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Zoe looked at her mum as she stood in their kitchen at home, holding back her laughter until tears streamed down her face and over the hand she had pressed over her mouth to smother the giggles that still escaped.
Esther was standing with her hands stuck over-dramatically in her pockets and a strange forward lean as she pointed with assertive jabs to various fridge magnets as if they were photos on the case board at the police station.
In the end, both of them were in stitches and were still laughing as they collapsed onto the sofa.
“Is he really like that?” Zoe asked her mum, in between giggles.
“Oh he really is. You’ll see once you meet him.” Esther replied, chuckling.
“Has he ever seen you do an impression of him?” Zoe questioned, trying to picture the scene.
“Yes.” Her mum admitted, grinning. “He said it was very good – well, Margo said it, but he agreed.”
“I bet Margo loved it.” Zoe laughed. “I’m surprised he did though, must have a good sense of humour. Not many blokes would like people doing impressions of them, especially when they are that hilarious.”
“Nah, he’s a good guy. Definitely got a sense of humour. And I wasn’t making fun of him, Zoe. Well, poking fun maybe – but it’s all light hearted, you understand?”
“I would never think you were bullying the man, mum.” Zoe rolled her eyes, which made her mum laugh again.
“Good.” Was the reply between chuckles. “Do you want to see me act out the part where he figured out that the Solo Mare was actually never stolen?” She offered, excitedly.
“Definitely.”
“Zoe, this is Inspector Goodman that I’ve been telling you about.” Esther introduced her daughter to the man.
“Hi.” Zoe greeted him, grumpy but polite all the same.
“Very pleased to meet you, Zoe.” He responded, equally politely – but with a lot more spirit.
“She’s not really an elf, it’s a costume.” Esther told the Inspector brightly. Zoe barely contained an eye roll.
“Excuse my mum, she thinks she’s funny.” Zoe deadpanned to him, pleased to see a small smile in return and pointedly ignoring her mum’s awkward little laugh.
She was about to bring up exactly how her mum shows her supposed comedic talents, specifically regarding the Inspector she just met, when one of the little kids that had been annoying her pulled a face at her.
“So do you need anything?” Esther asked.
“Yeah, this lot to stop pulling me about.” She grumbled.
Her mum offered one last quip, then thankfully left her alone with the imps.
Inspector Goodman followed her, but shot her a grin and a thumbs up ‘good luck’ as he went.
Zoe managed to catch him later, in the evening at the Christmas fair, as everyone in Shipton gathered to celebrate the season with a good jolly.
In between the singing and dancing, as she was grabbing another drink of warm (non-alcoholic!) mulled wine, she bumped – quite literally, nearly spilling the drink all over both of them – into her mum’s co-worker.
“Inspector Goodman! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.” She apologised quickly.
“Oh it was my fault, no worries! No harm done. And you should call me Humphrey.” He told her smiling.
Zoe suddenly noticed that he had his hands in his pockets – probably trying to escape the cold – in the exact same way that her mum always mimicked and she burst out laughing.
“Oh I’m sorry, that was rude. It’s just- You’re hands.” She fumbled, embarrassed but still laughing.
“My hands?” Humphrey looked down at himself with a confused frown. “What about them?”
“The way you have them in your pockets, it’s just like my mum did it.” Zoe explained, awkwardly.
“The way your mum did it?” He repeated, still confused. For a moment she was worried she had offended him, or gotten her mum in trouble, or simply would have to explain it to him again – then suddenly she saw a lightbulb go off in his head and he nodded, grinning widely. “Ah, she showed you an impression of me, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, a while back. She said you’d seen her do one too?” She added cautiously, still nervous she had caused offence.
“She did, and it was very entertaining – and apparently very accurate.” The Inspector laughed, gesturing to his pockets.
“It was.” Zoe agreed. “I recognised you from across the market earlier, just by how you were standing.”
“Impressive observation skills. You’d make a good detective.” Humphrey replied, finally receiving his own drink – plus another, presumably for Martha.
Zoe shrugged.
“Maybe. But don’t say that to my mum, she’d never let it go.” She assented, turning to leave.
“I promise I won’t.” He assured her, waving very carefully while holding a full cup of steaming liquid. Zoe privately thought it was a miracle that neither of them got splashed. A Christmas miracle, how fitting.