Disclaimer:
I don't own any of the characters, which are based on the series "Our girl" written by Tony Grounds and screened by the BBC. (Long it may live, the BBC!)
Author's note:
This is set after the final scene of episode 5, when Molly gets back to Bath. It's also after a spectacularly good session of "love making" which I am not going to describe here because:
1- I am not laurielove ;-)
2- if you are reading this, I am pretty sure you have already mentally rehearsed your own version of it a good few times, and I would not want to contradict your idea of the facts.
Let it be agreed that they have a Very Good Time together and they manage to pick up discarded clothes from those magnificent stairs just on time bifore the following events take place :-)
Please note this is my first ever fanfict, and it's been mostly been written on buses to/from work. Any spelling mistake, i'll conveniently blame the spell-check of my phone ;-)
...
A couple of hours later, they were decently dressed and looked relatively composed, busy at stacking logs in a neat pile near the fireplace of the main living room.
(That, she understood, was the reason for his gloved appearance when she knocked at the door. He said that chopping logs up it was a good way for him to "let out steam" during her absence. Considering the amount of logs in the garden, he must indeed have missed her a lot).
The door opened gently, and a lady voice echoed in the alley: "Charles? We are home"
That was the moment she was supposed to dread, but partially because of the physical exertion she had just experienced, and partially because of the very serene countenance of Bossman, she actually felt more giggly than anxious.
"We're coming, mum".
He took her hand, and stepping into the corridor gently dragged her to meet his parents. His dad was busy hanging the coat onto the rack, and her mum was trying to untangle her hands from the upmarket shopping bags she was carrying, when she lifted her eyes and saw them both. The girl was still trying to dust some wood chips from her trousers, looking ever so slightly flustered, but the grin on her son's face told her everything she needed to know.
"Hello, you must be Molly", she said, extending her hand and opening up in a warm smile. Molly instantly recognised Charles' smile in hers; she was a tall, stylishly dressed woman in her mid-fifties, clearly well-coiffed and pearled up, but with the same easy manners that the captain had used with his sections for most of the tour. "Yes, ahemm, how do you do?" She said. "Blimey, you can leave the formalities for John, can she not, John?" nodding at her husband. Said John apparently agreed and nodded politely, muttering a "how do you do" under his breath.
"I am Helen" she said, and gently pointing to the shopping bags she added "Son, will you help me carrying all this stuff in the kitchen? Don't know about you, but I most definitely need a cup of tea, now"
Pronto, Charles was carrying the bags walking behind the two women of her life, his mum's hand gently touching Molly's elbow to direct her to the right door, and starting small talk conversation as if they'd just met at a WI.
"So when did you arrive?"
"Only yesterday, ma'm, I got to the barracks in the evening, and my leave started officially this morning"
His dad didn't say a word, but instead of holing himself up in the study room as per his usual habit, he decided to go with them, a faint smile barely perceivable in his usually stern countenance, clearly interested in looking at how the situation would develop. And feeling mostly particularly in need of a brew.
The kitchen was enormous, and Molly still could not believe so many cupboards and fridges and freezers would need to be opened to fit the shopping in. But Mrs James was clearly a well organised homemaker. Within seconds, everything was sorted and the kettle was getting ready, pretty china cups were placed on the central island, and a tin of ginger biscuits was open for the general appreciation. Stools appeared from underneath the island, and in no time Molly found herself seated next to Charles, facing an already-aproned Mrs James and receiving sideways glances from Mr James, under the pretence of sorting by colours the coffee capsules in their storage tower.
"So, Molly, how did this mission go? Did you manage to achieve your objectives?" She asked, whilst taking out all sorts of pots and utensils, always smiling and always busy. Molly thought for a minute that it must be a prerogative of motherhood to be able to do at least two things at the same time. But in her own mum's case, she wasn't that sure she succeeded.
"Yes, well...the training of the ANA medics was a success, I think, they were very motivated and participated with enthusiasm to most of the exercises I proposed."
"Was anyone of the old team still at camp?" asked Charles, clearly longing to get news of old colleagues and a glimpse of his life pre-injury.
"Yes, Jaquie was there, do you remember, the other medic? She was with you during the first surgery and was so happy to hear of your recovery! I also met up with Quaseem. He sends his regards"
"Quaseem? I thought he went back to Kabul's university"
"He did, and he's back at teaching English literature. But he came to see me at Camp and then helped me meeting with Bashira"
Ouch. Molly realised that she had not yet told Charles about her trip to the safe house in Kabul, and she mentally prepared herself for a proper bollocking about risks and personal safety etc when his mum intervened asking simply "who's Bashira?"
"She's a little girl from the village where we stationed during the first tour. She became a friend to me, almost the same age of one of my sisters"
"Also one of the people you risked your life for, Dawsey", added Charles, with a look that was both admiration and fear. Admiration for the strength and courage of the young, gorgeous woman sitting next to him, but also anguish at the thought that he could have lost her so many times during that tour. Blown away by a mine, caught by snipers, exploded with Bashira's vest, and last but not least, caught in the crossfire with Badrai on that fateful day on the bridge.
His mum may have diverted the discussion for a moment, but he would have to give her a proper talk later, at the risk of appearing ridiculous, having himself more than enough times put his own arse in the line of fire. But he didn't have Molly, at the time.
Lead by his mum, the conversation quickly diverted on the more general army experience in Afghanistan, and Helen gained a better understanding of her son's experience chatting with that little, young woman than in years of pressing him at the sides. It was clear they had both experienced something that was life changing, and the way they were talking and discussing it was way more profound than she would have credited them to. Or at least, she would have credited Molly. Despite her cockney slang, and sometimes grammar horrors, she sounded way more mature than her age, and moreover she was addressing Charles with a mixture of tenderness, respect and...mockery that she would have never thought her capable of. It was real, deep intimacy. Rebecca had been a quiet girl, probably not that interested in the practicalities of Charles' life and despite being impeccably polite, she was always very reserved. Helen never saw in Charles and Rebecca together the same degree of mutual understanding, and ability to laugh and make light of things of life, whilst clearly sharing the same care for the same principles. Charles had described Molly as being uneducated but clever, lively and fiery but at the same time not superficial. Now Helen could see with her own eyes that she was indeed a good observer, honestly eager to understand, often argumentative but in a way that was surprisingly charming. She had already been more than ready to like her, given the simple truth that she saved her son, and somehow managed to get him back to a status of enthusiasm for life that he had not experienced for years. But now she kind of glimpsed many more reasons to like her.
Mr James in the meantime had already decided there was no doubt about the reciprocal fondness between the two, and had pragmatically decided to go back to his study, and let things be.
Dinner was getting prepared, and chit chat was still going on. Molly felt amazingly warm in that kitchen, and relaxed much more than she could ever expect. It wasn't like being at home- for a start, she was having an adult conversation without interruptions by screaming kids or adults alike, and people were actually listening to each other. But it was strangely familiar. She could not refrain from observing so, and telling Charles how lucky he was for having such a family.
"I gather you have quite a large family?" Helen asked.
"Yes, ma'm. I am the eldest of six and I must admit most of the time it feels like living in a zoo, without the zoo keepers. But things are slowly changing, hopefully for the best. My mum has started working for the first time in years, as a teacher assistant, and she's enjoying it lots. It's probably not worth the money, to be honest, but she gets so rewarded that she's also much happier on the home front. And strangely enough, dad seems to have decided to be supportive, for once in his life!"
"You're not getting along very well?"
"That would be a...how do you say it, Charles? Understatement? See, I am learning to talk proper!" She winked, and Charles could not help feeling a bit smug.
"He's been a twat for most of his life, drinking too much, working too little, never planning for the future and getting mum pregnant at every opportunity...not that I don't love any of my brothers, please don't get me wrong, but...house is tiny, money tight, mum always so tired and worried, I could not help blaming him. Since I joined the Army, though, he's been much better. He even came to my presentation of medals! Mind you, I dunno how he's going to react when I tell him I gave my deployment money to Bashira, he will probably flip over and..."
"You did what?" Charles interrupted.
Ouch, again. She just didn't have time to tell him! But surely that wasn't a problem? The shadow of doubt crossed her mind, and with a smaller voice she replied: "I was meant to tell you, but we got caught up in the moment and...I arranged with Quaseem that he would set up a fund for Bashira's life and studies. I told you I went to see him, he's trying to adopt her, as her daughter was same age and he...me, well I thought..." She got all flustered and red and could not quite look at him anymore and his mum was also looking at her with an expression that she couldn't quite make up...for a moment, it all got very confused in her head. Helen quietly asked her: "How much exactly did you give?"
"14 grands" she whispered.
Her mind filled up with real doubt and she felt like a little child in front of an examining board. She got all red and started talking really fast: "Oh gosh you're right! Oh, you must be thinking me so selfish! Oh no, I can't believe I have only thought about my situation and Bashira's and not my parents...but I thought with the money of this second deployment I could get them all to Brighton for a little holiday, and get the bedrooms re-plastered, and that was enough for us, I mean, I know we are poor by many standards but we actually have lots and we have each other and..."
She was so emotional now that little tears started running down her cheeks and she could not lift her eyes from the table. Which was a big mistake, because if she had done so she would have seen Charles' eyes filled up to the brim with love and admiration. The smile on his face was so radiant with joy that he felt it glow. And his mum was the same. The simple idea that such a young girl would be able to donate all of the money earned by putting her life at risk in war to the education of a girl just a bit younger than herself...the fact that she would simply act on her principles, take responsibility and her friend's future in her own hands, instead of filling her mouth of promises and declarations like all those people at the Clubs and Commitees she used to see...it was, quite simply, 'fucking amazing'.
Molly was still lost in her trail of thoughts, feeling small and a bit naked, when she perceived Helen slowly taking her apron off, folding it on the worktop, and getting closer. She put one hand on her shoulder and with a gentle touch lifter her chin, saying: "Child, look at me. Listen. You have done the right thing. Any parent would and should be proud of you. I am proud, and I am grateful because not only you have given me my son's life, but as of now you have also restored my faith in the decency of human being. Thank you" and with that, she smiled one of her glowing, warmest smiles and kissed her gently on the forehead. Molly was speechless, her teary eyes turned to Charles and she felt her heart fill up with joy. He was smiling, if possible, even more than his mum.
"Now to you, Son. I'll tell you something and then I'll not speak anymore. This woman is a keeper. Let me just say...if you don't marry her, I think I'll have to adopt her!"
And with that, she left the kitchen in an explosion of laugh. Charles thought for a moment he heard her saying "you'd dad is just not so fucking gonna believe this" but obviously he must have been mistaken because his mum never used that kind of language. That was only a prerogative of his girl. His awesome girl.