Thanks for all the kind comments about One Small Step and Poole's Last Case. This is a short sequel and absolutely the final part of the story. Warning: it contains a very large dollop of sentimentality!

Camille Poole heard the crunch of the gravel that indicated a car was on its way up the drive and peered out of the kitchen window, just as she did every day when Richard came home from work. She watched as he carefully parked the car, caught sight of her and gave her his usual wave. She blew him several airy kisses. She knew it would be a while before she actually got to see him in person as he was immediately engulfed by two shrieking children and an excited dog. The couple of hours until bedtime were 'daddy time' and she understood perfectly well that at this time of day she took second place as far as her children were concerned. She didn't mind at all: after all, she had them all day, and she was only too happy to let Richard take over for a while in the evening.

She watched with a smile hovering on her lips as he tossed them in the air and swung them round and round to an accompaniment of screams and squeals and peremptory demands of 'Me next!' or 'Higher, Daddy, higher!" She waited for the inevitable point when he was dragged to the big trampoline, pretending reluctance when she well knew he was as keen as they were. Richard was enjoying a second childhood, doing the sort of things with his own children that he himself had never done when young. She thought she would never get tired of the unlikely sight of the three of them bouncing up and down together hand in hand on the trampoline, Richard still in his work suit. Really, it was like having a third child, she thought indulgently.

It never ceased to surprise her how easily Richard had taken to fatherhood. When she had first told him she was pregnant, shortly after their arrival in England, his initial reaction had been one of shock. It had not exactly been planned; the start of their physical relationship back on Saint-Marie had been sudden and unexpected and she had not been on the pill at the time. She had waited nervously for the news to sink in, and had been hugely relieved to see the smile that had slowly spread across Richard's face.

He had been incredibly worried of course, convinced that he was too old and staid to start a family, and if she was honest she would admit to a few qualms herself. She knew his own childhood had been dismal and that he had no experience of babies or children at all. He was often awkward with people and she had sometimes secretly wondered how on earth he would cope with becoming a father at a fairly late stage in his life. She had never mentioned her doubts to him, of course, for the last thing she wanted was to hurt him or undermine his already rather fragile confidence. She had watched instead as he bought what seemed to be every book ever written about pregnancy, parenting and child development. She had wanted to tell him to trust to instinct, but the books seemed to give him some confidence about the leap into the great unknown that he was about to take, so she held her peace.

Then had come the bombshell of the first ultrasound scan: twins! Richard had practically gone into meltdown at that point. It had obviously been a shock to both of them, but they had gradually grown accustomed to the idea and – as Gordon had helpfully pointed out – at least they wouldn't have to go through another pregnancy to have a second child. Camille had been quite definite about not wanting to stop at one; she felt that if only Richard had had a brother or sister he would have had a much happier (or at least better adjusted) childhood. And there was no way that her son was being sent away to school! Camille was quite sure their first child would be a boy; Richard was equally convinced it would be a girl. In the event, both were proved right: Daniel and Sophie were born one bright spring day, and from the first moment he held them in his arms Richard was their devoted slave.

Camille continued mechanically to stir the dinner while her thoughts flew back. It was amazing how the time had raced past: five years since their wedding, five years of living in England. They had had their share of arguments, of course – mostly over Richard's tendency to be over-protective of the children – but her own nature was naturally sunny and Richard could never find it in him to be cross with her for long. It was a very good life, on the whole, she reckoned.

It didn't seem possible that the children were four now and would be starting primary school in less than a year. Time for a serious think about her own future. It was not that she wasn't perfectly happy with Richard and the children – she was. But once they were at school there would be nothing to keep her at home all day. She hadn't exactly been idle: once the twins had started attending nursery classes she had trained as a tour guide and from time to time took parties of French tourists or school children around Bath and the Cotswolds. She reckoned that she knew the area better than Richard did, and she certainly loved it more. She was also a member of the local Council and was very active in the community. She knew Richard was inordinately proud of her for leading a campaign to protest against the siting of a large supermarket close to the village. But she knew she was a police officer at heart, and her ambition was to re-train and then join the UK Police. Richard supported her completely in this and they were currently investigating the possibilities.

She looked out into the garden. They were playing 'tag' now, Richard getting increasingly out of breath as he chased first one twin then the other around the trees and bushes accompanied by a frenziedly barking dog. He finally caught Sophie and she squealed with laughter. Not for the first time, Camille reflected on how different the twins were from each other. They were not identical, of course – Richard would tell people they were dizygotic, which she usually had to explain meant that the twins had come from two eggs rather than one. They were completely different personalities and yet the bond between them, even at this young age, was uncanny; it was almost as if they thought and acted as one. She knew Richard was fascinated by the phenomenon too, and had done a great deal of research into the development and behaviour of twins. Although Sophie enjoyed playing as much as her brother, she was by far the more thoughtful and introverted of the two, always ready to curl up on her father's lap to read a book. She was in fact very much a daddy's girl although physically, with her tumbling dark curls and sparkling brown eyes, she rather resembled her mother. Daniel, on the other hand, was a little tearaway; the only time he would sit quietly was when Richard did simple experiments in the kitchen or the garden, which the little boy would watch with entranced wonder. Daniel had already announced that he was going to be a scientist when he grew up.

Camille opened the back door and called "Dinner's nearly ready". There was a stampede of tangled limbs and paws as the children ran to wash their hands and the dog flopped down in her basket. Richard finally appeared in the doorway. He looked whacked.

"They're getting too big for me" he said, puffing a little. "Either that or I'm just getting old." He stood behind her at the sink, slid his arms round her waist and kissed her ear. "Hello, Mrs Poole" he murmured. Camille lent her head back against him and smiled. He was much better at showing his feelings these days, but he would never be a demonstrative man. It didn't matter to her – she knew he loved her deeply and there was nothing he would not do for her or the children.

"Let's have an early night, once the children are in bed" she suggested. "A little 'us time' is long overdue!"

He agreed readily, wondering for the millionth time what had attracted her to him in the first place and how on earth he had managed to hold on to such a bewitching creature. He knew that five years had passed since he had first brought her home, but to him she seemed exactly the same– not a day older. Whereas he … He had never felt so young and alive as he did now, but couldn't deny the fact that in little more than a year he would be 50. He thought back to the day when, her hand firmly clasped in his, he had introduced her to his parents. Edwina, who was having one of her 'days', didn't appear to grasp what her son was saying. "Very nice, dear" was all he could get out of her. Gordon, on the other hand, had roared with laughter.

"You're a sly old fox, Richard. Never said a word. Well, I can honestly say that for the first time in my life you have really surprised me. And what a daughter-in-law you have given us – I never thought you had it in you, son. Well, well, well." And he roared with laughter again.

Gordon and Camille had taken to each other right from the start. He would never have predicted that. It was the garden that did it. One day, shortly after her arrival, she had watched Gordon directing the handyman from his wheelchair, and had asked if she could help. She had no real knowledge of gardening, and certainly none about gardening in the UK, but she was able to follow his instructions and together they had gradually brought the wilderness under control. One day, seeing how frustrated he was becoming at his inability to be 'hands on' in the garden, she had gently suggested that he might manage better if he used his prosthetic leg rather than the wheelchair. He had shot her a suspicious glance but had grudgingly agreed to try and little by little she had coaxed him out of his chair. It had taken time of course but eventually he had more or less abandoned the wheelchair and now clumped quite confidently around the house. It had made him a much easier person to live with, and Richard was eternally grateful to Camille for succeeding where he himself had so dismally failed.

Since the arrival of Camille Gordon's relationship with his son had improved dramatically. He was seriously impressed with Richard's ability to attract and hold on to a woman like Camille, though he never quite understood what she saw in him. He had said as much to her once and she had reacted fierily, berating him soundly for under-rating his son. "He's by far the cleverest man I've ever met, and he's funny and kind and caring and incredibly sweet. You just don't know him, Gordon – when was the last time you had a proper conversation with him? Yes, he can be awkward with people sometimes – but that's really your fault, well, yours and Edwina's. You sent him away to school when he was far too young and you just didn't give him enough attention and encouragement. You really should get to know your own son a bit better. All he's ever really wanted was your approval."

Her words had stung, and he had been angry at the time, but in the cold light of day he had been forced to acknowledge the justice of much of what Camille had said. So he had done his best, he had had long conversations with Richard and he had discovered depths in his own son that he had never realised were there. Shortly before the twins were born he had gone to Richard and said "I know your mother and I were terrible parents, Richard, and we should have given you much more attention. I'm really sorry but I can't do anything about that now. But I would like to be a better grandparent than I was a father, if you'll let me." Richard was of course only too happy to let him, and Gordon spent many happy hours helping with his grandchildren and entertaining them when Camille needed to slip away for a while.

Edwina had been a different matter. Camille was never entirely convinced that Richard's mother realised she had a daughter-in-law. Sometimes Edwina would sit and chat happily to her about the children, but at other times she would confuse Camille with one of the carers who came and went. Camille tried hard with Edwina but never really managed the close and easy relationship she achieved with Gordon. Perhaps, she told herself, it was to do with the fact that Edwina had sent Richard away to school when he was just seven. Since she had become a mother herself she simply could not conceive how Edwina could have brought herself to do that, and it had remained something of a barrier between them.

Strangely, the person who got on best with Edwina was Catherine, on her annual visits. Catherine felt very sorry for her and would spend hours sitting with her chatting about nothing in particular. "Poor lady" she would say "she really doesn't know who anyone is, half the time. It's very sad." She got on well with Gordon too, and they would often sit out in the garden in the evening sharing a drink. Catherine came every year in the summer for about a month, allowing Richard to take Camille away for a few days while she looked after the children. She had waited a long time for grandchildren and had almost given up hope, when Camille had suddenly and quite unexpectedly married Richard. Despite their past uneasy relationship Catherine and Richard were long since reconciled. She had seen very quickly how happy her daughter was in her marriage and though she never entirely understood the attraction she realised that it was genuine and accepted it as such. She still enjoyed teasing and embarrassing her son-in-law from time to time and insisted on greeting him with effusive kisses whenever they met, which he had no choice but to tolerate. She doted on the twins, spent hours chatting to them on Skype and was only too pleased to have them to herself in their parents' absence during her visits to the UK. In return Daniel and Sophie adored their mamie and continually begged her for stories about the pirates of Saint-Marie or the childhood of maman.

Richard had taken great pleasure in showing his wife parts of the country of which she had no knowledge. She had of course insisted first on being taken to London and Croydon to see where he had worked and lived and to meet (and amaze) those of his ex-colleagues who were still there. But thereafter she had fallen in love with Cornwall, the Lake District and Scotland in quick succession and was forced to tell her mother that – in the sunshine at least – England was just as beautiful as Saint-Marie albeit in a quite different way. She only wished the sun would shine a little more often!

She loved the changing seasons: the bright greens of the spring and the yellow of the daffodils, the lushness of the summer and the warm colours of the autumn. She loved the bright, cold and frosty days of winter too, provided she was wrapped in a several layers of warm clothing, but found the continual greyness, cold and drizzle very depressing. So in the middle of every winter Gordon and Edwina retired to a care home for a couple of weeks while Richard took Camille and the children back to Saint-Marie for a visit.

It was wonderful to catch up with their friends and discover what had changed in their absence (though Catherine kept them reasonably well informed). Fidel and Juliet had had another baby – a little boy this time. Jackson had married a local girl and Dwayne now found himself a delighted if somewhat bemused grandfather. He was counting the days until Dwayne Junior was old enough to be taught to climb trees, reckoning that Jackson, coming as he did from South London, would not have the necessary skills and experience. Jackson had now more or less taken over the running of La Kaz, though Catherine still held the reins. She was gradually easing into retirement and it would not be long before she sold the whole business to him. Humphrey Goodman had stayed on the island for about three years, until he got itchy feet again and had moved on, to be replaced by a rather dull and dour Scot, who was serving out the days prior to his retirement and had little real interest in the job. Fidel reported that the team's success rate had dropped considerably since DI Rennie's arrival.

Then, just over a year ago, Edwina had suffered another, massive, stroke which this time she had not survived. Gordon and Richard had been sad, of course, but both knew that they had not been living with the real Edwina for the last five years and both felt that perhaps it was for the best, as she had become increasingly confused of late - in fact the doctor had long suspected the onset of dementia. Not having been particularly close to her, Camille had been surprised to find how much she missed her mother-in-law and had felt a wave of homesickness for the presence of Catherine.

After dinner, while Richard supervised the children's nightly bath, Camille loaded the dishwasher and fed the dog. Erzulie had been her present to Richard a couple of birthdays ago – as close as she could get to the one old photograph of his grandmother's dog that he possessed. She had threatened him with instant divorce if she caught him talking to the dog instead of to her but she need not have worried - Erzulie had been a big hit with all the family and adored them all, but it was at Richard's feet that she liked to curl up in the evenings.

The splashing sounds from the bathroom ceased, so she assumed that the children were now in bed. She crept quietly up the stairs and hovered outside their bedroom door. Richard was sitting in his usual chair, Erzulie at his feet, occasionally thumping her tail in appreciation of his tickling of her ears. Camille loved to listen as he read the children a bedtime story. If he thought she wasn't there he lost all his self-consciousness and made the stories really entertaining, doing all the funny voices and holding the children spellbound. He really was remarkably good at it.

Richard reached the end of the story, firmly resisting all entreaties for another one, and she went in to kiss the children goodnight.

"Bonne nuit, mes petits"

"Bonne nuit, maman" they chorused. "Bonne nuit, Erzulie. Et bonne nuit, papa". Daniel giggled. "Sorry, good night, daddy!"

"Dormez bien, mes enfants!" Richard liked to surprise them sometimes with a bit of French that he had picked up whilst listening to Camille. They had agreed that the children would grow up bilingual, as it would be such an advantage for them. Indeed, they had purposefully chosen bilingual names for them so they would be at ease in both cultures. When Camille was on her own with the children, she spoke to them in French, but when Richard was around the household reverted to English. It worked perfectly and the twins were totally at home in both languages.

They switched out the lights and closed the door softly. "Now it's our bedtime!" murmured Camille, lifting her face to be kissed. And taking his hand she led the way to their room.

Richard lay, relaxed and content, his hand still caressing the satiny dark skin of Camille's hip. It didn't matter how many times they had made love, he was always left with a sense of wonder at the riches the gods had seen fit to pour into his lap. Love had come late to Richard Poole, but he was making the most of his own personal miracle. To his great surprise, he – or more accurately Camille – had discovered in himself a sensuality that he had had no idea he possessed. For years he had never even dreamed of having a family of his own, so he knew he was a very fortunate man. No matter how dreary the day, his heart never failed to lift when he saw Camille at the window and the twins running to meet him on his return from work.

Camille sighed and shifted, as his hand began to travel along her body. She stretched like a cat then snuggled back into him, waves of pleasure starting to wash over her again. Then the bedroom door slowly opened and a tearful, blotchy face peered round it.

Camille sat up quickly. "What is it, my darling?" she called. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Sophie's face puckered and she began to sob. "The monster came for me. He's hiding under my bed." She climbed quickly up onto the bed and crawled over to Richard. "Make him go away, daddy!"

"Hush, sweetheart, daddy will send the monster away. Come and snuggle down with me." Richard put his arms round the little girl and cuddled her to his chest.

"You're all hairy, daddy, it tickles! Why aren't you wearing your pajamas?"

Richard rolled his eyes in anguish at Camille, who came instantly to the rescue.

"You see, darling, daddy was feeling very hot, so he took his pajamas off." Sophie took a breath and opened her mouth, so Camille added quickly "and I was feeling hot as well, so I took my nightdress off."

"I'm feeling hot too, I think I'll take my pajamas off" said Sophie, now happily distracted from the monster under her bed. She stripped off, snuggled down between her parents and was soon fast asleep again.

They let her sleep for a while, then Richard slid out of bed, carefully lifted his daughter and carried her gently back to the room she shared with her brother. Daniel stirred briefly and drowsily asked his father if it was time to get up yet. Richard stayed long enough to make sure both children were soundly asleep then crept quietly back to the bedroom.

"Now" he said, climbing back into bed and embracing his wife, "where were we?"

Some time later they finally rolled apart, more than a little breathless and lay panting gently.

Suddenly the warm after-glow was interrupted by the insistent shrilling of Richard's phone. He groaned and threw out a hand to reach for it. Camille shrugged and turned her shoulder.

"Oh, hello, Sir. No, no, not at all, we weren't asleep." He put his hand over Camille's mouth to muffle her giggles. "What can I do for you?"

He listened for some time, interjecting occasionally with "Yes, I see" or "Oh really?" Camille was bored. It was only when she heard her own name mentioned that she suddenly took an interest in the mysterious phone call.

"But what about Camille?" Richard was asking. "She was planning to join the UK Police as soon as the children are at school." Camille climbed over him and tried to press her ear to the phone. Richard held her off with one hand. "Well, that would be great, of course, but wouldn't it be a little … um … incestuous?"

Camille hit him with a pillow. He fended her off with difficulty. "Well, yes, I'm sure we could, Sir. Though I'll need to discuss it with Camille and my father of course. But thank you for thinking of me, Sir, I appreciate it. Good-bye."

With a deft move she pinned him to the bed and demanded to know what was going on.

"That was Commissioner Patterson", he began. "He rang to tell me that Inspector Rennie is finally retiring at Christmas and he's asked me to go back to Saint-Marie and take charge again. He seems to think I could improve the case clear-up rate. I asked about you and he said the Governor's niece – you know, the one who replaced you when you came to England - has just announced that she is pregnant and will be leaving the force. So you could go back to your old job too. Fidel is still there of course and Dwayne, although he's only working part-time now, and there's another new young officer who has just been appointed."

Camille drew a breath but he stopped her. "There's more. The Commissioner said he himself would be retiring in a couple of years' time, and he would be happy to recommend me as his successor in due course. Then you could study for your Inspector's exams and take over from me as police chief – which was always your ambition, if I remember rightly."

It was a lot to take in. Camille pondered for a minute or two, then spoke.

"We have a good life here."

"Yes"

"We have a nice house, and the children are happy."

"Yes"

"Saint-Marie is extremely hot."

"Yes"

"It is also full of sand, snakes and creepy crawlies."

"Yes"

"If you became Commissioner you would have to attend lots of social events and learn to butter people up."

"Yes"

"Wouldn't it be against the rules for us to work together now that we're married?"

"The Commissioner didn't seem worried if we thought we could manage it."

"You want to go back, don't you?" She tried to keep the excitement from her voice.

"Don't you see, Camille, it's an opportunity for us both. I've always felt bad about taking you away from a job you loved and …"

She interrupted him. "Richard, I would have stopped working while the children were small even if we had stayed on Saint-Marie. I want them to be brought up by me, not my mother! So there's no need to feel guilty. Don't think that you need to go back because of me."

"It's not just that. I want to be part of the team again. It was the first time I ever felt I really belonged somewhere, the first time I felt really happy. Do you remember the Commissioner saying at our wedding how important it was to know where you belong? I thought I belonged in England, and to some extent I do, but I also belong in Saint-Marie. I want the children to belong in both places too. This is a very white and middle-class area – only the other day Daniel asked me why none of the other children around here have dark skin. I want them to know and love England but although everyone here is very nice and I know you've never had a problem, I think while they are growing up Saint-Marie will be a better place for them. When they're old enough to go to university, they can choose for themselves. Dad could come with us too, and Erzulie. What do you think?"

"I think if he comes to Saint-Marie with us your father and my mother may well end up making a match of it! You must have seen how well they get on whenever she is here!"

"Camille, how can you even think of such a thing?" spluttered Richard, cringing at the very thought. "It's positively indecent!"

"Why do the English get so embarrassed at the thought of their parents having sex? It's only natural! You do it – so why shouldn't they?"

"We are not going to even consider it, let alone talk about it!" he said firmly. "But I want to know what you think about the Commissioner's invitation. Don't you want to go back, Camille?"

"Yes, of course I do, but I want you to make the decision for the right reasons, and I think you have." She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Are you quite sure about this?"

"Quite sure." He buried his face in her hair. "We're going home."

A little over three months later the entire Poole family stood in the arrivals lounge of Saint-Marie airport surrounded by numerous pieces of luggage and excess baggage, every one of which – despite Richard's gloomy prophesy – had been disgorged safely from the carousel. Richard had been convinced when they parted with Erzulie at Heathrow that they would never see the dog again and had spent the whole flight worrying about her, but here she was, wagging her tail and ecstatic to see them all again after the long flight in her crate. And here also to welcome them back amid many hugs and kisses were Catherine, Dwayne and Fidel.

They set off for the apartment they had rented while the new house they were having built was finished. A welcome party had been organised for them in the evening but in the meantime, leaving the children with Gordon and Catherine, Richard and Camille strolled along the beach to see how the new house was progressing. Erzulie, delighted to be back out in the open air, frolicked around them, dashing in and out of the water and trying to catch the waves in her mouth. They reached the spot where the shack had once stood. Several years previously it had finally been flattened by a hurricane. Fortunately it had been empty at the time. Now Richard had bought the land and a new, sturdier and much larger building was rising on the beach. It would not be long before it was finished and they could move into what the locals were already calling Maison Poole.

Richard spotted a couple of lizards playing in the sun. He wondered idly if they were descendants of Harry, now long dead. It didn't matter – he didn't need a lizard any more. He was pleased with the new house (fully air-conditioned of course). Gordon, who was keen to try his hand at creating a tropical garden, had decided not to sell their home in the Cotswolds but to let out the bottom floor, leaving the top floor for them to use on the visits back to the UK that they intended to make, so Richard had decided to use the proceeds from the sale of his house in Croydon to fund the new venture. It was an arrangement that suited everyone, and from the looks of it, the new house was very nearly finished.

Hand in hand, Richard and Camille strolled back to the town, where they parted – she to supervise the unpacking of their things and he to check in at the station. He stood at the foot of the steps that he had never expected to climb again, then slowly made his way up and through the door. He stepped back into the room where he had spent so much time, and solved so many cases. It was empty at the moment, so he wandered around touching all the familiar objects: the fridge, the coffee machine, the whiteboard. Finally he reached his own desk, polished and empty. He slid his hand over the chair. It was the same one he had used all those years ago. He sat down and leant back, staring upwards. The ceiling fan was not working again.

Richard Poole sighed contentedly. He was home.