Disclaimer - All recognisable characters created by Tony Grounds and are owned by the BBC.

Please note that this the sequel to Just doing my job. It takes place the day after. If you haven't read that, it might be worth doing so before reading this.

Back to Afghan (via Bath)

Part 1

Paddington 1.52pm

The investiture was now twenty four hours ago, and, with hardly any time to think or relax, Molly Dawes had had to start getting ready for her second tour in Afghanistan. She wasn't flying out until the following Monday but Charles had suggested she travel to Bath today, stay with him for four nights then go straight to Brize. She'd had a frantic morning, packing and shopping to get the things she'd need for the next three months. Still, she'd done it in good time and reckoned she'd be able to get the stuff she'd forgotten in Bath.

Molly grabbed a seat half way down the train and was now waiting for it to pull out of the station and head to Bath via Swindon. She was in civvies, a pretty pale green floral dress just bought from Monsoon and a winter coat, which she had put on the seat beside her. Her concession to practicality had been to wear trainers as she reckoned heels and four items of heavy luggage were not a good combination. The heels were safely packed in one of the bags in anticipation of an evening or two out in Bath.

Getting to Paddington with all that luggage was not going to be easy. Just as well she'd given up the idea of struggling with it on the tube (at Charles's insistence). The taxi had arrived at twelve and, after tearful farewells and hugs from the family, it had taken her all the way to Paddington with loads of time to spare. It cost the best part of £25 but she reckoned it was worth every penny. Even getting the stuff from the taxi rank to the train had been tough. The only trolley left had a wonky wheel and kept going off in arbitrary directions. But after visiting W H Smith for a newspaper and a book, she had eventually made it to the right platform. She'd found a window seat with a table, not too far from the luggage racks so she could keep an eye on all her kit.

Staring out of the window, her thoughts went back yet again to the investiture at the Palace the day before. It all seemed like a dream, like it never happened at all. Did she really chat to the future king for almost five minutes giving him advice on the Afghanistan situation? But here on the table in front of her was proof if she needed it. In today's Times, page 17, was a side view of her shaking hands with Prince Charles, complete with Military Cross on her tunic. She gazed at the picture and relived the moment yet again. "It's been a privilege to meet you," he had said to her at that very moment, now frozen in time by the official Palace photographer.

How her life had changed these last two years. Unbelievable really! That person who dressed like a tart and worked part-time in a nail bar. Was that really me? God, what was I thinking; those clothes, those skirts, that hair, that make-up.

The teenage Molly, if she could time travel forward a few years, would not recognise, as herself, the beautifully dressed, self-assured young woman sitting in the train reading a newspaper. The looks she now got from the men who passed by were looks of genuine admiration, the sort that men reserve for beautiful women who are out of their league. Two or three years ago, she'd have got very different looks.

Charles had summed it all up at the Mountain Checkpoint so long ago. "It's all luck and chance" he'd said. If she hadn't tried for the Army that day after her eighteenth birthday binge she'd probably still be with that tosser Artan and still look and dress the way she did (if she wasn't pregnant already). If the original Section 2 medic hadn't been injured then she'd have been posted to another Section and she wouldn't have met Charles (or been to the Palace). And so on. Luck, fate and chance, at every turn of your life.

The feelings she now had towards Charles were a completely new experience for her. It was difficult to explain or analyse, even to herself, how she felt. For Molly, the closest way she could explain it was that Charles felt like part of her; that if he wasn't there and part of her life, she wouldn't feel complete as a person. Even now, with his temporary absence, she felt it.

Not only was he her lover but he was her best friend as well. She had never felt anything remotely like that with any of the men she had been with before. In comparison to Charles they were all, every one of them without exception, low-lifes who would think nothing of cheating on her given half the chance. She had just been a convenient accessory and somebody to screw when the mood took them. It was exciting to feel these new feelings in a relationship but at the same time very frightening.

Her chat with Nan the previous evening, when everybody else had gone to the pub, had helped her clarify those feelings. Molly and her grandmother had a very special relationship and one of complete confidentiality. They were sitting with mugs of tea in the kitchen.

"So who's this bloke you're running off to see?" said her grandmother, "I'm assuming it's a bloke, to take you away from 'ome on your last four days of leave".

"He's the guy who used to be my CO on tour Nan. He's the one that was terribly wounded, in the stomach and leg. He almost died but he's on the mend now."

"What, don't tell me he's some old, toff officer type is he?"

"No Nan, he's in his twenties and he's the most wonderful, beautiful man I have ever met."

"We all fought you was keen on Smurf."

"Nan, I was never, ever "keen on Smurf" in that way. He was a mate that's all."

"Is it allowed though Molls? Couldn't you get into trouble shacking up with an officer?"

"We didn't do nuffing more than hold hands in Afghan, Nan, we was very careful. Well 'e did kiss me once. But now it's all OK. He's not my CO any more. It's allowed if you don't work together."

"What's 'is name? "asked Nan.

"It's Charles James Nan."

"What do we call 'im then, "Charlie"?"

"Not if you want to see him again!"

Nan smiled then became serious.

"Be careful Molls, I don't want to see you get hurt. Men are men, whether they're from a big posh 'ouse or a council flat. They only want one fing then its "sling yer 'ook"."

"No, Nan, you're wrong. I know that kind of man; I've known loads of 'em. But no way is Charles like that. He's a gentleman. He really loves me and I can tell he does. And I love him too."

"A gentleman eh?" said Nan with a smile, "can't say as I've ever come across one of them before."

"I've never felt like this Nan. I have an ache inside when I ain't wiv 'im. Says he wants to be with me for the rest of me life and, if he asks properly, I'd say "yes" without a second thought."

"Well all I can say Molls is I can't wait to meet 'im, but tell 'im from me, if 'e hurts my Molly, I will follow 'im to the ends of the Earth and severely damage 'is other leg".

Molly smiled recalling the conversation with her grandmother. All conversations with Nan made her smile.

She could see the train buffet counter through in the next carriage. It had just opened up and nobody was queuing so she nipped through to get a tea. As she returned to her seat, the train began to move and she put down the scalding hot paper cup with the tea-bag string hanging out of it. Then she got out of her bag the copy of Pride and Prejudice she had just bought from W H Smith on the station concourse. Charles would only nag her until she had a go at reading it.

She begun to read, "It is a truth universally acknowledged..." emptied two sachets of milk into the cup, and sipped her, very hot, tea.

Didcot Station 2.40pm

The train slowed and then stopped at Didcot station.

After almost an hour's reading she was absolutely hooked. The characters had flown off the page like no book she'd ever read before and she hadn't put it down once. They were now real people to her, not just figments of the author's imagination. Elizabeth Bennet, with whom she identified completely, had just told Mr Collins what he could do with his proposal and she had met the smooth Mr Wickham. Molly was rooting for them to get together, not knowing what a ratbag he was going to turn out to be. The phone, placed on the table beside the empty paper cup, rang, and the word "Bossman" lit up on the screen.

"Hi Boss"

"Hello Molly, how's it going?"

"Fine. Glad I got a taxi, don't know how I'd have managed on the tube."

"Are you on time?"

"Think so. Look, Charles, I've been thinking."

"Now Dawsey, you know that only leads to trouble, don't you."

"Seriously Charles. I'm crapping myself about meeting your family. What if they don't like me? What if they think I ain't good enough for you?"

"They'll love you Molly. Honestly, you've nothing to worry about. They're not snobs and they'll recognise straight away what an amazing, lovely person you are. I've already told them that Prince Charles thinks you're the bees' knees. How could they NOT like you with a recommendation like that. You'll be fine. They'll want to adopt you within minutes."

"But then I'd be yer sister! Yuck!"

"Only on paper, so it wouldn't impose any constraints on us"

They laughed.

"'ere, that Pride and Prejudice is well good. So I know who I am. I'm Lizzy Bennet. But I 'm not sure who you are yet, the 'orrible Mr Darcy, the wonderful Mr Wickham or Mr Nice, aka Mr Bingley?"

"Wait and see Dawsey, wait and see."

"The train set off once again."

"How was your shopping trip, Boss? "

"Had some real surprises. You were on the BBC News Channel this morning you know. I was in John Lewis TV Department when you were suddenly on every screen in the place. I almost had a heart attack, sorry, a Julius Seizure to you. On one of the larger screens your face was almost two feet across. Imagine that!"

"Just as well I was careful with me makeup then!"

"You looked like a gorgeous giant, Dawsey. Then my mother showed me your picture in the Telegraph. We bought a copy of almost every paper on the way home. Your picture was in five of them. We binned the rest"

"Your mother, thanks for reminding me! 'Ere Charles, I'm gonna be responsible for training sixty five Afghans to be competent medics, got bleedin' talks to give to VIPs and Gawd knows what else ahead of me in the next three months. But it's all a piece a cake compared to meeting your mother."