"Good luck old girl!" Chummy smiled as she opened the door and let Trixie out, the latter scanning the sky laden heavy with snow, a few flakes still falling but most of it had lined the streets inches deep where she now had to cycle.
"I think I might need it!" Trixie replied, tightening her scarf around her neck and stepping carefully out onto the top step. The snow even up at the top of the steps was almost up to her ankles. "If I'm not back by this time tomorrow, sent out St Bernard with some best Scotch Whiskey!" It might have been funny if the weather didn't look so bad and Chummy smiled in sympathy as she saw Trixie cycle gingerly away from Nonnatus away down Lodore Street, plowing through the snow. She didn't envy her at all and shivered and as she closed the door quickly, Chummy brushed away the few snowflakes that had blown onto her cardigan as she stood.
She had taken perhaps fifteen or twenty paces back towards the kitchen when the doorbell rang and shaking her head and smiling to herself, wondering what Trixie had left behind she turned tail, Chummy walked back and opened up the door.
"Don't tell me, old girl, you've forgotten…..Oh!" she said, stopping abruptly when she realised that it wasn't the other midwife at the door, but her rather red faced and cold husband, a layer of snow sitting rather neatly on his shoulders.
"Sorry!" she smiled, taking in his appearance and trying not to laugh. "I thought you were Trixie coming back!"
"I gathered that" Peter replied. "I just passed her. Said hello"
She took his hand and even with leather gloves on she could feel how cold he was. "You're freezing!"
"I know that too" he replied. She was stating the obvious but he wouldn't say and whilst Nonnatus has perfectly legitimately been on his route back to the station there was no harm in 'checking' how everyone was and perhaps being offered a cup of tea in the process. It was a rather pleasurable bonus that his wife actually answered the door.
"I don't believe they let you just cycle about when the weathers like this!" she exclaimed as he stepped over the threshold, kicking snow off his boots on the step and shaking his cape.
"To be fair Camilla when I set off it wasn't as bad as this" he remarked. The snow had fallen fast and hard around him as he cycled along and whilst he had been out in all weathers before, and loved the snow when it came to it, he would rather be inside right now so the sight of lights on in Nonnatus was rather welcome.
"One supposes" she replied, walking ahead of him towards the kitchen where he would follow.
"Is anyone else in?" he asked, taking off his helmet and shedding his cape onto the back of a chair to dry out as he took up the seat next to it at the kitchen table, watching her with her back to him as she leant down into cupboards and filled the kettle.
"Cynthia went about an hour ago, but no, everyone else is already out or asleep" Chummy responded. "I'm waiting for the next one!" She wasn't looking forward to going out in the snow by any means.
Peter nodded, undoing the buttons of his tunic now too. His feet were freezing, tapping them against the floor to try and induce some life into them as she went to put the kettle on. After a moment he realised the shoulders of his tunic were damp. That went to the back of a chair too as he wondered whether it had seeped through to his shirt.
As she busied herself he shivered and deciding that sitting around was doing nothing for drying him out, Peter got up and slid his arms underneath hers and around her waist; well more just underneath her breasts and brought her close.
"I knew if I came here you'd look after me" he said, closing his eyes, shifting about to get comfortable against her back.
"Don't be soppy. It's only a cup of tea" she smiled, thinking she should really push his hands away, but it all felt so familiar and nice that she was sure Sister Julienne would not begrudge her that. It also didn't help that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck and maybe she should wriggle out of his clutches after all even though he was holding her so wonderfully tightly.
"If you don't move I won't be able to make you your tea" she warned. Peter sighed and she felt a kiss to the back of her shoulder, but he did release her as she asked and sat at the kitchen table to be presented with his cup of tea. She wandered off again with a smile; into what he thought was the laundry room. Peter breathed in the steam from the mug, slowing defrosting his face, hearing her clattering around and her reappear a minute or two later.
"Camilla?" he asked, as she walked back into the kitchen, arms laden with a basket filled with pristine, white and green ironed sheets. "How long have we been married?" He knew exactly how long, but wanted to see if she did too.
She put the basket down onto the kitchen table with a rather contented sigh. "Six weeks tomorrow. Why?"
"I was just thinking" he replied, putting his cup down. "Feels like yesterday".
"Hmmm..." she smiled, some rather wonderful memories rushing back. "It does. You accosting me on the upstairs corridor…."
"Is that a euphemism?" he asked wide eyed wearing an innocent look that he still knew, at least for now, that he could get away with. Give her a few more months, or even weeks, of marriage and she might start seeing right through it.
"Peter!" she replied, absolutely horrified, even though she was wanting to laugh with him as he smiled up at her, hoping she got what he was referring to as sometimes he did need to think twice or explain. She was spectacularly naive sometimes, well, less so now.
"Here" he said holding out one hand and patting the seat of the chair next to him with the other, intending her to join him. "Come and sit next to me. The sheets can wait".
She sat next to him on the chair beside him and he pulled her towards him kissing her on the cheek. "You do feel a bit warmer" she remarked. "Not much, but a little". He smiled at her, slipping a still rather cold hand onto the inside of her knee. "Stop it!" she quickly spat under her breath.
"Why?" he replied. "We'll hear anyone coming downstairs".
"Because this isn't our house where your roaming hands….roam free!" she whispered, pushing his palm away and looking around just to make sure nobody had sneaked in whilst she was distracted. She heard him sigh.
"How about I help you put all of those sheets and things away if my attentions are not required then?" Peter asked.
Chummy gave him a withering look. "They are required you fool…" she replied, knowing underneath it he was joking but just wanting to make sure. "But yes, come and help me then".
He followed her through the corridors of Nonnatus and they reached the downstairs storage room, she turning the key to unlock the door but nothing whatsoever happened, so she tried again. Peter looked carefully over her shoulder, holding onto the basket of ironing for her as she fought with the lock.
"Want me to have a go?" Peter asked, seeing her pull the key out and try for a third time.
"No, no" she replied, turning quickly to smile back at him. "Its tickety-boo! It just gets stuck once in a while. It's all in the wrist!" she announced with a grin as the door clicked open.
Peter just smiled as she rolled the step ladder that has been stored to one side behind the door towards the shelves, him seeing clearly that even she couldn't reach where all these sheets were meant to go and he stood and handed manageable piles of them up to her. They were all arranged neatly and he held her hand so she could get down.
"Thank you" she smiled as he stood in front of her and well, was not for moving. "Could I get past?"
He just considered her comments for a moment before she felt his hands slide over her hips and pull her forward. Her shoulders dropped and she looked at him head, turned to one side. Chummy still didn't get it why he would just hug her or squeeze her arm to let her know he was there but she would be a fool to turn him down. She smiled and leant forward to kiss him quickly. "Warmer now?" It was not really a comment on whether he had dried out or not.
Peter nodded, nuzzling his lips into her neck hearing her exhale as his thumbs hooked into the back of the belt of her uniform. "Is your old room still empty?" She had rather come to like how direct he could be.
"You know how bad that bed squeaks" she whispered, knowing precisely where this was heading and having no will whatsoever to stop him now as whilst she could push away a hand on her knee; it was the lips on her neck that were the killer.
"Oh yeah" he replied, raising an eyebrow to himself. They'd been damn lucky not to get caught before especially when it was when she was not wearing a band of gold, sneaking up to her room. Even though it was only once or twice and she did have the room that had no neighbours, Chummy had been horrified when, distracted for a moment, she had heard the bed springs underneath them.
Chummy felt his hand drift from her hip and dive into the pocket where she had put the door key. "Only one thing for it then!" he decided.
"Peter don't" she responded, seeing him turn around and go to put it in the lock, stepping across with him to try and stop him locking the door again. "If that gets stuck, I've got a lot to answer for!"
"It'll be fine" he replied, turning the key, it locking first go, and then the brass handle to make sure it was secure. He turned back to her and resumed his arms around her waist; her arms wrapping around his neck in response. "It's all in your wrist remember?"
Chummy sniggered. "Sorry!" she replied. "That was unladylike". Peter just smiled back at her and kissed her, pushing her lips apart feeling her breath out as their tongues began to explore.
"What did I get myself into?" she thought quietly to herself, as the palms of his hands slid over her hips again, massaging, pulling her even closer than she was now and taking her uniform with him as she felt it glide upwards to a crumpled heap in his hands.
"Quickly then" she whispered into his ear as her hands went to his tie, loosening it around his collar and whipping it over his head.
Peter was so pleased she was stepping out of her shell at last, starting to feel more comfortable and the most important part; less inadequate and not so much that it meant that it had several rather spectacular advantages for him, it was important for her too.
He began to explore her skin with his mouth, slowly, methodically from her neck to her earlobes, hearing a rather shy murmur of pleasure as she was so very conscious of where they were, ignoring her plea entirely that he had to be quick about it. Peter felt her slide her hand down his belly, stopping a moment to fight with the buckle of his belt; him helping by slinging the braces he wore over his shoulders and down.
She actually felt rather nervous. The surroundings, the locked room; the fact that she was indulging in a mortal sin in a nunnery. "Where?" she asked, turning her neck to look around the room. When it came it there was not much choice. Peter broke away from her skin and followed her gaze.
"I know", he replied, her thinking of the rug on the floor, but finding out she was really quite wrong as she was spun around and felt the door at her back. Instinctively her palm fell on the handle. If someone tried the door with the other key and she was holding onto it; they might have a chance.
His lips met hers again, as she was pushed tighter against the door, bodies with no more than a sliver of air between them. Chummy felt the poppers on her uniform go, no time to be graceful about it or even in fact to fully undress when it came to the bones of it. She breathed out in anticipatory pleasure as he ducked down mouth skirting the edge of her slip, mind racing ahead as she wound her left hand into his hair. Never in a million years had he thought he would hear any woman respond the way she did to him. The question 'who'd want me?' had bobbed around in his head just as many times as it had in hers but hearing the fact he could make her utter the most interesting of noises and sometimes nothing but his name as a breathless whisper, boosted his confidence no end and gave him the courage not to be shy of new things.
"Peter?" she said, barely a squeak, hoisting the skirts of her uniform to her waist herself so she could move her leg, now entrapped by material and he hooked one hand underneath her knee and brought it up to his hip. This time he was allowed to rush; her abandoned between the quandary of want and knowing they could get caught any second now. He didn't reply though; too consumed by the fact that he had wheedled her breasts from their casings without having to undress her and his mouth was about to close around her nipple. That tugging sensation caused her to rock her head back against the door, pushing her chest closer to him as he hand dived between them, ready to divest him of his trousers.
Chummy was to all intents and purposes ignoring the fact that she felt as though she was about to lose her balance, one foot on the floor, the other wrapped around the back of his leg as his trousers and undershorts went in one fell, rather efficient for her, swoop. She had come to find herself becoming rather flattered by the fact that she seemed to be responsible for what she now had in her hand, feeling him thrust back at her with a deep rumble emanating from within. Forgetting she felt as though she was going to fall, his lips now on hers again, her body took on that ache that she now easily recognised and she repeated her question, breaking the kiss.
"Peter?"
He slowly, lazily raised his eyes to her, trying to concentrate but not concentrate on precisely what her hand was doing. "Yes?"
"Quickly" she repeated, seeing him glaze over for a moment as her hand tightened for a second and she felt him twitch in response.
"Are you sure?" Peter asked as she nodded, releasing him for his hand to push her cotton underwear aside and testing her with the tips of his fingers. Rather pleased with the fact that she seemed ready for him she held her breath as he entered her.
"Camilla?" he asked, wanting to know she was alright, but she moved her hips in answer, to move forward into her. She was still wonderful, warm comfort and allowing herself to open like this – figuratively and metaphorically – to him was overwhelming.
She moved with him, totally absorbed in the moment; hand still tight on the door wanting every second of it to last forever and for the handle to stay still. This was bliss for her to let go all these years of feeling so very pale in comparison to others; knowing this was genuine, perfect and she didn't need to feel anything more than the pleasure that was winding its way, rather speedily, up inside her.
All of a sudden he slowed and almost withdrew from her. Chummy found herself wanting to either slap him or swear at him as she caught her breath. "That's not funny" she eventually stuttered, rocking her hips again, clamping her hands to his back and pulling him forward. He was still inside her but only just and she felt him resist the pull.
"Turn around". It was not a suggestion.
"What?" she replied, vision clearing feeling him let go of her leg and her uniform skirt drop back to her knees. His hand went to her shoulder and she felt herself being moved so she was facing the door. "Do you trust me?" he whispered into her ear.
"Of course" she replied, half wanting to turn back around again so she could look him in the eyes when she said it but he had his hand still on her shoulder and wasn't for moving. She felt it press to the middle of her back and push her forward so she was bent facing away from him. Again she felt the cool of the room as her skirt was raised to her waist and the cotton pulled to one side again before he nudged her legs further apart with his knee. He entered her again, moving slowly at first, savouring the fact that whilst this was the first time they had tried it this way, it wouldn't be once and that was that.
She knew – he'd said it in the past – that he preferred to see her face but he could frankly swing for it if he ever wanted to look her in the eyes again during any repeats of this whole business if this was anything to go by. She didn't care about anything now; not people nor the fact she was bent over in a store room, just that he kept doing that!
Palms flat on the door, she felt his hands creep up her sides, around and over her breasts, still not so much encased in her uniform. Usually he was as gentle as anything with her but it must have been the fact that, even though she was keeping as quiet as she could bare; all he could hear was his name over and over again and it did nothing but encourage him to move faster. That and the fact that his world was starting to implode on itself as her body convulsed around him to completion and she felt his body relax against her back.
She straightened up and turned, feeling her uniform fall of its own accord towards her knees and without a word, but with a gentle kiss, both dressing quickly and to her relief the door opened first time. They may discuss it at home later or indeed, indulge in repetition but now it was more about not being found.
Peter walked three paces behind her back to the kitchen, carrying the basket that had held the ironing, seeing Sister Julienne standing over the kettle herself.
"Ah!" the Sister said. "Is that all of that ironing put away now Nurse?"
"Yes Sister" Chummy replied smiling at her, hands clasped together over her most intimate areas, almost too innocently if you knew why.
"Excellent" Sister Julienne responded, looking over to Peter who was holding tightly onto the basket, praying his tie was straight. "I see you have helped too, Constable. I saw your uniform drying out. Last thing we want is a bout of pneumonia! Thank you".
"It's always a pleasure, Sister. Every time" he replied as they let the Sister pass by, Peter standing to one side so she could walk.
Chummy just shot him a look.
"Well it was" he replied, almost whispering, but unable to stop the smirk that danced across his lips. "Wasn't it?"
