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Title: Broadchuch: Sins Of The Father

Date of commencement: September 22 2013

Date of completion: December 24 2014

Series: Broadchurch, a sequel to the original, and following on from Life Without Joe

Rating: M

Authors: tkel_paris and tardis_mole

Summary: Two years after Danny's death, life is slowly getting back to normal in Broadchurch. But Hardy's happy life is about to be turned upside down by a spectre from the past he had hoped had been laid to rest. Someone from his past wants to talk to him, someone wants revenge, someone wants to see him ruined. But it's not one 'someone'. But first, he must face the girl in his garden.

Disclaimer: We own nothing, but this is based on Broachurch by Chris Chibnal, with added clues from the novel by Erin Kelly. We gain no financial benefit nor gratuities, only the enjoyment from writing and working together on this epic journey, shared for the enjoyment of others.

Dedication: Chris Chibnal, long time friend. bas_math_girl, for her beta. And each other for hopefully not ruining each other's lives for too long during the writing part.

Warning: If you have not watched Broadchurch in its entirety, do not read this. We mean it. You will be spoiled. Stop and go back. Now. Ideally you have seen the entire show, not just what was aired on BBC America if you live on that side of the pond, but this is understandable in either case. Also, if you have not read tardis_mole's Life Without Joe, that's okay. It's possible to read this without reading that, if you're not on Moley's approved list. You'll probably find this makes a little more sense if you have read it, but you should be fine without it. Take the time to read Erin Kelly’s novelization, if you can, as it provided certain details that helped with writing this. Though you won’t need to rely on it.

Authors' Notes: See Episode One, Part One. They're a bit long to include in each post.



Episode Four, Part Seven: Gone

The day was hot and the family had finally hit the beach together. Well, a little one set up in the children’s hospital garden. They had a swing and a sea-saw and a little paddling pool, and a small pretend beach in a box. The kids loved it. It gave a bit of ‘at the beach and not in hospital’ feel to desperate ill and long term patients, with the added benefit of being close to a doctor if needed. A nurse was at her station, just in side the door and a nursery nurse was busy looking after all the needs of the three children in the play area.

Kneeling on the rubber surface that surrounded the ‘beach’, Daisy busied herself with making sure Ben was covered in sun lotion from head to toe. He had only been allowed out an hour before and his mum had wanted him to make the most of it. He had to go back to bed again later and be hooked up to his monitors again, just in case.

Daisy had him sitting on her lap the whole time. She ignored Bruce’s complaints. She had a ray of hope in her heart that even her bully of a step-dad couldn’t shake. She had barely been in Broadchurch for five minutes and she had already made a friend. And she knew her other friends would come soon. She was sure of it. Chloe had kept her word so far.

And maybe they had the wrong girl and it wasn’t Louise at all? Even the police made mistakes, didn’t they? Maybe Louise’s flight had been delayed or something? She heard it happened a lot, so she wasn’t too worried.

Although there was a nagging fear. What if Hailey had already arrived and was lying dead somewhere and the public didn’t know about it yet? What if her mum or Bruce found out what she and her new friend had been doing? What if they found out she had made contact with her dad? She had to go on pretending that nothing was wrong, just for a little longer. She knew she could see her dad, if she tried hard enough. He was here somewhere.

On the other hand, if he was here, why did her mum decide to come here for a holiday? If she hated him that much why did she come here? Her mum didn’t know she knew. She had kept every newspaper cutting, had even asked about the affair everyone was talking about. Her mum had slapped her; the first time she had slapped her since she was four years old. And she hadn’t apologised either. She’d just told her never to mention her dad again. He’d had an affair, he’d left them, he’d done this, he’d done that and they had to make the best of what was left and carry on.

Daisy didn’t believe any of it, not any more, but she couldn’t stand up against her mum. Bruce would hit her. She was pretty sure he hit Ben, even though Ben said nothing. As far as her little brother was concerned he was clumsy, but Daisy wondered if he had picked that word up from someone else. Godfrey had warned her, or threatened more accurately.

Suddenly she clenched.

“You all right, Daisy?” Tess asked.

“It’s that pain again,” Daisy admitted.

“Oh for god’s sake. What did you eat this time?” Bruce grumbled.

“Bruce, give it a rest,” Tess retorted.

“Take her side,” Bruce shot back. “She’s a hypochondriac. You’re too stupid to notice.”

“I am not stupid,” Tess countered angrily. “I was there when they diagnosed her.”

“Stop arguing, for once,” Daisy put in. “Ben’s got to go back in an hour.”

Ben was dosing fitfully in her lap while she buried his feet in the play sand. His eyes opened a little and he smiled. “It tickles,” he said.

“You all right, little soldier?”

Ben smiled. His sister always called him that. “No, I’m a policeman, like my daddy.”

“Ben, that’s enough,” Tess snapped. “Your dad’s not a policeman. He’s a lab technician. Honestly, Daisy. Stop filling Ben’s head with rubbish.”

“Don’t look at me!” Daisy replied. Her face crumpled into a grimace. “I need my tablets,” she added.

Tess looked in her bag. “I’ve left them in the hotel room,” she said.

“I’ll go back for them,” Daisy said. “I’m going to have a lie down when I get there.”

“Do you even know how to get there?” Bruce put in suspiciously.

“I have Google maps on my phone,” Daisy answered, looking at her mum hopefully. “Mum?”

Tess sighed. “All right, fine.” She dug deep into her bag and brought out the hardly used iphone her dad had bought for her some years before. It was getting old, but looked like it had just come out of the factory. She helped lift Ben into her own lap and watch her daughter get to her feet. “Text me to let me know you’ve got there safely.”

“Will do, but honestly, Mum, with the police all over every street do you really think the murderer will try anything?” Daisy said.

“Who knows?” Tess said, genuinely worried. “They say he attacked in broad daylight. Just get there safely. The key’s at the front desk.”


Bruce watched her go with a scowl. Things were not going well. And with her out of his sight he couldn’t control what she was up to. He turned to his 'wife', or as close to wife as she’d let him. “Coffee?”

“Oh, thanks Bruce. You’re a love. I’m beginning to wilt.”

Bruce pulled back his mouth into a smile. It looked odd on his face. “Been a long night,” he said. “Be right back.”

It was drawing towards teatime and the nursery nurse was beginning to pack things away. The other children were being taken inside. Tess lifted her practically lifeless son inside and laid him on is bed. Two nurses descended at once to reattach him to the monitors. Ben had loved the little play area, but the exertion had tired him out. It would be a long time before he could do that again.


Daisy walked out of the hospital and followed the directions on her phone. She walked with confidence. The map was easy to read, and if she was honest, she had already memorised the route. It wasn’t that hard. Broadchurch was a tiny place. She bet you could walk from one side to the other in less than half an hour, probably a bit more if you went through the houses.

She walked beyond the gates of the main entrance, slipping the phone into her pocket. She knew the route. She had memorised every road and street. They laughingly called this place a town, but it was so small they should have called it a village. Daisy thought so anyway.

She put a hand on the railing as the pain in her belly increased. She quieted a moan and hefted her bag nonchalantly on her shoulder. It was worse this time. She wondered if that was because she had come on unexpectedly at the same time. She’d have to get some more pads on the way back to the hotel. Just in case.

She didn’t notice the man standing the deepening shadows watching her. She was oblivious to many other things as she walked towards the centre of the town.


In the housing estate, Paul stood on the doorstep of a house he had begun to call his own. Though he wasn’t liking it at all. He would prefer for her to move in with him in the vicarage.

“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” he was worried.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “These things take hours.”

“Well, call me if those twinges get stronger.”

“What and have your phone go off in the middle of Corporate Mass?”

Paul was on edge, but she had a point. It wouldn’t have looked good. His girlfriend had been in labour all afternoon, though she had been downplaying it a lot. She barely even seemed to notice it, while he had a panic attack every time her abdomen tightened. He was a nervous wreck. How could he possibly hold a church service like this? “It’s called communion,” he corrected gently. “Besides, it’s time everyone knew about us. Including your mum and dad. And I don’t care about the age gap. I love you.”

“Soppy thing,” she threw at him. “Get going. The sooner you get there the sooner you get finished.”

Paul gave her one last kiss and hurried away, trying to find ways to cut corners in the communion service. There weren’t many that he could think of. He was just glad there were no hymns or interrupting children. Unless his decided to interrupt at the worst possible moment.

Behind him, still lingering in the doorway, Natalie grimaced into the pain. She gave a gentle blown breath into the gathering evening air and turned to go inside. She had plenty of time. Of course she did. And Paul would be back later. She took a look in the fridge and realised she was out of milk and had nothing in for dinner. Paul was always hungry after communion.

“Oh great,” she muttered to herself.

Closing the fridge she grabbed her purse and made her way into the warm early evening sun. It would hug the rooftops for some time yet before it began to sink. Time enough to get to the shop and back before he came home. She’d go to the garage instead and save even more time.


Chloe strapped the helmet on to her head and cocked her leg over the motorbike seat. Usually she held the pillion bar behind her, but before she did, she hugged the man in front. Dean was a competent rider. He could tell when a car wasn’t going to stop. He never drove too fast and he always had his eye out for little-ies, as he called them. She was confident that one day she’d marry him and have ‘little-ies’ of her own.

She had sneaked out the back door this time, since her dad was standing guard over the front one like he was chicken with a nest or something. It was ridiculous. She didn’t doubt for a minute that they would catch the killer. Just like last time. She wasn’t going to live her life in fear, anyway. What kind of life was that?

Besides, across the road was a police car. And as Dean rode around the corner, there was another one. She wondered if Hardy was not taking any chances with his messages. At practically every junction there was another car. Like they were standing guard, or giving them a police escort without actually moving.

She wondered what everyone else was thinking, if they saw. Did they think the police presence was there to watch for the killer? Did they feel as calm and safe as she felt? She hoped so. Barely anyone was out, though. A few tourists and visitors from out of town.

And this time there had been little news coverage. The police had issued statements, but had not released any names or locations. But the tent still stood in the car park of the hotel, she noticed as they pulled in. She hopped off and took off her helmet, holding it in one hand as Dean followed her inside. He was her personal bodyguard. The thought made her even more comforted. No one was going to get passed Dean.

She found Becca standing at the desk, wiping it down with a duster and a tin of beeswax polish. The smell was really heady and old, like grandparents; reliable and traditional. She liked it better than the horrible sprays her mum used. She looked up and smiled. And she had been handed a very important task. She had to be responsible and not let anyone down.

“Hello, Chloe,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi, I’ve come to see my friend, Daisy. Is she in? Room number 14.”

Becca glanced at the keys and saw 14 still hanging there. She felt a flicker of worry about the little boy in that family. She hoped he was all right, but there had been no word since her hotel had been invaded by paramedics and Chloe’s dad playing the hero. She kept certain thoughts to herself on that matter. “Sorry, Chloe. They’re probably still at the hospital.”

Chloe’s face fell. “Hospital? What are they doing at the hospital?”

“The little boy was taken ill. Bad heart, I think. Didn’t your dad tell you?”

“Yeah, I know about that, but Daisy sent me a text forty minutes ago. She said she was coming back from the hospital.”

Becca stared back at her. And suddenly they both turned cold. If Daisy had already left the hospital and she hadn’t turned up by now... where was she?


The garage shop was brightly lit at this time of night, even as the sun set beyond the far side of the harbour, beyond the ridge of the cliffs to the west.

Jammas Katrakis liked his job. It got him out of the house while his old man snored the place to a crumbling ruin. He got on well with his dad, but his snoring was a nightmare you couldn’t to sleep to escape from. He’d bought plenty of gadgets to ‘help’ but nothing had. So he was on the waiting list for an operation.

Until then, Jammas worked the night shift at the 24/7 garage. He was safe in here, The owners had build a bullet proof, shatter proof glass box for him to sit in, just in case idiots decided to try and rob the place. Jamma thought that was stupid. This was Broadchurch, after all. You didn’t get armed robbers here.

At least, that’s what they used to think. Before Danny died, no one thought murder was possible here, either. And now they were in to another summer of discontent.

He glanced up from his DVD playing on the small portable, hearing the door buzzer go off. There were no cars on the forecourt, so it had to be a walk-in customer. He liked those better than the motorists. At least they didn’t drive off without paying. He’d had a couple of those. Luckily the owners had a camera which took pictures as well as video images. That way they could trace the non-payer.

There was a young girl in the shop. She was looking through the selection of feminine hygiene products. He saw her pick up maternity pads and then change her mind and go for the regular pads. Jamma ducked his eyes away, embarrassed. She looked pretty though. She was about eighteen, which meant she was old enough for him to appreciate and chat up without getting into trouble. At least he hoped she was over eighteen. She looked exhausted. That could put years on you, his old mum used to say.

His old mum. It had been five years since she’d died and yet it still felt like yesterday sometimes. He was glad for the distraction of customers, who seemed by some unknown ability that they shared, knew just the right moment to interrupt his grief before it got too deep.

“Hello, Jammas,” a voice interrupted.

Jammas smiled. Right on time. “Hello, Natalie.” Here was one girl Jammas had fancied at school. Two years his junior and the prettiest thing this side of the Cheddar Gorge. He’d told her once, and she hadn’t spoken to him for six months. Out of embarrassment. “Still not had the baby yet?”

“Not yet,” Natalie replied, placing a selection of salad vegetables, two quarters of cooked chicken, a tub of pre-packed buttered boiled potatoes and a carton of milk on the counter. “Been having twinges, so it might not be long.”

Jammas blanched. “Don’t pop it out in here, though, will you? Coz I just washed the floor.”

Natalie laughed. “Don’t be so daft, Jammas. Takes a bit more effort than shelling peas.”

Jammas grinned uncomfortably. “Even so, get home safe. £18.57 pence, please.”

Natalie handed him a twenty pound note and moaned softly. She blew out her cheeks and grinned at him. “Won’t be long I don’t think,” she said.

Jammas practically threw up in terror. “Er... do you want me to walk you home?”

“No. I’m fine. I’m only round the back of you.”

Jammas was unsure if he should be relieved or not. “Well, if you’re sure. Just tell that fellow of yours to get his finger out and get home from work, eh?”

“I will do. He finishes at 7:30. So he won’t be long. See you.”

“Bye, Natalie.” Jammas glanced around the shop and couldn’t see the other girl. He glanced at the CCTV and the found the place deserted. Odd. He hadn’t heard the bell go. Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard her come in, either. He shrugged. Perhaps he had imagined her. Except that the shelf of feminine products was empty. Or had Natalie taken them? She had only seen one of her hands. He sank into his shoes. What did they tell him on the first day of his job? Always keep an eye on the customer’s hands.

Oh great, he had been shoplifted. What was he going to tell his boss? Maybe he could nip around to Natalie’s in the morning and ask her for the pads back, so he wouldn’t get into trouble. On seconds thoughts, she would be mortified.

He and many others joked about her boyfriend, but no one knew who it was. He, like many of their mutual friends, were beginning to wonder if he had got her pregnant and done a runner. She had never mentioned the man’s name. No one had seen her with anyone except neighbours and mutual friends.

Jammas began to feel sorry for her. Money must be a bit tight. Perhaps she needed some things for her hospital bag and couldn’t bare the embarrassment of admitting she didn’t have the money. He made a decision. He knew how many packets had been there and he knew what they cost. He did a quick calculation on the till and registered a sale, pocketed the receipt and placed £27.42 in the tray.

He didn’t begrudge her a penny of it, either. She was a friend. And friends helped each other. He turned back to the DVD playback and forgot all about it.


Chloe and Dean drove along the road between the hospital and the hotel, feeling every bump and dent in the surface. They had done this four times now and there was no sign of Daisy or trouble.

Dean stopped at the bus stop on Finch Lane and hopped off the bike. “Sorry, Chloe, but she’s not here. Maybe she went to your house or got into the hotel without Becca seeing her.”

Chloe shrugged. “It’s happened before. And I only saw one set of keys on the hook. The rooms have two sets,” she partially agreed. “And if there had been trouble, someone would have seen her.”

“How about we stop, eh? Or I’m not going to have enough fuel to get home.”

In the growing gloom he kissed her. He gently pressed her against the comforting solidity of the brick shelter.

Chloe lifted her head enough to break the kiss. “Here? You’re not serious?”

“Why not? The last bus has gone.”

“Yeah, but there’s a house over there.”

“That’s Orchard Cottage,” Dean recognised. “No one home tonight. I bet Daisy is in the hotel room watching Coronation Street. And there aren’t any sirens going.”

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right,” Chloe agreed. “She slipped out of the hotel easy enough. She could slip back in.”

Dean pressed closer. “Good idea.”

Chloe curled her arms around his shoulders and joined him in another deep, long kiss.


In the poorly lit street, Natalie held on to the low garden wall and puffed thickly. She was only half way home and she was struggling. The contractions had ballooned to a level she could no longer walk through.

She lifted her eyes and could see her house from here. If she could just get to it. Paul would be home soon. As the pain eased, she made the most of the time she had.


To be continued...

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