Peter stomped up the stairs to his attic lodgings, heavy footed and desperately weighted in heart. That was another night shift over and done with and another day to sleep away; trying not to think or feel or wonder why. It had been bad enough seeing Sister Bernadette by the banana sheds the other day when they uttered a few awkward words of greeting with each other. Too many reminders in even seeing her friends and colleagues and as each day rolled by, it was getting to be more of a struggle.
Reaching into his pocket for the key he caught a glimpse of someone sitting on the last flight of stairs to his right. A grey overcoat with sensible lace up brown shoes, slightly battered around the toes. He blinked quickly thinking his exhausted mind was playing tricks, except the figure was there and he was now face to face with her.
He stopped dead as she looked up. "Camilla".
He saw her swallow nervously as she returned his greeting. "Peter".
Neither of them really quite knew what to do so unused to affairs of this nature. They hadn't seen each other in twelve and a half days and the last time she had spoken to him she knew she had seen his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. He was glued to the tatty red carpet on the stairs; the same place she had been transfixed by for the last half an hour as she waited. Her trip to the Police Station had come up with naught, being told he was probably on his way home, so she had taken herself here as the only other place he might be going.
"Can I come in?" she asked, fully expecting to be turned away in disgrace. It had only taken the words from Cathy to turn her attention to her predicament, and her feet had taken her here to sit on the stairs leading up to his lodgings. No matter how determined she might be though, he still had a say in it.
Peter nodded and stepped up past her to the door, the key scraping in the lock. Part of her breathed a sigh of relief. At least if she could sit next to him and talk to him she could finally muster up the bravery to say what she needed to say. Chummy already knew what she would do if he wouldn't listen.
"Sit down" he muttered, taking off his own coat and throwing it over the back of a dining chair in the other corner as he let her walk in first.
She duly did, perched on one end of the settee. He sat down too, on the other end, elbows resting on his thighs, not knowing what to say. He pulled his regulation tie away from his collar. It felt like a pair of hands were squeezing his neck; slowly drawing oxygen away and stifling any clear thought or reason now she was sitting beside him. Normally he could think perfectly straight in any situation that presented itself to him, but with her? She sent his mind into a jumble the moment he met her.
She could ask whether he was alright but it was an extremely stupid question that he wouldn't appreciate; even she recognised that. It was obvious he was not and neither was she when it came to it.
"Will you please sit next to me?" she squeaked, eyes wandering trying to make him look at her but he was still staring at the back of his own hands.
"I am". It came out harshly but quite frankly he was so physically and emotionally tired of it all that the three feet that separated them may as well have been a mile.
"No here", she said putting her palm flat on the space between them. Peter thought it over for a moment. No, he did want to be close to her, drag her back to his side beyond caring if he sounded desperate but he couldn't trust what might come out of his mouth. He stood up and sat closer to the invisible brick wall that had built itself some days ago and as they breathed in each other's proximity a few of those bricks fell from the top.
"I'm sorry" she whispered, eyes closed and hands tightly clasped on her knee. She had cried so much these past few days but she seemed somehow still capable of producing even more tears as the days went on.
"Does it make a difference?" he asked. His knee was perhaps four inches from hers and he could feel warmth pervading off her.
"I hope it does" she replied, enunciating each word quietly. She sighed loudly. "I was so frightened Peter".
"Of me?" That was the last thing he wanted even in their current state and it made him look up.
She shook her head. "Not you" she replied. "Of the fact you loved me".
"Love you, Camilla" he responded, deliberately changing tense. It was useless saying otherwise. "Its not something that existed in the past. It exists right now".
She was incredulous. So unused to affairs of the heart and not understanding one bit, she thought all her bridges were burned; that she had somehow changed what he felt deep within himself and he no longer cared. How he wished - it would have made life easier these past few days - that he didn't care any more. How she wished it was true too; that those few despicable words had extinguished any feeling but all it had served to do was make her realise how much she loved him after all. "You still do?"
"Yes, I do you…." He was about to say something along the lines of 'daft mare' but decided against it. "You mean everything to me".
"I don't blame you if you could never forgive me".
"I can" he began. "But…..just tell me one thing….if I asked you now to marry me again, would you?" She hadn't dared to mention that word that began with 'm'. She really wasn't quite sure how he would take her being here, never mind what she actually had to say for herself and was fully prepared to be shown the door. Chummy had, it seemed, underestimated the strength of feeling he had for her. He also knew he was pushing it in asking the question again but he needed to know.
"Will you marry me?"
"Yes".
The response was without hesitation or doubt.
Chummy reached for his hands, taking them both in hers and intertwining their fingers. She'd missed holding his hand, thumb brushing over a scar. "I need to take this chance for my own sake Peter. I've never felt so free than when I'm with you". She breathed. "As long as you will let me be your wife".
He smiled at her, squeezing her hands. Leaning forward, he closed the last few inches of space between them and kissed her gently on the lips.
The first time he'd kissed her, sitting on that bench by the canal it had been as though the world around her had stopped still. Just that ever so brief touch of his lips to hers and it had been perfect. A short interlude in their conversation where she had to put her hand on his chest to stop him. Not that she wanted him to stop but they did have company after all although reflecting the company was far more interested in his customers. It was a long time overdue, not only in their relationship but in her life, but nevertheless. Then when he kissed her the second time, still sitting on the bench by the canal, it was just so comfortable and familiar and safe and suddenly it didn't matter about the stallholder. It was as though the tension that had been bundled up inside her middle for years slipped from her body, dived into the canal and swam downstream never to be seen again.
The eighth time, or at least she thought it was the eighth as she sat on his settee right now, soothed the palpitations in her chest that were threatening to burst forth.
She withdrew. "You tell me you love me and no-one has ever said that to me before…" she said seeing he was desperate to say something too, but she had been practising this on the ride up to see him. When she decided. "I was never sure what it felt like to be loved Peter, but I love you".
Words never came easy to her but those three words were so enormous, so overwhelming but ever so right. She could see he was struggling and the element of doubt still hung in the air by his silence.
"Peter" she began. "I don't want to live the rest of my life here unless it's with you and I am so, so sorry. I can't put how sorry I am into words". One more word though and she would be crying. "I let her succeed again".
He shook his head. All he had done these past few days was work himself into the ground and sleep. Much like her if things were truthful."No you haven't let her win. You're here and I love you and….and I am so glad you are", he replied, shaking his head, finally realising that all the tension that had build up like a cannonball in his chest had gone.
"Really?" Cold blood washed through her at his apparent immediate forgiveness and her relief.
"Really" he nodded in assurance.
She smiled at him. "I want to make it up to you" she said.
"You don't have to" Peter replied, shaking his head, feeling confident that the pair of eyes that were now fixed on him, and his likewise on hers, would not divert away in shyness or fear.
"No I do" she replied, determined as she reached across to kiss him again. All she wanted was to show him that she loved him although quite frankly in her current emotional state she wanted to be sure, when she was calmer, that what she had decided to do was the right step to take. She thought it was but had enough insight into herself to wonder whether it was a rational decision she had made.
When she kissed him for the ninth time, she found she just couldn't bring herself to stop and she didn't notice his hand drop to her knee as she leaned towards him, closing the space where the wall had grown for the final time.
"Where's your uniform?" he asked suddenly, hand having fallen on her satin slip and noticing for the first time that he was half dressed.
She smiled serenely at his frowning face.
"Its with someone I owe the world to" she replied, going back to kiss him again, thinking of Cathy and those boys now safely tucked up in Hospital. "With someone I owe the absolute world to".