Idea/story fragment/script/something

Working Title ‘Loyalty’

Set in canon Post-war Foyle when he’s with MI-5 pre-'Sunflower’. 'Lumpy’ has previously been designated as a code name for hunting out an apparent mole in the Government. [Warning; Long script below the cut]

There’s a knock on Foyle’s door and Valentine comes in carrying a grey file, pushes the door closed quickly.

Foyle (both annoyed and dryly amused:To what do I owe this pleasure?

Valentine gives a thin smile and sits himself down on a chair at the corner of the desk.

Valentine: Well.. to put no finer point on it. You’re obscure enough we can be certain there are no other ears (he glances around as he says this) attending this.

Foyle gives one of his looks, he’s not sure whether to be proud or insulted by being called obscure.The handle on the door rattles and Hilda enters,firmly shuts the door, gives each of them a quick nod. Then her attention snaps to Valentine

Hilda: “Lumpy?”

Valentine nods, opens his folder on his lap, then pauses and gestures for Hilda to sit down. She does, without removing her eyes from Valentine, frown getting deeper.

Valentine: (sighs) There is a Russian mole

{He looks at his papers, then back up again, looks at both of them at once. Foyle has leant forwards on his desk - intent]

Valentine (heavily): It’s Adam Wainwright. MP for Peckham.

[Beat of silence- three shots of each of them looking individually aghast and resigned. Hilda closes her eyes for a moment, Foyle rubs his forehead - looking pained. Then there’s a moment of shared looks, each asking the same question

Hilda (sitting up straight -all business): Assuming she doesn’t already know (She holds up a hand to forstall Foyle as he goes to speak)- WE have to consider all evantualities Foyle.- I will tell Mrs Wainwright. (bitter, pained sigh) I just hope this hasn’t come too late.

[She stands up abruptly, nods to Valentine, looks at Foyle with a sad expression - then turns away and strides out. Foyle gives a heavy sigh. Valentine looks sad, not at all his usual sardonic self- as if he wants to offer comfort, but clearly hasn’t a clue how.]

Foyle:[Speaking to himself, self-abusing] I should have stopped her- rushing into a marriage like that when she’d only known him three months. (shakes his head) I should have offered her a way out when I got back and she was a shadow. [He puts his head in his raised hands]. Oh Sam.

Valentine nods in sad recognition, reaches out over the desk to touch Foyle’s shoulder for a moment.Then takes it away.

Valentine: (kindly) We’ll all have to act normally, completely normally. We musn’t let on. Can you?

Foyle lifts his head, his eyes slowly morphing from bleakness to fury.

Foyle:Samantha Stewart was at my side through five years of war. She was one of My Men. I got her into this position - I’m getting her out.- I owe her no less.

Valentine nods, that of one officer to another.