Now there was a sight for sore eyes if ever there was one.
Peter leant on the doorframe to the kitchen after what had been a long, excruciatingly long and very hot summer's day of tramping around Poplar losing pounds in a heavy uniform. How he was looking forward to coming home, off within his tunic, into a pair of shorts and enjoying the long evening sitting in the newly whitewashed yard with his wife. That and an ice cold beer from the fridge and he would be a content man again, free of the rigors of the day now for an entire week.
Still what he saw when he walked into the kitchen made him rather buoyant as well as the thought of that first sip as it quenched his thirst.
It was the fact that she wiggled her way out from underneath the sink where she had been on her knees cleaning that did it as he watched her hips sway from side to side. He also quite liked the light dress she had on too – tiny white and yellow daisies on navy blue fabric – as it sat rather quite perfectly on her rear end. Peter had decided he'd liked it even when it was in pieces on their kitchen table, thinking the pattern quite adventurous for her, but it looked even better on and he had no complaints.
If he whistled she would probably bang her head though. If he crept up on her, likewise; so he decided to stay where he was until he was convinced she would be safe from some kind of self-injurious behaviour. Still not that the decision grated on him at all as he admired the view.
A minute later, having not heard him, Chummy stood up with a sigh, using the worktop for support to get herself to her feet. She was getting too old for crawling around on floors and her back knew it too.
She turned around to find him standing there, arms folded across his chest with a look on his face she had come to recognise as these last nine months of marriage had unfolded.
"Peter!" she exclaimed seeing him, resting her hand on her heart. "How long have you been there?"
"Not long enough" he muttered walking across to her, sliding his hand over her jaw suddenly starting to kiss her like he had not seen her in twelve years rather than twelve hours. She didn't want to touch his face; her hands were covered in bleach and they hovered by her sides, resisting just folding her arms around his neck and to Hell with it. Peter took a step forward and she felt the edge of the worktop stab her in the back as she was forced by his movement to take a pace too.
"Peter" she mumbled, losing the kiss as he drifted down her jaw. 'Evil man' she thought 'and if you don't stop that your dinner is going to burn'.
"Peter! Stop it!" she whispered, eyes closing keenly belying what was sprinting around in her head.
"I've been thinking about you all the way home" he began, lips pulling at her earlobe for a second, hands clasped to her waist. pressing every inch of him closer to her. "I almost came home at lunchtime too". His logic had been simple - just for a little bit of home comfort as he knew she would be there, as you see, she had today off and by the time lunch arrived, he was starting to lose patience with the people of Poplar.
This was the first day of a week off in fact and at, well now in fact, he was off for that week too. Her stomach clenched at the thought that she could have had a visitor earlier on today, still not entirely able to understand why exactly he would even think of coming back home in the middle of the day just to take her to bed. Long ago she had realised not to question though, just enjoy. She'd struck lucky if she compared to the stories and moans she heard every day from the women in clinic and never wanted it to stop.
"Quiet day then?" she laughed, her bleach covered hands leaning on the worktop.
"No" he mumbled, lips still attached to her neck. "Horrible, busy, too many people drunk in the heat and fighting with each other, kids swimming in the canal almost drowning each other, everyone seemed to be out on the streets shouting and just….existing. Horrible". That was a fair summation of his day. He wasn't the best fan of hot weather, but hot weather under a Police uniform and helmet did nothing for his temper and she could feel the frustration with his day spilling from him.
His hand went her breast, cupping it through the material, thumb turning circles and he felt her shoulders drop, exhaling against her better nature as her body just decided to temporarily enjoy the attention. A moment later he found the buttons on her dress. Just touching her skin would be rather perfect, but before he made it past two she seemed to come to her senses and slapped his hand, harder than she perhaps intended. She could also smell the chicken pie she had made and didn't want it to be charred.
"Ow Camilla…" he said. Best hurt voice, my friend. She might change her mind. Perhaps she would kiss it better as his hand was now stinging.
"Do you want your dinner burnt or do you want me?" she asked, trying to ignore that wide eyed look he was giving her. Peter pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, pretending to think long and hard about his decision – whether his stomach would win or not - breathing in the rather pleasant odour that was pervading from the cooker.
She just tutted at him and turned away to the stove, padding her hands dry and doing up her buttons. "Go and get changed and I'll let you know when everything's ready".
Feeling a thousand times better after a refreshing wash, and now in shorts and a light shirt, Peter made his way back downstairs.
"I thought we might eat outside" she offered. The back door was open and on walking out, he found two chairs and a fold out table waiting for him. Now that was an excellent idea. The sun was around the front of the house and the yard was cool yet bright and behind him he heard her voice.
"Peter? Can you carry this?"
He turned back to find a jug of orange juice, topped up with ice cubes and two glasses by its side on the worktop waiting for him. Peter picked them up and walked outside, setting them on the table pouring from the jug as ice cubes splashed in. He sat and for the first time today, felt as though he could breathe properly as he stretched his legs out. He hadn't bothered with shoes; bare feet on cool stones was much better and as she walked out of the kitchen, plates in hand, he noticed she had not bothered with stockings today and was just in sandals. Why he had to notice that now and not when he was making his decision between her and his dinner, he would never know.
They ate and talked about the day, topping it all off with Neapolitan ice cream with her wafer shoved into his so he had two.
Peter felt some of the annoyances he had encountered with the people of Poplar leech away as she just listened to him. That was one of the reasons he loved her; she'd just let him talk and get things out of his system.
"So how was your day?" he asked as they sat side by side again, holding hands resting on the chair arms. The dishes were in the sink and he told her they could wait.
"I think I've cleaned from top to bottom, ironed, repaired your pyjamas, done the shopping, changed the bed, hoovered the front room and washed the lino, repaired three pairs of stockings, polished your other work boots….". She could have gone on for a few minutes longer but she could see he was smiling at her. "What?"
"I think" he began, flexing his fingers around hers. "That as we have a week off, instead of here and you spending the next week cleaning, we should have a few days somewhere else. Have a proper holiday". The last time they had been anywhere was Ramsgate.
Chummy smiled. "Where?"
"I was thinking of us going camping" he offered. Peter had been toying with the idea of going somewhere with her but it had been camping that struck him on the walk to work this morning.
"Camping?" she asked, really quite pleasantly surprised he thought of it at all; let alone doing something different like that.
"Yes" he replied, sitting up so he could look at her. "A few days in the open, breathing clean air, sleeping in a field, surrounded by cowpats and it raining on you constantly so much the tent leaks. What more romance could a husband offer his wife?"
She smiled again. "Do you know I think that's a good idea". She hadn't been camping in years. School took them last time up to the Lake District. Mater would have been confounded if she had found out her daughter had been sleeping on the bare ground and wading knee high into muddy lakes in her smalls. She had loved it though and the thought was rather pleasing.
"There's a campsite a few miles from my uncle's farm". Peter had planned it out in his head already. "We could borrow Mum and Dad's neighbours car to take us down. It's an awful bus journey from the station".
Chummy knew that his parent's next door neighbour had just come out of Hospital after his hernia operation herself. She had been doing some of his District Nursing visits and he did mention he was worrying about the car sitting around and its battery going flat.
"I er.." Peter started. "I asked Jim's missus when I saw her in the market this morning she said it was fine to give it a run out for him", Peter offered, wondering how she might take it that he had spoken before she even knew about it.
"That sounds perfect" Chummy said settling back down again and closing her eyes, stretching her neck and shoulders out as the sun hard started to creep around so she was sitting in a patch of rather pleasant sunlight. She didn't care that he'd already clearly arranged it. They had nothing particular planned and he was right; she didn't fancy spending the week on housework.
"Mum and Dad should still have their tent and everything we need" Peter considered. "It'll all be in their attic".
"We could go and get it all tomorrow morning. See Jim as well" Chummy replied, still getting herself comfortable, shifting her shoulders and breathing in the air. "He's due another District Nursing visit at ten tomorrow with Cynthia so he will be in and then leave straight from there?"
Peter turned on his side too. "We can do that". She smiled; her eyes still closed as the warmth from the sun drifted over her face, soothing her. She had been that busy today, a cup of tea outside was the only luxury she had afforded herself all day but this was just perfect as the rays caressed her skin and she began to relax.
Peter smiled too, suddenly remembering a conversation they had when she was making the dress; one hand wanting to reach across and just undo one or two of those buttons again.
"Peter do you think it's too tight at the waist? Should I let it out?" she had said, parading in front of him in their living room.
He didn't really know to be truthful. Haberdashery was never thing; he just liked the way it looked on her as it was and he didn't think it needed meddling with.
"Don't you dare Mister!" she said, not even opening her eyes to him. Leaning over her he had bodily obstructed her ray of sunlight and her world had suddenly been plunged into darkness.
He sat back, closing his eyes. She could almost feel the discontent.
"Peter?" she asked quietly. She'd opened her eyes now and turned on her side too look at him, realising that was twice now she'd told him get off her and she was feeling guilty about it. She took his hand and kissed his knuckles. "We have to put some food together tonight then and pack a suitcase. Why don't we do that and then third times a charm?"
She saw the edge of his mouth twitch and one eye open. "We do need an early night after all if we are going to be up early and I'm going to have to drive all the way down to Kent".
"That's true" Chummy smiled. "Even if it will be such a hardship to be in bed whilst its still daylight..." He could hear the sarcasm in her voice.
"Completely" he replied, standing up and hold his hand out to her. "Such a bind really when you think about it".