his chin on his partner’s shoulder, squinting down at the card Bodie held in his hand. “‘… the marriage of their daughter, Jenny’,” he read aloud, before sitting back and taking another slurp of tea, “‘to Peter Skellen, at St Luke’s… and afterwards at the Royal Oak...’ Very nice for you, mate. Who’s he, then?”

“My cousin.”

The mug of tea tilted dangerously.

“Oi, you be careful with that,” Bodie said with some force.

Doyle snorted, but righted the mug. “Cousin? You haven’t got a cousin.”

“Yeah, I have.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned him? The way you talk, didn’t think you had any relations.”

“Well I have and there’s the evidence. I just don’t talk about them, that’s all. I mean, your lot’s enough to be going on with, and they’re more like family to me than any of this lot.” Bodie jabbed at the invitation.

Doyle merely grunted disbelievingly into the remains of his drink, seemingly feeling disinclined to argue the point at that time of the morning. He lifted his head and dropped a kiss on Bodie’s shoulder. “Sorry if my family gets a bit overwhelming. There are rather a lot of ’em.”

“No, don’t get me wrong,” Bodie assured him. “I like them all. Even Alex has his good points.”

Doyle gave a shout of laughter, almost overbalancing his mug again, and rested his forehead against his partner’s shoulder while he continued to snort his amusement. “I must remember to tell ’im that sometime.”

Once he’d recovered, he sat back up, drank some more of his tea and said, “You haven’t told me what this bloke’s all about.”

“I don’t really know him,” Bodie admitted.

“Well, if you hardly know him, why’s he inviting you to his wedding?”

“I just told you.” Bodie made himself more comfortable against the pillows. “He’s my cousin. Contacted me a while back.”

“And how come you haven’t mentioned him till now?” Doyle gave him an appraising look.

“Nothing to mention. He’s in the SAS –”

“Oh, your old lot.”

Bodie ignored his partner’s remark. “- joined them just as I left. I think he wanted to know how I fitted into the family ’cause he didn’t know much about me or my family. Not a bad sort. Typical army man, a bit limited in outlook.”

“Just like you?”

“Listen, Doyle, I was a soldier of fortune. That gives you a totally different outlook on military life.”

Doyle took another mouthful of tea, content to be lazy on a morning where he didn’t have to be anywhere in particular or do anything immediately. He closed his eyes.

“I think I’ll go,” Bodie continued.

“Go where?” asked Doyle, still dozing.

“To his wedding, of course.” Bodie paused, then said in a neutral voice, “And you can come with me.”

Doyle woke up and opened his eyes, immediately alert enough to catch on. “No way, this is strictly your affair, mate. Nothin’ to do with me. It’s your invitation.”

Bodie held up the card in front of his partner. “Ah, but it says here –” he pointed “- William Bodie and guest.”

“So?” Doyle set down his now-empty mug on the bedside table with great deliberation and turned round to stare at Bodie, his face alight with suspicion.

“So, you’re my guest.”

“No way,” Doyle said again. “They don’t mean that and you know it. They expect you to turn up with a bird on your arm, girlfriend or partner or something. Not your mate from work.”

“Ah, but you’re my partner,” Bodie countered, as though that settled the argument.

“Work partner, yes.”

“Partner in every sense. Or else what’re you doing in this bed?” Bodie clambered out of it for the second time that morning and pulled his dressing-gown back on, tying the belt firmly in place. “I need breakfast, a shower, and a slash, not necessarily in that order. Let’s talk about this later.”

Bacon and eggs were followed by toast and a fresh pot of tea. As it was a day off, Bodie made the most of it by having a decent breakfast, not a snatched gulp of instant and a bite of toast, or nothing at all. Over his third piece of toast he raised the subject again.

“Look, I’d like you to go with me. I can always say Cowley has us on standby, so that’s why you’re there.”

“If they buy that…” Doyle said, slurping more tea.

Bodie helped himself to another slice, spreading butter and a large dollop of marmalade over it. “And why not? Who’s going to start asking questions about how CI5 operates? None of their business anyway.”

“We’ll probably be on duty that day, or in the middle of an op.” Doyle tried one last argument.

“We could be, but I’ll ask Cowley tomorrow for us to have that day free if possible. And even if we’re on standby, we can still go. It’s only just out of London, after all, not somewhere where it’d take an age to get back.”

Doyle sighed. “Okay,” he agreed with obvious reluctance. “I’ll come along.”

“Great.” Bodie beamed. “I’ll RSVP that there’ll be two of us. And after all, what better opportunity to introduce you to any remaining members of my family.”

Doyle looked distinctly unimpressed.

***

Pausing just inside the church doorway, Bodie waited for his partner who had wandered off down the aisle and seemed to be lost in rapt contemplation of a stained-glass window. Cowley had them on standby but had agreed to their attending the wedding with a strongly-worded proviso that they should carry their guns and R/Ts with them at all times and not put themselves out of contact by leaving weapons and equipment in the car.

Bodie wondered if the Smith & Wesson spoilt the line of his new jacket, then shrugged inwardly. Most people didn’t notice such details. Doyle, too, carried his Walther, but as he preferred looser jackets, the pistol was better hidden. So far, nothing had come through to take them back to HQ. They’d sat at the back of the church for the service in case they needed to make a quick - and discreet - exit, and now the bridal party and other guests were outside, being marshalled by the photographer.

A man bearing a marked facial resemblance to him, and of about his own age, strolled over to Bodie. “You must be William. Peter said he’d invited you. I can see the family likeness. How do you do?” He extended a hand politely. “I’m your cousin, Gavin. Gavin Rumsey.”

Bodie shook the hand, equally polite. “The name’s Bodie.” He took in the other man’s immaculate appearance: an obviously expensive suit and equally expensive shoes. He grinned. “We’ve met before. I remember you as a snotty-nosed kid. But that was a long time ago.”

An exquisitely turned-out young woman came back into the church and tugged at Rumsey’s sleeve. “Come on, Gavin, they’re waiting to take the family photos.”

“They can wait for me,” Gavin said with absolute assurance. “I must introduce you to the black sheep of the family. My cousin –”

“Bodie.” Bodie gave her his most charming smile. “And you’re -?”

“Selina,” the girl said, visibly charmed as she gazed up into the blue eyes. “I’m Gavin’s girlfriend.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Bodie said. “But don’t let me keep you both, or they’ll be taking the family snaps without you.”

“Oh,” Selina breathed, making no effort to move, “but surely you ought to be in them if you’re Gavin’s cousin?”

Before Bodie could reply, she half-turned, looking down the nave to where Doyle was walking towards them. “Is he a member of your family, too?”

Rumsey looked back at Doyle, checking him up and down. “I’ve never seen him before.” He looked at Bodie. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah, he came with me.”

“Really?” The man glanced again at Doyle, feigning astonishment. “Just good friends, eh?”

“You could say that.”

Rumsey stared at Doyle with narrowed eyes, then back at Bodie. And smirked. Taking his girlfriend’s arm, he said to Bodie, “You’d better come along too if you want to be in the photos.” As he left the church he said loudly, “Come on, darling, we can meet Cousin William’s ‘friend’ later.”

Doyle stopped beside his partner, having caught the tail end of the remark. “Who was that?”

Bodie didn’t answer immediately. “What was so interesting over there that you stood for ages gazing into space?”

“It was a stained-glass window of St George. Great dragon – breathing enough fire to burn this place down. And don’t change the subject. Who were those people you were talking to?”

“My cousin.” Bodie ground his teeth. “My other cousin. Rumsey. I’d love an excuse to rearrange his features for ’im. Nice bird,” he said as an afterthought. “Name of Selina. Can’t imagine what she sees in him.”

Doyle raised his eyebrows. “He’s definitely rattled your cage. What’s he done to get under your skin in five minutes flat? You’ve only just met him, or is he another relation you forgot to tell me about? They seem to be comin’ out of the woodwork at the moment.”

“Knew him when I was a kid. Pain in the arse back then and doesn’t seem to have improved any.”

Selina came rushing back into the church. “You must come, William, er, Bodie. Peter says please would you come outside, they’re waiting for you. You’re holding up the photographs being taken.” She looked at Doyle with interest but when no introduction was forthcoming, she raced back out again.

“So what’s he done to get up your nose?” Doyle persisted.

“All but called you and me fucking fairies!” Bodie snarled.

Doyle snorted. “If the cap fits… Oi,” he added as Bodie glared at him, “stop lookin’ at me as though you want to commit murder. I did warn you what’d happen if you included me in the invitation.”

Bodie made no move to join the wedding party.

“Look,” said Doyle, trying to be reasonable, “we don’t have to go to the reception if you’d rather leave now.”

“Think Rumsey’s going to get the better of me?” Bodie exploded. “No way. Course I’m going. We’re going.”

“Okay. Calm down.” Doyle grinned. “Come on, get yer mugshot done, you’re delaying that Kodak moment. And stop looking like that. It won’t look good in the wedding album and you’ll only frighten the guests.”

“You should be in it too,” Bodie commented.

“You do like living dangerously,” Doyle said admiringly. “And what’re you going to tell Cowley when snaps of the happy couple and their families are splashed all over the next edition of Tatler and there’s you an’ me holding hands and grinning like mad -”

“We would not be holding hands,” Bodie broke in forcefully.

Doyle ignored him and went on speaking. “There’ll be an almighty fuss and an inquiry, and we’re likely to lose our jobs. Cowley doesn’t do anything by halves. Me, I’m all for the quiet life. No need to advertise anything to anyone, especially the Cow.”

“I s’pose so,” Bodie admitted grudgingly.

“You know so.” Doyle gave him a shove in the direction of the doorway. “Go on. And if anyone asks, tell ’em you found me sitting on a toadstool.”

Bodie cuffed him playfully and dropped an arm about his shoulders for a moment before they left the church.

***

The speeches made, the toasts drunk, the meal eaten, the floor was cleared for dancing. The band played a number for the obligatory dance by the bride and groom to start the proceedings, after which the evening got going. Bodie made for the bar, brought back two pints.

“Make it last,” he remarked to Doyle as he handed him one. “Better not have too many in case we get called in.”

After a while, Skellen and his new wife came by. The CI5 agents stood up.

Skellen shook Bodie’s hand. “I’m very pleased you were able to make it today. We didn’t have time to talk after the service. Jenny, if you hadn’t already guessed, this is my cousin, William Bodie.”

“Oh, I can see the likeness.” She smiled.

“Just Bodie,” Bodie said in reply to Skellen’s introduction, and promptly kissed the bride. “Pleased to meet you, Jenny. Doyle, this is my cousin, Peter Skellen.”

Doyle stuck out a hand and shook Skellen’s. “Ray Doyle. And nice to meet you too, Jenny.” He gave the bride a hearty kiss. Indicating Bodie he added, “We work together.”

“Oh, then you’re in… that organisation as well,” Jenny said, looking at him speculatively. “Peter said that that’s where Bodie works.”

“I told her about you,” Skellen told Bodie, “and who you work for. Good to meet you, Ray.” He glanced further along the room. “Look, I hope we get the chance to talk later but Aunt Dora is beckoning.” He turned back to Bodie. “You should go over and meet her and my mother. They were speculating as to who you are.”

“No, thanks,” Bodie replied promptly. “They can go on living in happy ignorance.”

Skellen smiled wryly. “Yes, I can understand. However, I don’t have that option.” He turned to his bride. “Come on, Jenny, we’d better go over and see what Aunt Dora wants.” He looked over at Bodie. “Have you met Gavin, yet? He’s her son. Our other cousin.”

“That bloke in the family line-up, looking like something out of a shop window?” Bodie replied. “Yeah, we met in the church, briefly. I knew him as a kid.”

Skellen grimaced but said nothing. “See you later.” He and Jenny moved off towards where his aunt was sitting.

Doyle and Bodie sat down again at their table, making their drinks last.

“He does look a bit like you,” Doyle said.

“Who?”

“Skellen, More… intense, though. And Jenny seems a nice girl.”

He fell silent and they both looked over at where couples were gyrating on the dance floor.

Bodie spotted Rumsey bopping around with his girlfriend. “Go on,” he turned to Doyle and gestured in the direction of the dancers, “I know you’re itching to get out there and do your John Travolta act.”

“Nobody to do it with, and I’m not makin’ an exhibition of meself. It’d look daft. Of course,” he glanced at Bodie from under his eyelashes, “you could always come and dance with me.”

Bodie sniggered. “Yeah? That would cause a few raised eyebrows. No way, mate. You’re on your own. Go and find yourself a bridesmaid or something. They’re always ready and willing.”

“Spoilsport,” said Doyle provocatively.

But Bodie knew that his partner had no real expectation of him agreeing to such a suggestion. They definitely had to keep a low profile (as Cowley had a habit of saying) in their relationship.

Doyle looked up and down the room as if trying to spot a bridesmaid or an unattached woman.

“Rumsey’s just sat down again.” Bodie nodded towards a far table. “Why don’t you go and grab Selina and give her a whirl?”

“You stirring things?” Doyle asked suspiciously. “Your cousin’s not going to cut up rough if I ask his bird to dance, is he? I don’t want to cause a fuss for Skellen and Jenny.”

“Me? Stirring things?” Bodie was all innocence.

“Wouldn’t put it past you if you thought it’d get up Rumsey’s nose.”

“You can handle him. He’s not going to cause any trouble. If it was one of Skellen’s SAS mates, now…”

“Think I couldn’t handle ’em?” Doyle gave him a look.

“Yeah,” Bodie replied, “you would, and we’d end up with blood all over the dance floor. And I wouldn’t like to have to explain to the Cow why you were taking on the SAS single-handed. Go on, go and ask her before he gets up again. And leave your R/T here. It’s likely to fly out of your pocket when you’re bopping around.”

He knew how Doyle danced, had watched him at last year’s CI5 Christmas bash, twisting and turning in enthusiastic abandon with one girl after another from the typing pool and several female agents as well. Bodie had enjoyed the performance, quietly admiring Doyle’s sexy moves and endless stamina, even though he could never be blatant and bop around the floor with his partner in front of everybody, not if they wanted to keep their relationship secret from everyone in the organisation, and hold on to their jobs.

Doyle handed over the R/T (which Bodie immediately placed in his own jacket pocket), got up and wove his way between the tables to where Rumsey and Selina were sitting.

Bodie watched as within moments Doyle had her on her feet and making their way to the dance floor. He sat back and drank his bitter, thinking about how he’d love to dance a smoochy number with Doyle, hold his partner close against him, their bodies touching, melding… He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

A movement beside him made him look round quickly, to find Rumsey at his elbow, wineglass in hand. The man sat down on the unoccupied chair, placed his drink on the table and nodded in the direction of the dancers.

“Your ‘friend’,” he said to Bodie, “is dancing with my girlfriend, so I thought I’d come and say hello properly.”

“Yeah?” Bodie showed no enthusiasm for the idea.

“Yes,” the man continued, “I don’t know much about you except that you’re my cousin. I feel we ought to get to know each other a bit more.”

Bodie was tempted to ask “Why?” but instead said nothing.

Rumsey took another sip of his wine. “What sort of job do you do? I asked Peter if he’d met you in the army but he said no.”

“No,” Bodie stated. “I’m a civil servant.” It was their standard reply to such questions.

“Ah,” Rumsey said knowledgeably, “cosy office number, eh? A pen pusher, are you?”

Bodie sat on his irritation. “We do write a lot of reports.”

“Which department do you work in?” Rumsey persisted.

“We get moved around a lot.”

“Does that include your friend?”

Bodie turned his gaze back to where Doyle and Selina were dancing together enthusiastically. “Yeah. We work for the same department.”

Rumsey followed Bodie’s gaze, eyeing the couple critically. “He’s a good mover,” he stated, “that sort often are.”

“What sort?” Bodie turned on him.

“Well…” Rumsey paused, then seemed to think better of what he was about to say. “Oh, you know… No offence meant,” he continued hurriedly.

“Told you, he’s a good mate.” Bodie decided that much more of this and he’d take Rumsey outside and knock the living daylights out of him, no matter what fuss ensued.

“It’s just that he looks a bit – Never mind.” Rumsey leaned forward confidingly. “In case you didn’t know, I’m in the airline business.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes. It’s a very responsible job.”

“You fly, then?” Bodie looked over to where Doyle and Rumsey’s girlfriend were still gyrating on the dance floor.

“No, no such luck.” Rumsey lowered his voice and said in a confidential manner, “I deal with air freight. I have to ensure that parcels get to their right destination. It wouldn’t do to have them going astray.”

“Oh,” Bodie commented neutrally, “office job?”

“Yes,” Rumsey nodded. “But my role is vital.”

“I’m sure it is.”

The band came to the end of the number, put down their guitars and headed to the bar for a break, and the dancers started moving back to their tables. Bodie had no wish for Doyle to bring Selina over to their table, knowing that they’d be stuck with Gavin the rest of the evening. The girl was fine, if a bit drippy; it was Rumsey he couldn’t stomach for much longer. He wondered if a diversionary tactic might solve his problem, and if it stopped Rumsey passing comments about Doyle, all the better.

“Better not leave your girlfriend with Doyle,” he told Rumsey, nodding in the direction of the couple. “He’s got a bit of a reputation…”

“Really?” Rumsey stared in their direction. “I wouldn’t have thought –”

“He’s known for it. The typists aren’t safe from him,” Bodie said airily. “It always comes as a surprise to those who don’t know him… I’d get back to your table, if I were you.”

Rumsey stood up. “It takes all sorts,” he muttered, sounding vaguely surprised. “Thanks for warning me. We can have another chat later.”

Not if I can help it, Bodie thought as he watched the man thread his way through the tables and back to his own, where Doyle smoothly relinquished Selina into his hands and came back to his partner.

“What was up with your cousin?” he asked. “I got the impression he thought I was moving in on his bird.”

Bodie handed the R/T back to him. “I may have said something,” he admitted. “Told him you’re the terror of the typing pool.”

Doyle snorted in amusement. “One minute he thinks I’m a poncey git, the next I’m after his girlfriend.” He shrugged. “She’s not a bad mover, though.”

“Selina?”

“Who else’ve have I bin dancin’ with? You aren’t available and I haven’t found a spare bridesmaid yet.” He nodded in the direction of the bar. “Fancy another pint?”

“Yeah.”

Doyle went off and returned carrying two beer glasses. He gave one to Bodie and placed his own on the table before sitting down.

The two agents sat quietly for a while, drinking their bitter, then Doyle suddenly said, “What’s Rumsey up to now?”

“Where?” Bodie looked round.

“Over by the bar. Seems to be having an argument with one of the blokes there. Any minute now, he’s goin’ to get a fist in the face.”

“Who is?” Bodie asked, more interested in his beer than what pain-in-the-arse Gavin was up to.

“Your cousin,” Doyle told him. “Wouldn’t mind betting that’s one of Skellen’s army pals. Rumsey’s goin’ to get flattened.”

Bodie remained supremely unconcerned. “That’s his business if he’s going to start messing with an SAS man. About time somebody took him down a peg or two.”

“You can’t have a punch-up at a wedding,” Doyle said. “It’ll spoil the day for Jenny and Skellen. We’d better go and stop it.”

“You go. You can manage both of ’em on your own. Don’t need me.”

Doyle stood up. “Course I can deal with both of ’em but it’ll be a lot easier and much less likely to cause a fight if I take one arm and you take the other and we walk ’im out of here. And he is your cousin, after all.”

“So what?” Bodie glanced towards the bar and then saw Skellen looking in the same direction and getting to his feet. Bodie looked back at Doyle and sighed theatrically. “Okay, I’ll come and help. But only for Skellen and Jenny’s sakes.”

He got up, catching Skellen’s eye, and gestured with his thumb in their cousin’s direction before making a throat-slitting sign. Skellen nodded and sat back down. Bodie gave him a thumbs-up.

Doyle was already heading in the direction of the bar and Bodie swiftly followed him, arriving just as Rumsey jabbed a fist at the soldier.

Doyle grabbed Rumsey’s arm. “Sorry,” he said to the army man, who was looking distinctly annoyed. “He can’t hold his drink. Come on,” he said to Rumsey as Bodie took his cousin’s other arm, “you need some fresh air.”

“Yeah,” Bodie added to Doyle’s apology, “sorry he’s being such an arsehole. He’s definitely had a skinful. We’ll see to him – he’s my cousin. You’re coming with us, Gavin, so don’t try and argue about it.”

And with that the two of them marched him out of the room and through the reception area to the hotel forecourt.

“Let me go,” Rumsey shouted, trying to wrestle himself free from their grip. “You leave me alone, William, and take that ponce with you. You’ve no business doing this to me.”

Bodie held him in an iron grip for a moment longer. “You carry on like that, Rumsey, and I’ll punch your eyes out. I’d’ve happily let him knock you down and stamp all over you with his army-issue boots but this is our cousin’s wedding and I’m not having his day mucked up by the likes of you, you fucking twerp. And as for Doyle here, he persuaded me to come and rescue you, so don’t go casting aspersions or I’ll knock you into next week.” He let go of Rumsey’s arm.

Rumsey wrenched his other arm away from Doyle, pulling Doyle’s unbuttoned jacket partially off his shoulder as he did so. “What –” He stopped, stared, and said, “Oh my god, that’s a… a gun. You’ve got a gun on you.” His voice went up a few notches.

Doyle’s R/T went off before he could react to Rumsey’s comment. He slid it out of his pocket and thumbed the switch. “4.5,” he said briskly, then listened to the caller. “Okay, we’re on our way.” He looked at Bodie. “Something’s come up and we’re wanted back at HQ as soon as possible.”

Rumsey was still watching him with undisguised fright. “Who are you?” he gasped.

Bodie looked over at him. “Yeah, he’s armed. So am I. One further word out of you and I’ll hand you back to that bloke at the bar and let him deal with you.” He turned to Doyle. “I’ll tell Skellen we’re leaving, and collect this one’s bird. She can keep an eye on him.” He went back into the hotel.

“But –” Rumsey began, as Doyle stood there watching him, saying nothing, “Bodie said – you’re civil servants. They don’t carry guns,” he finished with a slight shake in his voice.

Doyle fished out his ID. “We do. But if you go tellin’ your mates your cousin’s in CI5, I’ll come an’ deal with you meself. After Bodie’s had a go at you, that is.”

“No, no,” Rumsey said hurriedly. Doyle suddenly seemed a different character. No longer a figure to be sniggered at but a cold-eyed individual, with an aura of menace both unnerving and intimidating. “I won’t say a thing. You can rely on me.”

Bodie returned, Selina hurrying beside him. “Here,” he said, pushing Rumsey in her direction, “don’t let him get into any more arguments, will you, we’ve got to get back to work.”

The girl took Rumsey’s arm. “Come on, Gavin, let’s go back inside.” She paused for a moment. “It’s been nice meeting you both,” she said, smiling up at Bodie before turning to Doyle. “And you’re a wonderful dancer, Ray. Thank you.”

Doyle relaxed and gave her a broad grin. “It was good fun, love.”

She turned Rumsey in the direction of the hotel entrance and they disappeared inside.

“She’s wasted on him,” Bodie remarked. “Hope she finds a better bet than a parcel delivery man.”

“Is that what he does?” Doyle quirked an eyebrow.

“More or less. He’s in air freight. Office job.”

Doyle shrugged. “Bit of a comedown, having one cousin in the SAS and then finding out the other’s in CI5. The bloke’ll end up with an inferiority complex.”

“That’s his problem. We’d better get a move on if they’re waiting for us at HQ.”

As they walked towards the hotel car park, Bodie commented, “Wonderful dancer, eh?”

“You didn’t notice?” Doyle responded with a grin. “And while you were busy fetching Selina I had to tell your cousin about us. He promised to keep his mouth shut.”

Bodie stopped abruptly and stared at him in some horror. “You what?”

“Not about us, idiot. About our jobs. Didn’t think the ‘civil servant’ bit would really cut it any longer. Not with a Walther stickin’ out under me arm.”

“Yeah. It’s true, though,” Bodie started walking again, “we are civil servants. But I know what you mean.” They reached the car. “I made our apologies to Peter and Jenny. They understood. And he said thanks for dealing with Rumsey. Saved him having to sort that arsehole out. Not that he called him that – he was too polite to say it in front of Jenny.”

“Nice people,” Doyle said across the car’s roof. “You keep in touch with ’em. You’ve got relations taking an interest in you, now.”

“Could do without Gavin,” Bodie muttered as he opened the door and got into the driver’s seat.

Doyle slid into the passenger seat and looked over at him. “You know,” he said, “I think he’s had second thoughts about fairies.”

“I did lay it on a bit about you and the typing pool, while you were raving it up with his bird. Thought it might give his thoughts a different direction but it didn’t seem to change his mind.” Bodie started the engine. “What did you say to him while I was inside the hotel, apart from us being in CI5? He seemed even more jumpy when I came back out.”

“Nothing much. Said I’d duff ’im up if he breathed a word about you being in CI5. After you’d had a go at him as well,” Doyle said truthfully.

“Yeah? I’m not surprised he was practically wetting himself. You can be very scary when you want to. It frightens people. Maybe this has all worked out for the best.”

“How d’you mean?” Doyle sat back in his seat.

“Now he knows we’re ‘armed and dangerous’, I don’t see him making waves.” Bodie switched on the headlights, put the car into gear, released the handbrake and moved off. “Just as well he’ll never know how right he was.”

Doyle cackled. “About fairies?”

“Clap your hands if you believe in ’em,” Bodie answered, and gave a snigger. He turned the car onto the road, and the Capri headed off into the evening traffic.

***

Title: Three of a Kind
Author: Felicity M. Parkinson
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes please
Disclaimer: Bodie, Doyle and the CI5-verse are someone else's creations - we just play with them, respectfully and joyously
Notes: Begun in the 1990s, discovered in an envelope 2023, revised and expanded for ‘Discovered in the Wassail Bowl’, DIALJ, 2025.
As well as Bodie and Doyle, this story features:
Captain Peter Skellen - Who Dares Wins, played by Lewis Collins
Gavin Rumsey - The Cuckoo Waltz, played by Lewis Collins