Not exactly a crossover, but this piece is basically Chelsie set in the world of Lesley Manville and Peter Mullan's marvelous Mum. Some unconventional and certainly non-canon romantic and familial connections in this, but the dispositions of particular characters seem to serve my purposes best in this configuration.

Thank you in advance for giving it a chance…

The sun had been up for three hours, Elsie Burns for six. Showered and dressed in a simple black skirt and charcoal gray sweater set, she shuffled about the kitchen in well-worn slippers that were dusted with a thin coat of flour, baking not exactly her métier, but a means of killing a few hours after her brain refused the opportunity of more sleep.

The top layer was slightly off-center, but she was feeling quite pleased with the look of her Victoria sponge when she heard the chime of her phone from the entry.

Careful not to displace the icing sugar newly poured into a large sifter as she gently set it on a tea towel, she licked her fingers on her way to the front table where she unplugged her old android from its charger and entered the code which allowed her to access a message from Molesley and Son's Funeral Home and Crematorium.

Half leaning, half perching on the table, she held her breath as she opened the text which contained a photo image of an embossed card.

Joseph Reresby Burns

May 1, 1956 – March 15, 2017

Beloved husband of Elsie, father of Atticus "Gus,"

and son of Michael and Josephine

Service and Cremation Saturday, March 18, 2017

Molesley and Son's Funeral Home and Crematorium

Order of Service

Processional... The Dark Island

Scripture... John 14: 1-3

Prayer ...Rev. Albert Travis

Obituary... Charles Carson

Robert Burns' Epitaph On My Own Friend... Charles Carson

Hymn... The Lord Is My Shepherd

Eulogy... Rev. Albert Travis

Recessional... I To the Hills Will Lift Up My Eyes

Please join the family for a celebration of

Joe's life at The Lion's Head Public House following the service

The first draft of the order of service had "Atticus" spelled with one "t," which in her exhausted and emotionally-spent state Elsie had missed, but luckily Charles had been at the house when it arrived, and his discerning eye had picked up on the error.

Charles Carson. She let her eyes linger upon his name. On reflection she didn't know how she would have managed for not only over the past few days, but the previous two years had it not been for their old friend Charlie. He had spent almost as much time as the hospital as she and Gus had and had even carried her exhausted body in from the car after he drove she and Gus home the night Joe had passed.

Scanning back over the order, a wave of dread and uncertainty overtook her, and she had to grasp the edge of the table behind her to keep her knees from buckling under her. It was really happening.

Waking alone at three hadn't felt unusual; she'd awoken alone more often than not over the past six months, and Joe hadn't left the hospital in the last two, but the early hour and stillness of the house intensified a feeling of emptiness and she had forced herself to get up in order to fill the first few hours with distractions in the forms of tedious chores she normally would have put-off. That middle-of-the-night emptiness, however, was nothing compared to the abject despair she now felt as her eyes passed over the small black squiggles that formed the words: beloved, cremation, obituary, and eulogy.

Replying: Looks v. nice. Thnx Joe, she returned her phone to the charger, dusted the cake, and then found yet another distraction by making a mug of tea, more milk and sugar than tea, in truth, but it was the way Gus liked it. Arriving at his bedside, she was leaning over to kiss his forehead when she caught sight of a lined notepad that had the words "Dear Dad," written across the top. Turning her head away quickly, she tried to ignore a sudden pain in her chest as she set the mug down before retreating to the bathroom across the hall where she splashed her face with cold water and waited for the large lump in her throat to disappear.

Straightening up, it took her a moment to recognize the woman in the reflection of the mirror. The sparkle in her deep blue eyes seemed to have dimmed over the last few months in tandem with Joe's lifeforce, and her Scottish peaches and cream complexion was pallid, her face drawn from a lack of both appetite and sleep over the previous weeks.

Running her fingers through her hair, she sighed, still unused to her new haircut, but having neglected her long auburn locks for so long, she had no choice but to have a great deal of the length cut off the day before. The styling was less demanding but felt foreign as she wrestled with the small flat iron the girl had convinced her to buy to create gentle waves, and after fifteen minutes and a sense of surrender, she gave up the battle and decided it was as good as it was going to get.

An application of under-eye concealer over her dark circles, she then applied tinted moisturizer, some powder and blush, and was brushing on a coat of water-proof mascara when the bell rang for the first of several times that day. Gus still snoring away, she rushed down the stairs and opened the door on the third ring where she was met by a brown-paper wrapped bunch of flowers in the hands of a young woman with a pronounced overbite and an overly-sympathetic smile that didn't strike her as particularly genuine.

"Flower delivery!"

Taking a deep breath, she fought the profound desire to respond with, "No shit, Sherlock," but summoned a modicum of control and simply replied, "Thank you."

The smile on the girl shifted from sympathetic to maudlin as she offered, "Try to have a good day, love," before turning back towards the street.

Her hands now filled with a mix of Casa Blanca lilies and eucalyptus stems, she closed her eyes and found solace in fantasizing about beating the retreating blonde about the head with the bouquet.

The sound of footsteps thumping down the stairs behind her drew her from her thoughts and she turned just in time to see all six feet of her sleepy son arrive at the bottom dressed in nothing but his boxer briefs and a red Polo shirt.

Watching him rub his eyes with the palms of his hand just as his father had done so often during their married life, she had to swallow hard before offering a cheerful, "Good morning, love."

Her instinct was to wrap her arms around him and inhale the unique scent that was equal parts fabric softener, milky tea, some ridiculously named soap like Slam or Grind he was currently using, as well as that indefinable hint of something that reminded her immediately of Joe, however, she refrained from pulling him to her as she thought she might not be able to let go if she did.

"You alright, Mum?"

"Yeah. Fine, sweetheart." Doing her best to maintain a light tone, she made her way into the kitchen where she set the bouquet on the floor next to two similar ones and a large potted geranium received late the day before; their predecessors lining the mantle, table tops, and anywhere else she could find a place.

Gus had followed behind and with the jug of milk from the refrigerator now in his hand, he was lifting it to his lips when she quickly supplied an empty pint glass which earned her a toothy grin.

"I thought it might have been Rose at the door."

Elsie had been eager to meet the young woman he had been seeing for the past two months, although she would have preferred that their first encounter not be the day of Joe's funeral.

"No. Just more flowers. We've no more room. If anymore come I'll have to start putting them in the garden. What in the world are we going to do with them all?"

A biscuit in his mouth, he gave his shoulders a shrug. "Maybe Gran and Granddad will take some?"

"Maybe." A sly smile accompanied, "You know whatever I offer will make your Gran either sneeze or itch or both."

"Yeah."

Their exchange of knowing smiles was interrupted by the bell which inspired Gus to quickly lope towards the front door as he spied a petite figure on the other side of the beveled glass.

"That's her! She's here!" he excitedly called over his shoulder.

Watching him move so eagerly, she remembered the sight of a four-year-old Gus running full speed down the same corridor at the sound of his father's key in the lock at the end of the day and had to bite her lip for a second before managing a bright smile on her way towards the young couple at the front door.

"Rose, this is my mum, Elsie."

"So nice to meet/Hi! I'm so happy…"

Elsie's extended hand met Rose's middle as the beautiful blonde surprised her by leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"Sorry!/Sorry!"

Embarrassed smiles were exchanged between the women as they shared a slightly awkward hug.

Giggling, Rose cried, "I never know exactly when to do that, the kissy cheek thing. So sorry!"

Elsie reached out and squeezed her arm; her immediate impression being that Rose MacClare was a vibrant, pretty young woman, and that her son was clearly crazy about her.

"It's very nice to meet you, Rose. I just wish it were under different circumstances."

"Oh, yes. I'm so sorry he's…that you're…you know…about him dying and…"

Putting the young woman out of her misery, Elsie interrupted, "Yes, thank you, dear. That's very kind."

"Sorry. That wasn't…I practiced on the way over. I wanted to say the right…I'm sorry. I'm just not good with…and my mum always says if I had a brain I'd be dangerous, well, but I want you to…anyway…I'm…"

"You're very sweet, Rose. Don't worry about the words. We're just happy you're here."

The girl looked as though she might cry as she let out the breath she had been holding.

"Come on. I'll show you the kitchen." Gus wrapped an arm around Rose's shoulder, giving his mum an appreciative look over his shoulder.

Moving to check her phone, Elsie couldn't help but grin as she heard Rose whisper to Gus, "I think your mum is the nicest person I've ever met."

"Uncle Richard and Ros are here!" Gus called up the stairs to where Elsie was sitting at her vanity for no other reason than to escape the very chatty Rose who had spent twenty minutes describing the only other funeral she had ever attended which had been for her dog.

A warm man by nature, her brother was still nursing the broken heart he had suffered decades ago while in medical school when a young nurse-in-training had spurned his affections. Dropping out of school, he had opted for a chiropractic course, and after a series of failed romances over the years, he was currently with the soon-to-be-divorced Rosamunde whose wealthy, philandering husband had dumped her abruptly and the only way the woman had found to console herself was to belittle those around her.

The news of her brother and his partner arriving had renewed the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, and after whispering "fuck me," Elsie forced herself to make the trip downstairs.

"If it isn't Queen Elsie of the faerie folk!"

Richard had greeted her in this manner for as long as she could remember, and the warmth of his embrace was welcome, although the sensation didn't last long as she met the cool smile of his partner behind him.

"Hello, Rosamunde. Thank you for coming."

The tall red-head was sleek as an eel in head-to-toe black, including an obnoxiously tiny hat which was far more formal than the woman knew was called for.

"Oh, you're welcome. Looks like we're a bit early. You haven't finished your make-up."

Any hope Elsie held that Rosamunde would be on her best behavior was lost, and although her teeth were already on edge after only a few seconds in the woman's company, for her brother's sake she smiled and gestured toward the kitchen. "Let me make you a cup of tea."

"Is it from a pot?"

Elsie closed her eyes and took a deep breath before turning around to answer, "Afraid I just have tea bags."

Her nose scrunched up in a sneer, the woman shook her head. "Oh, well. Don't bother."

"I've a pot of coffee."

"Free trade?"

Elsie frowned and glanced over her shoulder, "I don't know. Sainsbury's?"

The sneer now having shifted to a look of complete disappointment, Rosamunde glanced over at the cake. "Victoria sponge?"

"Yes!" Relieved to escape the beverage belittling, she began to cut them each a piece and waited until Rosamunde had a full bite in her mouth before informing her, "I made it myself this morning."

The look on the woman's pinched face was priceless, and Elsie had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep a giggle at bay as she watched her struggle to force the bite down her throat.

It was cold, but clear and for that Charles Carson gave thanks.

"You deserved a nice day, mate," he whispered as he approached the tidy front door of the brick semi which was as familiar to him as his own home on the far side of town.

He ran his free hand down the front of his coat and gave a last glance to the large bouquet of lilies and white roses in his other assuring himself he hadn't lost the small card with Elsie's name written across the front.

Swallowing hard, he was lifting his hand to ring the bell when the door suddenly opened and he was greeted by the surprised faces of Gus and a young woman he immediately assumed was the famous Rose the young man had been seeing.

"Charlie! Didn't know you were here. I was just getting my shoes out of the car."

"Ah, well, I was just about to ring." Charles turned his attention to a smiling Rose and offered his hand. "Hello, Charles Carson."

"Hello, Charles Carson." She gave his hand a polite shake which was accompanied by a giggle before she turned to Gus. "He does have crazy eyebrows!"

"Rose!" Gus tugged playfully on her arm as he laughed.

Her face was colored with panic as she turned back to Charles. "Sorry! I'm sorry! He just told me you had these crazy eyebrows and you do. I mean, they're really…they're cool…really, umm…bushy."

Knowing the woman meant no offense, he joined in their laughter, his eyebrows having long been a source of good-hearted teasing from both Joe and Gus over the years he took her comment in his stride. "It's fine. Keep the rain out of my eyes."

The young people continued to laugh before Rose's face suddenly grew solemn as she placed a gentle hand on Charles' arm. "I'm really sorry about your dead friend."

'Oh, well, yes. Um, thank you." Charles was at a loss of how to respond to the abrupt statement.

"You know, I've only been to one other funeral besides this and it was for my dog."

Charles shot Gus a questioning look but was only met with a shrug before the young man slipped past them to retrieve his shoes, leaving Charles to endure Rose's rabbiting on about her now departed chihuahua.

Her uncomfortable small talk with Richard and Rosamunde having dwindled into an even more uncomfortable silence, Elsie was relieved when the couple finally drifted into the sunroom on the back of the house, no doubt for the snotty woman to scrutinize, and most certainly criticize Elsie's outfit, cooking, furniture, and every other aspect of her life, but she was grateful for a few peaceful moments to load the dishwasher. Soap added, she was pushing the start button when she heard the front door open and Gus call out: "Mum! Charlie's here!"

He didn't know why but he suddenly felt strange about giving her the flowers in front of the others, so he stashed them on the table in the entry as he wiped his feet while also craning his neck to catch sight of her.

Although he was stood at the other end of the house, the presence of the large man inspired in her a sense of calm and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders subside as she saw him through the kitchen doorway.

He was lifting his hand to greet her when Gus called out, "Gran and Grandad are here!"

Glancing into the sunroom to find Rosamunde's scowl still in place as she picked through a small candy dish, Elsie decided her in-laws were the lesser of two evils and made her way towards the open front door where she met Gus and Charles helping the elderly couple up the drive.

"Good morning, Josie. How are you?"

"Everything hurts, Elsie, and my bowels haven't moved in three days."

"Oh, well, sorry to hear that."

Michael was trailing behind his grandson and wife, a frown on his face as he muttered, "Don't listen to her, Elsie-love. Old and fat. That's all that's wrong with her and she's as regular as the gas bill."

"Shut up, old man!"

Elsie lifted her eyebrows and exchanged an amused look with Charlie as Gus led his grandparents into the front room. "And we're off!" she whispered with a laugh as she reached out and gave his arm a squeeze.

"Are you alright?"

His deep voice was soothing, the proximity of his body's warmth a welcome presence in the small entry.

"Fine, I'm fine, thanks."

He was reaching for the bouquet but stopped as she turned from just inside the front room and called over her shoulder, "Well, come on then. Don't desert me in my time of need."

There was a sense of jest in her whispered words but in truth that was exactly why he had turned up at the house instead of just meeting them at the crematorium. Standing in the doorway, the continued moans of Josephine Burns and her husband's muttered jibes, as well as Gus trying to introduce Rose went unheard as his thoughts returned to the last time he had seen Joe alive.

"You'll take care of them, won't you, Charlie? Watch over Gus and be there for her? Be there for Elsie?"

It was a small hospital room, but thankfully private given that the doctor had encouraged them all to try to find time to say what they needed to as Joe's body had begun to shut down.

Elsie and Gus had slipped home to take a quick nap and shower before returning to continue their vigil and Charles had promised not to leave Joe's side until they returned.

His attention having been occupied by a muted cricket match on the television in the corner of the hospital room while Joe had been sleeping for the previous half-hour, his friend's weak voice caught him by surprise.

"What's that, mate?"

"Elsie and Gus. You'll take care of them for me, won't you? I know Gus is grown, but I think he might be lost for a bit. You'll watch over him for me, won't you?"

"Of course. Of course, I will. Always, Joe."

The men had been friends since they were boys, but demonstrable emotion and affection had never had a place in their relationship, so he was surprised when Joe reached out towards him.

Charles had always been the larger of the two, but only by a couple of inches in height and usually only a stone or so in weight, but cancer had so ravaged Joe's body that his hand disappeared when wrapped in the warm, fleshy paw of his friend.

"You've always been so good about her."

His pulse sped up as he considered the words Joe had chosen. Not once in the history of their friendship had either acknowledged that Charles had anything but platonic feelings for Elsie, and while it had been a true struggle, he had prided himself on never having let down his guard. He tried to keep his voice light as he quickly responded, "About Elsie? She's a wonderful person. I hope I have been good to her."

A weak smile found its way onto Joe's face as he gave his hairless head a slight shake. "Not to. About. You've always been so respectful. So unselfish."

"I think this might be your meds talking."

Joe's smile reappeared. "I'm lucid, Charles. Maybe more so than ever. And this is important."

"Earth to Charles."

He gave his head a small shake and smiled with a bit of embarrassment as he looked over to find Elsie grinning brightly at him from across the room before turning to the others.

"I'm headed to the kitchen. Would anyone like a cup of tea? Coffee?"

His sense of chivalry kicked in and he gently chided, "You don't need to get it. Let me." He turned to the other side of the room. "Josie? Michael? You two?"

Gus and Rose declined the offer, but Josie and Michael were quick to accept and were delighted to hear there was cake on offer, as well.

"And you, Elsie?"

She shook her head, "I'm fine, but you'll not be able to carry it all. I'll come with you."

A mischievous smile thrown his way as she led the way towards the kitchen, she stopped just before they reached the door and offered over her shoulder, "Rose, love, perhaps you could tell Josie and Michael about your dog."

"That was cruel," he whispered down into her ear as they entered the kitchen.

"Cruel? Me? You tried to rob me of my chance to escape! The whole reason I offered tea was to get away from George and Martha in there."

Charles couldn't help but smile at her mention of the nicknames he, she, and Joe had often used for the constantly bickering elder Burns in reference to the caustic characters played by Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton in the old film Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

"Sorry. You know I'm not always the best about picking up cues."

"Maybe we need a sign or a code word."

He couldn't help but admire her pluck during such a trying time. "A code word?"

"Yes, like if I get stuck and want to escape I would say "bananas" and you would tell me I was wanted in the other room."

He laughed. "People might think you are bananas if you just blurt the word out of nowhere."

"Well, not "bananas" then. What's your suggestion?"

Smiling as she was, he caught a glimpse of the joyful woman she had been before Joe's diagnosis, and after a few moments he realized he was staring, Fighting desperately to cover, he managed, "Uh, um…just…just give your ear a tug. If I see you tug on your ear, I'll know to come to your rescue."

"My hero. Alright. Ear tug it is," she agreed as she filled the electric kettle before pulling mugs down from a shelf. "So, Rose."

"Ah, yes." They shared knowing smiles, their mutual impression of the girl clear. He turned to make sure no one was near before continuing. "She seems very sweet. Chatty, but sweet, and Gus is obviously quite smitten."

"He is. More so than with other girls, I think, and yes, yes she is very chatty. She told you about her…"

"The dog? Oh, yes. I have heard all about Mr. Bubbles."

Her lip began to twitch and she threw her hand over her mouth as she fought not to laugh. "Bless. The poor wee thing went through chemo…"

Struggling himself, he added, "And then they attached it to a little wagon after its back legs were removed."

Both gave up the fight, the kitchen filled with their laughter.

"Oh, poor Mr. Bubbles," Elsie whispered. "We are terrible people. You know that, don't you?"

They had each almost regained their composure when she suddenly cried out, "But then the very next day he got hit by pensioner on a motorized scoot-" Her voice was high, the words fighting their way through her hysterical laughter as she bent over while Charles rested heavily against the counter, each of them fighting to catch their breath.

"Oh, I needed that," she choked out using the tea towel to wipe away the first joyful tears her eyes had known in quite some time before handing him a cup of tea only for them each to burst into a new fit of giggles. "We have to stop. Laughing on a day like today. People will think I've lost my mind. Let's change the subject. How's your mum?"

"That is a change of subject. You'll give me whiplash."

"Oh stop."

"Alright, alright. She's fine. The rain worsens her arthritis and she doesn't exercise like she's supposed to since that heart attack, but she's sharp as a tack and always asks after you," he answered while cutting pieces of her Victoria sponge.

"That's kind of her."

"She's taken this hard. You know Joe was like a second son to her. I told her there was no need for her to get out, but she insisted so I'm going to swing by and pick her up on my way to the funeral home."

She had assumed he was going with them in one of the funeral cars, so the fact that he picking-up his mother meant he had made a trip all the way across town to visit her before the service. Touched by his sweetness, she was moving to give him a hug when Richard suddenly appeared in the doorway from the sunroom.

"Mr. Carson! Nice to see you, to see you nice!" A buoyant Richard offered his hand before launching into a tirade about a recent rugby match.

Carrying a tray with the cake and tea for the elders in the front room, Elsie slipped past the men which didn't go unobserved by Charles whose chest tightened as she rounded the corner and out of view.

Noticing Charles' focus, Richard commented, "She seems okay, don't you think? I wasn't sure what to expect today, but she's really holding it together."

Both men jumped at the sound of Rosamunde's harsh voice. "Well, it isn't like she didn't know it was coming. Took forever, didn't he? I mean he did…linger."

Rosamunde's words still hanging in the air, Charles' hands curled into fists as he fought the desire not to drag the stick of a woman outside and throw her over the garden gate. For the life of him he couldn't understand why such a decent man as Richard put up with such a harridan for a partner.

The men exchanged worried looks as Elsie returned with an empty tray, each concerned she had overheard the indelicate remark.

"What did I miss?"

"We were discussing your garden," Rosamunde quickly lied. "It's actually quite nice for a house like this."

Standing at the sink with her back to the others, Elsie rolled her eyes as she answered, "Thank you, Roz."

"You never did get that pond you wanted, did you?" Richard stepped next to his sister and gave her elbow a gentle squeeze as they both looked out at the green space beyond the window.

"No, no we never got around to it."

"A pond? What? A little puddle, a bench, and some goldfish? I've always found those artificial things a bit tacky."

Count to three… Elsie took a deep breath before returning a simple, "Oh, well, Roz, it doesn't really matter now."

"Love, you want a step outside? Get some air?" Richard moved swiftly, his hand going to her elbow as he ushered her towards the front of the house, and after they had cleared the doorway, Charles closed both doors leading out of the kitchen before moving to Elsie's side at the sink.

He noticed her knuckles were white as she gripped the countertop and he had to fight the urge to rest his hand atop hers while offering a low, "Coast is clear. You can let loose."

One side of her mouth curled as she continued to gaze out into the garden. "If only."

"Go on. It's just me. Just old Charlie to hear."

The smell of Joe's clothes in the wardrobe next to hers as she dressed that morning, the sight of their wedding picture on her vanity as she slipped on the locket he had given her on her fortieth birthday, all the memories that waited ready to pounce from around every corner of the house they had shared for twenty years, surrounded all morning by all of these things, she had somehow managed to keep her composure until this moment.

"Bloody hell, Charlie. I thought I was ready. I've kept it inside, but I've been through it all in my head, over and over." Her eyes were squeezed shut, her grip on the counter growing impossibly tighter as she continued, "You know, he never said it out loud, never would admit it and so I didn't either, not out loud, but I knew. Ever since that first day he went to the doctors I knew. I don't think he believed he could, that he ever really would...even at the end, the last thing he said to me was 'just gonna rest my eyes for a bit, Els.' Her bottom lip was trembling, tears escaping as she opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Only, I knew…but I'd been through it with my parents, and then all those years with Becky and hospitals, hadn't I? And that was hard but I made it through, so this should be…" She reached out with one hand, twisting the thick fabric of his coat between her fingers, desperate for something on which to hold. "But it isn't. I mean I read all the, you know, the things and joined the online, the support things, bought the vitamins for him they said to and got soft pajamas and warm socks for the cold hospital room..."

He held his breath to keep his own emotions in check as he watched her fall apart, and although every cell in his body was calling for him to wrap his arms around her, he knew if he did she would collapse completely.

Letting go of his sleeve, she turned and let her lower back rest against the counter, one hand sliding up her throat unconsciously willing the lump there to go away. "I've prepared for this, been preparing for this for so…but I just miss him so much. Not the Joe in the hospital, but the Joe who made me laugh…and if he were here now, the three of us, we'd be laughing about...and bloody Rosamunde. My God! Why am I letting her get to me?" A mirthless laugh escaped as she spun around and focused on nothing specific in the distance. "It's just Rosamunde. Jesus, I mean I know she thinks she's posh, and if Joe had done to me what her ex had done to her…but Christ, she's a fucking twat."

His movements were efficient and purposeful as he pulled a glass from the cabinet and then a bottle of scotch from the shelf on the other side of the kitchen as she continued to speak.

"And Josie and Michael. Their only son is dead and yet they still manage to whittle away at one another just like its any other day." She turned, her address halting his actions. "It's not normal, Charlie. How can they…I'd give my right arm just for one more minute, for one more smile…"

She wrapped her arms around her middle to hold herself together as she shook with sobs.

Three fingers poured into the glass, he quickly moved to her side and lifted the drink to her lips. "Here, drink this. Just take a sip. Just a sip."

The liquid hit her tongue with a pleasant sting and she felt the tension in her shoulders ease as she swallowed. "Sorry...that was…how embarrassing. I shouldn't have…"

He shook his head as he offered another sip which was gratefully accepted. "Don't apologize for a thing. You have every right to say whatever you want and you may not think so, but you are doing so well, so well. He'd be so proud."

She held the whiskey in her mouth, her throat suddenly tightening.

Cursing himself, he scrambled for something to say to lighten the mood.

"And you're right, by the way. She is a fucking twat."

The coarsest things she'd ever heard Charles say in all their years together were a few tipsy "bloodies" and one "damn" when he'd brought a hammer down on his thumb when he and Joe had been putting together a swing set for Gus, so his recitation of her own heated words made her smile. She was reaching out for his hand when there was a knock on the door leading to the front of the house.

"Mum? Charlie? The hearse is here."

He watched her lips purse as she shifted her gaze back towards the garden.

"Be right there," he called before stepping up behind her and slipping his handkerchief into her hand. "You can do this. You can do this for Gus."

Wiping her eyes and nose, she turned to look up at him. "How?'

"You put one foot in front of the other and if you feel overwhelmed, I'm here. I know I'm not much to look at, but I'm fairly solid so you can lean on me and you can always hold my hand if you need to feel steady."

"I don't deserve you, Charlie. You've been so good…" Her fingertips brushed over the place on his sleeve she had so desperately gripped before, but she quickly withdrew her hand as Gus suddenly opened the door.

"Mum?"

Giving her head a little shake, she managed a small smile. "Right there, love. You alright?"

There was a sadness in his own smile, but he nodded. "Yeah."

"Rose alright?"

"Yeah." He began to turn away, but looked back over his shoulder and asked, "You do like her, don't you, Mum?"

"Very much, sweetheart, I like her very much."

"And you, Charlie?"

Charles was both surprised and touched that Gus wanted his approval.

"She's lovely, mate. Like a bit of sunshine on a dark day."

Gus' chest expanded with pride. "Can I tell her you said that? It'll make her so happy."

"Of course, but you don't have to tell her I said it."

The young man's smile grew as Charles' meaning dawned. "Thanks, Charlie. You're the best."

"Like I said, we don't deserve you." She whispered as they watched Gus round the bannister, his quick steps thudding up the stairs.

He broke the quiet that had settled between them. "I should make a move and get my mum. You'll be alright with Josie and Michael? If not, I'm sure Joe Molesley would take them on to the crematorium and come back for you and Gus if you want."

"No need. I'll manage, but it does help to know you'll be nearby."

"Of course." He was almost out of the room when he turned back to her, "I'm on your side. You know that, right?"

His scent invading her senses as she used his handkerchief once more, she gave him a grateful nod. "I do."

"Just a moment. Forgot my gloves."

Gus and Rose helping his grandparents into the funeral car, Elsie slipped back into the house and was grabbing her gloves from the table when a large bouquet of flowers caught her eye. "Goodness. More flowers?" Leaning over to smell the lilies and roses, she found herself staring at a small envelope with her name on it. Gloves tucked under her arm, she pulled out a small piece of cardstock, something pulling in her chest as she read the words:

I'm here. Anytime. Anyplace. Anywhere.

-Charles

"You've always been so good about her."

"About Elsie? She's a wonderful person. I hope I have been good to her."

"Not to. About. You've always been so respectful. So unselfish."

"I think this might be your meds talking."

"I'm lucid, Charles. Maybe more so than ever. And this is important. I know you love her."

"She's my friend. Both of you, you're my friends. I love you both."

"No. You're in lovewith her. You always have been."

"Joe…"

"If she can return it and you can make her happy, I want that for you. Want that for you both."

"You are on some strong medicine-"

"Be happy, Charles. Make her happy."

So, whatcha think? I have more in mind...