URSULA WHITE by PURUPUSS RATED FRT

An old family friend appears. But will she bring trouble to the Tracy family?

Author's Note: As usual I do not own anyone associated with International Rescue. I can only lay claim to Ursula, Tommy, Heather and Mark White.

Thank you to quiller and D.C. for proofing and checking and waiting and waiting...

01 One

Ursula White entered the harshly lit interior and, following the man in front of her, turned right. She sank onto one of the red upholstered seats and finally allowed herself to relax. The last few hours had been ones of such high emotion that she felt drained. To be honest she didn't know whether she should be laughing like the woman sitting opposite, crying like the man two seats down, or if it would be easier to simply faint with relief.

"Excuse me."

Snapping out of her reverie Ursula looked up at the young man in the International Rescue blue uniform standing in front of her. "Sorry?"

He gave an understanding smile. "You need to put on your safety harness. If you are able to stand for a moment I'll get it."

"Oh, of course!" Ursula stood and allowed him to release the harness from where it was constrained against the back of the seat.

Then he indicated that she should sit again.

Ursula did a double take. There was something familiar about him; something that she couldn't put her finger on. The chestnut coloured hair? The brown eyes? The...

"Is something wrong?" he asked in his soft voice, his forehead creased in a frown of concern.

"Uh, no..." Ursula found her voice. "I... I just thought I recognised you from somewhere."

He winked. "I often get that. I think I must remind people of some famous movie star."

"Yeah. Charlie Chaplin." A similarly uniformed man, with a sash of white instead of yellow, had come to the first one's shoulder. "All set?"

"Almost. Would you care to sit down again, Ma'am?"

Ursula looked between the pair of them, the feeling that she'd seen them before intensifying. "No... I think..." She stopped. "I'm sorry. I must seem like a doddery old woman to you. I suppose I can't expect to be thinking clearly after being trapped underground for four hours." She sat down.

"It's a common reaction and nothing to be ashamed of," her carer reassured her. "Once you're back amongst familiar surroundings and with your family you'll be fine." He locked the ends of the safety harness together and ensured they held her snugly. "Comfortable?"

"Yes, thank you." Ursula watched as the two International Rescue agents made their way to the business end of the machine. They were joined by a third, differentiated from the other two by his red hair and orange sash. She stared at them in wonder as they held a brief discussion together.

"You do recognise them, don't you?" the man on her left asked. "You know who they are?"

"I..." Ursula bit her lip. International Rescue were known for their demands for secrecy and since they'd just rescued her from a black hole she wasn't about to betray them. "No. I'm mistaken. I must be in shock."

"Pity," the man remarked. "Sell that bit of information to the tabloids and you'd be in clover for life."

Ursula knew that this was true. She also knew that she'd just told a lie. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she did know these men... from somewhere... some time...

The mighty machine was moving. The brown-haired one was seated at the master controls, the blonde was operating at a console to his left, and the red-head was strapped into an adjacent seat. He said something and his two brothers laughed.

Brothers? Why had she thought brothers? There were enough similarities between the blonde and brunette for them to be related, but the red-head's features were different enough for there to be a possibility of no genetic relationship. Then he smiled and Ursula felt a tug of familiarity pull at her heart.

Confused she looked at her hands and noticed that they were shaking. Shock. It had to be shock. She couldn't know these three young people. The first two were clearly American and she hadn't been back to the States since she'd moved to England two decades ago. At the most they would have been children then...

They were slowing down now and Ursula got the impression that the whole machine was rotating about a horizontal axis even though she appeared to have remained upright for the entire trip. There was a slight jolt and they stopped.

The one with the orange sash had stood. "You can all undo your safety harness now, but if everyone would remain seated for a short time longer we'd appreciate it. There's a slight step outside and we'd hate for anyone to trip down it."

He was American too.

He was related to the other two.

The door opened and another International Rescue operative entered. His sash was a pale blue and his hair was a darker brown than that of his younger brothers.

Younger brothers... YOUNGER brothers? Why had she thought younger? Why HAD she thought brothers? Was it the way that he'd given his colleagues a concerned glance as he'd entered the machine? Almost as if he'd a paternal attachment to them? He was more relaxed now and was issuing instructions, which the others were following without question. He was clearly their leader and it was a role which appeared to settle easily on his shoulders.

The man with the yellow sash who'd started her fever of questions was helping her with her safety harness again. "There you go," he said as it slid free. "Are you all right? Would you like a hand out of the Mole?"

"Thank you..." a name popped into her head and, infuriatingly, disappeared just as quickly. "No, I shall be fine from here on. Thanks to International Rescue."

"All part of the service." He extended his hand and with a word of thanks she leant on it as she regained her feet. As she joined the queue filing towards the door she surreptitiously examined the four International Rescue men; again looking for that one clue that would solve her mystery, but none presented itself. The blonde was helping people into what appeared to be an elevator car and as Ursula stepped aboard she realised that ‘the slight step' was actually a 20 foot drop.

Looking to her right as they descended she could see past what appeared to be a giant screw towards a gaping hole in the ground. Straight ahead, beside the sign that detailed the area as ‘Daunston' was something that appeared to be a missile tipped with a red nose. To her left was possibly the largest aeroplane that she had ever seen. She had to crane her neck backward to see the number ‘2' under the craft's nose. Beneath was a gaping maw, which, she assumed, had originally held the machine she was exiting.

The elevator reached the ground with a soft bump and everyone on board was shepherded off and into a nearby building. Before she entered, Ursula took one last look backwards, hoping for a final glimpse of her saviours.

She didn't see the mystery men again.

That evening, Ursula escaped to her bedroom with a sense of relief, having finally convinced her son and daughter that she wasn't suffering from ‘delayed stress syndrome' or some similar ailment.

Now she stood in the middle of the warm, familiar surroundings and thought about what had happened today. The hours had passed between those dramatic events and this present moment, but that eerie sensation that she'd known the men of International Rescue had not disappeared. On impulse she removed a photo album off the shelf and carried it over to her bed. She placed the heavy book on the duvet, made herself comfortable so her back was resting against the pillows, and then placed the album on her lap.

For a moment her attention was caught by the image trapped within the embossed heart on the cover. She reached out, lightly touching her late husband's face and smiled at her own, much younger, countenance. It had been a little while since she'd looked at her photo album, usually saving that pleasure for quiet contemplation on family days such as Christmas, Thanksgiving (a holiday she'd never been able to resist celebrating, even in England) and Tommy's birthday.

Now she opened the thick, padded cover and began perusing the photographs within. She skipped over the first few pages detailing the preparations leading up to the greatest moment of her adult life (birth of her two children excepting) and turned to the shots taken inside the church. She settled on one of the wedding party at the altar and examined it closely. The bride and bridegroom's backs were to the camera but the best man and matron-of-honour were standing so that their faces were in profile. The dark-haired best man was standing there in his Air Force uniform, stiffly formal and clearly determined to ensure that events proceeded as planned. Opposite him, the matron-of-honour was smiling broadly, her chestnut brown hair constrained by a spray of tiny blue and yellow flowers.

Ursula turned a few more pages. Now the formal part of the day was over and she was looking at the photographs taken after the wedding. Bride and groom... Bride and matron-of-honour... Groom and best man... Ursula skipped over them all.

Then she stopped.

This photo was of the best man and his wife, the matron-of-honour. He was more relaxed now and had his arm comfortably about her waist as she leant against him with a happy smile. Around them were gathered their five sons of varying ages – two blonde, one red-head and two brown, one the same colour as his mother's.

Ursula stared at the photo and a smile of her own crept across her lips. "I knew it," she said to herself in triumph. "International Rescue are Lucille Tracy's boys..."

Ursula White sat in the plush surroundings and tried to suppress the nervous butterflies that seemed to be skipping around in her stomach. She rubbed her rebus brooch for luck and started when the door from the inner office opened; but it was only the personal assistant returning to her desk. The P.A. smiled reassuringly at Ursula. "Mr Tracy won't be long."

"Thank you," Ursula replied and tried to relax. Yet again she began to wonder if the father knew what his sons' occupations were. But then, she reflected, knowing Jeff Tracy as she did, she would not be surprised if he had been the mastermind behind International Rescue. Even back in his days in the Air Force he'd had a strong community spirit. Once he'd been so incensed when vandals had damaged the local playground that he'd arranged for his squadron to spend a day recreating the amusements. And now that he was listed as one of the wealthiest men in the world, she was sure that he wouldn't hesitate to use that wealth to help others.

Caught up in her reverie, she jumped again when the office door was opened a second time. This time a man was escorting another out of the room with a farewell that was friendly but businesslike.

He hadn't changed, Ursula mused. A little greyer maybe, and a few more character lines to his face, but she would have known Jeff Tracy anywhere. He was still as trim as he had been in his Air Force days, which surprised her; she'd been expecting the bloated figure of the billionaire grown fat on his money – a corpulent corporate stereotype.

As he turned from his earlier appointment, Jeff spied Ursula and his face opened up from the businessman's expression to a smile of pure delight. "Ursula! Wonderful to see you! Won't you come in?" The warmth of his greeting went some way towards relieving Ursula of her anxieties, and, as she walked into an office even more opulent than the room she'd just left, she heard Jeff say, "Hold all calls. This meeting is just as important as any business one."

"Yes, Mr Tracy," the P.A. confirmed.

Jeff shut the door to the outer office and beamed at Ursula as he indicated that she should sit down in one of the comfortable chairs in the corner away from his desk. She sat down and tried to relax. "Thanks for seeing me."

He was adjusting the settings on the intercom on his desk. "You were Lucille's oldest and closest friend and the three of us had some great times together until you moved across the ditch. Even if it had meant cancelling an appointment I would have made a point of seeing you... There!" he pushed one last button. "Now we can gossip about old times and no one will hear us. How are you, Cubby?"

Ursula laughed. "No one has called me that in years! I'm very well, thank you. And how are you, Dick?"

Jeff groaned. "I'd succeeded in forgetting that nickname. I'd hoped everyone else had too."

"I bet you haven't forgotten how you came by it," Ursula teased. "You're looking wonderful, Jeff. I was expecting to find you fat and balding."

Jeff ran his hand through his thick hair. "I've been lucky with this. But this..." he patted his flat abdomen, "takes work... I hope you haven't brought any of your famous fudge; once I start eating that I can't stop."

Ursula laughed. "In that case I won't give you this package I've got in my bag. It's for all your family, not only you."

"Darn," Jeff grinned. "If my memory serves me right that fudge was pure ambrosia. It's going to take some willpower not to have it all eaten by the time I get home." He sat down opposite her and leant forward, obviously pleased to see her. "You're looking fantastic, Cubby. Married life suits you. How's Tommy?"

"I'm afraid Tommy passed away several years ago."

"Oh..." Jeff's face had fallen at his perceived faux pas. "I'm sorry... I didn't know."

"It was a blessing in the end," Ursula admitted. "Now I make a point of remembering the good times and trying to forget those last few months."

Jeff looked rueful. "Lucille would be very annoyed with me if she knew I hadn't kept in contact with you... I received your sympathy card when she died. I'm sorry I didn't reply, but there was so much going on at the time."

"I understand," Ursula sympathised. "It can't have been easy for you with five sons."

"No... Initially it wasn't," Jeff admitted. "I was going to send you Christmas cards, but that first year I was so intent on ensuring that the boys had as near to a normal Christmas as was possible, that I never found the time. And then, the following year, we moved around so much that I'm afraid I lost Lucille's address book. I would have emailed but I had to change my email address when I left the Air Force and then one of the boys tipped a drink into the computer and fried the hard drive. I've never forgiven myself for not keeping in touch." He indicated his surroundings. "And it's not as though I didn't have the resources to find you."

"I'm just as guilty," Ursula said. "I could have contacted you through your company earlier. But it doesn't matter now; we're here and we're back in touch. I'm glad that I happened to see that item in the paper that said you were in town."

"So am I. I only wish we had longer than 15 minutes," Jeff glanced at his watch. "I'm sorry I have to squeeze you in like this, but I'm not in England for very long this trip and even lunch is booked out. Next time I'll make sure that I'm here for longer and we'll go out to dinner."

Ursula smiled. "I'd like that. It would give us more time to catch up. How are the boys?"

Jeff's newly regained smile was full of pride. "All grown into fine young men. They work for me." Ursula registered this bit of information; it probably meant that Jeff Tracy was in charge of International Rescue. "And you?"

"Two. Mark and Heather. Mark's the spitting image of his father. He's an electrician. Heather was training to be an IT specialist until she got married and moved away from the college. Now she's training by correspondence."

"Any grandchildren?"

"Heather's expecting the first later this year. She's married a lovely young man. Hamish is a vet in the Cotswolds."

"Darn," Jeff's expression was lightly teasing. "There goes an opportunity to marry off one of the boys... Mind you," his eyes held the roguish twinkle that she remembered from all those years ago, "if I'd known you were available I'd have been over here like a shot."

Ursula laughed and as she did so remembered that she'd seen that same twinkle much more recently. "There's a slight step outside and we'd hate for anyone to trip down it..." "Jeff Tracy!" she scolded in mock seriousness. "You flirt! You're a typical flyboy with a girl in every country! I warned Lucille when she first met you. ‘Watch him,' I said. ‘Pilots are worse than sailors.'"

"Excuse me?" Jeff matched her false solemnity with mock indignation. "At least I courted Lucille for a reasonable amount of time; unlike someone else I could mention. How many weeks was it between when you met Tommy and when he whisked you away from the States?"

"Six. And you're the one to blame! If you hadn't invited Tommy around to your place for dinner, forcing your poor wife to ring me in a panic because she had nothing prepared and had to get five little boys fed as well, I would probably never have met him!"

"Touché." Jeff laughed and held up his hands. "Okay, okay. I surrender."

Ursula was enjoying herself. "Do you have any grandchildren, Jeff?"

He shook his head. "Alan's... I'd say keen rather than serious, about the daughter of a friend of ours. But the other four..." he shrugged. "They've never meet any girls they've wanted to settle down with. Of course," he chuckled, "none of them tell their old man what they get up to when they're on vacation."

"I've followed their lives whenever I could," Ursula said. "I've got a copy of one of John's books at home. I should have brought it; you could have got him to autograph it for me."

"John's autographing days are long gone," Jeff smiled. "But I'm sure he'd make an exception for Aunty Cubby."

"I've got a couple race car magazines with articles about Alan at home too," Ursula informed him. "Though I always found them disappointing because they never had a decent photo of him... The kids couldn't understand why I was buying these magazines when I barely know where to put the fuel in the tank of the car."

Jeff laughed. "Alan's a bit of a speed freak."

"Does he still race?"

"Occasionally."

"I see Gordon had the competitive spirit too," Ursula continued on. "I made a point of barracking for him during the Olympics. The children couldn't understand why I was rooting for an American when there was an Englishman in the race. I think they still hadn't realised that I wasn't actually born in England. When I told them that I'd known him when he was a baby, they were most impressed. We all cheered for him in the finals."

"I'm sure Gordon would have appreciated your support," Jeff said.

"Scott and Virgil have kept out of the limelight," Ursula noted.

"Yes," Jeff nodded. "I think that Virgil could have done quite well for himself had he chosen music or the arts, but he's got his feet on the ground. He's got a degree from Denver School of Technology that he fully utilises."

"And Scott?"

Jeff grinned. "Can't you guess?"

"He joined the Air Force?"

"For a time. He's an amazing pilot; even better than me; darn him. But don't ever tell him I said that." Jeff winked. "In fact, the only person who I think could out fly Scott would have been your Tommy. I wish they could get together now."

"So do I," Ursula admitted. "I'm sure he'd love to see what your sons have grown in to."

Jeff indicated the item of jewellery on Ursula's blouse. "I see you're still wearing your ‘rebus'."

Ursula touched the brooch briefly. "I rarely go anywhere without it. It's a memento of happy times and I've come to think of it as something of a good luck charm."

Jeff smiled as he recollected a time over twenty years ago. "I remember the day Tommy bought it for you. He had me traipsing all over town looking for something that he said would symbolise you as his wife, but he couldn't find anything that was as he envisaged and within his wage bracket. When he finally found that brooch he kept on going on about how perfect it was; and I, thick as I am, couldn't work out why. Tommy had to explain that it was a symbol that represented a person's name." Jeff paused. "If you don't mind me asking," he began slowly. "How did...?"

"Leukaemia. It's a disease I wouldn't wish on anybody, let alone someone I loved. He dropped from being the bear of a man that you knew to being as skinny as a rail within a matter of weeks... He lost all that lovely fair hair... It was at the same time that Gordon had his accident." Ursula paused as the memories came flooding back. "I remember sitting in a waiting room, filling in time while Tommy was receiving treatment by reading an article about it in the paper. It sounded serious."

Jeff's face became grim. "It was. It was touch and go for a while there."

"How is he now?"

Jeff brightened. "Made a full recovery, thank heavens."

"I would have written you, care of Gordon's hospital, but it seemed at that time that my life was made up of English hospitals, hospices, specialists, appointments, visits by doctors and nurses and all sorts of other people." She waved her hands in an expression of how out of control she'd been at the time and Jeff nodded his understanding. "I barely had time to think of anything else."

Jeff gave a sympathetic nod. "I understand. I'll tell Gordon you were thinking of him."

"He probably won't remember who I was."

"He doesn't remember you, but he knows of you..." Jeff stood and moved over to his desk, picking up a photograph that resided there. "Do you recognise them now, Cubby?"

Ursula resisted the temptation to say yes as that final confirmation was presented to her. The photo was a relaxed group shot of the adult Tracy boys and their father. Like Jeff, all five were tall, handsome, muscular, and pictures of health. The six men were laughing and she could almost feel the testosterone oozing out of the picture. "Haven't they grown!"

Jeff laughed. "A little."

"Virgil's very like his mother, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is."

"And Alan has the same bone structure."

"Yes."

"While Gordon has Lucille's laugh."

A slight frown on his face, Jeff nodded.

"But Scott tends to take after you."

"So I'm told."

Ursula focused on the one member of the family that she hadn't seen recently. "Is John part of International Rescue too?"

Jeff froze.

The atmosphere of the room changed from an air of bonhomie to... something darker... something dangerous...

Ursula closed her eyes and mentally cringed. Why had she said that? Why did she have this habit of speaking without thinking first? It wasn't as if she hadn't thought about the words she'd use to broach the subject. ‘You'll never guess what happened to me the other day...' ‘Believe it or not I was rescued by International Rescue a few days ago, and for some reason I thought of Lucille...' ‘Isn't amazing how having your life endangered can make you to want to catch up with old friends...' Heart in mouth Ursula looked up at the man seated across from her. He didn't look happy.

"What?" Jeff was asking in a quiet voice.

Ursula tried to match his piercing gaze. "I-I was at Daunston." She looked away. "I recognised your sons when they rescued me, Jeff. I know they are International Rescue."

Jeff stared at her and a variety of emotions played across his face: denial chased by anger, hostility and a tiny amount of fear.

Ursula looked back down at the photograph in her hands and wished Jeff Tracy was looking as happy now as he did in that picture.

"What do you want, Ursula?" he growled. "Money?"

Horrified, Ursula looked up at him. "Oh, no, Jeff! No! Of course not! I don't want anything from you. I... I only wanted to check if I was right and if I was I wanted to warn you. If an old biddy like me can recognise them after twenty years then it would be easy for anyone they've met more recently."

He was still staring as if he were trying to judge the truthfulness of her statement. She looked back timidly, hoping that somehow, something in her expression would convey that she meant no harm. There was a hint of menace about him and Ursula suddenly wondered just how International Rescue had managed to keep their secrets secure all this time.

Then Jeff's face softened and he slumped back in his seat. "I'm sorry, Cubby. You took me by surprise."

"I'm right, aren't I?"

Jeff Tracy looked his old friend in the eye and nodded. "But you mustn't tell anyone!"

"I won't," Ursula assured him. "Not even the children. Not only because your sons saved my life, but also because you were good friend and I want to honour Lucille's memory."

"I had hoped we'd never find ourselves in this situation." Jeff sat up again. "We've tried to think of a ‘disguise' they could use, but no one's come up with anything practical that would give them full freedom of movement."

"Wouldn't a mask work?"

"We considered it for a time, but the boys came to realise that masks made it harder to communicate with each other. I guess they've come to rely on facial expressions as much as verbal cues when they're on a rescue."

"And so, until you think of a workable disguise, you've been relying on the ‘Superman' premise, have you?" Ursula guessed. "Maybe that's the answer. Get them to wear their underpants on the outside of their uniform."

Despite his earlier concerns Jeff burst out laughing. "I'd like to try suggesting that to Scott!" Then he sobered. "We've had one or two close calls, but so far we've been lucky that they haven't met anyone who knows them."

"Until they rescued me."

"Until they rescued you."

Ursula looked back down at the photo. "That's what was confusing me the other day. I was looking at Virgil and knew he was familiar. It wasn't until I got home and went through some old photos that I realised I was remembering Lucille. The problem was that I was seeing a young man when I should have been seeing a young woman."

"I'm sure Virgil would be very glad of that." Jeff took the photo off Ursula. "This was taken the day before we started operations. Mother wanted a formal photo, but someone cracked a joke as she clicked the shutter."

"Gordon?"

Jeff chuckled. "Yes, it was Gordon."

"I thought it might have been. He was telling jokes during the rescue. It kept us relaxed... well, as relaxed as it was possible to be under the circumstances... while Alan and Virgil took the injured to the surface."

Jeff was looking at the picture. "Mother got the photo she wanted, but I preferred this one."

"It must be dangerous work..." Ursula paused for a moment. "Don't you worry about them, Jeff?"

His expression was rueful. "All the time. But I'd worry more if Scott was a test pilot, or Alan was ripping around a track, or Gordon was living under the ocean. At least this way I feel I've got some control over what safety measures they use and, as a bonus, I get to enjoy their company... Besides, I don't think I could dissuade them from working for International Rescue now. They get so much more out of it than I do."

"Lucille would be proud of them. She'd be proud of you all."

Jeff gave a solemn nod. "I know. The irony of it all is that it's because of her death that I have the resources to do it." He looked around his sumptuous office as if seeing it for the first time. "And I'd give it all away in an instant if I could have her back." He looked so desolate that Ursula gave in to her impulses, stood, took the seat beside him, and wrapped her arms about him in a comforting hug. "Hey!"

"If it had been possible to get there, that's the hug I should have given you the day of Lucille's funeral," Ursula told him. "Better late than never."

"Oh... Thanks..." Jeff said awkwardly. "Well, in that case..." he favoured her with an embrace of his own before letting go. "That's for Tommy."

"I wish I could have helped you in those early years, Jeff," Ursula took his hand. "I know Lucille would have wanted me to."

He gave a grim smile. "We coped. Mother helped a lot. She still rules the household."

"How is your mother?"

"She's found her niche in life by keeping her son and grandsons under her thumb..." There was a beep from the desk intercom and Jeff groaned. "Time's up, Cubby. I'm sorry."

Ursula sat back. "That's all right, Jeff. I'll make an appointment next time you're in town."

"No, don't do that." Jeff went to his desk, reached into a drawer and withdrew a business card. "My private toll-free number's on there. Go home, check your calendar, work out the earliest week you have free and give me a call. You can come and stay on the island and reacquaint yourself with the boys. I'm sure they'd love to be able to show you around the factory."

Ursula couldn't believe her ears. "But Jeff...

"Where do you live?"

"Uh... Kent..."

Jeff nodded; a thoughtful expression on his face. "Kent... That could work well. Would you like to visit?"

Ursula felt a happy smile explode onto her face. "Jeff! I'd love to! Are you sure about this? What about security?"

"I'm sure. Mother's going to be mad at me for treating you like an ordinary business acquaintance, so if I can tell her you're coming to stay I should be able to get away with a only a telling off. I'll be at home tomorrow so you can call me then."

"It can't believe it," Ursula breathed. "What are the kids going to say when I tell them I'm going to stay at a billionaire's house?"

"On his private tropical island," Jeff grinned. "Don't forget your bikini."

"Bikini! Jeff! I've given birth to two children! You do not want to see me in a bikini. Besides, I'm an old woman!"

"Don't call yourself that," Jeff scolded lightly. "You're the same age as me!"

"And what's that grey in your hair, Mr Tracy? Talcum powder?"

"Touché!" Jeff laughed again. "It's going to be great having you stay, Cubby. Okay. Just make sure you bring your summer wardrobe. You're heading to the other side of the world."

The intercom beeped again. "I'm sorry, Mr Tracy. Your next appointment is here."

Jeff sighed and acknowledged the reminder before he turned back to Ursula. "Take care, Cubby." He gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek. "Call me tomorrow."

"I will." The door slid open and Ursula stepped into the outer office. "Bye, Jeff."

"Bye." Then Jeff snapped back into business mode and turned to greet his next appointment. Before Ursula left the PA's office she looked back, just in time to see him begin to close the door to his office. Their eyes met and, laying his finger on the side of his nose, Jeff winked.

The door slid shut.

Feeling in a much happier frame of mind than she had been when she'd arrived, Ursula left the building.

It was a Saturday, a little over a month later when the aeroplane carrying Ursula White touched down on Tracy Island. From here she could see little more than a cliff face and some palm trees.

"Everybody out." Jeff grinned at her from the pilot's seat. "There's a welcoming party waiting for you, Cubby."

Ursula released her safety harness and moved back from her seat beside the pilot into the body of the craft. She'd started when the door swung open and sunlight streamed in, a blonde head appeared and a tall young man bounded inside. "Aunty Cubby!"

"John!" Ursula wrapped him in a warm embrace. "It's so wonderful to finally see you again."

John replied in kind. "I don't know what was wrong with those guys, you haven't changed at all! You're still looking fantastic."

"You always were a flirt, John," Ursula laughed. "We'd be out shopping, your mother would turn away for a split second and when she looked back there you would be, surrounded by a crowd of cooing woman exclaiming over you. It was the blonde hair that did it."

John ran his fingers through his fair locks. "Well, if you've got it, flaunt it... Come on; everyone else is waiting outside." He checked the steps were securely in position, took Ursula's hand, and led her gallantly outside into the warm sun where a small group of men was waiting. "You'll have to excuse my brothers' forgetfulness." He tapped his head. "They're not as bright as I am."

John's brothers looked indignant and Scott gave an audible snort. "You're just hoping that she's brought some of her fudge, John." He stepped forward in greeting. "Don't listen to him, Aunty Cubby. We've long suspected that he's delusional."

"Delusional? I'm not the one who didn't recognise her. How could you forget the face of an angel?"

"Greaser."

"Scott," Ursula opened her arms out for the expected embrace. "You've grown so much!"

"That's Grandma's cooking." Scott returned her hug warmly. "Sorry I didn't spot you the other week. Can I plead that I was more concerned that everyone was okay, rather than concentrating on faces?"

"Of course you can." Ursula hugged him. "I see you're still trying to keep your brothers under control."

"Trying being the operative word," Scott grinned. "They can be very trying at times."

"But you're flying rings around them all?"

Scott's grin broadened. "Of course."

"Skite," John said.

Scott lost his smile. "Sorry to hear about Tommy. He was a great guy."

"I know he thought highly of you too. I remember Tommy and I taking you, John and Virgil to the zoo once, to give your mother a break. We were in the polar exhibit and I went to point something unusual out to you, but you were nowhere to be seen. When we got outside there were you and Tommy analysing how common pigeons land and take off."

There was a laugh from the side of the group. "Typical! That sounds like Scott."

Ursula turned to the red-head. "Gordon! Haven't you grown! You were only a toddler last time I saw you."

"Hi, Aunty Cubby," Gordon allowed her to hug him. "At least I've got an excuse for not recognising you."

"I can't believe that I've just been hugged by an Olympic champion! Will you show me your medal later?"

Gordon's face broke into a grin. "Yeah, sure... If I can steal you away from your boyfriend," he indicated John, "for five minutes."

Ursula stood back so she could have a good look at the youngest Tracy present. "You certainly don't look like a man who was nearly killed in a speedboat accident."

Gordon hunched up like a cripple, clutching his back as if he were in pain. "Yeah, well. Sometimes you've just got to grin and bear it, you know? I can't let these guys down. They'd be lost without me."

"That doesn't mean to say that there aren't times that we'd like to try," Scott added.

"But you are all right now?" Ursula couldn't keep the concern out of her voice.

"Oh, yeah." Gordon gave a disarming grin as he straightened back up. "Nothing wrong with me."

Ursula stood on tiptoe so that she could see the young man who was standing at the back of the group; partially hidden by his family. "Virgil! Come here, Honey."

He looked embarrassed as he stood there, and from the smirks on his brothers' faces as they stepped back, Ursula guessed that over the past month he'd received a lot of teasing for not recognising an old family friend. "I'm sorry I didn't know who you were, Aunty Cubby." He bowed his head and thrust his hands into his pockets. "Would you accept that when I last saw you I was too young to remember you clearly?"

"Of course I would," Ursula reassured him. "Besides you were there to rescue a lot of frightened people, not reacquaint yourselves with an old woman. Actually I thought that you had recognised me and were trying to put me off with that comment about being confused with a movie star."

"No. That's a stock excuse we use," Virgil admitted. "Some people say they recognise us just to try to get more information about International Rescue."

"Do you recognise me now?"

"Only from photos." Virgil gave an embarrassed grin. "Sorry... But I remembered your fudge when Father brought it home last month."

"We all remember Aunty Cubby's fudge," Scott said.

"I don't," Gordon said. "Does that mean I get more so I can catch up?"

"No!" his brothers chorused.

"At least you got some," John complained. "You'd eaten it all by the time I got home." He received an unsympathetic "Aww" from his family.

"Don't worry, John," Ursula gave him a friendly squeeze. "I've brought some with me." She turned back. "Do I get a hug, Virgil?" Ursula asked, and his face lit up as he stepped forward.

When Ursula released him she looked around the group. "Where's Alan?"

"On duty," Scott explained. "He's up in Thunderbird Five."

"Thunderbird Five..." in the past month Ursula had been reading up about International Rescue. "That's the communications satellite?"

Scott nodded. "It's John's ‘bird, but he and Alan swap shifts monthly and we all help out occasionally."

"Reluctantly," Gordon interjected. "You'll be pleased to know that you'll only have to avoid John's advances until Wednesday. That's when he and Alan will swap shifts again."

John gave a dramatic sigh. "Only half a week in which to enjoy your company."

"And only half a week of freedom from Alan's whining," Gordon grinned.

"We've got the grand tour worked out, Aunty Cubby," Scott said. "We'll show you three of the Thunderbirds tomorrow, starting with Thunderbird One..."

"I thought it was going to be Thunderbird Two," Virgil interrupted.

"No way! It was Thunderbird Four," Gordon exclaimed.

"I'm sorry to say that you are going to miss out on the best Thunderbird," John said. "You could say that Thunderbird Five is out of this world."

Scott was well practised at ignoring his brothers, so continued speaking as if they weren't there. "...And you'll get the opportunity to see Thunderbird Three launch when we go to get Alan. He'll kill us if we show you his Thunderbird up close before he has the chance to himself."

Ursula clapped her hands together in excitement. "I'm not expecting such royal treatment... But, Boys, I have a request. It doesn't seem right for young men to be calling me, ‘Aunty'. After all we're not related and you're all adults now. Plain Cubby will do."

"There's nothing plain about you." Jeff Tracy jumped down out of the aeroplane. "Boys, will you bring up Cubby's luggage and put the plane away? Madam..." he turned to his guest, "would you care to accompany me up to the Tracy manor?"

"I should be delighted." Ursula took his arm. "I always said you were a flirt, Jeff Tracy. John inherited the habit from you." Jeff laughed as he led her away.

John looked at his brothers. "Did she call Dad a flirt?"

Jeff pointed out various places of interest as he guided Ursula up the path towards the villa. Allowing her to catch her breath, they stopped at a lookout where he indicated the blue ocean, golden beaches and palm trees stretching out before them. "What do you think?"

"You own all this?"

"I do," Jeff chuckled. "Not bad for a Senior Airman's wages, is it? Did you bring your bikini?"

Ursula hit him lightly on the arm. "You have a thing about bikinis," she scolded. "For your information I have bought myself a new bathing suit... a one piece with an attached skirt."

They crested the brow of a hill and the home complex was laid out before them. Ursula stopped, awestruck. "You live here?!"

"For International Rescue's sake we can't live near civilisation," he explained. "And this is quite comfortable."

"Comfortable! Jeff! This is five-star accommodation!"

"It suits us."

An elderly lady was walking towards them. "Ursula! So wonderful to see you again, my dear."

"Mrs Tracy; thank you for having me."

"It's the least we could do after the shameful way my son treated you..."

"Mother!"

"Dinner is nearly ready," Grandma continued as if Jeff hadn't interrupted. "Or would you prefer to have a rest? You have come a long way."

"I'm too excited to rest," Ursula admitted. "And I think the flight has made me hungry."

Grandma smiled. "Good. I'll go and make sure everything is ready. Tell the boys to hurry up, will you, Jeff. They've got ten minutes." She turned and walked away, her straight back belying her age.

Jeff gave a rueful smile. "So now you know who is really in charge here. Come on, Cubby. There are some more people I want you to meet before we eat." He led the way up some steps and into a room that appeared to be a combined lounge, music room, and, judging by the desk off to one side, office.

"Cubby, this is an old friend of mine, Kyrano," Jeff was indicating a man in oriental garb.

Ursula inclined her head. "Hello, Mr, ah, Kyrano."

Kyrano gave a more complete bow. "Mrs White," he acknowledged. "Would you care for some herbal tea?"

"Great for avoiding jet-lag," Jeff promised. "Make that two cups, Kyrano."

"Yes, Mr Tracy."

"And this is Tin-Tin; Kyrano's daughter and our assistant engineer."

A pretty young woman stepped forward to shake hands. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs White."

"Hello, Tin-Tin."

"Where's Brains, Tin-Tin?" Jeff asked.

"In his laboratory, Mr Tracy," Tin-Tin replied. "Shall I get him?"

"Yes, please. You can tell him that dinner is nearly ready."

"Yes, Mr Tracy."

When Tin-Tin left the room Ursula glanced at Jeff. "Is that the young lady that Alan is ‘keen' on?"

"That's her."

"I can see why."

After an early night spent in a bed softer and more comfortable than she had ever imagined, Ursula awoke the following day. She was somewhat embarrassed to discover, when she looked at the clock, that it was late morning. "That's all right, Dear," Mrs Tracy had reassured her when she found her way to the kitchen and had apologised. "Everyone's had work to do this morning and you want to be awake when the boys show you around."

That afternoon was a whirlwind tour of International Rescue's complex. Ursula was dragged from one hangar to another as each Tracy son proudly showed off his Thunderbird. First was Thunderbird Four, which, much to Gordon's dismay and his brothers' amusement, Ursula pronounced as being "cute" and "cheerful... like a daffodil". John was allowed to introduce Ursula to an "old friend", The Mole, and the other auxiliary machines in their holding bays and pods. Thunderbird One's proximity to the villa frightened her a little when Scott demonstrated his aeroplane's manoeuvrability by launching it, flying once around the island at speed, and then landing back through the swimming pool.

But it was the demonstration of Thunderbird Two's capabilities that really impressed Ursula. Having already been acquainted with the shear scale of the aeroplane at Daunston; the precision and control that its pilot had over his ‘bird left her in awe. "Virgil, That was amazing! How on earth do you manage to control a plane of that size?"

"Well, the computers help a lot," he admitted. "I've got lots of scanners telling me what to look out for."

"But even so, I don't think I've ever seen such skilful flying before. I don't know that even Tommy was that good a pilot!"

"Looks like you've lost top spot, Scott," Gordon teased.

Scott grinned.

That evening, after a relaxed, good-natured dinner, John took Ursula to his private observatory. Not really understanding a lot of what he was telling her, she sat back, and simply enjoyed his enthusiasm and obvious expertise. Finally having shown her ringed planets and distant galaxies, John trained his telescope on what appeared to be a blank part of the night sky. Obediently Ursula peered through the lens.

"See that little dot?" John asked.

"Yes," Ursula nodded, her eye pressed against the eyepiece. "What is it? A star you discovered?"

"No. You might like to give it a wave. That's Alan."

"That's Thunderbird Five?" Ursula looked at the young man beside her in amazement.

"Yep. That's home away from home. And kid brother had better not have broken anything when I get up there on Wednesday."

Ursula returned her attention to that tiny speck of light. This, more than anything she'd been shown today, gave her some understanding of the size of the enterprise that was International Rescue...

02 Two

Monday dawned on Tracy Island and Ursula stood at the patio doors in the lounge and looked outside. The rain was pelting down.

Someone came to stand at her shoulder. "We should have realised today's weather was going to be this bad," Scott said. "Then we could have shown you the island yesterday and the hangars today."

"Could you have waited a full day?" Ursula teased. "I got the impression that you boys were as keen to show me your Thunderbirds as I was to see them."

"Well..." Scott drawled. "I suppose we were. We don't get many opportunities to show them off."

Ursula turned back to the glass that stood between her and a soaking. "Do you think it'll rain for long?"

"All day I would think. Whenever we get one of these tropical downpours and the wind's blowing from that direction we may as well forget that there's a wider world out there."

"What do you do if there's a storm like this and International Rescue are called out?"

"Storm? Cubby, this is a mere sun-shower. It'll take a category five cyclone to stop us from launching the Thunderbirds. And even then we'll try our darndest to get airborne."

"I've read about some of the things you've done and the one thing they have in common is that they're dangerous. Aren't you ever frightened?" As Ursula looked into his steely blue eyes she realised that she already knew the answer.

"Frightened? For my own safety?" Scott made a dismissive gesture. "Never."

"For your brothers' safety?"

"That," Scott admitted, "is a totally different question. If I'm working at Mobile Control and they're off somewhere else..." He shrugged. "I've got total faith in our equipment and their abilities. But..." He shrugged again. "They're my brothers. Of course I worry about them."

Ursula let the subject drop. "Just as well you showed me your craft yesterday," she tried to peer through the sheets of rain, "I can't see the swimming pool, let alone Thunderbird One launch."

Scott chuckled. "I would have thought you might have decided that was a bonus."

Ursula coloured slightly. "I'm sorry, Scott. I know Thunderbird One is special, and I was impressed by the way you flew her. It's just that that swimming pool seems to be a mite close for launching something as powerful as a rocket plane. Don't you worry that a spark could set the house on fire?"

"No," Scott shook his head. "The villa's built of fire retardant material. Besides, if you think the pool's a bit close to buildings, wait until you see Thunderbird Three take off!"

Ursula sighed. "I wish Tommy could have been here to see your planes. I know he would have been impressed. You can't expect me to appreciate them as much as a pilot would."

"I wish we could show him too," Scott admitted. He looked back outside at the inclement weather. "This is definitely a day for indoor pursuits."

"Such as?" Ursula enquired.

"Uh..." Scott's brow creased in thought. "You've got me stumped. I'd usually work on Thunderbird One or do some other maintenance, but we can't expect you to do that. Do you play chess?"

"No."

Scott raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. "I'm out of practise at having visitors." A set of scales was played in the background and his face lit up. "Got it! Hey, Virg..."

Virgil, seated at the white baby grand for his morning practice, looked up. "What?"

"How about giving Cubby a concert?"

"A concert?" Virgil turned pink. "You don't want to listen to me, Cubby."

"Yes, I do," Ursula enthused. "Your father says you're good enough that if you ever decided to leave International Rescue you could make your way on the music scene, and from the little I've heard I'd agree with him."

"He said that?" Virgil looked astonished.

"The old man speaks sense some times," Scott grinned. "How about it?"

"Uh..." Virgil hesitated. "Tell you what, grab John and Gordon and your guitar, and we'll all head down to the music room. No reason why it has to be a one man show."

"Okay," Scott agreed. "Meet you down there in ten minutes."

Ten minutes later and Ursula found herself in the villa's ‘music room', though it looked more like a small theatre with its stage and various bits of theatrical paraphernalia about the walls. The area between the auditorium and the stage was clear and she took a seat along with Jeff, his mother, Brains, Tin-Tin and Kyrano.

Gordon sat at the drum kit and did a quick run through of the various percussion instruments, finishing with the brass platter on his left. "Who de-tuned my cymbals?"

Virgil, having already warmed up on the full sized black grand piano, began playing a vamp with his right hand. "Do you guys feel up to ‘Going Faster than the Speed of Light'?"

"Is that a challenge, Little Brother?" Scott asked as he slipped the strap of his electric guitar over his shoulder.

"If you're not feeling too old." Virgil winked, not missing a beat.

"Old! Prepare to eat my dust. How about you, Gordon?"

Gordon began playing the bass drum at the same tempo as Virgil's theme. "I'll match you any day and then some... Where's John?"

Jeff leant closer to Ursula so he could whisper in her ear. "Got your dancing shoes on?"

"Dancing shoes? It's been years since I danced, Jeff." Ursula turned to the young man who'd taken a seat beside her. "Don't you play an instrument, John?"

"Not up to their standard," he replied.

"Rubbish," his father rebuked him.

"John's going to sing for us, Cubby," Scott announced.

"No, I'm not," John rebutted

"Get up here, John," Virgil instructed. "We're ‘Going Faster than the Speed of Light'. We need your input."

"But the lyrics are not important."

"You wrote it."

"I know. That's why I know the lyrics are not important."

"John," Scott was the only one of the three musicians who hadn't taken up the refrain. "Get up here..." he ordered, "...or else Gordon can sing it."

"Yeah!" Gordon's face brightened.

"You can't do that," John protested. "Not to Cubby. She's a guest!"

"Think you're up to it, Gordon?" Scott asked.

"Of course I am... Ah..." Gordon stopped the regular beat of his foot on the bass pedal. "What were the words again?"

John groaned. "It's an infringement against the Geneva convention to let him sing." Clearly reluctant, he got to his feet. "Okay, I'll do it for Cubby's sake. We can't spoil her stay on Tracy Island." He climbed onto the stage and stood behind the piano.

Gordon's face fell. "I'm not that bad."

"Not that..." Virgil choked back a laugh. "Are we going to play this or am I going to keep playing the intro until I get RSI in my hand?"

Gordon picked up the beat again and Scott joined in with a riff on the guitar.

There wasn't much to the tune, and the lyrics seemed to consist of "International Rescue... Going Faster than the Speed of Light", but the rock ‘n' roll rhythm was catchy and the way the tempo kept increasing was impressive. Ursula came to realise that, rather than competing against each other, the four brothers fed off each other's energies and were constantly encouraging each other to maintain the pace.

It was during a lull in the tune with only the piano replaying the introduction, giving the musicians a chance to regain their breath, that Jeff leant closer to Ursula. "Get ready," he whispered.

"Ready? Ready for what?"

The guitar and drum burst back into life and Jeff was on his feet, pulling Ursula with him.

Ursula had forgotten how much she'd enjoyed dancing. In his last few weeks of life Tommy hadn't been well enough to do anything energetic and since his death she had never had the inclination to go to any dances alone. She'd also forgotten what a good dancer Jeff Tracy was.

If his sons were surprised by their father's unexpected talent it didn't show in their music. Instead they increased the tempo even further and began calling out encouragement to the two dancers.

It was only when Ursula was beginning to think that she wouldn't be able to dance another step that the piece of music finished. Laughing, she and Jeff collapsed into their chairs and accepted the applause from those about them.

Ursula pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket and pretended to mop her partner's brow. "I haven't danced like that in years."

"Me neither," Jeff agreed. "In fact the last time I danced like that was..." his forehead creased in thought as he cast his mind back over the decades. "The Air Force dance the weekend before Lucille died." Then, before there was a chance for a pall to fall over proceedings, he leant forward. "Well, come on, Boys. You must have had enough of an intermission. What are you going to entertain us with next?"

"I'm beat," Gordon wiped his forehead on his sleeve. "You've done nothing, John. You can get your overgrown fiddle out and give us a song."

John's "overgrown fiddle" turned out to be cello and he proved himself to be every bit as talented as his brothers at his chosen instrument. Each of them took their turns on centre stage and impressed Ursula with their musicality and versatility. The concert eventually finished when Grandma declared that it was time for her to make lunch.

Jeff and Ursula were the last to leave the music room. "You've got some wonderful boys there, Jeff," Ursula told him. "You did a good job raising them."

"Thanks, but don't ask me how I managed to do it, even with Mother's help. I've got no idea how I managed to find enough hours to build up the business and give each of them the attention they deserved. Sometimes it was next to impossible when more than one of them had something vitally important for me attend in different parts of the city at the same time."

"They would have understood your difficulties, wouldn't they?"

"Usually; as they got older... But when I think how easily they could have gone off the rails, especially the younger ones. I've even worried about Scott at times, he really was lost without his mother... But we made it... Somehow."

"You made it because they had a good grounding and you're an excellent role model. I think they all admire and respect their father."

Jeff gave a shrug. "Sometimes..."

On her fourth day on Tracy Island, Ursula was starting to get used to the life of luxury. Apart from what she'd been shown two days earlier, she'd seen nothing out of the ordinary to link the Tracys to International Rescue.

It was breakfast time and the family was discussing the Daunston rescue. "Was it a tricky one?" Ursula asked.

Everyone looked to Scott to be International Rescue's spokesman. "We've had worse," he admitted. "The tricky part was that the roof wasn't very stable."

"I noticed," Ursula remembered. "I nearly got hit on the head by a bit of rubble."

John winked at her. "That could have been one way of negating the security hazard."

Ursula pretended to be affronted. "Charming! And I thought you loved me, John."

John placed his hands over his heart and gave a dramatic sigh. "I'll love you till the end of time, Cubby."

"It felt like you had hit me when you told me you'd recognised the boys," Jeff recollected.

"And you had the cheek to ask if I wanted money in return for my silence!"

"I'm sorry." Jeff Tracy actually blushed. "I overreacted."

"Yes, you did," Ursula scolded. "And, for a moment, Jeff Tracy, I was frightened of you."

"Frightened? Of me! Heck, Cubby," Jeff sounded genuinely regretful as he apologised again, "I'm sorry. It looks like I'll have to start practising my ‘I don't know what you are talking about' look in case it happens again."

"There I was, sitting in your office, and I suddenly wondered just how International Rescue had managed to keep its secrets all these years," Ursula remembered. "And I began to imagine the worst."

Gordon leant closer. "We haven't told you, but we invite the miscreant here to the island, give them a good time and then, on the way home again, give them a lesson in skydiving without a parachute." He winked. "It's a highly effective way of getting rid of security hazards."

Ursula laughed and then looked across the table at the young man sitting there. "I can't believe that I didn't recognise you when you helped me, Virgil. You were the star turn at my wedding!"

Virgil looked up in interest. "I was?"

"What did he do?" Gordon asked. "Bang on the piano?"

"Virgil was the page boy," Ursula told him.

A grin spread across Gordon's face. "Page boy!"

"He looked so cute in his little tuxedo."

"Virgil?! Cute?!" Gordon stared at the brother in question. "I can't believe that. What did our page boy here have to do? Carry the ring?"

"Oh, yes," Ursula nodded. "He was so delightfully solemn about it all. This was a serious business and no one was going to get in the way of him doing his duty. However, once that duty was finished..."

Upon hearing a chuckle from Jeff, a snort from Scott, and a snicker from John, Virgil's face clouded over. "Oh... It was that wedding, was it?"

"There was only one," Jeff reminded him. "After what happened at Cubby's we weren't game enough to let you take part in anyone else's... Not that anyone asked."

"Why?" Gordon looked between the five of them finishing with Virgil. "What happened? What did you do?"

Ursula was watching Virgil who, despite his sturdy frame, appeared to be trying to shrink away to nothing. "Do you want to tell him what happened?"

"No."

"Would you rather I did it?"

"No."

"Ignore him, Cubby," Gordon pleaded. "Tell me!"

"Okay," Ursula ignored Virgil's groan. "Things went well at the beginning. Virgil led the way down the aisle, carrying his little cushion with the rings with his two big brothers on either side of him. He played his role perfectly, but I guess once he'd finished his part in the ceremony he got a bit bored."

"A bunch of adults repeating the things they'd said at the rehearsal earlier," Virgil remembered. "Of course it was boring."

"So, what did you do?!" Gordon pressed.

Virgil refused to say anything so Ursula continued telling the tale. "When the ceremony was over and it was time for Tommy and I to walk out of the church as husband and wife, the page boy had disappeared."

Jeff nodded. "No one had seen him walk back down the aisle. We looked under pews and behind curtains." He chuckled. "Cubby even checked that he hadn't crawled under her wedding dress."

Virgil looked horrified. "I wouldn't!"

"Then the organist remembered a small boy sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him listening to him play," Ursula recollected.

Gordon turned to his elder brother. "Typical. But where were you when everyone was looking for you?"

"Exploring."

"Exploring? Exploring where?"

"That's what we all wondered," Jeff said. "Then we heard these strange noises from behind the organ."

Virgil shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "I wanted to see how it worked."

"Behind the organ," Gordon drawled. "I might have guessed."

"I tried to squeeze in to get him," Jeff remembered. "But there wasn't enough room. Next thing I knew, Scott's removed his jacket and is off to the rescue."

"Situation normal," Scott teased and earned himself a glare from his brother. "I still don't know how you managed to get up so high."

"Climbed, of course."

"All we could hear is Scott cajoling Virgil down, Virgil exclaiming about how great it all was and how far he could see, and the odd, distinctly unmusical, noise," Ursula said. "I think the church officials had their calculators out and were adding up the costs for damages."

"Your mother was practically having kittens when we heard you say, ‘Catch me, Scott,'" Jeff added. "You sounded as if you were at the top of the bell tower."

"It wasn't that high," Scott informed them.

"Next thing we knew," Ursula continued, "this small, extremely filthy boy, with a grin as big as the Grand Canyon, positively erupted from behind the organ and ran over to his mother. Poor Lucille was trying to stop you from dirtying her gown while you were gabbling on about everything you'd found back there."

"You were covered in cobwebs and dust and your hair was stuck out at all angles..."

"The church should have given you a tip for doing their cleaning for them..."

Both Jeff and Ursula stopped talking at this point and grinned at each other.

"What?" Gordon asked. "What have you left out?"

"Well..." Jeff began slowly. "Up till this point the congregation had been pretty quiet. I guess they'd been enjoying the spectacle of us running around like headless chickens."

"Yes," Ursula agreed. "At that moment you could have heard a pin drop."

The pair of them burst out laughing.

Three of the younger men present looked at each other in mystification. The fourth wondered if he could crawl away and hide.

"What are you laughing at?" John asked. "I can't remember anything particularly funny."

"I remember people laughing," Scott said. "But I don't know why. I asked you," he pointed at his father, "and you said you'd explain later, except you didn't."

"Ah, the innocence of youth," Ursula giggled. "Picture the scene. We're in a church. Everyone's waiting quietly for the ceremony to finish. Jeff's trying to brush the dirt off Scott. Lucille's picking the cobwebs off Virgil. I think John was tracing the stars in the wood carvings on the altar. Tommy and I are trying not to laugh because we didn't want to hurt Virgil's feelings. The celebrant's looking at his watch because he had another wedding to officiate at. Then..." She looked at Jeff. "Do you want to tell them what happened next?"

Jeff grinned in reply. "No, you can."

"I don't care who tells us, just tell us!" Scott ordered.

"If anyone wants me, I'll be in Thunderbird Two's hangar," Virgil stated. He tried to rise but was held down by John and Gordon.

"It's not polite to leave the table until the guest does," John informed him.

"Go on, Cubby." Scott nudged her. "You tell us."

"Very well," Ursula agreed. "The room went quiet and..." she hesitated. "Maybe it would be better if your father told you."

"Why? It was all perfectly innocent," Jeff said.

"Cubby," Gordon whined. "This suspense is killing me."

"Come on, Cubby, John said. "Or else I shall never love you again."

"Well, I can't have that, can I?" Cubby giggled. "Okay... There was silence... Total silence... and then Virgil's little voice says, loud as anything in the church... ‘I hope my organ's as big as his when I grow up...!' It brought the house down!"

It had the same effect on those sitting around the table. Even Virgil, who'd reddened at the revelation, couldn't resist cracking a smile.

"Are you going to tell Cubby if you got your wish?" John teased. He narrowed his eyes. "Or do you want us to?"

"I did get a big organ!" Virgil protested, trying to maintain some dignity. "I built one as a school project."

When he'd finally managed to get himself back under control Gordon looked at his older brother. "You're kidding?! You didn't honestly say that?!"

Virgil tried not to look embarrassed. "I had a toy keyboard, okay? I was thinking about that."

"Your mother was trying not to laugh while telling you that everyone wasn't laughingat you," Jeff informed him. "And Scott was trying to stick up for his little brother without knowing why everyone was laughing at him."

"Even the celebrant was finding it difficult not to laugh," Ursula recollected. "He kept on holding his book up to his face so we couldn't see it."

Gordon held his ribs, sore from laughter. "I wish I could remember all this."

"You weren't there," Virgil told him. "Fortunately."

"That's right," Jeff agreed. "You and Alan didn't join us until the end of the wedding breakfast. Your grandmother looked after you both so that none of my boys could disrupt the wedding." He gave his chestnut haired son a sideways glance and then ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Never mind, Virgil," Ursula chuckled as he combed it back into place with his fingers. "Everyone still talks about it at family functions."

"I'll bet." Virgil looked down at his hands. "I knew there was a reason why I always feel like I need a shower when I hear Mendelssohn's Wedding March."

"That's because you're always filthy," John picked up Virgil's hand and indicated the stains on them. "Grease and polar white paint. Didn't you wash before lunch?"

Virgil pulled his hand free. "Of course I did!" He scratched at the paint. "It sticks."

Jeff looked out the window. "It looks like it's going to be a nice day. We'll be able to use the pool and I promise not to let Scott launch Thunderbird One while you're trying out your new bathing suit."

"Jeff Tracy! You are determined to see me in my swimsuit," Ursula scolded.

"You're worried?" he asked. "I've seen you in less than that."

Ursula turned scarlet and John choked into his cup of coffee. "You've done what!"

"You weren't meant to," Ursula reprimanded. "That was a mistake."

"You're telling me. And it could have been very embarrassing all round."

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Gordon begged. "Tell us what happened."

"No," Jeff said.

"Aww, come on, Dad."

"Fair's fair," Virgil claimed. "You've just embarrassed me, now it's your turn."

"This is your fault." Ursula glared at Jeff.

"Mine? You're the one who started reminiscing about your wedding. We don't have to say anything, Cubby."

"You can't drop a bombshell like that and then just leave our imaginations running wild," Scott exclaimed. "What happened?"

"He's right. If we don't say anything they'll imagine that it was a lot less innocent than it actually was." Ursula sighed and sat back. "Go on, Jeff..."

He took a sip at his coffee. "It was before I joined the astronaut programme and before your mother and I were married; in fact we weren't even engaged. It was a roasting hot day and Lucille suggested that we three go cool off on a picnic by the swimming hole by the river. She said it would be cooler under the trees."

"It wasn't," Ursula remembered.

"No, it wasn't," Jeff agreed. "It got so hot that the two ladies decided that it would be a good idea to go for a swim in the swimming hole."

Ursula nodded. "That was Lucille's idea too. The problem was we hadn't brought any swimming gear."

"You and Ma went skinny-dipping?" Virgil stared at Ursula.

"Not quite," Ursula told him. "We decided to retain some dignity. So we kept on our... you know."

"No... what?" Gordon asked, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"Gordon!" Jeff growled.

Gordon's grin widened. "Don't worry. I'll ask Grandma later."

"Gordon," Jeff growled again.

"Your father was on leave from the Air Force, but he couldn't go swimming because he'd broken his arm..." The glance Ursula gave Jeff spoke of another untold story. "So your mother and I got undressed behind some bushes, where Jeff couldn't see us, and slipped into the water." She gave a contented smile. "After the heat of the day it was pure bliss."

"Lucille asked me to hang onto their clothes so that they wouldn't lose them," Jeff added. "The current was moving them downstream so I walked along the bank, following the two girls in the water and feeling very uncomfortable..."

"I'll bet," Gordon interjected. "We've just finished talking about Virgil's big organ and now we're on to yo..."

"Gordon." Jeff growled for a third time, glared at his son, and continued. "...Uncomfortable with the heat; especially under my cast. The sun was so hot that I decided to use your mother's dress as a kind of sunshade."

"Good idea," Scott approved.

"I thought so..." Jeff agreed, "until I climbed a little hill and saw what was on the other side around the bend in the river."

John leant closer. "And that was...?"

"My entire Flight doing an exercise." Jeff's sons burst out laughing as he explained. "They were practising water retrieval after the pilot had bailed out of a plane."

Scott nodded. "I remember doing that."

"So I'm there, holding two woman's dresses, using one as a sunshade, while the two girls are swimming, nearly naked, right into the middle of about 30 men... Most of whom they knew personally."

"Next thing we knew..." Ursula took up the tale, "Jeff came barrelling down the hill at about mach three, waving our dresses at us. Your mother and I thought the heat had got to him. Then he tripped up..."

"My legs got caught up in your clothes and my cast threw me off balance."

"And you ended up in the river beside us."

The Tracy boys burst out laughing again.

"I managed to keep my cast dry though, didn't I?"

"Which is more than could be said for our dresses."

"All the while your mother's yelling at me and asking me what did I think I was playing at and I'm trying to shush her up and explain what they were going to be swimming into."

"When we eventually realised what you were saying we were out of the water like a shot."

"Leaving me to struggle alone up a steep bank one-handed."

"We had more important things to worry about, like getting dressed in wet clothes, thanks to you."

Jeff leered at Ursula. "I notice that you'd both had fewer concerns about my seeing you undressed than you did about being seen by the rest of the Flight."

"Why do you think we left you to climb out alone? You had your arm in a cast and were soaking wet so we thought we were safe from your advances. Besides, there were no trees there and the current was too strong to swim back upstream, so we had no option."

"Then what did you do?" John asked.

"Walked back to where we'd left the picnic," Jeff said. "It was that hot that the three of us were dry by the time we got there."

"Hot and sticky," Ursula remembered. "The swim was a complete waste of time."

Jeff sat back and stared at the ceiling; a reflective expression on his face. "The whole disaster was Lucille's idea. It was about then that I decided that the only chance I had of maintaining some control over her would be if I were to marry her." He grinned at the group around the table. "It didn't work."

Ursula looked down at her dry, and now cold, slice of toast and, still in a playful mood, turned back to her host. "Pass me the butter, please, Dick."

"Ursula," he growled as he handed her the spread.

"Dick?" Scott looked at his father in interest. "Why Dick?"

"Ah... It's short for Dick Tracy," Jeff said.

"Dick Tracy?" Scott looked astounded. "As in the comic strip detective?"

Jeff tried to give a nonchalant shrug. "When I last knew Cubby I always liked to have a lot of gadgets about me. So did Dick Tracy. I guess it was logical that someone should decide that it would be a suitable nickname."

"I'm impressed!" Gordon's prankster brain had seen through the half-truth. "If I'd been as quick off the starting blocks as you were with coming up with that excuse, Dad, I would have won my Olympic heat. Now tell us: what's the real reason?"

"That's it, Gordon. Nothing special."

"Yeah, sure," John drawled. "Why'd you call him ‘Dick', Cubby? It can't be any more embarrassing than that last story, can it?"

Eyes laughing, Ursula looked at her friend. "What do you want me to say, Jeff?"

"Nothing that could cause me to lose face in front of my children."

"Don't worry," Gordon teased. "Nothing could make ‘your children' respect you any less than we already do... Dick." Jeff's subsequent expression and the butter knife pointed in his direction told him he was skating on thin ice.

"Come on, Cubby," Virgil pressed. "Why did you call him ‘Dick'?"

"Well..." Ursula prevaricated. She glanced at Jeff who managed to convey a pleading expression in the briefest of glances. "Do you boys honestly think that your father would lie to you?"

"If he was trying to hide something especially embarrassing from us... yes," John said.

"Hands up all those who believe Dad's excuse," Gordon instructed. All hands remained down until Ursula, rather unconvincingly, raised hers.

Scott gave her a conspiratorial nudge. "You can tell us later when he's not around." He winked.

"No, she ca..." Jeff halted mid-speech when an alarm sounded.

Ursula was astounded by the way the atmosphere changed as all the Tracy men leapt out of their chairs and ran from the dining room. Curious, she followed them.

Having spoken to Alan in this manner two days ago, she wasn't surprised to see the family clustered around the video link from his portrait.

"How many corridors, Alan?" Jeff was asking.

"Six," Alan confirmed.

Jeff turned to his sons. "We're going to need The Mole and a full crew on this one."

"And the oxyhydnite," Scott added.

Jeff nodded his agreement. "You'd better get going, Scott. Radio through when you've got a plan of action worked out." His eldest hadn't even stepped up to the twin lamps when Jeff turned to his middle son. "How are the oxyhydnite tanks in Thunderbird Two, Virgil?"

"Full. I refreshed them last Friday."

"Good. Get going, Boys."

With a "F-A-B" the three remaining Tracy sons left the room.

Kyrano entered the lounge with a tray and placed a mug off coffee on Jeff's desk. This was clearly so much a part of the ritual of a rescue that Jeff didn't even acknowledge the other man, preferring to concentrate on Alan and the information that he was receiving from Thunderbird Five.

Ursula contented herself with sitting on one of the couches and watching proceedings. She was surprised when Kyrano returned with another cup of coffee and placed it on the table beside her chair. "For you, Mrs White."

Ursula smiled at him. "Thank you, Kyrano. Is this a typical rescue?"

He favoured her with one of his own gentle smiles. "For me this is a typical rescue. For the Tracys no rescue is typical."

"No," Ursula mused. "I guess not. Does Tin-Tin ever, ah, see ‘active service'?"

She could see pride in the Malaysian's face. "She has had the honour of assisting International Rescue. She was on board Thunderbird Three during the Sun Probe rescue."

"Sun Probe!" Ursula gasped. "But didn't it nearly end in disaster? Don't you worry about her?"

"I worry; like Mr Tracy worries. But Mr Tracy has given much to myself and my Tin-Tin. It is an honour for us both to work for him."

A beeping noise came from the other side of the room and Ursula was surprised to see the eyes in Scott's portrait flash in time to the beeps. Jeff, however, took it in his stride. "Go ahead, Thunderbird One."

"I'm at the danger zone. The local fire services are struggling to contain the fire, but have succeeded in evacuating everyone from the buildings above ground. It's in the basement corridors that they need our help. As soon as Thunderbird Two gets here we'll start drilling. We can tackle two corridors with The Mole, but the other four we'll have to approach using the oxyhydnite cutters. I've already worked out The Mole's path and the optimum drop off points." Scott glanced off screen. "Here's Thunderbird Two now."

"Okay, Scott. Radio back when you're about to start drilling."

"F-A-B."

The portrait reverted back to its normal form and for a moment the stresses in the room settled down. Ursula took the opportunity to find out more about what had happened.

"Gas main explosion," Jeff said briefly. "An entire office block is on fire. They've managed to evacuate everyone except for fifteen people in the complex beneath the building..."

"Thunderbird Five to base."

Jeff's attention instantly switched back to his youngest son's portrait. "Go ahead, Alan."

"Report from Mole. They've started drilling."

"F-A-B," Jeff responded. "Keep in contact with them and keep me apprised of progress."

"F-A-B," Alan echoed and disappeared from the screen.

Jeff appeared to have forgotten that Ursula was in the room. He stared at his sons' photos on the wall and fiddled with a pen; clicking its nib in and out continuously. As a further visual representation of the stresses he was feeling, his shoulders were hunched up near his ears.

"Are you worried, Jeff?" Ursula asked.

He glanced around as if surprised to see her still there. "A little."

"I wouldn't be," Ursula tried to sound confident. "Don't forget, I've seen The Mole in action. And I'm living proof of how good it, and your sons, are."

"It's not The Mole I'm worried about," Jeff admitted. "Or, in the normal course of events, the boys. It's the oxyhydnite that worries me. When we were testing it, it knocked out both Scott and Virgil." At her concerned expression he hastened to reassure her. "It had no after effects and Brains discovered the cause and has added an attachment to the tanks so it won't happen again..."

"But you still worry," Ursula finished for him.

"Yes. I can't help it. Both Scott and Virgil were unaware that they were having any problems until afterwards. As far as they were concerned one minute they were cutting through a steel wall, the next they were waking up in the sickbay wondering what all the fuss was about." He gestured towards the portraits. "In this situation they're all going to be working alone. If anything happens to one of them, no one's going to know for a long time... possibly until it's too late. I have complete faith in all of Brains' inventions but..." he sighed and looked back at his friend. "I'm not only their commander, I'm their father."

Ursula stood. "I know." She stepped up to the desk. "Let me help you, Jeff."

He gave her a wry smile. "There's nothing you can do, Cubby."

"Yes there is." Ursula looked at the desk. One side was constrained by various bits of equipment and the other had a heavy looking table blocking the exit. "How do I get behind this thing?"

"You don't," Jeff told her.

"There must be some way," Ursula pulled at the portable table, which didn't move.

"Cubby. There's nothing you can do back here," Jeff protested.

Ursula leant on his desk and lowered her voice. "If you don't let me back there, Jeff, your sons will find out why half the town called you ‘Dick' Tracy."

He stared back at her. "You wouldn't..."

Ursula gave a sly smile. "Oh, wouldn't I? I'm sure Gordon would love to know about the booby-trap his straight-laced father put in that playhouse..."

"My Flight spent hours rebuilding the playground and that booby-trap was to catch any vandals who were coming back to destroy all our hard work! Besides, at that hour the park was locked up so most respectable people couldn't get in. How was I to know the Chief of Police and the Mayor's wife were planning use the new playhouse for their illicit tryst?"

"I'll bet the lady in question never expected to be doused in permanent bright orange paint."

"That paint was intended to tag vandals, not her. That's why some of us spent the night on site, so we could remove the traps before the kids were let in the next day. And, I'll have you remember, Cubby, that I broke my arm serving the community!"

"You broke your arm tackling the Chief of Police."

"If he hadn't deserted his lady love and run away I would never have tackled him. I thought he was a criminal, not someone frightened of publicity. Remember he was a big man in the town..." Jeff scowled. "In more ways than one... We fell awkwardly: I think he'd been eating too many donuts...."

"Did you enjoy waiting in hospital under police arrest?"

Jeff's scowl deepened. "No."

"What were those charges again? Assault... Trespass..."

"Vandalism... Can you believe it? I did all that to stop vandals and they charge ME with vandalism! If the chief hadn't used his key to let themselves into the park that paint would still be in its bag, not splashed all over the inside of the playhouse!"

"And all over him and the Mayor's wife..."

Despite his bitterness at the memories Jeff managed a chuckle. "I wonder how she explained that away to her husband. Especially since he was due to have a meeting with a similarly decorated Chief of Police and the local press later that morning. The papers could have had a field day!"

"Probably why the charges were eventually dropped against you: to buy your silence... After you managed to convince your girlfriend to come and bail you out." Ursula favoured Jeff with an angelic smile. "I'm sure your sons would love to hear that this was the real reason why we went on that picnic... To cool your temper down."

"My first impressions were correct. You are into blackmail, Cubby."

"Then let me behind your desk."

"No. Besides, by the time they get home again you'll be more interested in asking them about the rescue rather than betraying me."

"Maybe..." Ursula pursed her lips. "Of course I could always spend the next few hours talking to your mother. I'm sure she'd love to hear how her precious son spent most of the night and part of the next day in a police cell..."

The desk began moving towards the ceiling and Ursula quickly stepped underneath. She laughed. "I wonder if those involved realise that that indignant young airman with the broken arm went on to become one of the richest men in the world?"

"I hope not. If anyone ever decides to write an unauthorised autobiography about me, that'll be one of the first things they'll publish." Jeff looked at Ursula askance. "Just what are you planning to do?"

"Help you relax." Ursula laid her hands on his shoulders and started making firm stroking motions across them. "Your muscles are as hard as iron, Jeff! If you're not careful you'll make yourself seriously ill."

The muscles beneath the shirt under her fingers were more pliable now and Ursula started to knead. Jeff grunted as her fingers bit in. "I told you, I'm not usually like this. It's the oxyhydnite..." Tin-Tin entered the lounge just in time to hear him give a low moan. "That feels so good, Cubby...." Startled and unseen, the younger woman hesitated until she heard him add. "I'd forgotten this particular skill of yours."

Tin-Tin turned and, on tip-toe, fled the room.

"Helping you relax, is it?" Ursula was asking.

"Uh, huh."

"I've lost count how often I did this to Lucille to try to keep her from stressing when that astronaut husband of hers was out in space," Ursula remembered. "It must have been hundreds of times, and that's not counting the back rubs I gave her when she was pregnant."

"I can see why she appreciated it," Jeff said lazily.

"Tommy used to enjoy my massages too. But towards the end of his life he seemed so fragile that I was scared to touch him... Feeling better?"

"Mmmnnn." Jeff's eyes were closed as his tension was massaged away. A beeping sound filled the room again and instantly he was back on alert. "Go ahead, Scott."

Not expecting the interruption, Ursula was slow to remove her hands from Jeff's shoulders and Scott's eyes narrowed a fraction when he saw her proximity to his father. But the younger man retained his professional demeanour. "John, Virgil, and Gordon are in position and I'm proceeding to rendezvous with the group trapped in corridor 1PB."

"Affirmative, Scott," Jeff acknowledged. "Report back to Alan as soon as you have everyone on board The Mole. Keep in contact with your brothers."

"F-A-B." Scott replied. His gaze rested on Ursula for a moment longer before he cut communications.

"More?" Ursula placed her hands back on Jeff's shoulders.

He patted her hand and looked up at her. "Thanks. But I'm okay now." He rotated his shoulders. "That feels great."

The desk was raised again and Ursula stepped out of its confines. "Well, I'm only here for a few more days, so you'd better make the most of it. If the boys want to make use of my services after they've finished this rescue, I'm more than happy to help," she flexed her fingers. "It's the least I can do after they saved my life. When do you think they'll be home?"

"If things go smoothly and there are no complications, I'd say after dinner."

"Okay. I'll expect to be mobbed then."

Jeff smiled at his friend. "I doubt it. They'll have to replenish supplies and ready their craft for the next rescue before they think about looking after themselves. Then they'll be mobbing their Grandmother's cooking."

"Well, it's not as if I've got to be up early in the morning. I don't mind waiting till late this evening."

"You may as well get your beauty sleep. Once they've eaten we'll have to have the debriefing and they can go on for hours."

"Debriefing?" Ursula looked at International Rescue's commander in interest. "Can I eavesdrop?"

Jeff shook his head. "Sorry, Cubby, but debriefings are strictly in-house. It's the chance for them to say if they have any issues with the equipment... or each other. And you know what they say about washing dirty laundry in public."

"I know. I understand. Will John still be going back to Thunderbird Five tomorrow?"

"We'll see how everyone's feeling after today. If possible we'll try to keep to schedule."

Grandma entered the room. "Lunch is ready in the dining room, Ursula, dear."

"Lunch?" Ursula looked at her watch. "It doesn't seem that long since breakfast. Are you coming, Jeff?"

"No. I'll wait here for their next report."

"We won't shift him from that desk until he knows his boys are coming home," Grandma said. "I'll bring you a plate of something, Honey."

"Thanks, Mother."

Ursula and Grandma were joined by Tin-Tin and the three women had an enjoyable afternoon gossiping about the world, fashion, and the Tracy men.

It was late in the afternoon when Jeff Tracy deserted his desk and appeared in the dining room. "Thought you'd like to know I've just received a report from Alan. They've rescued the last of the victims and are on their way back to the surface."

"Is everyone okay?" Grandma asked.

"They're all fine. Scott says he's starving, since he missed lunch."

Grandma laughed. "That boy would be starving if he'd eaten it."

"Any problems with the oxyhydnite, Jeff?" Ursula enquired.

"Nope. Everything worked perfectly. They're all feeling great..."

"But hungry," Tin-Tin added.

Grandma stood. "I'd better start thinking about dinner. What time do you expect them home, Jeff?"

"Late..."

It wasn't until the following morning when Ursula saw any of the Tracy boys and, yet again, she could discern nothing to connect them with International Rescue or the danger they'd put themselves in the previous day.

John was clearly in a melodramatic mood. "Well, this is it, Cubby. Parting is such sweet sorrow."

"But remember, John," Ursula played along, "absence makes the heart grow fonder. We shall be closer when we next meet."

"Think of me when you look at the stars?"

"Remember me as you while away your lonely hours."

"Until we meet again..."

"For Pete's sake, John!" Scott, sitting on the couch that would transport them to Thunderbird Three, had reached the end of his tether. "Will you come and sit down before I take Gordon instead."

"Take me?" Gordon squeaked.

"You know what happened last time we left him alone on Five," Scott continued. "We had to practically scrape him off the walls when we returned to collect him. And make several repairs to your ‘bird..."

"Ah, if anyone wants me I'll be in the pool." Gordon prepared to desert the lounge. "No, let me amend that to if anyone wants me I'm nowhere to be found."

"Not a fan of space duty, is he?" Ursula asked as she watched the red-head flee down the exterior steps.

"Hates it," Virgil said. "Says it ‘sends him around the bend', though I can't say that we've ever noticed the difference."

"Guess I'd better go before Alan starts banging off the walls too," John said. "See ya, Cubby." He gave her a farewell kiss before settling down beside his older brother.

"Goodbye, John. Have a safe flight."

"Next time you visit, make sure it's in the middle of the month when I'm dirtside so we can spend more time together."

Ursula smiled. "I'll try." She was briefly startled as the couch began descending into the floor, but then cheerfully returned all the air kisses that John was blowing at her.

"Since we've lost Gordon," Jeff said. "Will you mind taking over the launch, Virgil? I'll take Cubby to see it from up on the hill."

"Sure thing, Father. Radio through when you're in position."

"It's been great seeing Cubby again," John was saying to Scott. "I like her."

"Really?" Scott couldn't quite keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "I'm sure we would never have guessed."

John laughed. "Aren't you glad we've caught up again?"

"Yeah, I am," Scott admitted. "She was great fun when we were kids and I'm glad to see she hasn't changed..."

Jeff and Ursula travelled in a cable car that went part way up the volcanic cone that topped Tracy Island. When they alighted Ursula found that she was able to look down on much of the home complex. "Where should I look?"

"Over by the Round House," Jeff pointed out the symmetrically shaped building. Then he raised his arm and spoke into his wristwatch. "We're in position, Virgil."

"F-A-B," the watch replied and Ursula heard Virgil open communications with the space craft. "Base to Thunderbird Three."

"Thunderbird Three," John replied.

"You are clear to launch."

"Thanks, Virgil. Be seeing you."

"See you in a month, John."

Ursula waited with bated breath. All of the space launches that she'd seen had involved huge numbers of people, gigantic pieces of machinery, a long countdown, and feverish activity. Instead she could see nothing and Jeff Tracy was so blasé about the whole affair that he'd found himself a flat rock to sit on and was making some notes into a personal digital assistant. "Where do I look again, Jeff?" she asked. "I don't want to miss it."

He chuckled. "No chance of missing her, Cubby. Thunderbird Three's 88 metres high."

"But shouldn't there be a launch pad or something?"

"There is, but it's concealed." A low rumble reached their vantage point. "Ah, here they come now." He slipped his PDA back into his pocket.

Ursula turned back to the ‘Round House' and was astounded to see International Rescue's spacecraft appear to pass through the centre of the building. The flare from the rocket's jets blinded her momentarily and she blinked and looked away. When she looked back she found that she had to crane her head backwards to see what was now a dot in the sky. "Goodbye, John."

When all traces of Thunderbird Three had disappeared Ursula looked back down to where she'd first seen it. "Was it an optical illusion or did that Thunderbird fly through the centre of the building?"

"Told you it was concealed," Jeff grinned. "You'd never expect to find a spaceship in the middle of a house, would you?"

"I certainly didn't. I can see why Scott said launching Thunderbird One wasn't as hair-raising." Now Ursula took the opportunity to look around her. For miles beyond Tracy Island's margins, apart for a few rocky isles, there appeared to be nothing but ocean. "I can see why you chose to base International Rescue here."

"It suits us," Jeff agreed. "Sometimes the isolation causes problems, but we could never have operated out of anywhere closer to habitation."

"What's the nearest piece of land?"

"There's a few uninhabited islands scattered about."

"So I see," Ursula indicated one on the horizon.

"That's Mateo. We use it for construction purposes, and for storage if we can't land the Thunderbirds on Tracy Island for whatever reason."

"You own that island too?"

"I own quite a bit of land," Jeff confessed.

"I can't get used to the idea of your having money, Jeff Tracy," Ursula admitted. "When I think what a struggle you had trying to keep your wife and five children fed and clothed..."

"Believe me, having adequate finances came as a surprise to me too," Jeff grinned. "Shall we go down? We could take the cable car, but the walk's nice on a day like today."

Ursula agreed to take the path. "It'll help get rid of some of the extra inches your mother's cooking has added to my waistline."

"Nothing wrong with your figure, Cubby."

"Flirt."

They descended slowly, chatting easily in the manner of old friends, before they came to a tricky section. "Looks like that last lot of rain washed out the path," Jeff said. "I'll get the boys up here to repair it later. Hang on..." He jumped down and then reached back up. "Let me help you."

Ursula allowed Jeff to grasp her about the waist and then, with his support, she too jumped down onto a handy rock...

It was at that moment that Ursula White felt what seemed to be a bolt of electricity pass through her body...

03 Three

The jolt of electricity seemed to start somewhere atop Ursula's head, work its way down to her feet and then retrace its journey; where it dissipated taking all conscious thought with it. All she was aware of were deep blue eyes, hands on her waist, and lips drawing closer to hers. Wrapping her arms around his neck she ran her fingers through his thick hair as his arms further encircled her body pulling them closer together...

They broke apart a full two minutes later.

Jeff Tracy took a step backwards as if trying to distance himself from his emotions. "Ursula?" he asked, a bewildered look on his face. "What just happened here?"

Ursula was feeling just as confused as he evidently was. "I-I don't know, Jeff. I didn't expect... plan... hope... I wasn't expecting this."

He looked at her as if hoping that she held the answers that he craved. "Was it wrong...? It didn't feel wrong."

"No," Ursula agreed. "It felt right. As if it was meant to be."

"That sounds like something Kyrano would come out with." Jeff ran his hands though his hair in a gesture of helplessness. "Now what do we do?"

"See what develops?" Ursula suggested. "I've still got four days here. Anything could happen. We might discover that this was a... a mistake? Maybe it's the romantic setting: the golden sands, the blue seas, the palm trees... Maybe all that put us in the mood and what just happened didn't actually mean anything?"

"All right, so that could explain why it's happened to you," Jeff said gruffly. "But why me? This is my home! I never thought of it as anything special..." he looked back at the lady still perched on the rock. "Until now..." He sighed. "What do you want to happen, Cubby?" he asked. "What would make you happy?"

"I don't know, Jeff. I've never even considered... us. I need time to think."

"Yes," he agreed. "Me too."

Ursula held out her hand. "Help me down from this rock?"

He hesitated as if he were fearful that her touch would rip all control and logic from his grasp. Then he stepped forward and helped her down. His hand didn't leave hers as they continued traversing the path.

Behind and above them a figure stepped out from where it had been concealed...

Tin-Tin watched as Jeff's arm slipped around Ursula's waist again...

Ursula spent part of the afternoon getting reacquainted with Alan and being shown around International Rescue's largest craft, Thunderbird Three. When she could no longer ignore the queries and confusions that were looping around in her mind, she excused herself and went and sat alone on the beach. After an hour of quiet contemplation she was not displeased when Jeff came down and enquired if she wanted to go for a walk...

It was an unwritten rule that, for the recently returned astronaut, the day after they returned from Thunderbird Five was a day of leisure. Consequently, Thursday found Alan and Tin-Tin going for a walk themselves.

"I've missed you," Tin-Tin said.

Alan's arm, which he'd settled about her waist, squeezed her lightly. "And I've missed you."

"Though it hasn't been boring with Mrs White here."

"No," Alan agreed. "She seems to be a lot of fun. Everyone likes her."

"Your father certainly does."

"Well, I guess they've got a bit in common." Alan led his girlfriend to a low flat rock where they sat down side-by-side.

"Alan?"

"Mmmn." He was engrossed in tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"How well do you think they know each other?"

"Who?"

"Mr Tracy and Mrs White."

Alan stopped playing with her hair and frowned. "Quite well, I should think, but I don't remember. I was only a baby when we last knew Cubby. Why?"

"I saw them yesterday and they seemed quite..." Tin-Tin bit her lip as she sought the right word. "Friendly?"

"Well, they've been friends since before Dad and Ma were married."

"That's not what I mean, Alan."

"Huh? Well what do you mean?"

"I mean friendly..." she placed her hand on his leg and gave it a squeeze, "like us."

"What!"

"I saw them yesterday. They were kissing."

"What!" Alan repeated and shifted so he wasn't sitting so close and could look her full in the face. "You're kidding."

"No."

"You must have imagined it," Alan protested. "He wouldn't! Maybe he whispered something into her ear."

"I know my anatomy and her ear was nowhere near where his lips were."

"Kissing! Dad!? Look... Tin-Tin..." Alan was struggling to make sense of what he was hearing. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"When John left, Mr Tracy took Mrs White in the cable car up to see Thunderbird Three launch. I thought I'd join them but they'd gone by the time I'd finished helping Brains, so I took the shortcut up the hill. They were walking back down the path by the time I got there so I followed them. Your father helped Mrs White down a steep bit of track and then they kissed."

"Ah!" Alan's face lit up. "She gave him a peck on the cheek to say thank you."

"No, Alan." Tin-Tin's exasperation was beginning to show. "They kissed! Like this!" She gave him a first-hand demonstration: the effect of which was that he temporarily forget their topic of conversation.

When he'd regained his facilities he stood. "You're joking, aren't you, Tin-Tin? Dad wouldn't!"

She scowled and folded her arms in a huff. "All right then, don't believe me! But I'm telling you the truth! And what's more..." she outlined what she'd heard two days earlier.

"But..." Alan scratched his head, bewildered by what he was hearing. "I can't believe it..." Then his face darkened. "But I'll bet I know some people who know what's really going on." He turned on his heel and began marching back the way they'd come.

"Alan!" Tin-Tin hurried after him. "Where are you going?"

He looked angry. "To see my brothers..."

Scott, Gordon and Virgil were working in the maintenance bay on one of International Rescue's pieces of arctic machinery. They were not expecting to see an irate younger brother storm up to them. "You guys love to see me make a fool of myself, don't you!?"

"Yes." Gordon grinned at the happy thought. "What have you done this time?"

"Nothing, fortunately. No thanks to you lot. You wouldn't dream of telling me, would you?"

"Anyone know what he's talking about?" Scott asked, turning to the most obvious candidate. "Gordon?"

"I have no idea, but I'm dying to hear it."

"Virgil?"

"Don't look at me."

"Well, I'm sure I don't know. What are you on about, Alan?"

"Come on." Alan folded his arms and glared at his siblings. "You must know. I'm talking about Dad and Cubby."

"Dad... and... Cubby..." Scott repeated slowly. "Nope, you've lost me."

"That they're..." Alan still couldn't believe what he was saying, "involved."

Scott looked at Virgil. Then he looked at Gordon. Then he looked back at Alan. "Involved."

"Yes!"

"Involved in what?" Virgil asked.

"Each other!"

Gordon scratched his head. "Maybe it's a delayed effect of the oxyhydnite, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You don't know?" Perplexed, Alan looked between his brothers. "You genuinely don't know? I don't believe it!"

"Well, if you don't believe it," Virgil said, "would you mind if we got back to work?"

"But... but, don't you understand?" Alan spluttered. "Dad and Cubby are involved... together... Romantically!"

There was a crash followed by a stunned silence. Alan looked at his brothers' faces seeing a similar, dazed expression on each. "You guys really didn't know?"

Ignoring the polar nuts that were scattered about his feet from the empty container that hung loosely in his fingers, Scott shook his head in denial. "No. That can't be right. Where'd you find this out, Alan?"

"Tin-Tin told me."

"And how did she find out?"

"She saw them kissing."

"No." Scott shook his head again. "She must have imagined it. There's no way."

"She says she saw them. I believe her."

"Maybe John knows something," Virgil suggested. He crossed the floor to a diagram of International Rescue's space station. "Arctic maintenance bay to Thunderbird Five."

There was a brief delay before the picture faded out and John appeared. "Hiya, Virg. What can I do for you?"

"Did you know about...?" Virgil's flow of speech dried up as he contemplated what he was about to say.

"Do I know about what?" John frowned. "What's wrong, Virgil?"

Scott stepped up to the video feed. "Alan and Tin-Tin have got this stupid idea..."

"It's not stupid. It's the truth!" Alan interjected.

"...That Father and Cubby are in some kind of romantic relationship," Scott finished.

"What?" John's jaw dropped. "You're kidding!" Then a smile spread across his face. "Nice one, Dad!"

"You believe it?" Scott asked. "What do you know?"

"Nothing. I didn't suspect anything until you told me. But that's great..." he took in big brother's scowl. "Isn't it?"

"No," Scott growled.

"But I think it's fantastic," John persisted. "Cubby's fantastic. She's fun and it'd be great for Dad to have someone he could share his..."

Scott disconnected the communications link.

"Well, that was a mature way to behave." Virgil got the space monitor back on line.

"What happened?" John asked. "We had signal interference for a moment there."

"Yeah, interference by the name of Scott Tracy," Virgil told him.

"I take it he doesn't approve."

"It's not a matter of approval," Scott insisted. "I don't believe it."

Alan gave an exasperated sigh. "Do you want me to get Tin-Tin to tell you herself? She saw them kissing... quite passionately," he said remembering their own kiss, "and holding hands. And she said that when we were on the rescue she heard them and they..."

"They what?" Gordon asked when his younger brother hesitated.

"Sounded like they were doing something... intimate."

"Intimate?" John asked in interest. "Like what!?"

"Ah..." Alan hesitated. "We don't know... But whatever it was, Tin-Tin said Dad was enjoying it."

A leery grin crossed Gordon's face. "Oh, yes..."

"Oh, grow up, Gordon," Scott snapped.

"Oh, lighten up, Scott," Gordon retorted.

"Look!" Virgil interrupted the potential argument. "Did anyone have a suspicion that there was anything going on between them? Apart from Tin-Tin has anyone seen or heard anything?"

"I've been on Thunderbird Five," Alan reminded him. "I haven't had a chance."

They all turned to their eldest brother when Scott sagged against a workbench.

"What?" John asked. "You've heard something, haven't you?"

"No," still in denial Scott shook his head again. "I haven't heard anything."

"Seen something then," Virgil amended.

"No." Scott closed his eyes as if he were trying to block out his brothers' interrogative gazes.

"Scott!" Virgil pressed. "What do you know? What have you seen?"

Scott opened his eyes and stared at the empty container in his hands as if it were a crystal ball about to reveal to him all the mysteries of the world. "The other day..."

"Yes?" Virgil prompted.

"While we were on the rescue..."

"Yes?" John asked.

"I reported in..."

"Several times," Alan said.

"I'd just dropped you guys off and was proceeding to my co-ordinates. I was letting Father know. You know how he worries about the oxyhydnite..."

"And?" Gordon pushed when Scott hesitated.

"And She was standing up close behind him with her hands on his shoulders. She removed them pretty quickly when she saw me."

"How did Dad look?" John asked.

"Same as normal," Scott admitted.

"What was she doing?" Virgil asked.

"I don't know. I just know she looked guilty. As if she'd been caught in the act."

"The question is," Gordon said, "the act of doing what?" He shook his head in amazement. "He's one fast mover is our father. They've only really had the chance to know each other since the beginning of the week."

"Is there any chance," Alan began slowly, "that perhaps Dad and Cubby, while Ma was still alive...?"

"No!" Scott exploded. "You're suggesting that they were having an affair, aren't you?! There was no chance. No way at all! Understand!?" He took a menacing step forward until he towered over his kid brother. "He wouldn't do that to Ma! Not then: not now. This is that woman's fault!"

Alan, cowered by his brother's unexpected reaction, took an instinctive step backwards, raising his hand to protect himself. "Scott..."

Conversely, Virgil stepped forward, placing his hands on Scott's shoulders. "Calm down... Remember he was only a baby then. He doesn't remember them the way we do." He gently pulled his brother back away from Alan. "Don't be mad at him... Come on, you know he doesn't mean it."

Scott looked at Virgil. Then he glanced back at the young blonde. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Ah," Alan sought to regain his poise. "That's okay."

"You wouldn't have said that, Alan, if you could remember what Dad and Ma were like together." John spoke quietly and his four brothers gave him their full attention. "There was only room for each other in their relationship: it was like they were two parts of the one whole... I remember one night when I was pretty young, I don't think you and Gordon had been born yet, there was a tornado warning."

Scott nodded. "I know the night you mean," he said, his voice equally quiet.

"Ma had gone out for some reason," John continued on. "And she didn't get home before the tornado hit. All the phones were out and the cellular network wasn't working. Dad was a nervous wreck..."

Scott looked at his brother's video image. "You've got a good memory."

"That night left a strong impression on me, even at that age... The normal routine was that I was allowed to stay up until Daddy came home, he'd read me a story and then I had to go to sleep. But this night was different. This night I hadn't been put down in my own bed and instead we were underground in the tornado shelter. This night the atmosphere was frightening me and I kept on asking for Ma and wondering why no one would tell me where she was. I remember Dad pacing up and down holding the baby and telling me that Ma couldn't come home yet, but she'd be home soon... I remember climbing onto Scotty's lap and staying there until Ma came home... I remember the tormented look in Dad's eyes when he didn't know if Ma was okay. I remember the obvious relief they both felt when she came in the next day."

"She'd spent the night at a friend's place," Scott recollected.

"I think it was the following night, or a couple of nights later, another tornado hit," John recollected. "This time the phones remained operational. Just before I was due to go to bed we got a phone call from someone saying that Cubby had gone out and hadn't returned home. Ma was really worried. Dad was concerned but not to the same extent that he had been when Ma was missing. He was more worried about keeping Ma's, and our, spirits up."

"Cubby was obviously okay," Gordon commented.

"It was then that I realised what Ma and Dad meant to each other," John said. "I mean, I'm sure all kids believe that nothing can come between their parents, until something happens to disabuse them of that notion, but the night of that first tornado fixed it in my mind as an irrefutable fact."

"Me too," Scott remembered.

"And when Ma died, that was when I found out just how much one man could love a woman. There was no way he could have loved Ma like that and had an affair with someone else. Not even Cubby."

"I understand," Alan admitted in a quiet voice. "Thank you, John."

The five brothers were silent for a time as each tried to reconcile what they'd just heard.

"Tin-Tin must have got her facts wrong," Alan exclaimed. "It doesn't make sense. They're too old to be... ah..."

"They're notthat old," Virgil told him. "Lots of people their age, and even older, have close relationships..."

"Romantic relationships," John amended.

"Sex," Gordon joked.

With a snarl Scott threw the container onto the floor and stormed out of the maintenance bay.

His brothers looked at each other. Gordon raised his eyebrows. "I think we may have found a raw nerve."

Attempting to cool his temper Scott was doing laps of the pool as if a hungry polar bear was after him. His brothers, still trying to come to terms with what they'd learnt and feeling disinclined to continue working, decided to join him.

Gordon stood on the edge and looked down at the figure pushing through the water. "Is this a private pool, or can anyone jump in?"

Virgil settled in one of the deck chairs. "Let him work it out of his system."

Gordon shrugged, slightly irritated that ‘his domain' had been usurped, and sat on another chair. "I can't believe it. Dad and Cubby."

"Don't let's say anything," Alan begged. "We don't want to get Tin-Tin into trouble."

"Or embarrass them," Virgil added. He looked across to where a wet figure was hauling himself out of the pool. "Feeling better?"

Scott gave an unintelligible grunt and threw himself onto the chair beside Virgil. "It's got to be a mistake."

"We might be about to find out," Gordon said in a low voice. "Targets at three o'clock.

Jeff and Ursula had decided to go for a swim. Jeff was dressed in his bathing trunks with a towel hanging loosely about his bare, broad shoulders, while Ursula had her swimming costume hidden beneath a calf-length robe. Trying not to be obvious about it, the boys watched as Jeff pulled up a deck chair, made sure it was positioned in the optimum position and then indicated that Ursula should sit down. She accepted his offer, primly ensuring that the robe covered her legs. He then pulled another chair close to hers and went to sit down before changing his mind. "Would you like one of Mother's homemade lemonades, Cubby?"

"Sounds like heaven, Jeff."

Virgil could almost feel the waves of disapproval emanating from his oldest brother.

Jeff went to the nearby fridge and removed a tall, chilled glass along with a pitcher of lemonade. He poured the drink, handed it to Ursula, and then fussed about making sure that there was a table nearly that she could reach to rest it on.

The disapproving waves grew stronger.

Finally Jeff had everything arranged to his satisfaction. He sat down on his chair and toasted Ursula. "Cheers, Cubby."

"What do they say in England?" Ursula responded. Then, in a decent imitation of an English accent, added, "Bottoms up."

Jeff turned his attention to his sons. "Finished work, Boys?"

There was a moment's hesitation before they realised that their spokesman, Scott, wasn't going to respond. Since no one else appeared to be prepared to take up the challenge, Alan decided to reply. "It's such a lovely day that we thought we'd come out and have a swim."

"Yeah!" Gordon agreed and dove into the pool.

Jeff frowned. "I thought you were having some time out, Alan. Is there some problem that I should know about?"

"Know about... ah... no..." Alan prevaricated. "That is..."

"We needed an extra pair of hands," Virgil chipped in. "Alan offered to help and with his help we got it finished quicker. Right, fellas?"

"Right," Alan agreed.

Scott glared at the Pacific Ocean.

Ursula sat up straighter so she could see the swimmer ploughing through the water. "He's so efficient. I can see why he won the medal."

"He's still one of the fastest men in the world," Jeff said with pride. "You're watching a craftsman there..."

"I can tell."

"It was just as well he's dedicated to swimming too," Jeff continued on. "His muscle tone and fitness helped with his recovery after his accident... Right, Gordon?" he called when he saw the swimmer stop.

"Huh? What's that, Dad?"

"I was just telling Cubby how you were able to get up and about quicker after your accident because of your swimming."

"Oh, yeah." Gordon pulled himself out of the pool and sat on the edge. "My physio said that was the main reason why I was able to make a complete recovery."

For the first time Ursula noticed the myriad of scars on his torso. "But to crash doing... How fast were you going?"

"400 knots," Gordon told her.

"400 knots! And yet you survived!" Ursula shook her head in amazement. "It must have been terrifying... and painful."

"Nothing hurts when you're unconscious," Gordon grinned. "It was after the surgeons had put the jigsaw that used to be my body back together and told me it was time to wake up that I learnt anything about it." He looked down as if seeing the marks for the first time. "I guess he must have been copying the picture off the lid of the box because everything seems to be in the right place." He counted his fingers. "Ten... Yep. That's right."

Still amazed, Ursula looked at him. "You're incredible. To go through all that, and still be able to joke about it."

Gordon shrugged. "In situations like that you either laugh or you cry. I preferred to laugh."

"The rest of us had already done enough crying." Jeff's comment left Gordon momentarily stunned. "You can probably thank Cubby in part for your recovery. She was the one who introduced you to the pool."

Intrigued Gordon changed position so he was able to give their guest his full attention. "Yes?" The sudden feeling that he was getting daggers shot at the back of his head put a brake on his enthusiasm. "How?"

"I was wondering that," Ursula said. "How do you mean, Jeff?"

"Don't you remember that day that you suggested that we all go to the local pool?" Jeff asked. "Alan was only a few months old at the time so Lucille looked after him. I took control of the older boys and you cared for Gordon."

"Oh, yes..." Ursula remembered. "My little ‘water baby'."

Alan snorted a laugh and received a burning glare from Scott.

"Water baby?" Gordon asked.

"I carried you into the pool and towed you around and around. You loved it; you were splashing happily and laughing the entire time. You didn't care which way up you were; front, back, side... You were simply happy to be in the water. I've got no idea how many laps we did that day. You bawled your eyes out when I eventually had to carry you out onto dry land. We both looked like prunes. Just think..." Ursula gave a happy smile. "I launched an Olympic champion."

"You were an excellent swimmer, Cubby," Jeff recollected. "Why don't you show Gordon how good you are?"

"I'm out of practise, Jeff, and besides, I don't have the figure for swimming anymore."

"What's the matter?" Jeff teased. "Scared to show us your bikini?"

"I told you, I didn't bring a bikini..."

The waves of disapproval were nearly palpable. "Say, Scott," Virgil sought to draw his brother's attention away from the conversation, "when's that air show you're going to?"

"Next month," Scott growled.

"Looking forward to it?"

"Come on, Cubby," Jeff was entreating. "I'm sure you can't look that bad. Go for a swim if you want."

Ursula gave a sigh. "All right..." She stood and began untying her robe. "But don't say I haven't warned you. My apologies in advance, Boys." The garment slipped from her shoulders and she threw it onto the deck chair. "There," she said, spinning around slowly and showing off her new swimsuit to full advantage. "Happy now?"

"Can you run me through some flight simulations, Scott?" Gordon asked. "I need to refresh myself on Thunderbird One."

Oblivious to the consternation that was running through the family's ranks, the older couple were continuing on their conversation. "You look great!" Jeff enthused. "I don't know what you were worried about. You always had a good figure and you still do."

"Flirt. I've borne two children and it shows."

"You've given the gift of motherhood and nothing can make a woman more beautiful."

"I'll repeat, Jeff Tracy. You – are – a – flirt!"

"More training! Good idea, Gordon," Alan agreed. "Wouldn't hurt for me to get in some extra flying hours too. How about it, Scott?"

From the look on their eldest brother's face he wasn't thinking about training sessions. He was almost ready to bare his claws and rip into something...

Ursula dove cleanly into the water and surfaced, swimming two laps before she stopped next to Gordon. "Score out of ten?"

"Um..." Not wanting to aggravate Scott any more, Gordon was reluctant to enter into a conversation with her again. But then swimming was his passion and while he was talking with Ursula in the pool, she wasn't interacting with his dad... "Eight point five for the dive. Eight for the swim. How long since you last swam?"

Ursula thought for a moment. "Ohh, it must be getting on to ten years."

"Ten years?!" Gordon pretended to be amazed. "In that case I'll score you nine point five."

Urusla dimpled at him. "Thank you."

"What's your speciality?"

"Backstroke. I had plenty of practise towing you around."

Gordon grinned. "Let's see you then."

"Before you do," Jeff was crouched down at the side of the pool. "Have you got sun block on, Cubby?"

"Yes. I put it on before I put on the robe."

"You've got a patch on your back that's getting a bit red," Jeff informed her. He held out a tube of sun screen. "Do you want to put more on?"

"It's probably a bit I couldn't reach," Ursula admitted. "I'll need help."

Jeff looked at his sons. "Do you boys know where Grandma or Tin-Tin are?"

Ursula laughed. "Oh, don't be silly, Jeff." She climbed out of the pool and walked over to where he was sitting. "I'm sure I can trust you to put it on for me and not lose control."

Jeff didn't stop to think. "Okay..."

The sight of his father happily applying sun screen to Ursula's back was too much for Scott. With a bear-like growl he launched himself out of his chair. "I'm going to go work out in the gym."

His brothers watched him go and then turned their attention back to where Jeff was checking Ursula over to make sure she hadn't missed "any other bits."

"You know," Virgil stood up. "I think I forgot to put away some tools in the polar bay. I'd better go do it."

Gordon scrambled from his place at the edge of the pool to follow him. "I'll help ya, Virg."

"Wait for me! You might need my help too." Alan ran to catch up.

Practically unaware that they were now alone, Jeff and Ursula dove into the pool and started splashing each other like teenagers.

Scott was uncharacteristically late for lunch. When he arrived he explained that he'd had a full workout in the gym, had showered, dressed in his overalls ready to start work straight after lunch, and had then realised that he hadn't put away his weights; the storage of which had held him up even more.

Jeff, deep in conversation with Ursula, didn't even notice.

Scott reached out for some bread and winced as a muscle in his neck protested. He stopped and then, with more care, resumed his retrieval of the slice.

"Are you okay?" Alan asked.

"Yeah. Pulled a muscle, that's all." Showing signs of some discomfort, Scott took the butter and began preparing a sandwich.

His sons' wellbeing had always been top priority in Jeff's life, and even now it was no different. "I'm sure Cubby could help relieve that. She gives amazing neck massages."

"I'm okay," Scott growled.

"I don't mind, Scott," Ursula told him.

"I said I'm okay!"

All eyes turned to him as he dug into his bread. "Scott...!" Gordon hissed.

Ursula wasn't one to give up that easily. "Are you sure? Just give me the wor..."

"I don't need your help!" Scott grabbed at the spread and gave another involuntary grimace as the muscle protested again.

"Scott?" Jeff didn't know if he was more concerned by his son's behaviour or Cubby's reaction.

"What!?"

Flummoxed, Jeff hesitated. "Ah... Perhaps you'd better get Brains to look at you after lunch."

"Maybe I'll do just that!" Scott tore a savage bite out of his sandwich.

"Uh..." Ursula was more than a little aware of the change in the room's atmosphere, and the way the animosity appeared to be directed towards her. "Would someone mind passing me the pepper, please?"

Everyone, except the chief antagonist, looked around the table for the seasoning. "Um..." Alan was sitting between his eldest brother and their guest. "You've got it, Scott." He pointed with some timidity.

Scott picked up the pepper pot, reached across Alan and slammed it down in front of Ursula. As a cloud of pepper floated up into the air and she sneezed, Virgil gave an admonishing kick under the table and yelped when a steel toe-capped boot retaliated.

Jeff frowned. "Are you okay, Virgil?"

"Ah... yeah..." Virgil thought frantically. "I, ah, picked up a few bruises on the rescue. I bumped one." He rubbed at his leg.

Jeff's frown deepened. "What's wrong with you boys? What have you been doing?"

"Nothin'." Scott growled. "And I'm going to rectify that." He stood. "I've got work to do."

"But your lunch..." Jeff began.

"Not hungry." Belying his own words Scott picked up an apple.

"Scott?" Jeff watched his oldest son stride out of the room before deciding that he needed to get to the bottom of things. "Excuse me, everyone..." He pushed his chair out from the table and hurried after his son. "Scott! Wait!"

In the hallway and out of earshot of those in the dining room, Scott turned. "What?!"

Jeff stopped, stunned, as his anger evaporated. This wasn't the face of the young man that he loved and respected. This was a facsimile of a petulant teenager aggrieved at being prevented from doing what he wanted by his parent. It was not an expression that Jeff could remember seeing on his eldest's face ever before. "Scott? What's wrong?"

The reply of "Nothin'" was said in the resigned manner of someone who was making little attempt to hide their irritation with being interrogated against their will.

Perplexed, Jeff could only ask, "But what about your lunch? You've hardly had anything."

Scott gestured in the general direction of the dining room. "Too crowded in there."

"Too crowded? It's no more than we've had all week."

Scott grunted.

"Please, Scott, tell me. What is wrong? Something's obviously bothering you. Is it Cubby? Can we talk about it in my study?"

"The main thing bothering me is that I'm not allowed to get on with my work!" Scott snapped. "If I'm needed for something important I'll be in the arctic bay..." Then, without requesting or receiving permission to leave and with no apology, he turned on his heel and marched away from his father.

Jeff stared after him. Then, somewhat unnerved by his son's uncharacteristic behaviour, he retraced his steps. In the forlorn hope that Scott might change his mind and decide to confide in him, he bypassed the dining room and instead walked down to his study. He had reached the door when he heard someone in the hallway. "Virgil!" he called. "Could I have a word?"

Virgil, who'd been hoping to talk to Scott himself, suppressed a groan. "Coming..."

"Shut the door," Jeff instructed and then, wanting to keep the conversation casual and not at a ‘father/son' level, he sat on the edge of his desk. "I was hoping you could help me."

Virgil feigned ignorance. "Help you with what?"

"I thought you might know what's eating Scott."

"What's eating Scott?" Virgil echoed. "Um... I don't know." He clasped his hands together tightly.

Jeff gave what he hoped was a genial smile. "Come on, Virgil, you must have some idea. I got the impression that it was something to do with Cubby."

"Uh... We haven't discussed it." Virgil told himself that Scott hadn't discussed his feelings... That wasn't a lie if you ignored that fact that Scott's feelings had been patently obvious.

Jeff looked at his son, who was clearly uncomfortable with the situation he'd found himself in. "Please, Virgil. If it's something to do with Cubby it's important for me to know."

Virgil twisted his fingers together and studied them as he thought. He had a notion that he would be trapped in the study until he was able to come up with a satisfactory answer. Even International Rescue couldn't save him this time.

"What's wrong with Scott?" Jeff pressed.

Virgil came to a decision. He looked at his father. "Would you mind if you answered a question first?" he asked, hoping that he wasn't about to make a huge mistake. "Before I answer yours?"

Jeff frowned. "You want to ask me something?"

"How you answer will tell me if Scott's being a fool and I can stop him before he embarrasses himself too much... or if..."

"If what?"

"If..." Virgil ran his hand over his face and was surprised to discover that he was sweating. "If you have a problem."

Jeff's frown deepened. "If I have a problem?" Virgil nodded. "Why do I have a feeling I should sit down?" he retired to his chair behind his desk.

Virgil tried to give a reassuring smile. "I hope it's not that bad. Can I sit too?" He perched on the edge of one of the study's chairs in a manner that made Jeff think that if the door were to suddenly open he'd make a dash for freedom.

There was silence.

"What do you want to ask me, Virgil?"

Virgil's artistic fingers were being tied together in knots in his lap. "I'm trying to think of the best way to phrase it."

"The best way is usually the direct way."

"Not always. If we're drilling in the Mole sometimes it's better to detour through soft soil than to try to drill straight through hard rock."

The room was silent again as Jeff tried to analyse this metaphor.

Virgil made his first attempt. "Are you...?" He lapsed back into silence and this time Jeff didn't try to push him. "We think that... maybe..." He looked annoyed with himself.

Jeff waited.

Virgil took a deep breath as if he was going to speak and then exhaled noisily without saying a word.

Silence reigned again.

"Would it help if you drew it?" Jeff suggested.

"No!" Virgil looked somewhat horrified at the suggestion.

"Then what's the question? Just say it. I won't bite. I promise."

"Just say it," Virgil repeated. "Okay... Here goes..." He looked up at his father, down at his hands, back up, down at his watch as if he was about to call for reinforcements and then took another breath.

Jeff waited.

"Are you and Cubby in a romantic relationship?"

Jeff wasn't sure that he'd heard the question correctly. He stared at his son who was sitting there with his face beet red, eyes screwed shut and his hands clamped just as tightly together. "What?"

Virgil opened his eyes and tried to look his father in the eye. "Are you and Cubby in a romantic relationship?" he repeated. "Together," he clarified.

"Am I and Cubby...?" Jeff collapsed back against his seat as his normally quick thinking mind tried to evaluate the best response to what had just been said. He felt the colour rise in his face.

Virgil was watching his father's reaction. "You are, aren't you?" It was a statement rather than a question.

"To be perfectly honest, Virgil, Cubby and I aren't quite sure," Jeff admitted. "It's too soon. We only... ah... for want of a better phrase... ‘clicked' yesterday. We're still trying to work out if we... ah... want to... try to... um... develop... the ‘relationship'... further."

"Yesterday?" Virgil looked confused. "But I thought..." He turned red again.

"You thought what?"

"Nothing." Virgil shook his head.

"How'd you find out?"

"Someone saw the pair of you together."

"Oh... Who? Who else knows?"

"Us five... Ti..." Virgil bit is lip, feeling he'd said too much.

"And Scott doesn't approve," Jeff guessed.

Virgil made a gesture of helplessness. "I'm sorry."

"What does everyone else think?"

Virgil's face brightened at the prospect of imparting good news. "John's practically ready to send out the wedding invitations."

Jeff looked alarmed at the suggestion. "Steady on! We're nowhere near that stage..." He straightened some pages on his desk and lined them up with more care than was necessary. "What about Alan and Gordon?"

"Alan can't believe that anyone over the age of 30 is capable of... ah... remembering what romance is and Gordon's waiting for someone to let him in on the joke."

Despite it all Jeff chuckled. "I might have guessed." He looked back up at his son who was looking even more like an athlete ready to spring off the starting blocks. "And what about you, Virgil?" he asked quietly.

Virgil squirmed. "Me? I... Uh... I'll talk to Scott and see if he can't at least be civil to Cubby until she leaves."

"That's not what I meant. I was wondering what..." Jeff began and then took in Virgil's alarmed face. "No, that's not fair. I've already put you on the spot once."

"Can I go?"

Jeff nodded. "Thank you for being honest with me."

Virgil leapt from his seat and made a dash for the door, but as he reached out to open it, he stopped. "Look... if it's any consolation, I like Cubby. I liked her even when I didn't know who she was. When we're on rescues we ‘connect' with different people in different ways. Some are just ‘people' – we go in there, rescue them, and that's it; no connection. Others... well... you feel that it wouldn't be a great loss if we left them behind. But then you get those that have that something that makes you want to help them all the more, maybe even try to make the whole experience enjoyable. For me, Cubby was one of those." He gave a wistful smile. "She had something that made me want to help her... A kind of mother quality..." In a reversal of his previous reactions, he blanched as he realised what he'd said and then fled the room nearly knocking Ursula over in the process. "Sorry," he gasped before scuttling away down the hall.

Ursula watched him go, a perplexed expression on her face. Then she looked through the still open door. "Jeff?"

Jeff looked up from where he was fiddling with a pen. "Come in, Cubby." He waited until she'd shut the door. "They know."

"Know what?"

"About us."

"Who? Your sons?"

Jeff nodded.

"Oh... So that's why Scott...?"

Jeff nodded. "He's not happy about it."

Ursula came around to his side of the desk and sat on the edge so she was able to look directly at him. "Have you talked to him about it?"

"No," Jeff shook his head. "He refused to tell me what was wrong and at that point I had no idea that anyone else knew. I never put two and two together." He raised his hands helplessly. "It's so out of character for Scott to behave this way; I've never seen it before. And if I hadn't seen it myself I would never have believed it."

He looked up at the lady perched on the side of his desk. "If you're going to spend any amount of time with this family, Cubby, you'll get to learn two things. One: If Gordon and Alan have got their heads together you can expect trouble for someone. Mind you," he added as an afterthought, "if Gordon's alone you'd better watch out too..."

Ursula smiled. "I've already learnt that."

"And two: If either Scott or Virgil are out of sorts and you want to know why, you can pretty well guarantee that the other will know what the problem is."

"They're that close?"

"Closer than you'd realise. It's almost scary sometimes." Jeff sighed. "That's why I asked poor Virgil what Scott's problem was."

"And he told you?"

"Eventually." Jeff gave a wry smile. "I don't know who was more embarrassed, him or me."

"What does Virgil think... about us?"

"He didn't tell me. I think he's still coming to grips with the idea."

"And the other three?"

"John's pleased. The others..." Jeff shrugged. Then he sighed and sat back. "Oh, Cubby..."

"Does anyone else know?"

"Reading between the lines, I'd say Tin-Tin does. And if Tin-Tin does, chances are she's told her father... and probably Brains."

"Oh." Ursula sat in contemplation for a moment. "Would it make it easier if I were to go home now?"

"No!" Jeff grabbed at her hand. "No, not yet!" Then, ashamed by his sudden burst of emotion, he apologised.

"I came here as a friend, Jeff. I don't want to cause trouble in your family."

"If you were to leave before you're due to, that would cause more trouble. I'd be unbearable to live with." Ursula smiled and lightly caressed his cheek as Jeff looked up at her. "What will your kids think?"

"Nothing worries Mark. And Heather's been suggesting that it's time I found someone else for the last couple of years. I think they'll be thrilled that I've been seduced by a handsome billionaire."

"Seduced, huh?" Jeff reached up and pulled her closer so that she was sitting sideways on his lap. "Is that what you think this is?" He leant closer to kiss her.

Ursula laughed and picked up a pad and pen from off his desk. "Do you want me to take dictation, Mr Tracy?" she asked in a baby doll voice, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Take a letter, Ursula," Jeff said in a gruff voice. "To the World..."

"...The World," Ursula wrote.

"I want you to know that I've been happier these last 24 hours than I have been in years."

"...been – in – years," Ursula recited as she scribbled on the pad. Then she kissed him. "So have I... Do you want to sign your letter, Mr Tracy?"

With a flourish Jeff signed the page and then gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I think you'd better get up before my business partner comes in..." he grimaced, "or my leg falls off, whichever comes first." When the pressure was relieved he flexed and rubbed the aching limb. "The last person to sit on my lap was Alan."

"Quite a few years ago I would expect. That mass of solid muscle must weigh a ton." Then a wicked smile crossed Ursula's face. "Would you like me to massage the feeling back into your leg, Mr Tracy?"

Jeff appeared to give the idea sincere consideration. Then with reluctance he stood. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'd better go talk to the rest of the family. I can't leave them in the dark now."

Ursula nodded her agreement, suddenly serious. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Jeff took her hand and kissed it. "Thank you, but I think it would be better if I did this alone."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't want you hurt."

"Do you think anyone is likely to ‘hurt' me?"

"I don't know how they're going to react. This is new for all of us."

Ursula nodded. "I understand. I'll be in my room if you want me."

"Want you?" Jeff raised an eyebrow. "Just what do you have in mind, Cubby?" He stepped closer to her.

Ursula gave him a playful push away. "Go on with you. Hadn't you better get started?"

Jeff sighed. "Maybe I should play for their sympathy?" He limped for the door.

Alan and Gordon stopped work when they heard approaching footsteps. "Nice of you to join us," Gordon said.

"Yeah," Alan agreed. "This is supposed to be my time off. Not doing your job."

Virgil ignored their sarcasm. "Where's Scott?" he growled.

Gordon pointed at the large machine. "In the Polar Be..."

"Scott! Get yourself out here!" Virgil yelled before he headed over to the diagram of Thunderbird Five.

Scott poked his head out through the hatch. Half an hour of solid work had improved his temper somewhat. "What?"

"Get down here!" Virgil snapped before he initiated contact with John. "You need to hear this."

"Need to hear what?" John wondered.

"Virgil?" Scott climbed down. "What is this about? I'm working."

"You're working," Virgil strode over to his brother. "You're working while I'm stuck in the study answering questions that you," he prodded Scott in the chest for emphasis, forcing him to take a step backwards, "should be the one answering."

"Virgil?" Perplexed by his brother's obvious anger, Scott looked down at Virgil. "What questions?"

"About what your," another prod, "problem is! Why is it that any time you're in a mood everyone assumes that I know what your problem is?!"

"Probably because every time he is in a mood you know what his problem is," Gordon theorised.

"Shut up, Gordon," he was told.

"Fine, take it out on me," the red-head grumbled. "You asked the question, Virgil, and I gave you a honest answer."

"What are you going to do about it?" Virgil demanded as he, yet again, pushed his brother.

Scott found himself pressed up against hard, cold metal. "Will you stop doing that!?" he grabbed Virgil's hands to stop being prodded again. "I'd like to point out that you are in a mood now and I don't know why."

Virgil pulled free. "Don't pretend you're thick, Scott. You know full well why. You all know!" He turned so he was able to scowl at all his brothers. "It wasn't only him that Father asked me about," he said, gesturing with his thumb towards Scott. "It was all of us!"

"Virgil," John said cautiously. "Before you accuse me of being thick too, please remember that I'm 36 thousand kilometres above the Earth and haven't spoken to anyone since this morning. And then tell me exactly what has happened to get you into this state?"

"Him!" Virgil pointed at Scott. "He was rude to Cubby..."

"No, I wasn't!"

"Yes, you were," Alan amended. "You made her sneeze."

"...And Father wanted to know why," Virgil continued on.

"What did you tell him?" Gordon asked.

"What could I say? That Scott's got himself tied in knots because he doesn't like the idea of Father and Cubby...?"

"I am not tied up in knots!"

"Denial. Not a good sign," Gordon commented.

"So, what did you do?!" Alan asked, frustrated at all the interruptions.

"I asked him if anything's going on between them!"

Several jaws dropped. "I always thought you had no fear," John stated. "I'm impressed."

"You asked him?" Alan gasped. "To his face?"

"Yes," Virgil's temper wasn't showing any signs of improving. "And your girlfriend should get her facts right before she starts spreading rumours."

Scott relaxed back against the machine. "So there's nothing going on."

"Oh, there is," Virgil told him. "But it's only been since you took John back to Thunderbird Five. I've got no idea what it was that Tin-Tin heard the day before."

"There is?" A strained look had appeared on Scott's face.

"Mother? Can I have a word?"

"Of course you can, Honey." Mrs Tracy, her arms covered in flour, smiled at her son before returning her attention to the pastry on the bench in front of her.

"It's about me and Cubby."

"I know, Dear, and I think it's wonderful," Grandma gave Jeff a peck on the cheek. "Will you pass me the wooden spoon, please?"

Instead of passing the implement, Jeff stared at her. "You know?"

"Of course. I've seen it coming."

"How come everyone seems to know about my affairs..." Jeff exploded, "...ah, I mean relationships," he amended, "before I do?"

Grandma gave him an odd glance as she retrieved the spoon herself. "You've been treating Ursula the same way that you treated Lucille the first time you brought her home to meet us. I said to your father then that I fully expected that girl to become part of our family; the only surprise was that it took you so long. I hope you're quicker this time; none of us are getting any younger."

"You approve?"

"Of course, Jeff. Ursula's a lovely person."

"I wish everyone felt that way."

"Everyone? Oh..." Grandma laid down her spoon and turned to her son. "You mean Scott."

Jeff nodded. "I mean Scott."

"I wondered what was wrong with him."

"So did I, but he wouldn't talk to me. I had to ask Virgil. I got a shock when he told me that they know."

"They?"

"The boys and probably Tin-Tin.

"Which means Kyrano knows."

"Yes." Jeff looked at his mother. "And you."

She gave him a smile. "You can never keep anything from your mother, Jeff."

"I wish the same would happen to fathers. I might have been able to talk to Scott before now if I'd realised."

"So, in effect, the only one who doesn't know is Brains," Grandma stated.

"What's the odds that Tin-Tin's already told him?" Jeff asked.

"Quite probably."

"I'd better go tell him myself though."

"Yes, you'd better. So there's no chance of any misunderstandings."

"This is ridiculous," Jeff grumbled as he left the room. "Having to explain my love life at my age."

His mother's laugh was still ringing in his ears when he entered the laboratory. "Brains?" Jeff looked around and confirmed that they were alone. "Could I have a word?"

Brains put a test tube in a rack. "Yes, M-Mr Tracy."

Jeff suddenly found himself feeling very uncomfortable in the engineer's presence. "Ah... It's about me and Mrs... Cub... Ursula." He saw the flicker of a knowing expression cross Brains' face and knew that what he was about to say wasn't going to come as a surprise.

Jeff felt a surge of anger towards Tin-Tin. She was lucky that she wasn't here in the lab. If she had been he would have given the biggest roasting ever for gossiping about his private life...

"Ah... M-Mr Tracy?" Brains stared at his employer through his thick glasses.

"Huh...? Oh." Startled out of his reverie, Jeff ran his fingernail along the edge of the lab bench. "You may... have guessed... that Cubby and I are, um, attracted to each other."

Brains blushed. "Th-There has b-b-been some evidence..."

‘You mean Tin-Tin's told you,' Jeff thought. "It's true and I thought you should be told... from the horse's mouth as it were."

"Uh... Th-Thank you, M-Mr T-Tra..."

Jeff escaped before the sentence was completed.

"It's that...thatwoman!" Scott ranted.

"It takes two to tango," John reminded him.

Scott rounded on the picture. "If it was only a tango it wouldn't be a problem."

"So why's it a problem now?" Gordon asked.

Scott turned on him. "What?!"

Virgil had lost his anger as quickly as Scott had re-found his. "Calm down, Scott. She goes home on Sunday. Surely you can be civil to her until..."

"Civil?! Civil to her?! Look at what she's doing!"

"What is she doing?" John asked. "So, she and Dad are enjoying a little holiday romance. It'll do him good to let his hair down. What's wrong with it?"

"What's wrong?" Scott gaped at his space-bound brother in disbelief. "You honestly don't know?"

"No. Tell me," John challenged. "What's wrong with it, Scott?"

Scott stared at him and then threw his hands up in the air as to say that if John didn't know the answer then there was no point in explaining it to him.

"Are you alone, Kyrano?"

Kyrano smiled at his employer, "I am, Mr Tracy."

"Good." Jeff brushed the dirt off one of the stools in the greenhouse and then settled on it. "Since I have a sneaking suspicion that your daughter keeps no secrets from you, more than likely including mine, I'm going to confirm that Cubby and I do appear to be entering a relationship."

"Ah." Kyrano bowed his head in acknowledgement as he sat opposite his friend.

"She told you."

"My daughter did ask if I thought there was a possibility."

Jeff made a sound of annoyance. "I love Tin-Tin as if she were my own child, Kyrano. I admire her and I respect her. But if she were to show her face to me at the moment I swear I would..." He clenched his fists in frustration.

Kyrano frowned in concern. "She has done something wrong, Mr Tracy?"

Jeff sighed. "I guess not. She'd told everyone before I even had a chance to realise that anything was going on myself... It may have created problems."

"Problems?"

"Not everyone is happy at the prospect of me and Cubby... ah." Jeff stopped, unsure exactly how to explain the relationship.

"Mister Scott?"

Jeff nodded. "The rest of the boys, except John who by all accounts is preparing the bachelor party as we speak, appear to be undecided. When I left Brains he was looking at me as if he was relishing the opportunity to observe the courtship of mating slugs." He fixed the Malaysian with an appraising stare. "If I'm not putting you on the spot, how do you feel about it, Kyrano?"

"I am happy for you, Kawan Saya," Kyrano stated. "But I believe that there are only two people that you must appease."

Jeff looked surprised. "Two? Who?"

"Have you considered what Mrs Tracy would think?"

"Mother? She's over the moon."

Kyrano smiled his gentle smile. "You misunderstand me. I speak of Mrs Lucille Tracy."

"Lucille?" Jeff frowned. "Why her?"

"If the spirit of Lucille Tracy were to appear before you, what would she say to you? Would she give you and Mrs White her blessing? If, in your heart, you have no doubts of this, then you will be free in this relationship."

"Lucille," Jeff mused. "I think she would approve... Cubby was her closest friend... We always got on well together..." He looked back up at Kyrano. "I have no doubts that Lucille's spirit would give us the all clear."

"That is good."

There was a sound at the entrance to the greenhouse. Kyrano looked over Jeff's shoulder and said something in Malay. There was a soft acknowledgment of "Bapa" and Jeff heard the door close quietly behind him. He looked at Kyrano. "I'm sorry, my friend."

Kyrano favoured him with an understanding smile. "I will talk with her later."

"You said I had to appease two people, Kyrano. Lucille was one. Who is the other?"

"You must find peace with yourself."

Jeff gave a wry grin. "I don't know that that's going to be a straightforward task. I mean look at me! I feel like I want to sing out to the world how happy I am, while at the same time I'm ready to give Tin-Tin a verbal tongue-lashing, not to mention what I'll do to Scott if he doesn't treat Cubby with respect. I feel like a hormonal teenager again... Do men get male menopause?"

Kyrano actually laughed. "You are in love, Kawan Saya."

Jeff chuckled too. "I hope so. I'd hate to think that I'm coming down with something." He stretched. "But this feels so different to when I fell in love with Lucille. Is each experience different? How did you feel when you first met your wife?"

"Afraid," Kyrano admitted. "It was our wedding day."

"What!?"

"It was an arranged marriage," the Malaysian explained. "I loved another."

"Kyrano!" Jeff was shocked. "But I thought Tin-Tin's mother was of European descent."

"She was born to a Parisian mother and her father was a..." Here Kyrano struggled with the conflict caused by his natural inclination to seek the best in everyone, and his knowledge of the truth of this person. "He was Bereznick born and would sell his services to any nation or individual. His was not a soul who knew how to love. He seduced Tin-Tin's grandmother. When she discovered she was carrying his child, she fled Paris with him so she would not bring shame on her family. They arrived in Malaysia and he began a quest for his true love; money, land and power. His continued beatings took Tin-Tin's grandmother's life. He used his daughter as a dictator would use a slave." Kyrano paused as he decided how to continue his tale. "After my half-brother took control of my family's monies..."

"You mean stole your inheritance," Jeff growled. "You are altogether too forgiving."

Kyrano spread his hands in a gesture of peace. "What was done was done. He can not harm me here on Tracy Island. I am happy."

"So what happened? Jeff asked, curious. "What happened afterwards?"

"We had land, but no money. We could not afford workers for the fields. I was forced to leave my studies so I could work the land. Then my mother received an offer that seemed to be from the Gods themselves. A wife was to be offered to me from a family that had money but no land. My mother saw it as an excellent arrangement."

"Excellent for your family." Jeff's strong sense of fair-play was aggrieved. "But if you loved someone else..."

"I had to do what was right."

"But was it right to deny your feelings?"

Kyrano didn't answer the question. "It was not long before we came to see my father-in-law's true character. My mother died of shame. I continued my studies by correspondence when I had the time and had saved the money for tuition. When I achieved my goal I took my wife and we fled to England. We worked in the holds of ships to pay for our passage." He spread his hands. "The rest you know. We started our marriage as strangers. We became friends. When my wife died we loved each other."

Jeff stared at him. "Does Tin-Tin know all this?"

Kyrano bowed his head gravely. "No. I have told no one. I have left her a letter so that after my death she may know the truth..."

"Then why are you telling me this now?" Jeff asked.

"You have been blessed twice with friendship and love, Kawan Saya. You must realise how lucky you are."

"But," Jeff was struggling to get his head around the whole scenario. "But... Don't you have any regrets? Don't you ever wish you had married the woman you loved?"

Kyrano shook his head. "My wife gave me a great gift. A gift I could never have received from my other love."

"A gift?"

There was an amused gleam in Kyrano's eyes. "At present you desire to ‘give her a verbal tongue-lashing'."

"Ah," Jeff sat back. "I understand." He sat thinking for a moment. "If your first love were to suddenly reappear in your life, would you want to try again?"

Kyrano sat in thought. "I have never considered this question... I am content in my life. I have a beautiful daughter, a roof over my head, my plants provide me with food, I am blessed with good true friends," he favoured Jeff with a smile. "And I am proud to play a small role in International Rescue. I should not like to ask for more."

"I never asked for ‘more' either. It found me of its own accord."

"You are privileged, Kawan Saya. You and Mrs White are already friends. That is the foundation on which love should be based."

"Thank you, Kyrano." Jeff stood. "I always feel better after a talk with you. And now I'd better let you get back to work. We can't have you neglecting your babies on my account." He indicated the tender young plants that surrounded them.

"May I make you and Mrs White a picnic tea?" Kyrano enquired. "It will be a lovely evening to observe the sunset."

"And keep the warring factions apart," Jeff chuckled. "Good idea. I think everyone needs a little time and space to get used to what's going on. Especially Cubby and me..."

Kawan Saya my friend

Bapa father

04 Four

Through the video link that was the picture in the arctic maintenance bay, John grinned at three of his brothers. "So, what's the latest in the Tracy soap opera?"

"Dad and Cubby have spent most of the time going for walks together," Virgil told him. "And we've tried to leave them alone as much as possible..."

"Which has meant putting up with Scott going around like a bear with a sore head," Alan grumbled. "I'll be glad when she goes home the day after tomorrow and things get back to normal."

"Do you think things will be ‘normal' again?" Gordon asked. "They seem to be getting pretty serious."

Alan shrugged. "How serious can you get after only a couple of days?" and wondered why Gordon gave him a curious look.

"I think you know that I've no problems with Dad and Cubby getting together," John said. "And we all have no doubts about Scott's thoughts on the issue. But what I don't know is how you three feel."

Three brothers exchanged glances.

"Come on," John cajoled. "You must have an opinion."

"Pass," Gordon said.

John raised a querying eyebrow at him. "You must have some thoughts on the issue, Gordon. Yes? No?"

"If I knew what Scott's problem was I'd be more able to make a decision. What if he knows something important that we don't?"

"Don't you think he'd tell us if he did?"

"The way he's behaving I don't know what to think."

"Okay..." John conceded. "Virgil? I'll guess you've got divided loyalties?"

"I am able to make up my own mind," Virgil reminded him. "But in this case I will admit to being in two minds."

"Great. So we've got to deal with schizophrenia as well as everything else," Gordon teased.

Virgil ignored him. "What I mean is that you kind of grow up thinking your parents are... asexual. And then when you suddenly discover that they're not..." He shrugged.

"I can understand that," John said. "So are you leaning towards Dad or Scott?"

"Like Gordon, if I knew what Scott's concerns were I'd be able to give you a more informed answer."

John fixed Virgil with an enquiring stare. "Have you found out anything about why he's so anti this relationship?"

"He refuses to discuss it," Virgil said. "I tried and he growled at me. Then I asked him to at least show Cubby some respect and he bit my head off." He rubbed his neck. "I've probably still got the tooth marks."

"Do you think it's because he thinks Dad's being disloyal to Ma's memory?"

Virgil shrugged. "It's a possibility, but I have a feeling it goes deeper than that. Like I said he won't discuss it."

"And if he won't discuss it with you, he won't discuss it with anyone," Gordon noted. "So I'm not even going to try."

"Do you guys think Dad's being disloyal to Ma?" John asked. "Is that why you can't make up your minds?" Deciding that the only way he'd get a straight answer was to put his brothers on the spot, he turned to the youngest. "Alan?"

"It wouldn't worry me if he was..." Alan flinched at his brothers' stares and averted his gaze to some spots of white paint on the floor.

"Alan?" Gordon queried.

Alan decided that the collection of splotches reminded him of the constellation known as the Big Dipper.

"That's an odd way of putting it," Virgil said. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't remember Ma," Alan admitted. "So she doesn't mean anything to me. I mean, I know that biologically she was pretty important in all our lives, but as a person she's... she's a stranger. She's this woman in family photographs that I don't know." He looked up seeing shocked faces and avoided John's gaze. "I mean, I think we've talked more about Ma these last few days since Cubby arrived than we probably have my whole life! I'm sorry, fellas, but... I... I don't have an emotional attachment to her."

John gave a slow shake to his head. "That," he said with feeling, "has got to be the saddest thing I've ever heard."

"It doesn't feel like that to me," Alan assured him. "It's all I know. You know what they say, what the mind doesn't know, the heart doesn't grieve over."

"Well, whatever you do, don't tell Dad," John warned.

"Ah... He already knows." Alan's eyes were on the constellation again as he cringed at the memories. He thrust his hands into his pockets. "It came out in a shouting match once." As had often happened during his teens, he and his father had been at each other's throats. Jeff, angry, frustrated, and just the wrong side of in control had asked Alan if he'd considered what his mother would have thought of his behaviour; and Alan, annoyed by his father's interrogations, had replied that he didn't care as she was nothing in his life because he didn't remember her.

The exchange had stunned them both and, without another word to each other, they had gone their separate ways. Later when they'd had time to cool down, they'd apologised; Jeff for using Lucille as a blackmail tool and Alan for throwing the revelation in his father's face.

The irony of the whole experience was that Alan couldn't even remember what the initial argument had been about.

"What did he say?" Virgil was asking.

"He was shocked."

Gordon fixed the young blonde with a critical stare. "I'll bet that's putting it mildly."

"I wouldn't mention it to Scott either," Virgil cautioned. "That'd really send him off the deep end."

"Don't worry," Alan assured them, "I've got no plans to."

Footsteps behind them heralded the arrival of their eldest brother. "Haven't you guys got anything better to do than stand around and gossip?" Scott growled.

"We... We've been talking," John admitted, wishing that they hadn't.

"I can guess about what."

Not wanting to start yet another argument so soon after his younger sibling's revelations John said, "Actually we were discussing our memories of Ma." Alan shot his brother a panicked look.

Scott looked interested. "Really?"

John nodded. "We were commenting on how some were clearer than others. For instance I remember that she loved pansies, she had a whole border of them around the house. But I can't for the life of me remember her favourite colour."

"Yellow," Scott recollected. "She loved yellow. Remember that dress she had? She called it her sunbeam dress because it was bright yellow and wearing it always made her feel happy. She dressed us all in yellow when we were babies..."

Ursula's dress, with its pale floral print, felt cool against her skin as she and Jeff walked along the beach, warm sands giving beneath their bare feet. The shop assistant had assured her that this was exactly the right style to wear in tropical climes and Ursula had to admit that, despite it having been at the end of an English winter, the assistant had been right. She gave a sigh of contentment. "You're looking very handsome today. That yellow shirt suits you."

"It's just something I threw on," Jeff lied. In reality he'd spent ages going through his wardrobe to find the right look. "Happy?" he asked.

"Mmn, yes. Walking along a golden beach, a gentle breeze, the blue ocean..." Ursula looked up at the man who was holding her hand, "you..." She stood on tip-toe to meet his kiss. "I can't think of anything better."

"Me neither," he agreed. "The world with all its troubles seems so far away." He gestured over the waters. "An ocean away... As if you and I have been shipwrecked alone on a deserted isle... Not a place with some of the world's most advanced machinery humming away under our feet."

"If we were shipwrecked," Ursula asked. "What's the one thing you'd want to bring with you?"

He looked down at her with a twinkle in his eye. "You."

She dug him in the ribs. "Apart from me."

"Apart from you?" Jeff screwed up his face as he thought. "Under normal circumstances I'd say Brains, because he'd probably come up a way of getting us rescued. Or Kyrano, because he'd know what foods we could eat. If it had to be something non-human, I would have said a radio so we could call Thunderbird Five. But if I had to choose between rescue and spending the rest of my life alone with you... I'd choose a big stick."

Ursula looked at him with a quizzical expression. "A big stick?"

"Yes. Like this." Jeff bent down and picked up a long, broad stick. "Then I could do this." He let go of her hand and jogged closer to the water's edge. The sands became his canvas and the stick his brush as he drew the outline of a giant heart pierced by an arrow and surrounded by two sets of initials – JT and UW. Then he stood back to admire his handiwork. "Guess Virgil didn't inherit his talent from me."

"I think it's lovely," Ursula told him. "It doesn't matter that one side's fatter than the other." She squinted at the valentine. "Besides if we were to stand back here, so we're looking at it at an angle..." She took a step backwards. "Oh!" There was a loud crack as she fell over onto the sand.

"Cubby!" Jeff dropped the stick and ran to her side. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

Ursula struggled into a sitting position. "I'm okay."

"What was that noise?" he asked anxiously. "I thought you'd broken something."

"I stood on something," Ursula admitted. She grimaced. "My foot..."

"Here, let me look." Tenderly Jeff examined the sole of her foot. "You've got a bit of a cut there... Probably on a shell."

"My ankle's hurting too," Ursula winced. "I think I must have twisted it."

Jeff pulled a clean white handkerchief from out of his pocket and dabbed at the cut to clear the sand away. "I don't think it's too deep, but I'll get Brains to look at you." He lifted his arm. "Tracy to Brains."

Ursula heard the reply. "Y-Yes, Mr T-Tracy?"

"Mrs White's cut her foot and twisted her ankle. I don't think it's anything serious, but I'd like it checked out."

"Y-Yes, Mr T-Tracy," Brains repeated.

"I don't want a fuss, Jeff."

"It's no fuss," he told her. "We've got our own medico on tap and we may as well use him." The handkerchief was tied around her foot before he checked her ankle. "I don't think you've broken anything."

"I could have told you that."

Jeff fixed Ursula with an impish grin. "Would you like me to kiss it better?"

"No. I'd rather you kissed me better."

Jeff was happy to oblige. Then he slipped his arms beneath her and picked her up.

"Jeff! Put me down!"

"No. You're not getting any more sand into that cut and you're not to put any weight on that ankle."

"I'm too heavy!"

"No, you're not." To prove his point Jeff easily traversed the path and made his way to the cable car that led up to the villa. He settled Ursula down on the seat. "Okay?"

"I'm fine, Jeff," Ursula smiled at him. "I don't need Brains to look at me."

Jeff set the cable car in motion. "I'm going to make sure that you return home as perfect as when you left. Otherwise your children might not let you visit again."

"I suppose it'll make a change for Brains from examining hulking great men." Then Ursula giggled. "Do you think he even knows what a woman's leg looks like?"

"That is a cruel thing to say," Jeff replied. Then he grinned. "I don't think he even notices when Tin-Tin's wearing a mini skirt."

"I'll bet Alan does."

"Oh, yes. You could knock his eyeballs off with a pool cue... And between you and me, the others aren't averse to a sly look either, though they'd never admit it. They all claim she's more like a little sister to them."

"Only the boys?" Ursula teased.

"That girl is like a daughter to me."

"Yeah, right."

The cable car reached its zenith.

Almost inevitably the conversation has slid back to the subject of Jeff and Cubby. Almost inevitably Scott's mood had darkened. He was growling again.

"Come on, Scott. Lighten up," Gordon pleaded. "It's not like he's a sucker for everything in a skirt that throws herself at him." He nudged Alan. "Right?"

"Right," Alan nodded.

"Remember that time the three of us were at the office in New York, Alan?" Gordon asked. "Remember ‘Bimbo'?"

"You mean Bambi..." Alan frowned. "Or was it Barbie?"

"Whatever. It was pretty easy to see what she was after."

"It was pretty easy to see most things," Alan remembered. He gave a low whistle. "I've seen people who've had their clothes blown off in an explosion showing less skin. She was the type who gave us blondes a bad name."

"She was a gold-digger with a capital G," Gordon added. "She wanted Dad and his money and he took one look at her and retreated to his office for the rest of the day."

"Leaving us to get rid of her," Alan added.

Gordon gave a sly grin. "I thought I'd let her down gently; so I gave her a full dose of the Tracy charm."

"Did she recover?" John asked. "Or are they still trying to cure her?"

Gordon pretended to look indignant. "Hey! I gave her a good time. I bought her a drink and then I showed her how lucky she was to be spending time with me rather than the old man." There were retching sounds from his brothers, which he ignored. "I thought I'd try to impress her so I told her that I had been with WASP. She replied that the uniforms must have been pretty. While I was still scratching my head over that, she asked if I found that the stripes made me look fat."

"Stripes?" Virgil asked.

"Yeah," Gordon drawled. "The uniform's yellow and black horizontal stripes. When I explained that the name of the organisation was World Aquanaut Security Patrol and that uniform was grey, but that the insignia was a wasp, she shuddered and said she couldn't bear the thought of having insects crawl all over her..."

There was a chuckle from his brothers and a slight upturning of his mouth from Scott.

"At that point I gave up on detailing my distinguished military career and thought I'd go for the sympathy vote; so I told her that I'd crashed my hydrofoil doing 400 knots. She asked, "Not what?"" He rolled his eyes heavenward as his brothers laughed and Scott managed a smile. "I explained that a knot was one nautical mile per hour or the equivalent to 1.852 kilometres per hour, so I'd been travelling at seven hundred and forty kilometres an hour when I crashed. She looked right at me with her big blue eyes and asked, "Did you survive?"

Scott laughed outright. "You're kidding?"

"I swear she did... I said, no, I was a clone; which I think gave her the creeps."

"Cloned Gordon," John said. "You're right. That is creepy."

"Do you want to hear this?" Gordon asked.

"I do," Scott exclaimed. "Go on, Gordon. What happened next?"

Gordon gave himself a metaphorical pat on the back. "I went in for the king hit. I told her that I'd won an Olympic gold medal."

"That should have impressed her," Virgil said.

"Oh... It did. She asked me what I played."

Scott frowned in bemusement, totally wrapped up in the tale. "Played?"

"Yep. That was her word. I said I got my gold in the butterfly. "Oh!" she asks. "How many did you catch?" I explained that the ‘fly was a swimming stroke like freestyle or backstroke... I should have known to stop at that point, but I had to add breaststroke, didn't I?"

"What's wrong with that?" Scott asked.

"She giggled. Then she gave me a look that suggested that she liked me talking dirty and shifted closer asking if I felt like practising it now. It was at that point that I suggested that we go somewhere more private."

"You dirty...!" Scott exclaimed. "Did she agree?"

"Oh, yeah," Gordon preened. "Look what was on offer." He spread his arms wide. "Who wouldn't?"

Alan groaned. "Give me strength," he muttered.

"So, I took her hand, led her outside, and called a cab. All the while she's patting her hair and putting more lipstick on. The taxi arrived, I helped her inside, gave the driver $1000, told him to make sure that she got home safely... and..." He paused.

"Don't stop!" Scott ordered. "And what?"

"Grabbed the next plane out of the country..."

Scott laughed.

Alan pulled Gordon to one side. "Liar," he whispered. "As soon as Dad went back up to his office, you called the security guard and he escorted her off the premises with the threat of a trespass order."

"But that story's not nearly so entertaining." Gordon admitted. "And you've got to agree that it's cheered Scott up."

"True." Alan watched as his eldest brother wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

Trying not to be obvious about it, Brains was observing an interesting phenomenon. His employer was exhibiting characteristics that he'd never displayed before and Brains was finding the whole experience fascinating.

Jeff was at Ursula's bedside, holding her hand and fussing over her in such away that, in Brains' recollection, was unique in the annals of Tracy Island. Jeff Tracy had certainly never held his sons' hands when they were ill... if you didn't count the time when a rescue had gone disastrously wrong leaving a life hanging in the balance. That time Jeff had sat at the side of this bed for over 24 hours, holding a hand, caressing a face and cajoling and coaxing his son out of the coma. It was only after the crisis was over and things were back to normal that the invalid's brothers had teased that it was the threat of handing control of his Thunderbird over to someone else that had averted a tragedy.

"Does it hurt?" Jeff was asking, as he brushed a curl back off Ursula's face.

"Oh, stop being silly, Jeff," Ursula teased, catching his hand. But, Brains noted, her teasing was tempered by an obvious affection. "It's only a scratch."

"Brains?" Jeff turned to the International Rescue's medical expert. "It is only a scratch, isn't it?"

Both amazed and amused by the pleading note in Jeff's voice, Brains nodded. "I-I have cleaned the wound, Mrs Wh-White. A-As for your ankle, I-I would advise you to rest it with, ah, an ice pack."

Grandma Tracy came bustling into the room. "How are you, Ursula, dear? Are you all right?"

Ursula gave a reassuring laugh. "Of course I am. I'm being very well cared for, thank you."

"Y-You are welcome to rest here," Brains told Ursula, "b-but I am sure that you would prefer to ret-tire to your room."

"I think that would be very wise," Grandma agreed. "Can you walk?"

Brains had retrieved a wheelchair from a cupboard. "This would be better." He locked the brakes on the ‘chair and watched as Jeff, treating Ursula as if she were made of bone china, helped her off the bed. When she was seated Jeff took control of the ‘chair and wheeled her out of the sick bay.

Brains shared an astonished look with Mrs Tracy.

She laughed. "It's amazing how love can change a man, Brains." She followed the wheelchair out of the room and into the guest suite.

Ursula was in the process of gently slapping Jeff's hands away as he went to pick her up out of the chair. "You can help me to stand and hop over to my bed, Jeff Tracy. I don't need to be carried."

"Are you sure?"

Ursula gave a sigh of mock exasperation and got to her feet. "Oh, Jeff. You're hopeless."

Grandma spied something and gave a little cry of horror. "Ursula! Your lovely dress! It's got blood on it!"

"Has it?" Ursula tried to twist in Jeff's arms so that she could see the hem. "Where?"

"There!" Grandma grabbed the cloth and examined the stain. "I'll put that into soak now; it shouldn't be permanent. Outside, Jefferson!"

"But, Mother..."

"But, Mother, nothing. Ursula's going to get changed. We don't need your help with that."

Jeff found himself in the hallway.

"Alan?" Gordon said.

"Yes?"

"I've been thinking about what you said."

"What in particular?"

"Do you think there's any chance that Dad and Cubby had an affair when Ma was still alive?"

"I would doubt it. You heard what John said; it must have been obvious that he loved her too much to even contemplate anything extramarital."

"Yeah," Gordon agreed. "But John was talking about a time before we were born. What if after you and I came along Ma was that busy with the pair of us and Virgil, who would still have been pretty young, that she didn't have time for Dad?"

Alan goggled at his brother. "So you think he turned to Cubby for ‘company'? But both Scott and John are convinced..."

"Would you leave evidence of your affair with your wife's best friend about so that your kids could find it? They'd have to be careful."

"But Cubby married Tommy..."

"Maybe the affair only lasted a little while."

"No," Alan shook his head. "No way. Not our father. It's impossible."

"Would you have thought that it was possible that he could have fallen head-over-heels in love with someone after less than a week?"

"No," Alan admitted. "I wouldn't have." He looked at his older brother. "But does it matter if they did have an affair? That was years ago."

"I suppose it doesn't," Gordon agreed. "Except that I'm curious."

"Well, you're going to have to stay curious."

"Aren't you curious too?"

"I am now that you've re..."

"Well, come on then."

Alan pulled his sleeve out from Gordon's grip. "Come on where?"

Gordon turned to face his brother and folded his arms. "There's only one way that we're going to find out the truth."

"And that would be how?" Alan had a horrible feeling that he already knew the answer.

"Ask Dad, of course."

"Ask Dad?!" Alan took a step backwards and held his hands up defensively. "No! No way, Gordon. Uh, uh. No. Never!"

Scott was whistling a cheerful tune as he wandered down the hallway to his room. Jeff, who had been standing at the window of his study looking down on the valentine in the sand, heard him. "Scott, would you mind coming in here, please?"

Scott hesitated. Whether or not he minded would depend on precisely what the conversation was going to be about. Not being one to disobey orders, he stepped into the study. "Do you want me to shut the door?"

Jeff gave what could have been construed as a nonchalant shrug. "You may as well. It'll stop us being interrupted."

On his guard, Scott slid the door home and then turned to face his father. "I didn't expect to see you in here."

"Cubby's twisted her ankle. She's resting." Jeff watched his son's facial muscles twitch as he suppressed his instinctive reaction to ask how she was. He sat on the edge of his desk. "You boys seem to be spending a lot of time in the maintenance bay. Any problems I should know about?"

Scott relaxed: so this was going to be a work-related conversation. "No. We're just fine tuning."

Jeff nodded. "Good. I haven't had a lot of time to check up on these things this week."

"No."

The room was quiet.

"I've had some ideas for a new piece of equipment," Scott offered. "I'd like to run them past you sometime soon."

"Major or incidentals?"

"Major. Maybe a whole new Thunderbird."

"Okay. In that case we'll leave it until after Cubby goes home. I'll want to be able to give it my full attention."

Scott fixed his father with an earnest stare. "Good. Because we're not getting any attention now."

"No, well, we agreed that this would be an easy week so we could all enjoy Cubby's company."

"And some are enjoying it more than others."

Jeff let the comment slide.

"If she's incapacitated we could discuss it now," Scott suggested.

"I think she'll be free shortly," Jeff replied, hoping to be able to slip back down to the guest room when his mother had left.

"But this could be important," Scott persisted. "It might save lives."

"I'm sure it will. But discussing it now won't bring it on stream any quicker. You know that we'll have to draw up plans, work through development, build a prototype, get construction materials, build it, test it, get everyone up to speed on it." Jeff spread out his hands in an explanatory gesture. "Two days won't make a difference."

"It could do if someone gets into trouble and we're two days from finalising all that," Scott said. "I think we should discuss it now."

"And I think we should wait. Now is not the time..."

"Because you've got her on your mind and you can't think about anything else!"

"I mean that neither of us is in the mood..."

"Don't bring me into this. I'm still fully committed to International Rescue... Unlike..."

"Scott..." Jeff growled.

"Well...!" Scott huffed. "You're behaving like a..."

Another growl from his father pulled the younger man up short. To give himself a chance to cool down, he wandered over to the window. "I'd like us to talk man-to-man," Jeff was saying.

Scott gazed outside. His eyes were drawn to a valentine on the beach...

"Can we do that?"

Scott stared at the valentine. Here was a visual testament to the feelings that his father felt towards Ursula White. He felt hot negative emotions flare up inside him.

Unable to see the flush that was creeping up his son's face, Jeff continued talking. "Can you tell me what you've got against Cubby?"

Scott pressed his hands and forehead against the cool glass.

"I'm willing to listen and to try and discuss this in a mature manner," Jeff carried on. "Is there something that you've seen that I haven't? Have you thought of a problem that I've missed? Have you found some reason why Cubby and I shouldn't, ah, be in a relationship? I know you, Scott, and you don't do anything without a logical reason..."

"Unlike you!" Scott rounded on him. "Can't you see what this crazy relationship is doing to us all?"

"No." Jeff frowned. "You appear to be the only one with an issue. Has something happened that I don't know about? Tell me, Scott."

"Tell you!?" Scott strode back so that he was face-to-face with his father. "Are you that blind that you can't see?!"

Jeff opened his hands in a gesture of appeasement. "I can't see why you are so upset. I never asked for this to happen and neither did Cubby."

"I'll bet!"

Counting to ten, Jeff swallowed his anger. "You know her well enough to know she's not like that."

"It's been years since we last knew her. She's changed."

"We've all changed. But not to that extent."

"If you," Scott mimed quotation marks, ""never asked for this to happen", does this mean you can stop it now?"

"No," Jeff said with simple honesty. "I don't think I can."

"Then we've nothing to talk about."

"But we do," Jeff exclaimed. "We can't carry on like this. It would destroy International Rescue and it would destroy the family." He inhaled deeply to try to clear his head. "Is it because of your mother...?" An exasperated sound escaped Scott's lips and Jeff felt a sinking feeling. "I still love her you know..."

"Do you!? You have a funny way of showing it!"

"What am I supposed to do? Deny these feelings for Cubby?"

"You're doing a pretty good job of denying your feelings for Ma... If you still have any."

"How dare..." Jeff took a deep breath. Losing his temper at this point would not help. "I've always loved your mother, Scott, and I always will. Losing her nearly killed me. Don't you remember?!"

"I remember," Scott snarled. "It was an act worthy of an Oscar!"

"An act..." Jeff's hands clenched into fists and, to distance himself from the source of his building rage, he walked behind the desk so it formed a barrier between the pair of them. "Are you deliberately trying to be hurtful?"

"You asked me to point out the facts. That's what I'm doing."

"No." Jeff shook his head. "That's not a fact. That's a lie and you know it. You've never lied to me before and you've never tried to deliberately hurt someone, especially not a family member." He leant on his desk. "What's happened, Scott? What changed you?"

There was no reply to his query.

"When I think back to the times, all those years ago, when you were children and I was struggling to cope. I'd lost my wife, my job, my future, my hopes... I don't know how many mornings I tried to deal with everything and felt totally overwhelmed by it all. I'd be at my wits end, trying to re-write yet another application for yet another nine-o-clock appointment with yet another uncaring bank; while Alan was refusing to eat his breakfast, Virgil was covered in paint, John was tired and grumpy and not wanting to go to school because he'd been up all night stargazing, and Gordon had tipped water all over himself. I'd be stressed out to the max, scared for the future and half expecting that this would be the day when the authorities would knock on our door and say, "I'm sorry, Mr Tracy, but you're not caring for your sons adequately. We are here to take them away." Jeff closed his eyes against those memories. "And then you'd come in, and you'd tell me that you'd dried Gordon and got Alan to eat and that they were now happily playing in their room. You'd say that you'd got Virgil cleaned up and he, you and John were about to leave for school. Then you'd place a mug of coffee on my desk and wish me luck with my meeting with the bank, say you were sure it would be a success this time, and then you'd leave. And all I'd want to do was wrap my arms about you and thank you and say how much I loved you and how I appreciated your help... You don't know what that meant to me, Scott. It helped keep me sane."

Scott stared at a spot on the wall.

"Do you remember the mug? It had the inscription ‘World's Greatest Dad' written on it and I would look at it and think I wasn't even close to being the world's greatest. A contender for the world's worst maybe, but certainly not the greatest... And then I would think that what I was, was the world's luckiest; and that I was lucky because of you. I know that I relied on you more than I should. You were only a child and for those first months until your grandmother came to live with us I leant on you for support. But, Scott, without your support I... we would have been lost. I'm sure this family would have been torn apart. Many's the time that I thought that that morning mug wasn't just a cup of coffee, it was the glue that kept us together. And it was thanks to you that I was able to keep it together." Jeff took a breath, surprised at the length of his speech and the amount of emotion that he'd poured into it. "Why won't you support me now?"

Scott turned on his heel and marched out the door.

Jeff sagged into his chair.

A notebook was sitting on the desk and he picked it up. His dictation, followed by his signature, lay on the topmost page. "I've been happier these last 24 hours than I have been in years," Jeff read. He dropped the notebook. "What a difference a day makes..."

There was a knock on the door. "Hey, Dad," Gordon said.

Jeff made a gesture which Gordon took to be an invitation into the study. He entered the room, dragging an obviously unwilling Alan with him.

Jeff pushed the notebook away. "Can I ask you boys a question?"

"Yes!" Alan said eagerly, hoping to at least delay Gordon's plan.

"Do you have any idea what's wrong with Scott?"

His sons looked at each other. "No."

"Have you been talking to him?" Gordon asked.

Jeff nodded.

"And he didn't tell you?"

Jeff shook his head.

"He's probably overdosed on the oxyhydnite," Gordon suggested. "He'll come round."

Despite the problems that this option could lead to, Jeff seemed to look hopeful. "Do you think it's something medical?"

"No," Gordon admitted. "Sorry, Dad."

"Would... would you like me to go back to Thunderbird Five for a few days?" Alan offered. "Then, um," he wavered, "ah, John could come back here and... act... you know... as a counterpoint..."

"...To Scott," Jeff finished. Then he sat back with a sigh. "Thank you for the offer, Alan, but this is my problem, not yours... What can I do for you boys?"

"Uh..." Finally finding himself under his father's interrogative gaze, Gordon hesitated as he had second thoughts over his initial plan. "Nothing." Alan relaxed. "We were just wondering why you and Cubby weren't together."

"She's twisted her ankle; nothing serious. She's going to rest this afternoon and your Grandmother's helping her get changed."

"And kicked you out?" Gordon guessed, and grinned.

Jeff reddened. "What have you boys been up to?" He said, trying to appear nonchalant. "This week's supposed to be a break for everyone."

"We've been doing some general maintenance," Gordon admitted. "Nothing too taxing. In fact the five of us were just in the maintenance bay, you know, shooting the breeze rather than working. I made up a story to try to cheer up Scott and it seemed to work."

"I'm afraid that I've gone and undone all your good work, Gordon."

"Oh." Gordon appeared to be unconcerned. "Oh, well. I suppose we couldn't expect it to last for ever. You should have heard him yell the other day." He laughed, and his laugh sounded false even to his ears. "Someone made a stupid comment that maybe you and Cubby had been more than good friends..."

Alan made a strangled sound.

"...when Ma was still alive."

Jeff's jaw dropped. "What...?"

"Scott went ballistic at the idea, isn't that right, Alan?"

Alan just wanted to crawl away and hide.

"We...ah... We all know the, um, whole idea's laughable... of course..." Gordon watched his father's expression change.

"Who said that?!" For the merest fraction of a second, Jeff glanced towards Alan.

"Doesn't matter..." Gordon faltered. "It was just a throwaway line... you know...? Dad...?"

"No!" Jeff shook his head as he was trying to clear the image conjured up. "I wouldn't!" He began gabbling. "I couldn't! Not to Lucille! Not to your mother! I loved her...! I wouldn't... I couldn't!" he repeated, and buried his head in his hands. "She was my whole world... I could never have betrayed her..." There was a shuddering sigh. "Why aren't I allowed to be happy?"

Gordon and Alan looked at each other. They been prepared for raging anger, something they'd had plenty of experience dealing with over the years. But self-pity was unheard of. They were in unknown, and unexpected, territory.

"Dad..." Gordon hesitated and then sat forward in his seat. "I'm sorry... We were curious... You know?"

Jeff clenched his hands into fists in front of his face, trying to get a grip on his emotions, before he looked up. "I understand."

Gordon looked into his father's reddened eyes and felt sorrow for the man before him. "Why does what we think matter so much? You've never tried to stop us from doing anything. You've given us full rein over our lives; let us be our own men... The only time you've tried to stop us was when you thought we were about to do something dangerous..." He remembered International Rescue. "Fatally dangerous," he amended, "or stupid."

"I think you've just answered your own question, Gordon," Alan said quietly.

"Oh..." Gordon thought for a moment. "I'm sorry, Dad. But Alan and I can't remember the time when Ma was alive that clearly."

For the first time Jeff looked at length at Alan, who shifted under his father's gaze, and his sorrow became even more marked. "No. You can't, can you?"

Alan squirmed. "Sorry," he whispered.

Jeff lowered his hands so his arms were resting on the desk and looked Gordon in the eye. "I've been faithful to your mother since the day I met her. I've never had, nor did I ever contemplate having, an affair." He stood and walked over to the window. The tide was coming in and the water, combined with the shifting sands, and nearly obliterated the valentine.

"Right!" Gordon said with forced cheerfulness. "That's that then," he added as if his father had just confirmed that water was wet. He slapped himself on the legs and stood. "Come on, Alan." He strode over to the door.

Alan was watching the forlorn figure standing by the window. "Dad..." he stood and crossed over to his father. "You should be happy... And I like Cubby and I think she should be happy too. There's no reason why you shouldn't be happy together." And, in a gesture that surprised everyone, including himself, he wrapped Jeff up in a big bear hug.

Gordon looked longingly at the door and then back into the room before coming to a decision. "Alan's right," he said, moving over to the two men by the window. "Six eligible bachelors on a tropical island? You'd expect at least one of us to be getting some action on the female front; and if we leave it to him," he indicated Alan, "we'll be waiting for ever." He put his arm about Jeff's shoulders and gave them a friendly squeeze. "What are you doing in here when you've got a lady waiting for you?"

Jeff managed a wan smile. "So you don't mind...? About me and Cubby?"

"No," Gordon gave the broad shoulders a squeeze again as Alan treated his father to a reassuring smile. "I think it's great."

"Thank you..." Jeff said. "This means a lot to me."

"We'll leave you to it then," Gordon said. "Go and have fun with Cubby and don't worry about Scott... Catch you later, Dad."

Jeff waited until his sons had left the room; then he returned to his chair and once again picked up the notebook. Flipping over the top page he exposed an unblemished sheet. He wrote ‘John' in the top left corner and ‘Scott' in the bottom right. Then Alan's and Gordon's names went in a column beneath John's. His hand wavered briefly over the paper before he dropped the pen, picked up a pencil, and scrawled Virgil's name in the centre of the page. Dropping the pencil he held the notebook in both hands and stared at what he'd written.

"Three for, one against and one undecided," he said out loud. "Ah, to heck with it..." He threw the notebook on the desk and stood. "If this was a board decision it would constitute a vote in my favour... and I intend to act on it!"

Jeff Tracy strode out of his study...

05 Five

"You are on your final warning, Scott Tracy!"

"Grandma?" Scott looked up from where he was working at his desk in his room. "My what?" He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that this is Ursula's last dinner with us and I aim to make sure that it's something special. And if you can't deal with that, then you are not welcome!"

"Grandma?" Scott repeated. "But..."

"No ‘buts', my boy. If there's so much as a hint from you that you disapprove of Ursula in any way, then you will be eating your meal alone."

"But this is my house!"

"Correction. This is your father's house and he wants to enjoy Ursula's company. It is my cooking; and I am going to ensure that we all get to enjoy it without any negativity from you! Understand!?"

Scott understood. "Yes, Grandma."

"Good. Now go get cleaned up."

Feeling like a chastened schoolboy, Scott obeyed.

Mrs Tracy and Kyrano had excelled themselves. They had prepared, not a meal, but a feast. Jeff had insisted on assisting Ursula to the table even though she was having no pain from her ankle and, judging by the way it was itching, the scratch was healing well.

Scott was the last to arrive. He sat down heavily and ignored their guest; earning himself a warning glare from his grandmother along with a single raised finger. He could not mistake her message. "That is your first, and only, warning."

He suppressed a feeling of irritation.

The entrée passed without incident and with much hilarity. "You still haven't told us why you call him ‘Dick', Cubby," Gordon teased.

Jeff groaned. "I'd thought you'd forgotten about that."

"Dick?" Alan looked down to the head of the table. "She calls you Dick? Why?"

"He says," Virgil's emphasis on the word that left no doubt that he didn't believe it, "that it's because he liked gadgets."

"Dick? Because you liked gadgets?" Alan's eyes were wide with confusion. "The mind boggles!"

"It's as in Dick Tracy," Ursula explained.

"Ah!" Alan replied. Then he frowned. "Who?"

"Boy, you're h-ignorant," Gordon teased. "He was a comic book detective from last century. He used a lot of high-tech equipment to catch the crooks."

"Well, I was born in this century," Alan reminded him. "How was I supposed to know that?"

"Come on, Cubby," Gordon pleaded. "Tell us the real reason."

"Honestly, Gordon," Ursula replied. "That is the real reason. Your father was nicknamed ‘Dick' after Dick Tracy."

His eyes narrowed in a crafty look that meant trouble. "There's more to it than that... Oh well, there's plenty of time to get to the bottom of it. You're not going anywhere for few hours yet."

"Pity," a voice said.

"Right!" Grandma was on her feet.

Scott, his fork about to plunge into a vegetable, found his plate whisked out from in front of him. "Hey!" He looked up. "Grandma!"

"I warned you." Grandma put the plate into a basket and thrust it at him. "You can eat in your room."

"But..."

"No buts, Scott. Out!"

Scott stood and snatched the basket from his grandmother. Then, after shooting a look at Ursula that would have stripped the paint off Thunderbird Three, he stamped out of the dining room.

"Sorry about that, everyone," Grandma apologised. She sat down again. "Where were we?"

It took some time for the meal to regain its previously relaxed atmosphere.

Dinner was over and everyone declared that they'd eaten too much. Gordon stated that they'd better not have a call out because he doubted that even Thunderbird Two would be able to lift off the ground after all that Virgil had eaten; earning himself a promise that he'd "keep".

Jeff and Ursula were shooed out of the kitchen. "Go on you two," Grandma scolded. "The boys can help clean up."

"I'll go get Scott's plate," Virgil offered.

"You can go get Scott," he was told. "He dirtied some of the dishes; he can help clean them up."

Jeff and Ursula had decided to go for one last walk, when Ursula stopped on the patio, captivated by the view and the way the light was glinting off the waves. "I can't believe that I'm leaving this for a land-bound, cold, wet, English winter."

"You'll have to come back soon," Jeff suggested.

She turned to face him. "Be honest with me, Jeff. Will I be welcome?"

"Of course you will," he assured her. "Besides, if he doesn't come round, it'll do Scott good to spend some time on Thunderbird Five."

"I don't want to disrupt things."

"I can assure you that you won't be. The boys don't get enough experience in each other's craft. Swapping them about stops them from becoming complacent and hopefully keeps them alive."

"You," Ursula placed her hands on his chest, "are an amazing man."

Jeff took her hand and kissed it. "No, I'm not. I just use the resources I have at my disposal to the best of my ability."

"Those ‘resources'," Ursula reminded him, "include your sons. Have you ever had any scares where you wish you'd never started International Rescue?"

For a moment his face clouded over. "A couple," he admitted. "But we've been lucky so far... Touch wood." He tapped his head. Then he smiled. "Come on. This isn't time to think about the past or future. Let's concentrate on the present." They turned back to admire the view.

With four of them working in the kitchen, Virgil had managed to escape for his regular practise early. He sat down at the white baby grand piano and ran through his usual scales to warm up; then he glanced over at the patio, seeing it occupied. Reaching a decision, he began to rifle through the sheet music in his piano stool, choosing the most romantic pieces he could find. Then he sat down again.

As sweet music floated out of the lounge Jeff slipped his arm about Ursula's waist and pulled her closer. "I think we're being serenaded," he whispered.

"Mmmn." Ursula had her eyes closed as she leant against his toned body and let the music envelop her. "I'd love to have a recording of his playing."

"I'm sure he'd be glad to oblige," Jeff replied. He turned to send Virgil a smile of gratitude and thanks: when something caused him to freeze.

Scott was standing by the piano. "Can I have a play, Virg?"

Virgil didn't miss a note. "No you can't. This is my practise time."

"You don't need the practise. I do."

"Then you should have practised earlier. You know I always practise after dinner."

Thwarted, Scott changed tack. "Well, in that case, why don't you play something a bit more cheerful?"

"I'm playing what I want to play."

"It's a bit soppy, isn't it?"

"Depends on what mood you're in."

"I'm sure everyone would prefer to listen to something with a bit more life in it."

"I'm sure everyone wouldn't."

"Virgil!"

"Scott!"

"If you don't change your musical style I'm going to do something to that piano!"

Virgil's eyes flashed. "I'd like to see you try!"

"I'm warning you, Virgil!"

"Get a grip, Scott!"

Scott slammed the piano lid shut.

Virgil had been expecting something along that line, but nevertheless was a little slow pulling his hands clear. "Ow!" He blew on bruised fingers. "Of all the stupid, lame, dangerous... selfish things you could do!"

Scott smirked. "Does that mean I can use the piano now?"

Virgil stood. "Be my guest. I'm going to get some ice."

Triumphant, Scott claimed the seat and then looked out to the patio.

There was no one there.

"Maybe I should try talking to him," Ursula suggested as, arm-in-arm, they climbed the hill.

"If I thought it would work I'd agree," Jeff said. "But... I don't know him anymore. I don't know if talking is the answer." They reached the top of the ridge and he led Ursula over to the seat. "Don't let's worry about Scott." He kissed her tenderly. "This time is for us."

"I can't believe that this time tomorrow I'll be home and our holiday romance will be over."

Jeff looked her straight in the eye. "Is that what you think this is?"

"I hope not." Ursula caressed his face. "But it's been so long since I've been romanced, that I'm not sure that I would know the difference between that and the real thing."

"It feels like the real thing to me," Jeff pulled her closer.

Ursula gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "Me too."

"What do you want? Would you rather it was a holiday romance?"

"No. I wish this could never end. I've rather enjoyed being swept of my feet."

"How do you think Mark and Heather will react to their mother having been ‘swept off her feet'?"

"I rang Heather last night and told her," Ursula admitted. "She's thrilled and wants to hear all about it. In her words, ‘every sordid little detail'. When I told her that there's nothing ‘sordid' to tell she seemed disappointed."

Jeff felt the shiver of a long forgotten memory travel through his system. Something in Ursula's tone of voice made it sound as though it wasn't only her daughter who felt let down. "Cubby?" He looked deeply into her eyes searching for the answer to his unasked question.

She responded by giving a kiss that was full of passion. At first surprised, he tensed, then relaxed, until finally he was responding in kind.

When they eventually broke apart they stayed close together, their foreheads touching. Jeff was the first to speak; his voice husky. "Not here."

"No," Ursula chuckled. "Too hard on our old backs."

"No..." Jeff straightened. "That's not what I meant." He picked up her hands and held them in his. "I meant not here... not on the island."

"Oh." Ursula suppressed feelings of surprise and disappointed. "Why not?"

"I can't..."

"Oh," Ursula pulled her hands free of his and turned so she was able to look out at the setting sun over the ocean. "I see."

"I don't think you do. I've wanted to... to ask... the question, but I didn't know if we'd known each other for long enough."

"We've known each other for decades, Jeff."

"Yes," he agreed. "But not in this way. I didn't want to push you in case I pushed you away. I didn't know how far we were going with this relationship."

"All the way?" she suggested.

Jeff closed his eyes to suppress the emotions that went with the suggestion. "There's nowhere where we won't be disturbed..."

"But all those buildings you've got. What about that round house...?"

"Even there. If International Rescue are called out..."

"There must be somewhere."

"I'm sorry," Jeff sighed, "but I have this feeling that wherever we go for privacy we'll be interrupted. Even if we were to kick John out of Thunderbird Five..."

"That's silly!"

Almost as if to prove Jeff's point, someone broached the top of the ridge. "There you are," said Scott. "It's getting dark. I was worried in case you couldn't find your way back."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," Jeff said.

"I brought a torch."

"Thank you. You can leave it and go."

"I don't mind waiting."

"You don't need to."

"It's not a problem."

"Scott!" Jeff snapped. "We don't need your help. Go!"

With the tenacity (his brothers would have said pigheadedness) that went with his role as International Rescue's rescue co-ordinator, Scott stayed. "I was hoping you and I could discuss that idea I had."

"We agreed to do that later," Jeff's voice was taut with barely suppressed anger.

"I think you'll like it..."

At the present moment, Jeff doubted that very much. The only one thing he would have liked was for him and Ursula to have been left alone. He strode over to his eldest son and grabbed him in a rough hold by the arm, dragging him back towards the path. "Scott..." he hissed. "I don't know why you are playing this game, but I am not joining in..."

Ursula watched as the two men fronted up to each other; toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye. Their voices were low so they wouldn't be overheard, but nevertheless the conversation carried in the quiet stillness of the tropical evening.

"I'm not playing a game!"

"You are trying my patience. If you don't want to see Alan permanently assigned to Thunderbird One..."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, wouldn't I? If you want to find out whether I would or not, just keep on behaving the way you are!"

"But I'm the best rescue coordinator you've got!"

"In that role everyone has to be able to trust you 100 percent: and that includes me. And at the moment I'm sorry to say that I'm not sure that I can."

The observation clearly hurt. Scott took a step backwards as if he'd been pushed and then, without a backward glance at either Jeff or Ursula, began the trek down to the villa.

Jeff stayed at the top of the path until he saw his son disappear out of sight into the gloom. Then he turned back. "Sorry about that." He gave a gesture of hopelessness. "That is precisely what I'm talking about."

Ursula decided not to mention that she'd heard every word. "I understand what you mean about no privacy," she admitted with a wistful air. "So that's that?"

"I'm sorry," Jeff repeated as he took her hands again. "And it's not only Scott that's the problem. I want to give you my full attention... You deserve my full attention; but if we were to try to... enjoy ourselves here I'd be keeping one ear open for Scott and the other for rescue alerts. It's not fair on you."

"Or you," Ursula added.

Jeff's face was set in a grim line. "That comes with the position; both as father and commander."

"Well," Ursula felt a deep sadness flood her heart. "It was fun while it lasted."

"It doesn't have to finish here," Jeff insisted. "Look, how about I fly out to England soon?"

Hope pushed back the dark waters. "How soon?"

"Um..." Jeff thought quickly. "Give me a week to arrange everything and I'll meet you at your place next Saturday. We'll go somewhere special. Spend the weekend away from all distractions."

"But can you get away? What about your work? You've already spent a week with me."

"That's why I've got a whole team of capable people working for me. They can cope without my input for a weekend."

"But International Rescue...?"

"Scott'll take command of that. It'll keep his mind off other things." Jeff was still holding Ursula's hands in his and now he raised them so they were pressed against his chest, close to his heart. "Say you'll do it, Cubby. Please? It'll be a chance for the two of us to be together, alone... Away from my family and my concerns."

Ursula didn't have to think twice. With a joyful "Yes" she pulled him into another kiss. This time there was no hesitation in his response or his passion; but after a moment he pulled back. "Steady on," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Or else we'll be discovering just how old our backs really are."

Ursula laughed and twisted around on the seat so that she was able to lean back against his warm body with his arms about her. Together they watched as the last rays of the setting sun disappeared behind the horizon...

The day after Ursula White returned home, Jeff Tracy held an International Rescue meeting in his study to discuss Scott's idea. Two hours later, after the presentation had been made, pluses and pitfalls had been debated, and the design specifications for the newest machine had been thoroughly thrashed out, the meeting closed.

Jeff sat back in his chair. "I think we're on to a winner here. How soon can you make a start, Brains?"

Brains' eyes behind his thick spectacles were gleaming at the prospect of designing a new lifesaving device. "R-Right away, Mr T-Tracy. Are you f-free, Tin-Tin?"

"Yes, Brains." Tin-Tin had been making notes into a book, which she closed before standing.

Jeff beamed at them. "Wonderful. Let us know if any of us can help."

"I'm free, Brains," Virgil offered. "Do you want my input?"

Brains nodded his head in acknowledgment before the three of them, followed by Gordon and Alan left the study.

This left only Scott and Jeff; a fact of which Jeff was more than glad. "Well done, Son," he congratulated. "This new machine has the capability to save many lives."

Scott smiled. "Thanks. I hope so. It'll make some rescues easier."

"I agree." Trying to keep the conversation neutral, Jeff picked up a pen and concentrated on it as he twirled it around his fingers. "I was planning on heading away next weekend. Would you be okay with holding the fort while I'm gone?"

"Sure. Not a problem." Scott, still warm with the glow from congratulations for a job well done and the belief that life was returning to normal, fixed his father with a big grin. "Where are you going? Head office?"

"No." Still trying to keep his tone neutral, Jeff doodled on a pad. "I'm going to England. Cubby and I are going to spend the weekend together." Out of the corner of his eye he saw his son stiffen.

"What?"

"Cubby and I are going to spend some time together... Alone... Just the two of us."

"Y... You're going to what?" Scott's smile had vanished, as had the warm glow. "You're going to have a dirty weekend?"

"No, we're not," Jeff was amazed at how he was managing to keep his temper. "In fact," he finally looked up, "I'm hopeful that this is only the beginning of something longer lasting."

Scott opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, but no words came out. He gaped at his father like a goldfish, before standing and, without a word, heading for the door.

"Scott!" Jeff called after him.

Still mute, Scott turned back.

"Are you okay with keeping an eye on things here?"

Scott made a gesture that seemed to ask the world what was his father thinking about, and left the room.

Jeff took a moment to analyse his emotions. Surprisingly Scott's reaction hadn't dulled the sense of anticipation that he was feeling inside. He flipped back a page in the pad and looked at the list of names. Virgil's, in ink, had joined the column beneath his brothers' on the left of the page. Scott's was still firmly isolated in the bottom right-hand corner...

There were plans to be formed and calls to be made. Jeff Tracy was planning his weekend alone with Ursula White with military precision. Calls to friends and acquaintances, strangers and people he'd normally never interact with; interspaced with calls of an intimate nature to Ursula.

And all the while his sense of excited anticipation grew. The feeling that he was doing something a little bit illicit added an extra frisson to the sensation. "That's crazy!" he said out loud and received strange looks from Alan and Tin-Tin.

At first most of these calls were made from his desk in the lounge but as his plans became more and more involved, Jeff's habit of not having any secrets from his family was quickly swamped by his desire to protect Ursula from scandal and the idea that it was no one else's business anyway. He began to secrete himself away in his study.

The secret phone calls did not go unnoticed by the rest of the family and he became an object of discussion.

"What's he being so secretive for anyway?" Alan wondered as he took a packet of screws off the shelf. "It's not like their relationship's a secret anymore."

Gordon smirked. "If you don't know the answer to that one, Alan, it must be a great relief for Kyrano."

Alan stared at him in confusion until the penny dropped... along with his jaw. "You're kidding!"

"Nope," Virgil confirmed. "He's got me to record some appropriate music for them."

"For them to... to... to do...?" Alan stammered. "He told you that?!"

"No, he didn't say that," Virgil admitted. "Not in so many words. But it was pretty obvious from the way he was acting... Kind of coy."

"You're kidding!" Alan repeated. "But they're old!"

Virgil laughed at his youngest brother's evident amazement. "They're not that old. They're not decrepit or anything."

Alan shook his head as if trying to clear a mental picture. "The mind boggles."

"Why?" Gordon asked. "It's not like he doesn't know what he's doing. We're proof that he's done it at least five times; and Cubby's got two kids of her own."

"Yuk." Alan screwed up his face.

"Gordon, don't go there!" Virgil begged. "That is an image guaranteed to put me off meals for a long time."

Their discussion was interrupted by their Grandmother. "Ah, there you are, Virgil. I've bent the clasp on my brooch. Would you mind fixing it for me, Honey?"

"Sure, Grandma." Virgil took the brooch and started retrieving the necessary tools.

Alan, still in shock over what he'd been told, turned to the elderly lady. "Grandma? Do you know what Dad and Cubby are planning on doing this weekend?"

Gordon started choking and there was a subdued yelp as Virgil pricked his finger on the bent pin.

Grandma seemed unconcerned by the nature of the question, or her grandsons' reaction to it. "I've got a pretty good idea, Alan. I can read your father like a book."

"Do you approve?" Alan asked, oblivious to Gordon's ‘don't do it' hand signals.

"I don't think it would matter if I didn't. Your father has always been single-minded in pursuing anything that he's interested in. It was like that with your mother and it's the same with Ursula." Mrs Tracy thought for a moment. "Lucille was a wonderful person and I have always been proud to call her my daughter-in-law and the mother of my grandsons, but I do not expect your father to spend the rest of his life alone and I am sure your mother would feel the same way... Thank you, Honey." She took the brooch that Virgil was holding out to her. "And now I'd better make a start thinking about dinner."

Scott sat down at his computer. "John," he said.

"Scotty!" John beamed back at him through the web-cam. "What can I do for you, Big Brother?"

"I was wondering, is International Rescue going to be needed anywhere soon?"

"Nope." John was sounding irritatingly cheerful. "There're no earthquakes shaking, no volcanoes erupting, no nuclear reactors exploding, and no ships about to be destroyed by dog food. The world's enjoying a peaceful day."

"Oh..." Scott visibly sagged.

John lost his smile. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothin'."

"Yeah, sure," John drawled. "What's up?"

Scott looked at him. "Are you sure we're not going to be needed in the near future?"

"Near future? What do you mean?"

"Like... say... on Saturday?"

"Saturday? It's only Thursday now, Scott. Thunderbird Five is pretty good at picking up most of the world's transmissions, but we haven't quite managed precognitive clairvoyance yet. Why Saturday?"

"You're right. Friday would be better."

"But if we get called out tomorrow then Dad won't be able to go to..." A light bulb went on in John's mind. "Hang on...! You're trying to stop him going, aren't you?"

"I don't think he should," Scott admitted.

"Don't think... Why, Scott? Why, when he's so looking forward to it?"

"I..." Scott tried to think of a plausible reason. "I don't want him to make a fool of himself."

"Fool of hims..." John gaped at his elder brother. "This is Dad we're talking about, aren't we? Not some immature kid."

"He's behaving like an immature kid."

"He's behaving like someone who's met someone he likes enough to spend some time with. What they do when they're together is none of our business."

"None of our business?!" Scott stared at John. "He's our father!"

"Who is old enough to look after himself."

"You don't mind? You don't care that he's being taken for a ride?"

"A ride?" John parroted. "By Cubby White? It's not as if she's some young, tarty, gold-digger out to steal our inheritance."

"I'll agree with the young bit," Scott growled.

"Scott! Listen to yourself. You can't honestly believe that Cubby's after Dad solely to get her hands on his fortune?"

Scott spread his hands apart in a gesture of revelation. "Why not?"

"Because she's not like that."

"We don't know that. We don't know her."

"He's known her longer than he's known you."

"But not as well."

"So? He's going to get to ‘know' her better."

"John!" Scott resisted the impulse to cover his ears so he could hide from his brother's insinuations.

"Okay, okay." John held up a hand of appeasement. "What evidence do you have to base your suspicions on?"

The question caught Scott off guard. "Evidence?"

"Yeah," John frowned. "Evidence. As in proof of. As in cold hard facts."

"I know what it means," Scott growled. "Well...?"

There was a pause.

"You don't have any, do you?"

"Well... No..." Scott admitted.

"Has Cubby ever shown any interest in getting her hands on his money?"

Reluctantly Scott shook his head.

"So stop jumping to insane conclusions."

"But we both know what they're planning."

"And it's not illegal. It may have escaped your notice but they are both over the age of consent..."

"John!"

"Well, stop being jealous."

Scott couldn't believe his ears. "Jealous!"

"Yeah, jealous. Just because he's getting it and you're not..."

"John!" Scott took a steadying breath. "I – am – not – jealous," he enunciated.

John decided to make yet another attempt to get to the bottom of the problem. "Do you think Dad's being disloyal to Ma? Is that what this is about?"

"Why am I the only person who can see that this is wrong...?"

John reversed tack. "Do you think Cubby is being disloyal to Ma?"

"She wouldn't care if she was."

"But do you think she is?"

"I think... he's making a fool of himself."

"Why?" John asked. "She's still an attractive woman..."

"She's not here. You don't have to do that ‘flirt' act on me."

"I'm not a flirt. I think that it doesn't hurt to compliment a woman to make her feel special. And don't change the subject. You've got to agree that before you put the blinkers up you must have thought that Ursula White was still a good looking woman for her age."

Scott gave a grunt.

"We're the only ones who know what they're planning and I certainly don't think Dad's behaving foolishly." John gave a meaningful pause. "Unlike someone I could mention."

"At least I'm not mooning around like a love sick teenager..."

"No, you're mooning around like a sulky child who's lost his teddy bear!" Upon seeing Scott's resultant expression, John attempted to soften his tone. "Look, Scott... I miss Ma. You miss Ma. And we both know that Dad misses Ma."

"He's got a funny way of showing it."

"You must have seen the way he looks at her photo. And look at the way he nearly went to pieces when she died! But missing her isn't going to bring her back."

"John..." Scott pleaded, not wanting to hear what was being said.

"Let me put it this way," John suggested. "When you were born, Dad loved you because you were his only child, right?"

"I guess..." Scott agreed slowly.

"But when I was born that didn't mean that all of a sudden he only had half his love to spare you, did it...?"

"No..."

"And you didn't lose any of his love the day Virgil was born, did you...?"

"John..."

"And his love for you wasn't diluted at all when Gordon and then Alan arrived, was it?"

"No... But Alan must have stretched him a bit thin."

John took no notice of Scott's attempted joke. "Right! So he still loved you as much the day Alan was born as the day you were born. He had enough love for all of us. So why isn't it the same for Ma and Cubby? He's never going to love Ma any less just because he's taken up with another woman. And remember, he's waited a long time before he found someone he can be totally comfortable with. It's not like he jumped out of Ma's bed and into Cubby's..."

"John!" Scott admonished for what seemed to be the hundredth time that conversation.

"Okay, I'm sorry. But you get my point. So you're not happy with the situation... fair enough. But cut Dad some slack, would you? Ever since Ma died he's had to almost single-handedly raise us five, grow Tracy Industries from nothing, and in the last few years create International Rescue. It's time he had the opportunity to do something for Jeff Tracy... Right?"

Scott gave a reluctant nod.

"Truth be told, he's probably lonely stuck out here all by himself."

"Lonely!" Scott looked aghast at the suggestion. "What about us?"

"We're his sons, not his peers. As much as I'm sure he enjoys our company, we're no substitute for someone his own age..."

"There's Kyrano," Scott persisted stubbornly.

"... and of the opposite sex," John finished. "Look... Maybe you're worrying over nothing anyway."

"Nothing!" Scott stared at his brother. "How can you call this nothing?"

"Maybe we've all got the wrong end of a very large stick and they're off to a Victorian hand painted thimble convention or something."

"Thimbles..." Scott gaped at his brother's video image. "This is our father we're talking about."

"I know that, I'm just making the point that we haven't been given all the facts; and until we know exactly what's going on don't spoil it for him," John pleaded. "Please, Scott?"

Scott frowned. "If I'm right, there's no way I can give this... this..."

"Union?" John supplied.

"John...!"

"Well, what would you call it?"

"Um..." Scott thought. "I don't know. I just know that I can't give it my blessing. It's all happened too quickly."

"So you think they should have waited a couple of years before they started ‘getting friendly'."

"Yeah!"

"But they are both consenting adults..."

"John!"

"...And they've both had very painful reminders of just how fleeting life can be. I don't blame them for seizing the moment."

"You sound like an ad for something."

"Maybe an ad for tolerance; you should try it sometime."

Scott switched the computer off.

Friday morning didn't come around quick enough for Jeff. When, after a restless night, the day finally dawned, he was the first one up, dressed and breakfasted. Hoping to leave early he nevertheless waited until he'd wished everyone a good morning.

Everyone except Scott.

"He left a note saying he's gone for a run," Virgil had explained. "He said he'd grab a bite to eat later and then would head straight to Thunderbird One for some maintenance."

"I don't care," Jeff told himself as he put his luggage into the powerful private jet. "If Scott thinks that I'm going to delay my E.T.D. on his account, then he can think again. I don't care."

At the same moment Virgil was in Thunderbird One's hangar. "Are you coming?"

Scott poked his head out through a hatch in Thunderbird One's scarlet nose cone. "I can't." He displayed a circuit board. "There was a slight problem with the communications unit on the last rescue. I thought I'd better check it over."

"You've waited two weeks to check it over?" Virgil folded his arms and scowled up at his brother. "Why didn't you wait until John got home?"

"I haven't had time to work on it until now."

"Yeah, sure..." Virgil scoffed. "Father's ready to leave. Are you coming to say goodbye?"

Scott tried, and failed, to look disappointed. "You know how important communications are; I can't leave it like this. He'll understand."

"Scott...!" Virgil threw his hands up in a combination of despair, exasperation and anger. "Fine! If you want to act like an idiot, go ahead. Just let us know when you come to your senses. In the meantime, I'm going to go and wish our father a good time... And I hope Cubby has a good time too!" If it was possible for electronic sliding doors to slam, the one from Thunderbird One's hangar would have been jolted out of its track.

Scott slid the circuit board back into its housing and began tightening the screws that secured it in place...

Jeff looked at the group assembled before him. "Where're Scott and Virgil?"

Part of the answer was revealed almost immediately when the sound of running feet heralded the arrival of his middle son. "Good. I'm not too late."

"Where's Scott?" Gordon asked.

"He's... ah..." Virgil looked uncomfortable. Buying time to think he took a few deep breaths to recover from his run. "He's working on Thunderbird One. He's got the communications unit in pieces and wants to get her back together again in quick time in case she's needed. He, ah..." Virgil repeated as he looked at his father's face. "He said you'd understand."

Jeff stared back impassively. "Oh, I understand all right..."

"Forget about him," Alan suggested. "You'd better get going."

"And don't forget to give our love to Ursula," Grandma told her son.

"Have a good flight," Virgil said. "Enjoy your break."

"Yeah," Gordon gave his father a roguish wink. "Don't do anything that we wouldn't do."

Jeff decided that any reaction to Gordon's comment was inviting trouble, so said nothing. He climbed into his aeroplane. "I'm about to leave, John."

"Everything prepared?" John asked via the radio. "Have you taken all precautions?"

Jeff glanced at John's image. There was something in the way that his son had said that last sentence that was slightly suggestive, but John's expression was as innocent as an angel's. "I've done all the pre-flight checks and everything's okay."

"Is everything fully lubricated?"

"J...!" Jeff bit his tongue. "Any other aircraft in the vicinity?"

"Negative. You are cleared for lift off."

"Thanks." Jeff was finding himself second-guessing everything that his son was saying. "I'll contact you mid-flight, John."

"Roger that," John grinned. "Have fun, Dad."

Feeling a little unnerved by the farewell committee and saddened by his eldest son's snub, Jeff taxied down the runway and launched his jet into the air. In a forlorn hope that Scott might be on the patio to wave him goodbye, he turned and flew past the villa.

The house looked deserted.

Sadness turned to annoyance. Jeff huffed. "I don't need your approval anyway, Scott!" He turned the aeroplane in the direction of England and pushed forward on the throttle.

Down on the runway his departure was watched by three of his sons. "Did everyone see what I saw... or more correctly didn't see?" Gordon queried.

"Yes," Virgil confirmed. "He's taken his wedding ring off."

"He must be serious," Alan said. "I can't remember him ever taking it off except when he hasn't wanted to risk damaging it."

"What's Scott playing at?" Gordon asked turning to Virgil. "He knew Dad was leaving now and he knew he could leave that maintenance until later. What did he say?"

Virgil shrugged. "It was more of what he didn't say which was revealing."

"And he didn't say..." Alan prompted.

"To wish father a good trip and to give Cubby his regards."

Gordon made a show of rolling up his sleeves. "Where is he? I've got one or two things of my own to say to our big brother."

06 Six

The meal had been delicious, the mood romantic, their time together enthralling. Now it was time to, in Ursula's words, "get it together."

They fell onto the bed. Ursula pulled Jeff's shirt up over his head, trapping his arms. He pulled free and kissed her.

Unseen by the lovers, someone else stepped into the room. His brown eyes, concealed behind dark glasses, glittered as he watched the scene play out before him.

The stranger laughed.

The effect was immediate. The couple on the bed sat up and stared at the intruder... and the gun held in his hand.

Immediately Jeff was on his feet forming a human shield between The Intruder and his girlfriend. "Don't hurt her," he said bravely. "What do you want?"

The Intruder sneered. "You, Jeff Tracy, or more importantly, International Rescue."

"I don't know what you are talking about," Jeff lied.

"Oh, don't you? Come here, Comrade."

Jeff looked about for the intruder's unseen companion, at the same time shifting position to maintain the barrier between Ursula and the gun. "Stay behind me, Cubby."

"Oh, get out of my way!" She pushed past. "Stud," she added with a sneer as she came to stand beside the man in black.

"Here, Comrade," The Intruder handed his gun to Ursula before removing another from his belt. "You have done well."

"Thank you, Master," Ursula said.

"Cubby?" Jeff's mouth fell open. "What is happening?"

"Are you that dumb, Stud?" Ursula laughed a chilling laugh. "I never loved you. I only pretended to so I could help the cause. I love another... Right, Tommy?"

The sunglasses and balaclava were removed, revealing The Intruder's face. "I should hope so, Ursula. I should be disappointed otherwise."

"Tommy White?" Jeff gasped as he recognised The Intruder's blue eyes and blonde hair. "But you are dead..."

Ursula's laugh sent chills down his spine. "That is what you were supposed to believe. My husband is very much alive."

"Do you have the information we require, Comrade?" Tommy asked.

"I do, Master. I know where International Rescue is hidden. I know where the hangars of the Thunderbirds are, I know who the pilots are... And who to use to force them to do our bidding." Ursula looked at the captive man. "I'm sure your sons will do anything to save their grandmother." She gave another chilling laugh. "It's such a shame they weren't able to save their father," she taunted.

Her gun was raised towards Jeff Tracy.

"And no one suspected?" Tommy asked.

"For a while there I thought Scott Tracy may have done. But they all think I'm the helpless best friend of their late mother who's been seduced by their father."

"Scott..."

"Did he suspect?"

"No. Even Scott Tracy was too much a fool to see through my disguise," she said.

"Scott."

"So we have what we want," Tommy said. "A shame you won't be here to see us undo all the good work you have done, Jeff Tracy."

"No..." Jeff stood straight and proud, thrusting out his bare chest in defiance. "You can't do this, Cubby. Help me."

"Help him, Cubby," Tommy taunted. "Help him out of his misery."

"A pleasure, Master." Ursula raised the gun; aiming it at one of the breast buttons on Jeff's shirt.

"Scott?"

The gun went off. Jeff Tracy sailed backward as the bullet penetrated his heart.

He was dead before he hit the bed...

"Scott!!"

It was the shadow that fell across Scott Tracy's eyes, as much as his name being shouted at him, that shook him out of his reverie. He looked up. "Oh... Hi, Virg."

Standing on the small plateau in front of the rock formation on which Scott was sitting, Virgil looked at his brother in concern. "Are you okay? You seemed to be miles away."

Scott dismissed the image of the lifeless body on blood-soaked sheets from his mind and looked out at the extensive view of the Pacific Ocean. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just daydreaming."

"Daydreaming? You?"

"Yeah, me!" Scott snapped. "Just because I can't paint pictures like you doesn't mean that I don't have any imagination!"

If Virgil was surprised by Scott's outburst he didn't show it. "I never said you didn't. When it comes to dreaming up practical solutions to improbable situations, you've got the best imagination I know."

"Oh," Scott said, chastened by the compliment.

"But wasting a morning daydreaming is not your scene," Virgil reminded him. "Mind you," he added, "it's just as well you're up on top of the island daydreaming rather than up on top of Thunderbird One ‘working'. The mood Alan and Gordon are in you'd be likely to find yourself lying on the hangar floor in a mangled heap."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because they... No..." Virgil corrected himself, "we don't like the silly games you're playing."

"They're fine ones to be going on about silly..." The words sunk in. "Silly games that I'm playing? What silly games?"

"All this fuss over Cubby."

"I'm not making a fuss."

"Oh, yes you are." Virgil stared his brother in the eye. "Are you jealous because she liked Thunderbird Two, but didn't like Thunderbird One?"

"No, I'm not. Don't be stupid."

"I'm not the one going around as if he's so perceptive while the rest of us are blind..."

"Huh...?"

"I'm going to tell you something, Scott, and I'm going to tell you for your own good and the good of the team. I'm glad that Father's gone away this weekend because it means that if International Rescue are called out you're going to be stuck here on the island. And while you're stuck here, you're not a threat..."

Scott couldn't believe what he was hearing. "A threat? A threat to whom?"

"The rest of us... The victims... Anyone else at the rescue zone. You're a liability! And, at the moment, if we were called out and you were going to be rescue coordinator, I'd refuse to go..."

"You'd what!?" Scott's colour was rising.

"I'd refuse to go," Virgil repeated, aware of his brother's growing anger and determined not to let it stop him from saying his piece. "You've got yourself so tied up in knots over Cubby that you're not thinking straight and Father's so wrapped up in her that he can't see it."

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"That faulty communications trick."

"Who says that was a trick?"

"Oh, come on! That was such a lame excuse. It was obvious that you were avoiding Father. You've had plenty of time to deal with something as serious as a communication problem. And if it was a problem you couldn't solve immediately, there's no way that you would have left it this long; not without trying to get help. You know that, I know that, and Father knows that. If you were on the top of your game you would have come up with an excuse worthy of someone of your intelligence andimagination. Not that half-baked story that was as see-through as one of Tin-Tin's nightdresses."

"And when have you seen one of her nightdresses?"

"On the clothes line, and don't change the subject."

"I'm not interested in this ‘subject'," Scott insisted. "You're the one with the wild imagination."

"Wild imagination!?" Virgil's ire was rising. "No, Scott. I'm telling you like it is. You know that rule number one in this family is that we look out for each other and we stick up for each other. If someone hurts one of us, the rest of us are there straight away to protect him. And, usually, you are leading the charge! You are the one defending the rest of us! But not today..."

"Not today?"

"No, Scott. Today you are the enemy."

Scott spluttered at the accusation. "The enemy?!"

"Yes. You are the enemy. You are hurting Father and none of us are going to stand by and let you do that to him."

"I'm not trying to hurt him!"

"Oh, no!? What about all the negative comments about a woman that he obviously cares for? What about the so-called ‘communications fault'? You've hurt him, Scott. He tried not to show it, but it hurt him that you wouldn't even say goodbye to him... That's what's annoyed Gordon and Alan and me. What you are doing to Father was unforgivable!"

"I'm not asking to be forgiven! That woman's trouble and all I'm asking for is to be listened to!"

"You're what?!" Virgil couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Scott, we've been trying to listen to you for weeks! We've all tried. I've tried. John's tried. Grandma's tried. Father's tried! We've all been listening till we're blue in the face! We've asked you to explain it to us and you won't. Maybe we're thick, but none of us has any idea what your problem is and you are not enlightening us!"

Alan and Gordon were on the path that led to where Scott and Virgil were currently arguing. "What's the betting that we're wasting time and energy climbing up here?" Alan grumbled.

"Trust me," Gordon sounded confident. "He's not thinking straight, he's not with Thunderbird One, all the planes are in their hangars... This is where he'll be."

Alan glared at him. "You mean you've traced his position using his watch."

"That's a good indicator too..." Gordon bumped into his brother when Alan stopped walking. "Hey!"

"Shhhh!" Alan held his brother back.

Gordon turned to him. "What?"

"Listen."

"I can't hear..." The sound of an angry voice drifted down from the peak of the track. "That's Virgil, isn't it?"

"Sounds like it." Alan got down low and crawled closer as Gordon, mimicking his brother's actions, followed. "Boy! He's spitting tacks!" he hissed.

They stopped when Virgil paced into view. "Have you been listening to yourself, Scott? Have you got any idea how ridiculous you've been sounding these last few days? How immature? You want us to believe that you've been acting in everyone's best interests but you've been coming across as a spoilt brat who's upset because he's been ignored by his daddy!"

Gordon took his watch off. "John's got to hear this." Quietly he initiated contact with his space-bound brother. "Turn your receiver up to full." He held the watch out so its microphone was pointed towards the argument.

"What's going on?" John asked through the medium of Alan's timepiece.

"Virgil's giving Scott a piece of his mind," Alan whispered.

"Scott is there, isn't he?" Gordon asked. "I haven't heard any shouting back. Maybe Virgil's just rehearsing."

"Nope," John was checking Thunderbird Five's global positioning systems. "He's there."

"He's keeping quiet."

As if to prove Gordon wrong there was a shout. "Do you think I've only been thinking about myself, Virgil?!

"You're not thinking about anyone else. You're definitely not considering Father and what you are doing to him."

"Doing to him?! He's doing it all to himself. Correction! She's been doing it to him!"

"Doing what?! So they've discovered that they're more than friends. Is that a crime?"

"It's wrong!"

"Why?"

"Because!"

"Because? What kind of answer is that? Because why? Do you think Cubby is some kind of femme fatale trying to do a Mata Hari on him to learn International Rescue's secrets?"

There was silence.

Scott looked down at where he was scratching the dirt with his toe. "Maybe she is," he said quietly.

"Cubby White?" Virgil gave a bitter laugh. "Oh, come on! If you're imagining that then you've really lost it. And I suppose that Tommy's not really dead and she's been working for some top secret organisation that he controls?"

Scott glared at his brother. "You're getting on my nerves, Virgil! Do you know that?"

"Just repaying the compliment. You've been getting on everyone's nerves for ages. Did you know that Father found out where Tommy died and made a donation to that hospital...? Did you?!"

Scott looked away.

"You didn't, did you? You never took the time to talk to Father; you were too busy playing the martyr."

Scott had heard enough. "Go away, Virgil."

"Do you think my going away is going to make things better? Do you think that if I walk down that track," Virgil pointed down the hill and Alan and Gordon ducked out of sight, "everything will be okay? That Father will suddenly decide that it doesn't matter to him what his eldest son thinks?"

"He hasn't worried about what I think up till now."

"That's where you're wrong, Scott. For some strange reason, he actually values your opinion."

"He does, does he? He hasn't been listening to it."

"That's because you haven't said anything that's made any sense. So tell me, Scott. Tell me what is wrong..." with an effort Virgil drained the anger out of his system. "Please."

Scott kicked at the ground.

"It's gone quiet," John said. "What's happening?"

"Nothing," Alan whispered. "Neither of them are saying anything."

"Maybe they're whispering too," Gordon suggested.

"Hang on, I'll turn the receivers up more," John offered.

"Anything?" Alan asked.

"Yeah. Tell Gordon to stop breathing so loud," John grumbled. "That's all the microphone's picking up."

Gordon turned the watch so the camera was facing him, stuck his tongue out at John, and then pointed the microphone back up the hill.

A gull wheeled overhead.

Up in Thunderbird Five John leapt away from the speakers, his hands over his ears, as a screech filled the control room. "And would someone get rid of that darn bird!"

"Tell me, Scott," Virgil urged quietly. "Tell me what's upsetting you. You must know that Cubby's never going to replace Ma."

The dust on the ground was kicked up.

"No one could replace Ma. Not in Father's eyes and not in ours. Ma was..." Virgil searched for the appropriate expression. "Ma," he finished, knowing it was the only word needed.

A circular pattern was scratched in the dirt.

"And Cubby doesn't want to replace Ma. They were best friends."

The circle was criss-crossed with lines.

"Cubby will never replace Ma in our lives or Father's," Virgil said with certainty. Then he paused. "She could never replace you either."

Scott glanced at him before looking back down to where his shoe was digging the hole in the ground. "I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled.

"You've been mothering us all for most of our lives..."

Two brothers looked at each other in amazement as a third uttered, "I don't believe it!"

Feeling that he was getting closer, Virgil sat down on the rock beside his eldest sibling. "It may have escaped your notice, Scott, but we're all big boys now. We don't need you to tie our shoelaces, or help us with our homework, or take us to music lessons. We don't need you as a kind of surrogate mother any more... But we still need you as our big brother. You're the one we'll turn to when Father's not here to talk to." Virgil gave a quiet chuckle. "And, on occasion, when he is. No one could ever replace you in our lives."

The dirt had been scratched away revealing bare rock.

Virgil placed his hand on Scott's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "And Cubby will never replace you in Father's eyes either. He's never going to discuss the specs of the PB123 aircraft with her, or whether or not International Rescue should develop better polar gear. He's never going to have in depth discussions with her about your favourite teams. He's never going to ask her what his sons are getting up to..." He gave a wry grin, "or about what's upset me. That's your role. You're International Rescue's rescue co-ordinator... You're his oldest son... You're our big brother."

Scott made no sound or gesture that betrayed his thoughts or emotions.

Virgil looked at his watch. "Look... Father's barely quarter of the way there. Call him. You don't have to mention Cubby or England. Just wish him a good flight. I guarantee that you'll both feel better... And also when the ‘rodents' hit you up about not saying good bye you'll be able to tell them that you've radioed and keep them off your back." He patted his brother on the leg and stood. "Call him and wish him a good flight, Scott. For both your sakes."

Virgil walked away without looking back.

Scott watched him go.

Virgil was halfway down the path when he suddenly realised that he was passing between what could loosely be termed a guard of honour. "How long have you guys been here?"

"Long enough." Gordon thumped his arm across his chest in a formal manner, giving Virgil a clear view of John's face in place of the watch dial. "We salute you."

Virgil looked at his younger brothers warily. "Just how much did you hear?"

"Enough to hear that you were giving him one heck of a telling off," Alan grinned. "Nice one."

"What were you doing eavesdropping anyway? That was a private conversation."

"Private?" John laughed. "The way you two were yelling at each other, they probably heard it in New Zealand!"

"Loved the Mata Hari bit," Gordon sniggered. "I can just see Cubby in a belly dancer's outfit doing the dance of the seven veils."

Alan laughed too. "I never thought I'd ever hear anyone call Scott a spoilt brat and live! I take my hat off to you, Virgil." He doffed an imaginary cap.

"Do you really think that's his problem?" John asked. "That he's scared that Cubby's going to replace him?"

Virgil shrugged and continued walking down the hill. "I don't know. I just said the first thing that came to mind. It suddenly seemed logical that after years of believing that the role of our mother was his; that he'd feel threatened when there was a chance that someone might take over that role. Denying Cubby a place in the household could have been a way of dealing with it. Maybe it's some kind of complex or something..." He stopped walking when he saw the way his brothers were looking at him. "What?"

"Just what was it you majored in at Denver?" Gordon asked.

Alan ignored the question. "Is he going to call Dad, d'ya think?"

"I don't know," Virgil repeated. "He was pretty quiet towards the end. I could have been that far off the mark that he was waiting for me to leave so that he could laugh at me."

"Okay, enough about Scott for the moment," Gordon stated. "Now, Virg, you know you can tell us... Who exactly are ‘the rodents'?"

Virgil attempted to speed up, but was forcibly stopped by his two younger brothers.

"Yeah, Virg," Alan echoed. "Who?"

Virgil wondered if he could make a run for it. "Ah... It's a nickname... An affectionate nickname."

"Oh, Yes?" Gordon pressed. "An affectionate nickname, huh? Who for?"

"Spill it, Virgil." On the upper slope, Alan moved in close, using his height advantage to dominate his brother.

"Um..." Virgil took a step backwards, wishing that he could call on Scott for support. "You guys actually... We called you that when we were kids. You were always into everything... ratting around... Damaging our stuff... We don't use it now. I said it then to try and cheer him up."

"Sure, Virg..." The way Alan and Gordon spoke told Virgil that he hadn't convinced them.

Virgil heard laughter from the vicinity of his brothers' wrists. "Help me, John. You coined it."

"Me?" John feigned innocence. "Would I do a thing like that?"

Scott sat and thought for a long time after Virgil had left. Words and phrases drifted in and out of his mind and he struggled to piece them together into a whole that made sense. He was right, he knew that... But then, some of what Virgil had said had rung true too. He could see that something like this could potentially damage his relationship with his father forever and he was determined not to let Ursula White drive a wedge between them. Perhaps he should radio his father. How could a call hurt? Just a simple radio message. "Have a good flight." Four words... How hard was it to say four measly words? What would it cost him?

He raised his watch to his face and contacted his father's jet...

Jeff Tracy was making good time; not that he noticed. He kept on telling himself that he didn't care what Scott thought... They were both grown men and were capable of holding their own opinions... They didn't have to agree about everything...

The heads up display indicated that he was receiving an incoming call. "Tracy One receiving."

He was surprised when Scott's image was projected onto the aeroplane's windscreen. "Ah... Hi, Father."

"Scott." Jeff attempted to keep his voice neutral. He was heading away for a weekend of fun with a woman that felt a great affection for. Nothing and no-one was going to stop him from achieving that goal. Not even his eldest son. "What can I do for you?"

"I... ah..." Scott looked away, unable to catch his father's eye. "I'm... ah... I'm sorry I didn't come to say good-bye... when you left... in the plane... I... um..." a glance upward and then down again, "I... got caught up." A quick look at his watch face and then Scott stared into the distance, somewhere past the camera. "I was doing some maintenance... on Thunderbird One... and I... ah... I-I lost track of the time..."

It was obviously a lie, but Jeff held his tongue. He'd wait to hear exactly what this call was for before he'd tell the boy off.

"I... I feel bad," the eye contact was longer this time, "th-that I didn't say good bye... So I... thought I'd call and wish you a good flight?"

Jeff held Scott's gaze and allowed a small smile to creep onto his features, before he glanced away to check the jet's controls. He looked back to see that his son was still looking at him. "Thank you, Scott. It's getting better by the minute."

"I hope..." Scott took a deep breath and looked down again briefly. "I hope you and Cubby have a good time together," he mumbled.

That it was said with reluctance was obvious, and the statement's sincerity that was less than compelling, but nevertheless Jeff felt a smile flood his face. "Thank you. I'm sure we will."

"I'd better let you get on. I'll... ah... I'll see you soon?"

"Will do. Tracy One out."

Scott sat and stared at the watch for a long time after it had reverted back to its traditional dial. He'd seen how his father had straightened up when he'd mentioned Cubby; it was almost as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Scott felt that that weight had fallen firmly onto his own...

Virgil was whistling when he headed back to his room. He'd managed to escape Alan and Gordon's clutches and had spent a large part of the morning happily getting covered in oil as he'd tinkered with one of International Rescue's machines. He reached out to slide open his door when a sheet of snow white paper taped to it made him stop. He removed and read it...

"V. Gone to have a think. Tell Grandma not to worry about any meals for me today, I've grabbed some supplies. See you tomorrow. S." Holding the piece of paper by its relatively clean corners, Grandma Tracy looked up at her grandson. "Did he say anything to you about what he was going to think about, Virgil? And don't lean against the bench. You're filthy!"

"Sorry." Virgil took a step away from the kitchen counter. "No... It was more the other way around. I told him off for not saying goodbye to Father this morning."

"And he didn't say anything?"

"He went quiet," Virgil admitted. "I don't think he was very happy at being caught out."

"Well, whatever you said, he's clearly taken it to heart." Mrs Tracy read the letter again and then handed it back to its intended recipient. "I wonder what he's taken." She opened the door to one of several large fridges. "The left over roast..."

"We had leftovers?" Virgil sounded surprised. "I wish I'd known."

Grandma shifted her attention to one of the pantries. "Cakes... Energy bars..."

"Fruit bowl's empty." Virgil had reached out to pick up the receptacle until warning noise from the vicinity of the pantry made him stop. He retracted his hand and wiped it on his overalls.

"Bread, lettuce, tomatoes..." Grandma exited the pantry and closed the door before opening another fridge. "Cheese... Two apple pies... Juice..." She shut the door again with a sigh. "He'll be hungry again by lunchtime."

Virgil chuckled.

Alan and Gordon were enjoying an afternoon coffee break with John in the lounge. Naturally their main topic of conversation was Scott's disappearance.

"Where do you think he's gone?" Alan asked.

"Probably looking for the highest cliff so he'll get the greatest amount of air time before he hits the bottom," Gordon suggested.

John glared at his younger brother. "You're sick, you know that?"

Alan took a sip of his drink. "Why would he want to commit suicide anyway?"

"As a final protest when Dad comes home and announces that he and Cubby have eloped."

"Eloped?" Alan frowned over the top of his mug. "Why would they elope?"

"You know how straight-laced our father is. Remember that lecture he gave us about the ‘sanctity of marriage and the importance of restraint' when we were teenagers? There's no way he'd even dream of doing anything extramarital himself."

"He gave us that lecture so that we wouldn't experiment until we were mature enough to commit to a relationship," John informed him. "It's no coincidence that we all received that little talk soon after a certain someone was found hiding behind the pool changing sheds with his hand down a girl's pants." He directed a meaningful stare in Gordon's direction.

Gordon sat up at the revelation, nearly spilling his coffee. "How'd you find out about that?"

John tapped the side of his nose. "I have my sources."

"Well, for you, and your source's, information," Gordon glared at Alan who was innocently extracting something microscopic from the liquid in his mug, "I was removing a frog."

John raised a querying eyebrow. "And how did a frog get down her pants?"

"Well..." Gordon sat back and the mischievous look that his brothers knew and frequently dreaded, crossed his face. "It may have had some help."

"Where IS Scott anyway?" Alan asked, hoping to divert Gordon's attention away from the betrayed confidence. "John?"

"Why are you asking me?" John asked. "You're the ones dirt side. I can't pop out and have a look for him."

"You're the one able to home in on the GPS signal from his watch," Alan replied.

"So?"

"So... Where is he?"

"Alone."

"Alone where?"

"Alone somewhere."

"We know that," Alan persisted. "But where alone? You can tell us."

"I could." John had already satisfied his own curiosity. "But I'm not going to."

"John," Alan complained.

"He wants to be left alone to think, so leave him alone to think," John advised.

Alan sat back, disgruntled. "You're no help."

"We are responsible adults," Gordon said and ignored the contemptuous sound from the picture frame. "We won't disturb him unnecessarily..."

"Yeah, right."

"But we should know where he is in case International Rescue are called out."

"If International Rescue are called out I'll call him," John informed them.

"But what if we lose radio contact with Thunderbird Five?" Gordon asked. "How can we contact him to tell him he's needed in Thunderbird One?"

"If you've lost contact with me, you won't even know International Rescue's services are required."

Gordon pretended to be affronted. "Your lack of trust in us is deeply hurtful, John."

John ignored the emotional blackmail. "Where's Virgil?"

Gordon frown reversed into a grin that would have had Virgil worried if he'd been there to see it. "For some reason he's decided that it's safer to be in hiding..."

Ursula White was a mixture of emotions that evening. Excited, apprehensive, eager, filled with trepidation, she'd run though the lot. Heather's continual fussing, checking, and double checking hadn't helped. Ursula decided that maybe a little television was in order to take her mind off tomorrow's activities.

It didn't work.

The phone call was a welcome diversion. However she was not prepared to find herself ‘face-to-face' with a very unexpected, and not totally welcome, caller. "Scott!?" She realised that her greeting hadn't been exactly warm. "How are you?"

He ignored the enquiry. "Are you alone, Cubby?"

"Heather's just gone down to the shops to buy some..." realisation dawned. "You mean your father, don't you...? He called when he reached England but I won't be seeing him until tomorrow." She waited with trepidation, wondering what his attack was going to be.

Scott's concentration appeared to be on his fingers running along the base of the videophone. "You're looking forward to that?"

Defiance gripped Ursula. "Yes, I am." In the silence that followed she tried to comprehend what the call was for. "Uh... What time is it there, Scott?" She looked at her own watch and did a quick calculation. "It must be early morning."

"Everyone else is still in bed," Scott admitted. "I wanted to talk to you when we wouldn't be interrupted and before you went to sleep."

"But shouldn't you be in bed yourself?"

"It's not that early for me." Scott managed a wry grin. "I'm usually the first one up."

"I remember." Ursula waited. There was nothing belligerent in the way he was speaking; a fact which was leaving her feeling relieved but bemused. She decided to take the bull by the horns. "Why have you rung, Scott?"

He glanced up from his inspection of the videophone's casing, briefly caught her eye, and then looked down again. "I..."

Ursula waited. She was glad she wasn't going to have to pay the phone account.

The silence hung heavy between them.

"I've behaved like an idiot, haven't I?" Scott said to the casing.

Ursula blinked and reworked the phrase in her mind to check she hadn't misheard or misrepresented it. "I beg your pardon?"

Scott appeared to steel himself. He took a deep breath and then fastened his blue eyes on Ursula's. "I've treated you abominably. I've behaved like an idiot and..." he couldn't quite hold her gaze and his eyes slid back down to the buttons on the ‘phone, as his fingers circled one, "... I hope you and Father have a good time together."

"Scott, I..." Ursula didn't know what to say. "Why the change of heart?"

"When I saw how happy he was to be going to visit you... He hasn't been that happy since Ma was alive." Ursula saw the muscles in Scott's upper arm flex as he obviously tightened his hand into an anguished fist, "I finally saw what I was doing to him; so I took myself off and gave myself a good talking to..."

"You did what?"

He didn't appear to hear her. It was as if Scott had rehearsed a speech and was determined to recite it letter for letter and word for word. "...Someone had to and I wasn't prepared to listen to anyone else; even though everyone tried. They've all tried and I've ignored them. Over these last few weeks I've been likened to an idiot, a spoilt brat, a child who's lost his teddy bear; I've been called selfish, immature, self-centred, a moron, and several other names that I won't mention in polite company," once again the fist was clenched in an outward expression of his inner turmoil. "And... unfortunately... every one of them was true. And..." Scott looked up, fastened his eyes on Ursula again and this time managed to hold her gaze as he said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I've said to you. I'm sorry for what I've said about you. And I'm sorry if I've hurt you. You were always a good friend: to Ma and to us all. I know you're not trying to hurt anyone."

For the first time since this phone call started, Ursula felt a smile crease her face at his obvious sincerity. "Thank you, Scott, and I accept your apology. You are a man of honour."

He gave a derisive snort. "Honour. That's not a word that has been connected with my name lately... Unless it was going to be used in a sentence such as ‘Scott Tracy has been behaving like an idiot, Your Honour, so I had to push him off the cliff."

Ursula laughed and after a moment Scott joined her. Relieved at the way the call was progressing, Ursula decided to take a moment to talk with him. "You do realise that if Lucille were still alive Jeff wouldn't give me, or any other woman, a second glance?"

Scott's face suddenly turned grave. "I know."

"And that if your mother was still alive there's no way that I would even think of taking an interest in your father?"

Scott gave a sombre nod.

"I will admit that I probably had something of a crush on him when I knew him last," Ursula confessed. "But so did every woman in town, no matter her age or station. He was young, handsome, kind, full of boundless energy, and such a flirt..." Ursula smiled at the memories. "But his flirting wasn't in a lady-killing kind of way. It was calculated to make the woman feel special, the same as John does now... But, as soon as Lucille walked into the room it was obvious that Jeff had eyes only for her. No one would have been able to take her place, and I, for one, would never have tried..."

"I know," Scott repeated.

"Then Tommy came along and I finally knew what it was like to love, and be loved, by a man in the same way as your mother was. And I'm telling you, Scott, if Tommy was still with me, Jeff Tracy wouldn't get a look in."

"I understand," Scott sad.

"Anyway," Ursula recollected, "I wouldn't have dreamt of trying anything on with your father while your mother was alive. I wouldn't have dared! You probably remember her as a quiet, gentle, thoughtful, loveable pussycat of a woman..." Scott nodded. "But believe me, if anyone tried to take her man she was into them, claws and all. Then the fur would start flying..."

"Ma?" Scott raised his eyebrows at the revelation.

"Yes. Your Ma. She could be a wildcat when she was protecting something or someone that was important to her... I remember there was one woman in town who thought she could have anything in trousers and she'd set her sights on Jeff. She could have had ‘I want Jeff Tracy' tattooed across her forehead and it wouldn't have been any clearer. Your father probably would have laughed it off, but your mother walked in just as this woman was making her big play for him..."

"Yes...?" Scott sat forward, eager to hear more.

"Well! The poor woman didn't have a chance. Lucille stepped in front of your father and told the... uh..." Ursula sought a reasonable title and finally decided on "‘tramp', in no uncertain terms, that she'd bitten off more than she could chew and that Jeff Tracy was Lucille's and that if need be she was prepared to fight for him. It was practically a challenge of nail files at dawn."

Scott was drinking in this story. "So what did the other woman do?"

"She stood up for herself for a while. Tried to say it was a free country and she was just trying to be friendly and all that. Your mother wasn't having a bar of it. She told the ‘tramp' to get out of her sight and that if she ever saw her around ‘her man' again, then she'd regret it."

"Ma did that?" Scott gasped.

"Your Ma did that," Ursula confirmed. "She was awesome to watch."

"What did Father think?"

"I think the poor man was that frightened by Lucille's reaction that he proposed just to keep in her good books."

Scott laughed. "I do remember that Ma was the only person who could get him to do what she wanted him to do... with the possible exception of Grandma."

"That sounds about right."

Scott looked at Ursula, relieved that she was willing to forgive him. "You'll visit us again soon... please?"

Ursula smiled at her younger friend. "I hope so."

"Good. Maybe then we can talk some more about Ma?"

"I'd like that."

"So would I. We haven't talked much about her since she died."

Ursula was immediately saddened by the revelation. "You haven't?"

"No." Scott shook his head. "Initially, straight after her death, the memories were too raw. Then... I think we fell out of the habit of talking about her." He thought for a moment. "Besides, I have an idea that Alan and Gordon don't really remember her so it's no use talking to them."

"I'm sure John and Virgil would like to share some memories," Ursula suggested. "Or your grandmother."

Scott shrugged. "I guess. But it's not the same. The fellas were too young and Grandma wasn't around so often."

"Have you tried talking with your father?"

Scott was examining his videophone's casing again. "No."

"You should try, Scott. I'm sure he'd love to reminisce about Lucille. He's probably never tried to before because he doesn't want to upset you."

"Maybe..." Then Scott looked back at the videophone's screen, his face screwed up in rueful expression. "This is the wrong subject to be discussing with you when you're about to be going on a hot date him."

Ursula giggled. "Hot date! I hadn't thought of it like that."

A smile burst onto Scott's face. "Do you know what you've got planned for the weekend yet?"

"No," Ursula admitted. "He's been playing it close to his chest."

"Well, knowing my father and the amount of planning he's put into this, you'll have fun. He doesn't do things by halves. And..." Scott's smile grew. "Just remember that if things don't work out between you two, I'm sure that that John'll be glad to have you."

Ursula pretended to give the idea serious consideration. "Hmmn. I've always fancied the idea of having a toy-boy."

"Toy-boy!" Scott barked a laugh. "I can't wait to see John's face when I tell him that." He looked at the woman on the screen with affection. "I'd better go. I'm sure you must have things you'll want to do before tomorrow."

"Not really, everything's sorted," Ursula admitted. "Heather's more regimented than a flight sergeant in the Air Force. I've got so much spit and polish that if Jeff were to make a grab for me he'd slide right off..." She blushed slightly, remembering who she was talking to.

"Just so long as you both remember to relax," Scott instructed her. "And forget all about your respective offspring. This is time for you two and you two only."

"Thank you, Scott. Call me anytime."

"But not in the next 48 hours."

Ursula laughed. "That would be appreciated."

She was still smiling appreciatively at the ‘phone when Heather came home. "Who was that call from?"

"That," Ursula turned to her daughter, "was Scott Tracy."

"Oh," Heather scowled. "What did he want? I hope you told him to mind his own business."

"No. He wanted to apologise and wish me a good time with his father."

"Scott?" Heather rubbed her pregnant belly and gaped at her mother. "Scott Tracy? Jeff Tracy's son? Why the change of tune?"

"He didn't say," Ursula admitted. "But he meant every word..."

07 Seven

The pink Rolls Royce pulled up outside the elegant terrace on the edge of Regents Park. Ignoring the stares he and the car were receiving, the driver swung a door upwards and alighted. He took a moment to check his appearance in the mirror, before striding up to the residence's portal. He rapped smartly.

The door was pulled inwards revealing an immaculately dressed butler. "Yes?"

The driver touched the peak of his uniform cap. "H-I h-am ‘ere for Mister Tracy."

The butler inclined his head the merest fraction of a millimetre. "I shall inform Mr Tracy." He glanced down at two bags at his feet. "You may deposit his cases in your vehicle while I am gone."

"Ta muchly," the driver grunted at the butler's departing back. "H-And h-a good day to you, ‘n' h-all." He picked up the two modestly sized bags and carried them to the Rolls Royce before placing them with care in the boot. He looked at his watch noting the time. "C'mon, Mr T.," he muttered.

As if on cue, the door opened and Jeff Tracy stepped out into the early morning sun. "Parker!" he beamed, his smile as bright as the star in the sky. "It's good of you and her ladyship to help me out like this."

"H-It's me pleasure, Mr Tracy," Parker replied. He allowed the American to sit on the Rolls Royce's luxuriously upholstered rear seats before leaning inside. "H-Allow me to bring one h-or two features that you might not be h-aware h-of to your h-attention, Sir. This button ‘ere," he pointed at a computer touch screen positioned on the back of the driver's seat, "raises or lowers this window ‘ere." He pushed the icon and a partition separating the drivers and passenger compartments slid into place. "H-It h-is h-one way glass. Now you can see me, but H-I can't see you... This ‘ere slider," he slid his finger up a bar on one side of the screen. "Determines ‘ow dark h-it gets. Let me show you." He slid his finger up to the top of the slider and the partition, as well as the side and rear windows darkened while a gentle glow illuminated the interior. "There y'are," he said in satisfaction. "Total privacy. This button gives h-us two-way communications. You control the music ‘ere – pre-recorded, radio, H-Internet – you choose."

"This car never fails to surprise me," Jeff said. He tipped Parker a wink. "I'll bet this back seat can tell a few stories."

"H-Indeed, Sir," Parker agreed, deciding that it would be prudent not to tell Jeff which of his sons had made use of those features. "H-Are you ready to depart?"

"Onward, Parker," Jeff exclaimed. "I've got a weekend in a million planned, and I don't want to miss a minute of it."

Parker grinned at his passenger's obvious enthusiasm. "Yes, Sir!" He saluted and strode purposefully around to the driver's door.

Jeff pressed the intercom button. "Have you got the itinerary?"

"Yes, Mr Tracy. H-It's h-in the h-onboard computer. Everythin's programmed to the second."

"Good."

Parker had already decided that Americans would appreciate a more relaxing atmosphere than the formalities that came with working for a member of the aristocracy. "H-And you can buzz me h-if you need me," he informed his employer for the weekend. "H-I'll stick close, but not h-in the way like. You don't want me crampin' your style."

Jeff chucked. "Thanks, Parker..." He watched the scenery glide past for a while before he spoke again, as much to himself as to Parker. "It's funny how you can know someone really well, lose contact with them for years, and then meet them again and see them in a completely different light."

The two-way reception still being operational, Parker took the opportunity to check on his passenger in a monitor. He noticed that Jeff's grin hadn't left his face since he'd entered the car. "‘Scuse me sayin this, Mr Tracy. But this Mrs White h-is h-obviously h-a bit h-of h-all right."

"Oh, yes," Jeff agreed. "A bit of all right is about right."

"How do I look?" Ursula asked for the hundredth time that day. "Do I look all right?"

"Mum, you look great!" Heather asserted for the hundred and tenth time.

"You're a knockout," Mark agreed. "I never knew my mother could brush up so well. It's a shame you're so old and we're related." He planted a playful kiss on her cheek.

"Oh, you!" Ursula swatted him good-naturedly and then looked at the clock on the wall, before comparing it with the one on the microwave and finally her wristwatch. "That's not the time is it!?" Butterflies in her stomach started circulating.

Mark looked at his own watch. "Relax, he's got a minute to get here."

"Now, have you got everything?" Heather fussed. "Clothes? Underwear? Nightdress?"

"I thought you weren't going to need that," Mark teased.

Ursula turned scarlet and Heather rounded on her brother. "Mark! You're only making her nervous. If you can't keep quiet then you can get out!"

"No way. I've never met a billionaire before and I'm not going to miss out on the opportunity now... His house might need rewiring sometime and I could have the inside running on the job."

Heather glared at him, hands on hips. "Get out!"

He held up his hands in submission. "Don't have a cow, Sis... Though going by the size you're getting, I'm thinking that's a distinct possibility. No wonder you married a vet."

"Mark! You..." Anything that Heather was about to say was suppressed by the sounds of tyres and then brakes outside. "He's here!" she squealed and fled to the window.

"Oh, my..." Ursula felt the butterflies attack her stomach ten-fold. She sank onto a chair.

"Look at that car!" Mark gasped. "Mum! He's got a Roller! A pink Roller...! Why on Earth did he paint it that colour? Is he one of those rich eccentrics?"

"No he's not. He's a very nice, sensible man."

A gull-wing door opened and Heather dug her elbow into her brother's ribs when a man got out of the limousine. "He's..." she hesitated when she caught sight of the man's profile. "He's got, ah, distinctive features."

Hearing a note of disbelief in her daughter's voice, Ursula managed to find the strength in her legs to stand and walk over to the window. Upon seeing Parker she started to laugh. "Oh, Heather, that's the chauffeur..." Another car door was opened and a second man alighted. "That is Jeff Tracy."

"Mum!" Heather gasped. "He's gorgeous!"

Impressed, Mark turned to face his mother. "Looks and money. You sure know how to pick ‘em."

Jeff disembarked from the car and stood on the footpath, aware that a Lepidopterary lecture appeared to be going on in his stomach. "How do I look, Parker?" He ran his hand through his hair.

"‘Scuse me, Sir," Parker straightened an errant tie. "There, that's better." After a quick appraising check he added, "You're lookin' like million bucks, Mr Tracy: H-If you don't mind me sayin' so." Then Parker gave Jeff a roguish wink. "Though, wiv what you're rumoured to be worth, Sir, you're probably lookin' like a damn sight more."

"I don't mind you saying at all," Jeff laughed and gave the chauffeur a grateful punch on the arm. "Thanks, Parker. You're a pal."

Out of habit, Parker's eagle eyes scanned the quiet cul-de-sac. "‘Ello... We've got ‘Twitchers'."

"Twitchers?" Jeff asked, confused by the word.

"Curtain twitchers," Parker elaborated and tipped his hat in the direction of a piece of net. The drapery was hurriedly dropped back into place. "You're h-arrival will be h-about the street h-in no time."

"That's all right. We'll be gone by then." Jeff straightened his shoulders. "Wish me luck. I'm about to meet her kids." He set off up the path.

"Mr Tracy!" Parker called. Jeff stopped and turned back. "The flowers you h-ordered..."

"Oh." Jeff gave a sheepish grin. "I forgot. Thanks, Parker. Just as well you're here." He took the flowers, strode up the path and pushed the doorbell. He tried not to notice the movement of the curtains and the anxious sounds that emanated from the house.

The door slid open and Ursula White stood there. "Jeff! It's lovely to see you. Won't you come inside for a moment?"

"Thanks, Cubby." Jeff stepped into the hallway. "Ah..." he held out the flowers. "These are for you."

"Oh! They're beautiful!" Ursula gave him a thank you kiss. "I'll put them into water. Come through and meet Mark and Heather."

Jeff struggled to maintain his cool exterior as his butterflies threatened to migrate upwards. He followed Ursula through to a lounge where he was greeted by an affable young man and a heavily pregnant young woman. "Pleased to finally meet you both. Your mother's told me a lot about you."

"She's told us a few things about you too, Mr Tracy," Mark replied... and he winked. Heather dug him in the ribs.

"Call me Jeff, please."

"Look at the flowers Jeff brought me," Ursula enthused. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Lovely," Heather agreed. "Let me put them in water for you." She took the flowers.

"So... Jeff..." Mark had the twinkle in his eye that Jeff had seen in his own son. "Tell us... Just what are your attentions with regard to our mother?"

"Oh, Mark!" Ursula scolded.

"I hope they are honourable."

"Mark!" Heather reproached him as she returned with the flowers and a vase. "Don't be rude."

Life with Gordon had taught Jeff how to think quickly when reacting to such teasing. "I hope to honour your mother with a weekend that she will remember for ever."

Mark laughed. "Smooth answer, Jeff. I can see Mum's going to have fun."

"I hope you both do," Heather added.

"Thanks, I hope so too," Jeff replied giving a mental sigh of relief. "Are you ready, Cubby? Where are your bags?"

"I'll take them," Mark offered. "I want to have a quick gander at that car of yours."

"It's not mine," Jeff admitted. "A friend's letting me use it for the weekend." He left Mark and Heather wondering why a billionaire didn't have his own limousine.

Having been standing to attention by FAB1, Parker, in the manner of those at the top of his profession, hurried down the path without appearing to do so. "H-Allow me to take those bags, Sir," he offered taking them off Mark, who followed him back to the car pestering him with questions about the vehicle's finer points.

"Have you got everything, Mum?" Heather asked.

Ursula sighed. "You can stop fussing now, Darling. I'll be gone in a moment."

"I want to make sure you don't have any problems."

"I know and I appreciate your concern. Now stop stressing about me and concentrate on keeping that grandchild of mine healthy." Ursula gave her daughter an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

"I'll take good care of your mother," Jeff promised. "I'll return her to you safely tomorrow."

Mark stopped asking Parker about FAB1 and rejoined the group. He put his arms about his mother's shoulders, went to do the same to Jeff and thought the better of it. He gave his mother a squeeze. "Now you kids have fun, okay?"

"We will," Ursula told him.

"And make sure you're in bed by ten."

"Mark!" Heather scolded.

Jeff gave the younger man a sideways look. "I hope you and Gordon never get together. I'd never get a moment's rest!"

Parker swung open one of the gull-wing doors of the Rolls Royce. "Mr Tracy... Mrs White..." he said, standing to one side.

Before they took their seats Jeff offered an introduction. "Cubby, this is Parker. He'll be looking after us."

"How do you do, Parker?"

"Mrs White." Parker tipped his hat.

Jeff turned to Ursula and took her hand. "Shall we go, m'Lady?"

Ursula allowed him to escort her to the rear passenger seat. She sat down and glanced forward. "Oh!" She felt her heart sink.

Jeff leant into the car. "Something wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Jeff, but I get motion sickness. I have to be able to see where I'm going when I'm travelling in a car or else I'm history." Ursula indicated the blackened partition. "I'd be lucky if I made it out of the street!"

"Easily fixed," Jeff told her. "This is one of Parker's secret toys." He touched the computer screen and slid the opacity level down to one. "Better?"

Ursula smiled at him. "Much." Parker shut the door.

"Good." Jeff turned back. "It's been lovely meeting you Heather... Mark. We'll see you tomorrow." He walked around the car. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of her." He gave them a wave and got inside.

"Bye, Jeff," Heather waved. "Bye, Mum."

Mark leant down so he was able to talk through the open window. "Be good you two..."

Parker slid into the driver's seat and shut the door.

"...And if you can't be good, be careful..."

The motor started.

"...And if you can't be careful..." the pink Rolls Royce pulled away, leaving Mark talking to thin air, "...remember the date."

Heather put her hands on her hips in exasperation. "Oh, Mark!"

Jeff laughed and settled back in the leather seats. "They're a great pair."

"Sorry about Mark's behaviour," Ursula apologised.

"Compared to what my five have got up to over the years, that's nothing," Jeff chuckled. "Now it's time to sit back, relax and enjoy ourselves." He gave his friend a warm smile and took her hand. "How are you really, Cubby?"

"Excited. I can't believe I'm off on this adventure. Where are we going?"

"It's a secret," Jeff teased.

"Oh, you!" Ursula nestled back in the car's leather seats. "This is so comfortable."

"‘Scuse me, Sir... Madam," Parker said over the intercom. "But H-I thought you'd like to know that H-I've takin' the liberty of checkin' the weather forecast. They say h-it's good sailin' weather."

"Glad to hear it," Jeff responded. "Thanks, Parker."

"Sailing?" Ursula queried. "Are we going on the Broads or something?"

Jeff chuckled. "No. A bit further afield than that. Have you remembered your passport, Cubby?"

"I have, but I wasn't sure if you were serious or not."

"Oh, I'm serious. We're leaving the country. Starting with a trip to the coast."

"The road h-is a bit windy, but don't worry, Madam," Parker sounded reassuring. "H-I'll try to make h-it h-as smooth h-a ride h-as H-I can. H-If you ‘ave problems, there's some of Mr Brains' tablets h-in the cabinet."

"Guaranteed to settle any stomach without making you sleepy," Jeff commented. "We'll, give Parker our passports when we get out of the car and hopefully the authorities will be happy to deal with him and leave us alone."

Ursula squeezed his hand. "I would have thought that billionaires wouldn't have to worry about Customs."

Jeff laughed. "They check us out more thoroughly. They're never convinced that we didn't get our money by smuggling."

"Then they don't know you and all you've done, Jeff."

"And I'd like to keep it that way... I hope you don't mind the fact that I'm making use of Parker and FAB1, Cubby, but Parker's one of International Rescue's top agents. If the boys are called out and I'm needed, then I know I can talk freely in here. I hope you understand."

"I understand," Ursula nodded.

"We should be h-arrivin' h-at h-our destination h-in h-about one ‘our," Parker offered.

"Thanks, Parker. I'll switch off the intercom now."

"Yes, Mr Tra..."

The drive to the coast was smooth and relaxing. Jeff and Ursula sat back and talked, holding hands and, mindful of Ursula's easily upset stomach, only occasionally indulging in a little romantic kiss.

Now they were travelling across rolling green downs. Suddenly they turned off the road and turned down a track to a small cove. To one side of the road chalk-white cliffs extended upwards. On the other the sea lapped gently against the narrow strip of sand. Overhead the sun shone in a cloudless sky. There wasn't a breath of wind.

"Look's like Mother Nature's looking out for us," Jeff said. "It's a perfect day for a boat trip."

The Rolls Royce came to a halt and Parker, having taken a small cylinder from the glove box, opened the door and got out.

"What has he got?" Ursula wondered. "It looked like a lipstick."

"Knowing Penny and this car, it probably was," Jeff admitted. "How are you feeling, Cubby? All right?"

Ursula laughed. "You asked me that five minutes ago, Jeff. I'm fine!" She watched as Parker appeared to insert the ‘lipstick' into a hole in the cliff face an uttered a little exclamation of surprise as a portion of the hitherto solid cliff wall opened, revealing a sleek blue and white yacht. The yacht, her name FAB2 emblazoned on her hull, sailed forward and the cliff door closed, once again concealing its secret hangar. "I don't believe it!"

Jeff chuckled. "Believe it. Parker's got a few tricks up his sleeve. Some even I don't know about. He's a handy man to have on the payroll."

"But how do we get out to the boat?" Ursula asked, as she watched the vessel bob serenely a few hundred metres off the coast.

Jeff winked at her. "We drive out there."

"Drive?" Disbelieving, Ursula watched as Parker reclaimed his seat and set the great car in motion. Unable to help herself, she gripped both the door handle and Jeff's hand tightly as the Rolls Royce entered the water. She uttered a gasp of amazement as they appeared to tip backwards, before, yet again, moving forwards. Looking out the window Ursula was surprised to discover that the front end of the car had risen up on hydrofoils and that they were cutting cleanly through the water. "This car is amazing!"

"You don't know the half of it," Jeff agreed.

A waterline hatch was opening in the yacht and Parker drove inside. Once there, the hydrofoils were retracted and the hold pumped dry before Parker moved around to open the gull-wing door for Ursula. "Was the trip to your satisfaction, Madam?"

"It was the best one I've had for a long time, Parker," Ursula congratulated. "You are a wonderful driver."

Parker acknowledged the complement with a slight bow of his head. "Thank you, Madam." He turned to Jeff. "Shall we proceed, Sir?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Jeff agreed.

"H-I shall go programme George," Parker announced as he escorted them to the lift. "H-I will bring coffee when H-I return... H-Unless you would prefer somethin' stronger? There h-is h-a bar h-in the lounge h-and ‘er Ladyship said you was to make yourselves at ‘ome."

"Thank you, Parker, but I think the coffee will do us at the moment... Unless you'd like something else, Cubby?"

"Coffee would be lovely, thank you." Ursula accepted Jeff's proffered arm and allowed herself to be led into a sumptuous lounge. Wide-eyed she looked around, taking in the rich colours and materials. "This is a waterborne palace!"

"Penny doesn't do things by halves," Jeff acknowledged. "It looks like a nice day outside... I wonder how cold it is on deck?"

"If this is the English Channel then it'll be bitterly freezing," Ursula noted as she watched England gliding away into the distance. Jeff opened the exterior door and she felt a chill direct from the North Pole enter the room. "See, I told you."

Jeff had hurriedly shut the door again. "You're right; it is cold out there." He shivered. "I think I've been softened up by tropical weather; I'll need some help to warm up again." He slipped his arms about his lady friend and pulled her close. "Mmmn. Much better."

A discreetly apologetic throat was cleared behind them. "Your coffee, Mr Tracy. Mrs White."

"That'll warm you just as quickly," Ursula teased.

"But not as pleasantly," Jeff whispered before releasing his grip. "Thanks, Parker." He wrapped his hands about a mug.

Ursula accepted her drink and sat down. "I love your accent, Parker. Are you a genuine Cockney?"

"Born ‘n bred." Parker puffed himself up with pride. "They say that when I was born, the Bow bells drowned h-out me mam's screams... she'd just ‘ad ‘er first look at me face." He chuckled at his own wit.

"We had an English teacher who was English," Ursula said. "She insisted that we had to study George Bernard Shaw's ‘Pygmalion' and cast me as Eliza Doolittle."

"That would have been interesting," Jeff said.

"Not ‘arf," Ursula replied.

"Were you any good?"

"Not Pygmalion likely. If you thought Dick Van Dyke's accent was bad in ‘Mary Poppins', Parker, you should have heard mine! I was terrible!"

Parker chuckled again and then hesitated, torn between the need to be present should his services be required and the knowledge that the couple probably wanted to be left alone. He solved his dilemma by placing an intercom at Jeff's elbow. "H-I shall be checkin' h-on George h-if you need me, Sir."

"Thank you, Parker. Let us know when we're approaching land, would you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And compliment George for me, would you?" Ursula requested. "I've barely felt the boat move."

Parker bowed gravely. "Yes, Madam."

Jeff managed to suppress a grin until Parker had departed the room. "I hate to tell you this, Cubby, but George is the autopilot."

"Autopilot? You mean a machine is steering this boat?"

"Uh huh. We're sailing with a crew of one."

"One? You mean Parker!?"

"That's right," Jeff winked at his friend. "Saves money when it comes to tipping the crew."

They crossed the English Channel without incident, reclaimed their seats in FAB1, and had little issue with French Customs. As they began their journey Ursula looked out at the foreign countryside. "I've never been to France before," she mused. Then she turned to her partner, barely suppressed excitement lighting up her face. "Where are we going now?"

"It's a secret," Jeff teased.

"Jeff! Where?"

"Somewhere."

"Where somewhere."

"Somewhere in Europe."

"Oh... You!" Ursula pretended to fold her arms in a huff. "You're impossible."

Jeff's eyes twinkled. "So I'm told."

Ursula turned to him again. "Give us a clue."

"Okay..." Jeff thought for a moment. "It's in France."

"Great. So I've got several hundred thousand kilometres to choose from. Can't you narrow it down a bit?"

"I could." Jeff admired the scenery.

"Well?"

Jeff feigned ignorance. "Well, what?"

"Well narrow it down!"

"Narrow what down?"

"Jeff!" Genuinely exasperated, Ursula flopped back in her seat. "You're hopeless."

Jeff laughed and took her hand. "And you're wonderful."

As time progressed the scenery changed from countryside to a more urban environment. Traffic flows began to build up.

Ursula scanned the landscape, searching out a sign that would give her a clue as to their destination. Finally she saw a word that she recognised. "Paris!"

"Where else?"

"We're going to Paris?"

"We are. Isn't it supposed to be a city for lovers?"

"Will we see the Eiffel Tower?"

"Possibly."

"You're going to keep me guessing all day, aren't you, Jeff Tracy!"

"Probably."

Despite herself, Ursula laughed.

"‘Scuse me," Parker's voice came out of the radio. "We've made good time, Mr Tracy. Would you like me to take the roundabout route? See the sights like?"

Jeff opened the link between the passenger compartment and the driver. "Sounds like a good idea, Parker. We'll trust you to still get us there in time."

"Yes, Sir."

Ursula drank in the sights as they toured through Paris. Names from school, literature and the press suddenly came to life. Le Seine, Notre Dame de Paris, Le Louvre, Arc de Triumph all passed before her wide eyes. Then, almost suddenly, the great spire that had once been the tallest structure in the world, loomed in front of her. "Wow!"

"It has that effect on me too," Jeff admitted.

They pulled up in a street adjacent to the tower and a man in uniform hurried over to the car. "Monsieur Tracee?"

"Oui," Jeff replied. He and Ursula were escorted to the lift and from there to the second floor of the tower before being shown to their table in the restaurant.

Somewhat in a daze, Ursula accepted her seat. "I can't believe this. That I'm going to have lunch in the Eiffel Tower..." She gazed out at the vista before her. "I feel as if I'm flying above Paris."

Enjoying Ursula's reactions as much as the view, Jeff took her hand. "Don't go into sensory overload. We've still a lot more to do today. Now..." he settled back and looked at the menu. "What do you fancy?"

Ursula gave him a wicked grin. "Is that a leading question, Mr Tracy?"

He responded in kind. "Depends on where you want it to lead to, Ms White."

A waiter hovered into view, placed a carafe of water and the table and then retreated. Ursula blushed. "He's going to think that you're having an affair with your secretary."

"If he does, he's going to think I've got excellent taste."

The meal, like the view, was sublime. After a trip to the top of the tower, Ursula found herself back in FAB1.

"H-I ‘ave your tickets, Mr Tracy," Parker handed Jeff an envelope.

"Thanks, Parker. Have you had lunch?"

"H-If that's what you call it," Parker screwed up his nose at the thought of French cuisine. "Give me good ol' H'English stew any day. Should've got Lil to pack me a boxed lunch."

Jeff laughed. "Don't worry, I'll shout you something decent later."

Next stop was to the premier live theatre in Paris. Ursula perused the billboard and did a double take. "‘The Uninvited'? I've been dying to see that. But it's having a sell-out season in England and in France! It's impossible to get in! We can't be going to see this, are we?!"

"We are," Jeff grinned.

"But how did you get tickets?"

Jeff laid his finger on the side of his nose. "Trade secret."

For the next two hours Ursula was caught up in a whirlwind of lights, music, movement, action and romance. Enjoying the complete sensory experience, she snuggled into Jeff's arms, savouring his aftershave, sipping champagne and sampling chocolates.

Later, when they stepped back out into the sunlight, she gave a sigh of contentment. "That was brilliant; no wonder everyone raves over it. Everything the critics said was true!"

"If you'd told me this morning that a show without words would be entertaining, I wouldn't have believed you," Jeff admitted. He took Cubby's arm. "Now, if you haven't stuffed yourself full of chocolates, how about afternoon tea?"

"Sounds wonderful."

They found an intimate little café and sat down. "Darling," Ursula laid her hand on Jeff's arm. "You've been so generous today. Let me treat you this time."

"Cubby..." Jeff protested. "Honey..."

Ursula giggled. "You make me sound like ‘Winnie the Pooh'."

Jeff grinned at the mental image conjured up. "Does that make me ‘Christopher Robin'?"

"Either that or ‘Piglet'."

Jeff screwed up his face. "I think I'd rather be called ‘Dick'."

"All right, Dick. Please let me buy afternoon tea."

"Ursula..." Jeff growled. He leant forward so he didn't have to talk so loud. "Let me pay, please. Anyone... business associates, suppliers, my family..." he gave a wry grin, "especially my family, will tell you that I'm very careful with my money. I don't spend it on anything that isn't absolutely necessary. But you've got no idea the amount of pleasure I'm getting in spending it on you today. Besides..." he lightly fingered the material of Ursula's obviously new blouse, "I'm assuming that you've already spent a fair bit on this weekend."

Ursula remembered her shopping trips with Heather to the more upmarket stores that she wouldn't normally frequent, and silently agreed. "You are a sweetheart." She gently stroked his face. "Okay. You win." She picked up the menu and briefly debated with herself whether or not she could risk obtaining some extra calories. Deciding that, if you were lucky, days like this only happened once in a lifetime, she ordered a decadent piece of chocolate gateau.

After they'd finished their coffee and cake and had left the café, Ursula took Jeff's arm. "Now what surprise do you have in store for me?"

"I hear there's an exhibition of Victorian hand painted thimbles in town."

Ursula screwed up her face. "Sounds riveting."

Jeff laughed before he laid his hand on hers. "Then how about a quiet walk along the Seine?"

"Sounds very romantic, but a little chilly."

Jeff had to agree that she had a point. "We'll get our coats from the car." He grinned. "It'll be a chance to walk off some of the pounds we've just gained."

As they strolled along the banks of the river, Ursula squeezed Jeff lightly. "What would you have done if this was a miserable spring day, instead of the glorious one we've got?"

"I had other plans," Jeff admitted. He looked down at Ursula fondly. "But nothing could top this."

"No," Ursula agreed. "Nothing could top this."

Arm-in-arm they walked together, laughing at the silliest things, entertaining passing Parisians when they danced to the music of a serenading busker, buying gifts for each other on impulse, and simply enjoying each other's company.

Ursula was having a magical time. It seemed that at every turn something new and exciting and surprising would happen. At one point a little girl came running up to her. "Pour vous, Madame." She held out a small bouquet of flowers.

"For me?" Ursula queried. "But..." She down looked at the expectant face. "Thank you," she said, taking the flowers. "Merci."

"Merci, Madame," the girl smiled and fled back to her mother.

Ursula was enraptured by the flowers. "Wasn't that sweet!? Did you have anything to do with this, Jeff?"

"Me?" Jeff sounded surprised. "I've been by your side all afternoon. When would I have found the time or opportunity?"

"I suppose you're right. What a lovely gesture. I wonder why she did it?"

"This is France, Honey," Jeff reminded her. "They admire beautiful things."

"Merci, Monsieur," the little girl accepted the coin from the Englishman with features like General de Gaulle.

"Merecee," Parker replied. "Merecee, Madame," he echoed to her mother, tipping his hat. She nodded in reply, removed the large denomination note from the envelope and placed it in her purse, before she tucked the letter written in French into her bag.

It was growing dark when the pink Rolls Royce pulled up at the entrance to their hotel. Parker alighted first before opening the doors for his passengers. "‘Ere h-is your room key, Mr Tracy," he said, handing over the square of plastic. "H-I ‘ave taken your bags h-up to your room."

"Thank you, Parker," Jeff acknowledged. He turned to Ursula. "Shall we go in?"

"Mr Tracy?" A man whose name badge identified him as being the hotel manager, stepped forward. "Permit me to escort you to your room." He spoke perfect English.

"Thank you," Jeff replied.

The hassle of checking in already taken care of, Jeff and Ursula wasted no time in being shown to the penthouse suite. This was, if anything, even more palatial than FAB2.

"I'm in another world," Ursula breathed as she gazed at her surroundings. "I'm dreaming. This can't be happening to me."

"Allow me to show you around." The manger opened a door. "This is the bedroom..." Ursula had a glimpse of an enormous four-poster bed, "and the bathroom is through there. Lounge, refreshments, dining room... Dinner will be served in half an hour." He indicated a formally set table in the middle of the penthouse's dining area. "Francois will be your host for the evening." A uniformed man standing just inside the door inclined his head as the manger saw Ursula's bouquet. "Ah! Très jolie!" he exclaimed. "Permit us to place them in water for you, Madame. Francois! Un vase!"

"Oui, Monsieur." Francois bowed and left the room. He returned a short time later carrying an exquisite crystal vase filled with water. Taking Ursula's flowers he displayed them as the centrepiece of the dining table.

"I trust that you are happy with the arrangements, Mr Tracy?" the manager was asking.

"They appear to be very satisfactory," Jeff agreed.

"Should you have any queries or problems, my direct line is number 123." The manager bowed. "I shall leave you now. Enjoy your evening." He said something in French to Francois, bid Jeff and Ursula a good night, and retired from the room.

Jeff looked at his watch. "We've got 25 minutes. Do you want to freshen up?"

Half an hour later found them waiting to be seated at the dining table. Wondering if she was overdoing it, Ursula had changed into a black evening dress. She was relieved to see that Jeff had made an effort too and was wearing formal attire. "You look stunning," he beamed when he saw her.

"Thank you, kind sir," Ursula replied, before thanking Francois for holding out her chair. "And you are very dashing in that suit."

"Well, it's going to be a special evening," Jeff responded. "Somehow jeans and a t-shirt didn't seem to be the right gear to wear." He took Ursula's hand across the table. "Have you enjoyed yourself so far?"

"Mmmn. It's been a wonderful day, Jeff. I've loved every minute."

"So have I. Even if it were to finish here and now, it would still be a day to remember."

Ursula didn't have time to ponder his statement as the entrée arrived.

When they were waiting for the main course, Ursula sat back in her chair and listened to the soft piano music that had serenaded them since they'd entered the suite. "Is that Virgil's playing I can hear?"

"Yes," Jeff confirmed. "I asked him to record some special pieces for us for tonight."

"If I didn't know what his real job was, I would say he was wasted not choosing music as a career."

Jeff chuckled. "He reckons he'd get bored with simply playing the piano all day."

It was while they were being served dessert that a thought occurred to Ursula. "What must he be thinking?" she whispered as Francois was wheeling the tray with the remains of their main course to the door to be collected by another member of staff. "We're an old, unmarried couple and there's only one bed! He probably thinks we're having an affair."

"Oh, it's okay," Jeff responded. "I booked us in as Mr and Mrs Smith." He laughed at her expression of horror. "I'm kidding. This is the 21st century and we're in France. I'm sure he's seen more shocking things than the two of us sharing a romantic weekend together. Besides, I don't think there isn't a person in the world who didn't hear about Jeff Tracy's tragedy... at least that's how it seemed at the time. Everyone knows I'm single."

"I'm sorry, Jeff," Ursula said, chastened by the reminder of more painful times. "I guess I'm a little old fashioned."

"And less of the ‘old', okay?" Jeff reprimanded her in good humour. "You're only as old as you feel, and when I'm with you I feel about 21."

"21 what?"

Jeff tucked into his dessert. "After this lot, 21 pounds overweight."

The meal was over. Replete and utterly content, Ursula accepted Jeff's suggestion that they retire to the balcony to see the lights of Paris.

Spread out before them was a constellation of colours and patterns never seen in the Milky Way. In the distance the Eiffel Tower was lit with a soft, many hued, palette.

"It's like looking at the universe," Ursula breathed. "And the Eiffel Tower's a comet. What would John think?"

"He'd complain that the light pollution was hiding the stars," Jeff indicated the black night sky. "He's right of course."

"Spoilsport," Ursula giggled. She gave a sigh of happiness, closed her eyes, and lent back into Tommy's strong arms...

Alarmed, she straightened and gave herself a shake to dispel the mental image she'd conjured up.

"Are you all right?" Jeff asked. "You're shivering."

"I'm... I'm a little cold, I guess," Ursula lied.

"Shall we go back in?"

Ursula gave him what she hoped was a confident smile of agreement. Taking her hand, Jeff led her inside.

Francois had cleared the table and departed, leaving only two full glasses of champagne and the remainder of the bottle chilling in a bucket. Jeff picked up one of the flutes and handed it to Ursula. He indicated the bedroom. "Shall we go through?"

Ursula felt her heart begin to pound. "Yes."

Once again taking her by the hand, Jeff led the way. But, instead of escorting Ursula to the bed, he surprised her by leading her over to the divan at the side of the room.

They sat and sipped their champagne; neither saying anything. The silence dragged on for so long that Ursula began to wonder if Jeff had picked up on her momentary lapse and was trying to suppress his hurt feelings. Keen to disperse any negativity between them she placed her glass on a nearby table. "You're looking nearly as tense as you were when the boys were using the oxyhydnite. Let me give you a shoulder massage. Turn around."

"Something to loosen us up, huh?" Jeff asked as he placed his glass beside hers. He stood, removed his dinner jacket, took his time hanging it neatly on a hanger, and then returned to his seat.

Ursula placed her hands on his shoulders, feeling his tense muscles through the material. "This is much easier without your shirt on... Shall I help?" As she reached around to undo his collar she closed her eyes. An image, unexpected and unbidden, flooded her mind. Once again it was Tommy warm beneath her fingertips. Once again her husband was fit, strong, and very much alive. Once again...

Ursula fell forward onto the divan as Jeff sprang off the seat. "I'm sorry, Ursula, but I can't do this!"

"Jeff?"

He paced across the room, coming to a halt beside one of the bed's four posts. Ashamed of his actions and unable to face Ursula, he clung to it. "I'm sorry. I thought I was ready. We've had a lovely day and I don't want to spoil it, but this is too much, too soon. Where I should be seeing you I keep on imagining Lucille, and I miss her so much; more than I'd realised. I thought that I was ready; I thought that I could go through with it. But I don't want to hurt you. I don't want this to be a shallow experience... You mean too much to me..."

"Jeff..."

"I know you must be disappointed and I won't blame you if you hate me. But I want you to understand that this isn't you... It's me... I'm sorry..." Jeff turned, but was still unable to face the woman on the divan. "I'm sorry," he repeated and went to sit down on the bed before changing his mind and collapsing onto a love seat. "I don't expect you to understand; I'm not sure I understand myself..." He clenched his hands together tightly. "Can we still be friends?"

His plaintive plea tugged at Ursula's heart. "Oh, Jeff," she breathed. "Of course we're still friends. I understand perfectly. It's not you, it's us!"

Jeff managed to stare at her. "Us?"

"I feel the same way."

Jeff shifted his gaze back to the floor. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"No, I'm not. I've been with Tommy this evening, not you. One second later and I would have had to bail out myself. The only reason why you're there and I'm here is because you were quicker off the mark than I was." Ursula stood, crossed the room and sat beside Jeff, taking his hand. "I'm not ready yet, either."

"You're not?"

"No."

"Are you sure? You're not just saying that?"

"Jeff, I'm sure. And we've got to stay friends. Both Lucille and Tommy would be annoyed with us if we lost contact having only just found each other again."

"You're right, they would..." Jeff sighed. "Does this mean we're old?"

"No. It means that we are mature enough to realise that the time isn't right."

"I don't understand," Jeff said. "I thought I was ready. I've been looking forward to it all week. I've enjoyed planning all the things we were going to do and all the little treats I had in store for you. And today..." He managed a smile. "Today was great. Being with you was like being in a different world. Away from all the stresses that being a successful businessman, a father and the commander of a rescue organisation bring... I was so happy! But now..." He sighed. "I don't understand," he repeated.

"No," Ursula agreed. "I don't either."

"When I was telling everyone about you and me, Kyrano told me that there were only two people I should need approval from: Lucille and me."

"Lucille?" Ursula frowned.

"He asked me if I thought that if her ‘spirit' were to appear, if she'd give us her blessing."

"And?"

"And I'm sure she would. I know she wouldn't expect me to live like a monk and it's not as though I've rushed into another relationship... it's been twenty years!"

"I know, Jeff. And you're right about Lucille. She loved you too much to want to see you lonely."

"So that only leaves me," Jeff said despondently. "I'm the problem." He grimaced. "Well, I know one young man who'll be very happy."

"You mean Scott?" Ursula queried. "I'm not so sure. He rang me yesterday."

Jeff looked at her sharply. "He did what!?"

"He rang to apologise and to wish us a good time. I'm sorry, I should have told you, but I was so excited and I'd assumed that he'd called you too."

Jeff shook his head. "We had a brief conversation after I left, but I didn't get the impression that he had changed his mind."

"Would it have made a difference if you'd known?"

"...No..." Then Jeff gave a mirthless chuckle. "Can you believe it? Here I've been thinking that perhaps I should be getting professional help for Scott, and all along I'm the one who's needed it." He looked at the lady at his side. "And what's your problem?"

"Tommy."

"Tommy?"

"I enjoyed my day with you; I can't imagine having more fun with anyone else, but tonight... Tonight I haven't been with you. I've been with Tommy: and it scares me." Jeff squeezed her hand. "I thought I'd survived Tommy's illness and death. I thought I'd grieved and moved on. I thought I'd coped...! But now I'm thinking that maybe it all happened too fast. One minute he was this fit strong bear of a man and the next I'm rushing around trying to look after him, the kids... seeing doctors, hospitals... Watching him fade before my eyes... I didn't have time to think about what might... what did happen." Ursula's voice broke at the memories and Jeff handed her a nearby box of tissues. "I'm sorry," she wiped her eyes. "Perhaps I'm like you and Lucille? Maybe neither of us had the opportunity to properly say goodbye?"

Jeff put his arm about her shoulders and rubbed Ursula's arm as she leant against him in a gesture that spoke of friendship rather than intimacy. "We are a sorry pair, aren't we?"

Ursula sniffed. "So it was a holiday romance."

"I'm not so sure about that. Our problem is that there're four of us in this relationship at the moment. Even when I was planning this weekend I kept on thinking, That's what I wanted to do with Lucille, when I should have been thinking, That's what I'm looking forward to doing with Cubby."

"Four of us..." Ursula nodded slowly. "You're probably right. Now what do we do?"

"Well... Now that we know we've got a problem, we try to work our way through it. First step: We don't stop seeing each other. Right?"

Ursula straightened and gave him a determined look. "Right!"

"Only we don't try to rush or try to push one another."

"Agreed."

"We're friends and we'll stay friends. If something develops we'll let it develop."

"Sounds reasonable."

"So, when can you come to visit me again?"

Ursula laughed. "I thought you weren't going to rush things, Jeff Tracy."

"I'm not rushing you. I enjoy your company, that's all."

Ursula thought a moment. "Heather's nearly due to have the baby. She wants her mum nearby and I don't want to stray too far away. I'm afraid I won't be able to visit for a few weeks yet."

Jeff didn't appear to be disappointed. "Fair enough. Let's see... I've got a business dinner in London in three weeks time. They're always horribly boring things. Would you like to come with me? It'll only be for one night. I'll have you home before midnight."

"That's not much of an invitation, Jeff. To a boring business function!"

"It wouldn't be boring if you're there."

"What will all your business associates think if you turn up with me on your arm?"

"They'll have something more interesting to talk about than their golf scores. They'll be wondering how boring old Jeff Tracy managed to find a doll like you."

"I thought we weren't discussing our ages," Ursula teased, before turning serious. "Won't there be scandalous talk? Are you sure it won't affect your business at all?"

"Why would it?" Jeff sounded genuinely surprised at her line of questioning. "We're both single and you're there because you're my friend. Don't you want to come?"

Ursula gave him a gentle smile. "Of course I do. I just want to make sure that you're not making a mistake that you'll regret."

"Being your friend has never been a mistake."

"Thank you." Then Ursula remembered something she'd been told the previous day. "Jeff? Can I ask you something... as your friend?"

"Yes?"

"When he rang, Scott said you and the family haven't talked about Lucille much since she died. Is that true?"

"I've never discouraged anyone from talking about her..." Jeff looked down at his left hand, seeing the tan line where his wedding ring normally resided. "But then I've never encouraged them either. I haven't wanted to upset them." He looked back up. "And I suppose I haven't wanted to upset me either."

Ursula placed her right hand over the back of his left and curled her fingers between his. "Talk to them, Jeff. Scott especially wants to remember her. Yesterday I told him about Lucille's altercation with Mary Stillwell and he was practically crawling through the video screen to hear more. He misses her nearly as much as you do."

"Really?" Jeff bit his lip in thought. "Maybe I haven't handled things as well as I should have. If I'd done things differently then maybe Scott wouldn't have behaved towards you the way he did. Maybe Gordon and Alan would have had the chance to get to know their mother better... Maybe then Alan would care about her..." Ursula frowned at his words as Jeff continued on, as much to himself as her. "Maybe, if I had encouraged the boys to talk about Lucille, you and I wouldn't be sitting here now... Maybe I would have found you earlier and then I would have supported you when Tommy died. Maybe then we both..."

"Jeff..." Ursula laid her finger on his lips. "Enough ifs and maybes. Okay? It's a cliché but what's past is past."

Jeff gave a dry chuckle. "I don't know what you've done to me, Ursula White, I'm not usually so reflective about past mistakes; mainly because I haven't made that many in my life... Except losing touch with you and Tommy." He turned his hand over so it was holding hers. "Let's both learn from the past, Cubby. When we get home again we won't be afraid to talk to our families about Tommy and Lucille. We'll make a point of it! Deal?"

Ursula smiled. "Deal!"

Jeff looked at his watch. "It's getting late... First thing tomorrow we'll head for home. I'd better let Parker know." He stood. "You can have the bed." He picked up his overnight bag and started placing his few belongings inside.

"But where will you sleep?"

Jeff gave Ursula a sad smile. "When I booked I reserved the adjourning room as well. I think even then I knew I wouldn't be able to go through with it." He removed something from the bag and then snapped the lock shut. "I should have realised. If I'd been serious about wanting to spend time with only you I would never have used Parker and FAB1. I would have cut myself totally free from International Rescue so I could give you my undivided attention. I'm sorry."

"Enough sorrys. That was in the past."

"Yes, ma'am." Jeff weighed the object in his hand. "This is for you." He held out a small, beautifully wrapped box.

"For me? But Jeff, you've given me enough this weekend."

"It's not from me. It's from... Tommy."

Confused, Ursula stared at him. "From Tommy?"

Jeff nodded. "When the pair of you first got engaged he saw one of these and wanted to get it for you, but it was out of his price bracket. If I could have afforded it I would have helped him pay, but I had a wife and five children to care for. He made me take a photo with my cell phone so I could remember what it looked like and I was to let him know the minute it came down in price. Every time we talked he'd ask me if it was cheaper yet. I'm usually pretty good at getting a bargain and I would have tried to talk the price down, but the mayor's wife owned the shop." Jeff chuckled. "I never did tell Tommy why I didn't like going in there. He was upset when it eventually sold for the original price. But I never deleted that photo. Often I've looked at it and wondered why I still carried it about with me. Many times I've deleted it and then felt compelled to retrieve it again. I once spent a whole day converting it to a new format because my new phone wasn't compatible with the old one." He pulled his PDA out and scrolled through the photos until the decades old picture came into view.

Ursula held out her hand for the phone. "Can I see it?"

"Once you've opened that," Jeff told her. "Then one day, out of the blue, there in my appointments book is the name of my old friend Ursula White and I suddenly realised why I'd kept this photo all these years. I had a replica made. I could afford it now and I knew Tommy would have wanted you to have it. I was going to present it to you before you left for home after staying with us. Then... well, things took an interesting turn and I decided to keep it until this weekend and give it to you from me. I can see now that that would have been the wrong thing to do. It's Tommy's gift to you."

Ursula stared at him and then shifted her gaze to the box in her hand. It was about as big as a pack of playing cards and not much heavier.

"Open it, Cubby," Jeff requested.

Ursula began to unwrap her gift. The pure white paper, laced with gold thread, fell away revealing a jewellery box. Hands trembling she lifted the lid. From a bed of icy diamonds a white gold rebus of her name looked up at her. "Oh, Jeff... It's beautiful! But I can't accept this: it must have cost a fortune!"

"Money means nothing to me," Jeff told her. "But you meant the world to Tommy. That's why he wanted you to have it." He showed her the photograph of the original. "That's why I want you to have it. You can wear it to our business dinner; it'll look great on that dress you're wearing."

Ursula dragged her eyes away from the gem. "To the dinner? Are you sure?"

Jeff smiled. "We're taking it slowly, remember. And taking it slowly means never forgetting that we've each had someone pretty special in our lives."

Ursula gently caressed the jewel, then she held it close. "Thank you, Tommy," she whispered. She looked up at her friend. "And thank you, Jeff. You are a wonderful man."

He shrugged. "I do my best." He tucked the PDA in his pocket and kissed Ursula on the top of her head. "Night, Cubby. I hope you spend tonight having pleasant dreams of Tommy."

Ursula smiled. "And I hope you get to relive today with Lucille."

"Thanks." Jeff Tracy walked out of the room.

Parker had been mystified when he'd received the call from Jeff telling him of the change of plans for Sunday. His confusion had intensified on the trip back to England. The couple had been quiet, not unfriendly, but there was none of the excitement that they'd both exhibited the previous day. He pulled up outside of Ursula's house and left the car to remove her bags from the boot. Five minutes later he was joined on the footpath by the two Americans.

"Thank you, Parker," Jeff took Ursula's bags. "I'll escort Mrs White to the door."

Parker touched the brim of his cap. "Yes, Mr Tracy. Good day, Mrs White." He returned to the driver's seat and was surprised to realise that the partition between him and his passengers had been retracted.

Ursula unlocked the door to her home. "Do you want to come inside?"

Jeff shook his head. "I'll get going?"

"Are you heading back to your London house?"

"No. I'll get Parker to take me to the airport and I'll fly home."

Ursula looked at him with a worried expression. "Are you sure that's wise? How much sleep did you get last night?"

"Enough." Jeff smiled at her concerns. "I'll head to bed as soon as I get home."

Ursula's fears weren't allayed. "Are you sure you'll be okay? I'll be worrying all day. Call me as soon as you get there."

"I promise I'll call you the instant I get home." Jeff took her hand. "Well, I guess this is it... Thank you for a wonderful day yesterday."

"Thank you, Jeff. As I said before, I enjoyed every minute of it."

"I'll see you in three weeks time."

Ursula smiled. "Yes."

"And maybe when there's only two instead of four of us in this relationship we'll visit Paris again?"

Ursula nodded. "I'd like that."

They shared a chaste kiss.

"Well..." Jeff squeezed Ursula's hand.

"Well..." Ursula gave him a sad smile.

"Goodbye, Cubby." Jeff walked away down the path.

"Bye, Jeff," Ursula called after him. She raised her hand in a wave, but, head bowed, he didn't look back.

Heather came hurrying downstairs when she heard the front door open. "You're home earlier than I expected," she exclaimed. "How did it go...?" She took in her mother's expression. "What happened? What did he do to you...?! Mum?"

"He didn't do anything. He was a perfect gentleman. We had a wonderful time..." Ursula burst into tears. "I miss your father so much..."

"Where to, Mr Tracy?"

"The airport, Parker."

Trying not to be nosy, but overcome with curiosity, Parker kept on glancing at his passenger during the trip. Jeff's demeanour was not that of a man who had just enjoyed a romantic weekend.

The Rolls Royce arrived at the car park of the private airport and pulled into a parking space. "Shall I get your bags, Sir?"

"No."

Parker waited to see what Jeff was planning to do, but his passenger remained sitting in silence on the luxurious seats of the Rolls Royce. Unused to this uncharacteristic behaviour, Parker sat quietly and wondered if he should say something.

It was Jeff who first spoke. "Have you every loved someone, Parker? Loved them so much that they were your entire world? Loved them so much that it hurt? Loved them so much that you'd lay down your life for them?"

Surprised, Parker hesitated. "No, Mr Tracy. H-I ‘aven't been that lucky."

"Pity." Jeff was silent again. "I have."

"H-I know, Sir..." Parker hesitated. "H-If you don't mind me h-askin', h-is everything h-all right?"

Jeff sighed. "I suppose so."

"Do you want h-a ‘and with your bags?"

Jeff suddenly sat forward on his seat so he was closer to the chauffeur's ear. "I know she's too much of a lady to say anything, but I'm sure her Ladyship is curious, as, no doubt, are you. But nothing happened between me and Mrs White. We are currently good friends, that's all."

Even more surprised, Parker could only manage a, "Yes, Mr Tracy."

"There's only ever been one woman in my life, and she gave me five wonderful sons."

"Yes, Mr Tracy."

Jeff flopped back against the red leather and the silence hung heavy in the car again.

At a loss as to what else to say or do, Parker repeated his question about Jeff's luggage.

"No," Jeff flipped the switch that opened the gull-wing door. "I'll do it. Pop the trunk, will you?"

Parker pushed the button that opened the Rolls Royce's boot.

Jeff hesitated before he alighted from the car. "Tell Penny thanks for all she's done. And thank you for your help, Parker." He pulled two large denomination notes out of his wallet. "That's a tip. Buy yourself some stew."

"Thank you, Sir. All part h-of the service, Sir."

Jeff climbed out into the dreary English afternoon, removed his luggage from the boot, and without another look at the Rolls Royce or its occupant, began to walk towards his aeroplane.

Parker watched him go; seeing the bowed head and the way the bags appeared to be weighing Jeff down. "You poor ol' sod," he said to himself. "H-It's true that money can't buy you h-everythin'."

Whether it was moving from the northern spring to a southern autumn, the time spent flying close to the stars, or the realisation that he was heading home, Jeff was markedly more cheerful by the time his aeroplane touched down into the early morning darkness on Tracy Island. It was a feeling that dissipated slightly when he alighted into the dark, cold, empty hangar.

"Jeff?"

Jeff started and spun around. "Mother!"

"Are you all right, Darling?"

Jeff placed his hand on his chest. "Once I get my heart going again I will be. I wasn't expecting to see you. What are you doing up at this hour?"

His mother stepped forward so she was standing in the light from the aeroplane. "Waiting for you. I've had calls from both Ursula and Penelope. They're worried about you."

Jeff smiled at everyone's concern. "They needn't be. I'm fine. There's nothing like a nice long solo flight to get things into perspective."

"What happened, Jeff? Ursula said that things didn't go as planned."

"No," Jeff agreed. "They didn't."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nothing much to tell. Cubby and I went to Paris for the weekend. We had a great time together on Saturday, but slowly came to realise that neither of us have properly let go of our respective spouses. Until we do that we're both trapped in the past."

"Jeff?"

He took her hand fondly. "I realised that I'm still in love with Lucille."

"I could have told you that."

"Yes, but I hadn't really realised how much I was still hanging on to her. I know I'm never going to forget her: I don't want to and I've got five reminders to help keep her memory alive, but I wasn't letting myself move on. Cubby's going through the same thing with Tommy."

Grandma looked at him in concern. "So now what are you going to do?"

"Start letting go," Jeff replied. "I don't know how long it'll take, but I'll get there." He dropped her hand and reached into the aeroplane for his bags. "How is everyone?"

"Scott's been quiet these last two days."

"I'm not surprised. He's made a mistake and it's something he's not used to. It must have been a bit of a shock to him to realise that he's not infallible."

Grandma put her hands on her hips and scowled. "Jeff Tracy! That is an awful thing to say about your son."

"It's the truth," Jeff protested. "He takes after his old man in more ways than one. I discovered this weekend that I made a big mistake years ago. It's not a comfortable feeling."

"A mistake?" his mother's scowl softened into a frown. "What mistake?"

"I've never encouraged the boys to talk about Lucille and I've rarely talked to them about her myself. It's something that I aim to rectify." Jeff shut the door to the jet; chuckling as he did so. "You know, some people shell out thousands of dollars and spend hours spilling their innermost secrets to shrinks to find out what I've discovered by... Well... I have spent thousands of dollars, but I had a heck of a lot of fun doing it." He picked up his bags. "It's just like everything else I've tackled in my life and I'm not going to let it beat me. I'm going to be okay, Ma. It might take some time, but I'll be okay. And then maybe Cubby and I will try again... But, in the meantime, I've got two phone calls to make then I'm off to bed."

Grandma Tracy smiled at her son. "I'll make sure no one disturbs you."

When Jeff got up a few hours later, the rest of his family were already going about their business. His mother was baking in the kitchen, Brains, Tin-Tin, Virgil, Gordon and Alan were running through a training session with Thunderbirds Two and Four, Scott was working on Thunderbird One, and Kyrano was pottering about in his garden. Alone, Jeff washed, dressed and then wandered into the lounge, intent on getting rid of some of the mountain of paperwork that had built up over the last few days.

His resolution was sorely tested when, upon claiming his seat, his eyes fell on his wedding photo. He picked up the picture and stared at it.

He still had it in his hands when Scott, in search of a snack, rotated out of Thunderbird One's hangar. The younger man hesitated when he saw his father, unsure what his greeting should be.

"Morning, Scott." Jeff's eyes didn't leave the face of his late wife as he spoke.

Scott noticed the way his father was gazing at the photograph. "I... I wasn't expecting to see you up so soon."

"I have a lot of work to catch up on."

Scott decided against pointing out that his father wasn't getting a lot of work done now. "Um... You got back sooner than we expected."

"We decided to head home early."

Scott appeared surprised. "Didn't you enjoy yourselves?"

"Things didn't finish up the way we'd expected, but yes," Jeff smiled a reflective smile, "we had a lot of fun together."

Scott latched onto the first part of the sentence. "Is everything okay between you two? You will be seeing Cubby again, won't you? She will be visiting us here again?"

"Relax..." Jeff's smile broadened at his son's very different reaction to that shown two days ago. "Everything's fine between Cubby and me. We're good friends. We have a lot in common... Including losing the person who we believed was going to be our partner for life..." He tenderly touched his wife's face in the photograph. "You are a lucky man, Scott..."

"Huh?"

"And you were an even luckier boy."

Scott looked at Jeff in confusion. "I am... I mean, I was?"

"Yes. You had the opportunity to really get to know your mother. You had time to learn what a wonderful person she was. None of your brothers, probably not even John, had that opportunity."

"Uh, yeah," Scott said, nonplussed by what he was hearing. "I guess you're right."

"You can remember the way she talked... the way she laughed... the way she smelt... what her touch was like..."

Scott had a feeling that his memories were vastly different to his father's but made no comment.

"You can remember how much it hurt to lose her..."

Scott was on solid ground now. "Yes, I can."

"And you know that no one could ever replace her."

"Yes."

"That's one of the things that Cubby and I have in common. The way I feel about your mother, she feels about Tommy..." Jeff's eyes finally left the portrait and he peered over the tops of his spectacles at his eldest son. "It's one of the many reasons why we're friends. We understand each other. We loved someone who has gone from our lives and we could never replace that person and we don't want to. And if we ever decide to enter another relationship, it'll be with someone who understands that." He waited to see if he'd made his point.

He had. Scott hung his head. "I behaved like an idiot, didn't I? I'm sorry."

"So you should be. I brought you up to treat people better than that. You might be too big to put over my knee..." Jeff frowned as he tried to think of a suitable punishment, "but if I ever see you treat anyone in that way again, just remember that Alan would appreciate getting more action in your Thunderbird."

Scott paled slightly at the threat, having no doubts that his father would carry it through if pushed. "It won't happen again."

"Good."

"It, ah, it wasn't because of me that you...?"

"No, Scott. You weren't the problem."

Scott felt a sense of relief. "Will you be seeing Cubby again?"

"Yes."

"Soon?"

"I'm taking her to next month's business dinner in London."

"Will she be coming back here again?"

"Yes. Once Heather's had the baby." Jeff picked up a memory card off his desk. "Cubby's given me some photos from before she moved to England. I was going to put them into ‘the vault' this evening," he said, referring to the family's vast collection of photographs and movies held in the theatre's database. "But I wasn't around when a lot of them were taken, so, that's if you wouldn't mind, Scott, I'd appreciate your help in labelling them."

"There'll be photos of Ma?" Scott asked.

"I would think that most of them would have your mother in them," Jeff replied and felt a pang of guilt as he saw his son's face light up.

"Sure. I don't mind helping," Scott tried to sound casual. "It could be interesting."

Jeff indicated the door. "Are you heading into the kitchen?"

"I was planning to. I was going to get something to eat."

"Then, while you're pinching your grandmother's baking, see if you can liberate some for me. French food's okay, but it's not a patch on her cooking."

"Can I blame you if she catches me?"

"I shall deny all knowledge."

Scott grinned. "Do you want some coffee too?"

"Sounds good," Jeff sat back. "My body clock's out of sync and it might help me wake up." As Scott left the room Jeff had one last look at Lucille. Then he returned the photo to its place and picked up the first Tracy Industries folder.

He had work to do.

Once again Ursula White opened the small box that she held in her hands and gazed with wonder at the beauty of its contents.

This morning, after having spent a good ten minutes sobbing onto Heather's shoulder, she'd calmed down enough to tell her daughter about the fabulous day that she'd had with Jeff Tracy. Without going into too much detail about what their plans had originally been, she then talked about Saturday evening's revelations, finally displaying Tommy's brooch. Heather had gasped over its brilliance and their conversation had slipped into recollections of days gone by. The chat had carried on over lunch and well into the afternoon.

Ursula had welcomed the diversion from worrying about Jeff flying halfway around the world alone, and now that she knew that he'd arrived home safely and was in a more positive frame of mind, she felt that finally she could relax herself.

She took the brooch out of its box and held it up to the light, watching how the icy diamonds sparkled and gleamed. This was hers. This was a present from her Tommy.

This was her rebus -Ursus maritimus.

A polar bear.