#foyle friday

[bkwormkate]

Foyle’s War   S01E02 - The White Feather by Anthony Horowitz

Celebrating twenty years of Foyle’s War 🍾

[kivrin]

two Foyle-family-watches-Royal-family headcanons

Someone on the staff in the Hastings public library pins up a picture from the Illustrated London News until a portrait of the new queen is available. Waiting to return his books, Christopher Foyle looks at it and thinks she’s not even as old as Sam.

The opening hymn in Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral is the one that made Sam fall apart after the crisis has passed in Burn Brighter Through the Cold and I imagine her daughter Miranda, in her seventies now, watching the funeral and saying “mum and dad always went a bit soppy over this one; I wish I’d asked why.”

[oldshrewsburyian]

Fluff prompt: Sam, Andrew, and No-Longer-So-Little Christopher Wainwright on holiday.

Thank you for this lovely prompt! Have 500 words of shameless fluff.

*

Sam Wainwright Foyle (née Stewart) reflects, as she walks up Arthur’s Seat, that she has become a rather absurdly hyphenated person. She smiles at the thought. She thinks of voicing it to Andrew, and decides against it, in case he might worry that his surname was one too many. She squeezes his arm instead, and is rewarded by his return of the pressure. Her son, meanwhile, is scampering ahead of them and intermittently loping back, with adolescent politeness, to ascertain the degree of their progress. Sam sighs slightly, and does not say aloud that he might twist his ankle. She turns her mind to other things.

Tea. Tea, now, would be lovely. Edinburgh she loved, as Andrew had predicted she would: she loved its closes and its cobblestones, its cathedral, which almost seemed to sit like a cat in its square. But the same bridges and hills which added so much to the city’s picturesqueness also added to one’s fatigue. And the pleasant woman who had let them rooms was sure to have a good tea: plenty of strong Indian, and scones and oatcakes, and homemade jam, and sandwiches without a pretense to excessive delicacy.

“Thinking of your next meal?” asks her husband’s warm voice.

“Andrew!” She is half-indignant at this reading of her thoughts. “However did you know?”

His mouth quirks. “It’s your expression: there’s a dreamy, faraway look you get. Absolutely rapt. Not another man: scones.”

“Andrew!” She shoves at his shoulder. “That’s a dreadful thing to say.” But there is laughter in her voice, and in her face as she looks up at him. And his expression stops, briefly, both her laughter and her breath. Sam looks away, and leans a little into his side. It is a little frightening, she thinks, to be loved so much. Perhaps all holy things, she thinks, are a little bit frightening.

“Sam?” says Andrew. “What is it? I don’t mind, you know, I was only…”

“I know,” says Sam quickly. “I know, darling.” It still feels unfamiliar, almost unnatural, to take such endearments on her lips. She had never, somehow, gotten into the habit of using them during the War — neither of them had — and then they had belonged to Adam. Sam tells herself firmly not to persuade herself out of her own happiness.

“You’re miles away,” says Andrew.

“No I’m not,” returns Sam stoutly. “I’m right here. With you. Witness: my calves and approximately an inch of mud on my shoes.” She stops, forcing him to do so. She raises a hand to his lapel. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be, Andrew.”

He gives a small, shaken smile; his eyes are very grave. And he raises one hand to her chin, and kisses her. Sam is pleasurably, distinctly conscious of his fingertips — warm, calloused — against the line of her jaw, of his mouth on hers, of the familiar scent of him.

“Mum!” calls Christopher, mercifully distant, “we’re almost at the top!”

Andrew gets his breath first. “Coming!” he says.

[britishdetectives]

Foyle’s War: The German Woman (2002)

“It will depend on who wins I suppose.”

[flybybee]

High Castle

Sam wants to be useful and Foyle, of course, is not sure about her going into Del Mar’s home to do the work.  For good reason, it turns out.

[vagabondtrousers]

That Razor-Sharp Tongue

For sure, Milner has had it coming for awhile, and Foyle is obviously angry. Probably hurt, too.

So, once again our hero climbs up onto his high-horse to put Milner in his place. Then he slaps on his trilby and rides off into the seaside sunset.

But sometimes self-righteousness looks pretty good on him, don’t you think? 😉

(Note: All of the gifs in this post were made at the same time, using the exact same filter settings. The scene must’ve been filmed in several takes because the light changes pretty dramatically. You can really see the difference in the lighting in gifs 4, 5, 6, and 7 😒)

[bkwormkate]

Foyle’s War  S01E01 - The German Woman by Anthony Horowitz 

Celebrating twenty years of Foyle’s War 🍾

[bkwormkate]

Foyle’s War S01E03 - A Lesson in Murder by Anthony Horowitz

Celebrating twenty years of Foyle’s War 🍾