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"Is it gonna be a late one, Molls?"

"Nah, don't worry mum, I'll most likely stop at Ron's, apart from anything else it'll save her having to drop me home after we've unloaded everything"

"Okay, well have a good one then"

"I'll try"

Molly Dawes, mature student and occasional casual waitress, grabbed her bag, checked that she had her cheap imitation Doc Martin type shoes, the ones she'd bought in the market because much as she'd had preferred 'killer heels' to give her some height, these were the only type of footwear that didn't leave her feet burning with pain after a long slog. She checked that she had the little black 'waitressing' dress she wore when she worked for Ronnie and her overnight kit and set out for Camden. Ronnie, tall, a fair bit taller than Molly, slim with unruly blonde curls and a mouth like a steel trap or a sewer, depending on your point of view, was a good mate and her sometime temporary employer who lived and ran an events catering company, all from the same small warehouse building with a pretty minimal flat conversion above. Molly really envied her the privacy and freedom from nosy parker relatives that the flat gave her, even though it was more than a bit tatty, and Ronnie had offered to let her share on numerous occasions, but Molly had long ago accepted that she needed to live at home while she was a student, she could barely scrape together the tuition fees, let alone pay for any sort of independent living.

Her deployment money from her two active service tours in Afghanistan had disappeared into funding Bashira's education, with the remaining money vanishing down Dave's throat in the pub to be "pissed up against a wall" as it was known where she came from. She didn't resent the money going to look after Bashira, she felt that she owed her more, much more, than that, but she didn't feel quite the same about the money which had disappeared into the retirement fund of the local publican.

Feeling like you have to tell your mum where you're going and what time you'll be back home at night seemed pretty pathetic at almost 24, as did sleeping in the bottom bunk in a room festooned with fairy lights that she shared with her younger sister, not to mention never having any money after she'd paid her share of the household expenses.

It also meant that she didn't have any sort of sex life, not even the hint of one. Mind you, it had been a very long time since she'd met anyone she'd even consider fancying enough to go to bed with. Most of the blokes she met were too young and on the same course as she was and apart from 'not shitting on her own doorstep' as Ronnie would put it, most of them weren't to her taste at all, still, she sometimes thought it would be nice to have the option.

-OG-

"Oi, Azil, PUT HER DOWN; we're too fucking busy for your crap. We've got an hour and all this has to be done and be on the van so we ain't got time for any funny business right now"

The dulcet, honeyed tones of her friend Ronne rang out into the street outside making Molly giggle as she opened the little door set in the main warehouse doors and breathed in the sights and smells that were endemic to 'A Celebration' in full preparation mode. Ronnie had insisted that she had to call the company 'A' something or other, because no-one ever got beyond the 'A's when they googled web sites for some service they were looking for, and 'A Fucking Good Feed' probably wasn't very appropriate for the up market clients, or people with money to spend, that she was targeting. So far she had been very successful, hence her hiring of friends and relatives to supplement the permanent waiters and waitresses at events most weekends, especially in the summer and at Christmas, something Molly, with her poverty stricken student status, was exceedingly grateful for.

"Azil, what the fuck are you doing now? MOVE YOUR FUCKING ARSE!" she grinned and waved at Molly as she came through the door then returned to 'motivating' her staff "Ahmed, WASH YOUR FUCKING HANDS, we don't wanna eat food that you've touched after you've handled your FUCKING DICK, okay?"

Ronnie motioned with her head for Molly to follow her into her office, a tiny cluttered corner of the warehouse with an opening window, an absolute essential as far as Ronnie was concerned.

"You're gonna have a stroke before you're thirty if you keep on like that" Molly kissed her friend on the cheek as Ronnie used a stick to disable the smoke alarm with a well-practised flick of her arm and went to fling open the window "That as well" She nodded towards the pack of cigarettes that Ronnie had pulled out of her pocket.

"Crap, they expect to get yelled at and they don't mind, they love me, and they'd be worried if I was nice to them, Babe, and now I'm gonna commit a crime"

She flung open the window and lit her completely illegal cigarette, hanging her head out to blow the smoke away.

"Mind someone don't report you to the fag police"

Ronnie shrugged "They wouldn't dare. How are you, anyway? This should be right up your street tonight"

"What is it?"

"Some army bloke's having a garden party in his big posh house in Farnham, well, in his garden of course, they've got a marquee in case it pisses down, so toothy grins and curtseys all round because he's a brigadier or something and his wife sounds like she's got a bleeding marble in her gob, they've got a shed load of people coming" She stubbed her cigarette out on the concrete window ledge outside before turning back to Molly "You never know there might someone there who remembers you"

"Well of course they will, I mean, stands to reason don't it, as a squaddie I spent all me time hob-nobbing with Brigadiers and Generals, with the odd Colonel thrown in, I mean, they're bound to remember me, aren't they?"

"Okay, sarky cow and people are bound to remember you, you won a fucking medal, didn't you?"

"Lots of people win medals, Ron, loads of them and believe me I was the lowest of the low" Molly giggled at the serious expression on her friend's face "Apart from anything else no-one looks at a waitress's face at these things do they? especially when she's dressed up like some bleeding French Maid kissogram"

"You're too small to be a kissogram, they've always got legs all the way up to their bum and your legs aren't long enough, oh and little frilly aprons really suit you" Ronnie laughed as Molly said 'thanks' and gave her the finger. She motioned her back into the main area "Stop your bleeding moaning and practise smiling and remember this is gonna make me some serious profit tonight, so let's all try and play nicely"

"I always play nicely; it's why you love me"

-OG-

At the same time as Molly was helping Ronnie pack the small refrigerated van with trays of party food, a tall dark haired man was pounding the streets of Aldershot listening to his I-Pad and contemplating the evening ahead as he poured with sweat during the summer heat of a cloudless afternoon. He had this wonderful sense of complacency with his life as he ran that everything was neatly sorted out and being very kind to him, the event this evening wouldn't have been to his taste at all once upon a time, but his relationship with Miranda was changing all that. A Brigadier's daughter, she was also a Major, the same rank as him, a tall and very slim girl who was quietly pretty and very self-contained, a calm girl that suited him down to the ground and although they weren't yet officially engaged, they both knew that they were heading in that direction and had started to talk about 'when' they were married, so that he knew that sooner or later he was going to ask her to marry him, or she was going to ask him to marry her, and that their 'couple' status would become official.

A life with Miranda would have a great deal going for it, it would be calm and predictable, without fireworks, and Sam liked her, Charles' parents liked her and being married to a Brigadier's daughter wouldn't be a bad career move for him either. Okay, so he wasn't exactly madly in love with her, there was no obvious spark between them, no butterflies in his stomach at the thought of seeing her, no missing her dreadfully when she wasn't around, but she didn't expect much from him in terms of an outward show of affection, or even in private in bed, just a calm acceptance of their affection for one another, and he had no intentions of ever looking for any of that stomach churning, almost nausea producing emotion ever again.

-OG-

"Shitting hell, this is a fair old gaffe, innit?"

"Yeah, looks like there's a bob or two in this soldiering shit"

"Only if you're a Brigadier or something, and you don't get many of them to the pound"

Ronnie had parked the van on the gravel sweep of the drive as they looked at the beautiful old house with its mullioned windows and multiple chimneys basking in afternoon sunshine that was reflecting off the open windows, the weed free flower beds and the well-kept lawns of the front garden and checked to see where the 'tradesman's' entrance was. Ronnie was sure that this type of house would have one, even though Mrs Brigadier hadn't mentioned it.

A very tall and slim girl with short feathered mousy fair hair came out of the front door to greet them and Molly knew immediately that she was army, the way she held herself, the way she moved and her well-muscled slim arms, her flat stomach and long legs all shown off to perfection in her white vest top and khaki shorts.

"If you follow me, I'll show you where you can park and where the kitchen entrance is" The deep well-modulated voice carried easily to the two girls sitting in the van without her needing to shout as Ronnie whispered "Told you there'd be a servants entrance didn't I?" and Molly couldn't help laughing at the triumphant tone in her voice at being proved right.

"Is that Mrs Brigadier, Ron? Jesus, she's young, must be a trophy wife"

"How the fuck would I know, never met her have I? But I don't think so; I don't think that's even a woman"

"My mother says that you can park here and use this door into the kitchen, oh and she asked me to tell you that the wine merchants have delivered the order and have put it in buckets of ice out in the marquee, rather than fill the fridge, oh by the way, I'm Miranda"

"Thank you Miranda"

Ronnie started to unload the van onto a large scrubbed kitchen table in the biggest and tidiest kitchen that Molly had ever seen.

"So, not Mrs Brigadier then?"

"Miranda? I thought she was a pretty bloke in drag"

"Ronnie!"

"Well, she's got loads of muscles and no tits and her hair's really short, and she's a bit tall isn't she? She's well taller than me, not to mention you, mind you, everyone's taller than you, shortarse"

"I can't help being a bit titchy, and she's army Ron, all muscles and fit 'n that, I used to be like that once"

"What, you had no tits? And you still are fit, Molls, ask Ahmed and Azil"

"Not that sort of fit, you dick, and we can't all have tits like yours"

-OG-

Two hours later and the party was in full swing with large groups of people, many of the men in khaki, and the girls in pastel coloured dresses, most of them long and floaty, standing around on the emerald sweep of a beautiful rolling and manicured lawn, with trees providing dappled shade and large cultivated beds of roses with wigwams of sweet peas dotted around, providing a heady sweet scent to the garden. Ronnie and Molly and the rest of the catering staff who had followed them down to Surrey in Azil's old Astra, were inside the large marquee serving behind the buffet and keeping the bowls of salad replenished, as well as pouring endless glasses of chilled white wine and beer together with iced water for those who were driving, and necking loads of it themselves when no-one was looking during any break in serving the food. It was absolutely baking hot in the marquee and they were all sweating buckets as the Brigadier's wife hadn't thought to order one with integral fans or air-conditioning so that the perishable stuff had to be kept in the fridges and cool boxes and they couldn't just plonk it all out and let people help themselves.

"Jesus, I'm fucking melting" Ronnie grabbed a paper serviette and wiped the sweat off her face and pulled her top away where it was clinging to her body as she dabbed at her substantial cleavage and Molly laughed and asked her if she'd forgotten that moaning wasn't allowed because this was making her a serious profit "Come on, Molls, let's get outside for a bit and cool down, take trays of booze and pretend we're circulating, leave the lads to get on with it in here, they're well used to hot places"

"What?" For a moment Molly thought that the heat had got to her and she was referring to where they came from, the two lads might look Asian, but Molly happened to know that one came from Coventry and the other from Tower Hamlets.

"They're used to being in the sodding kitchen"

The garden was beautifully cool in the fading light of the early evening and looked like something out of a glossy magazine with all the immaculately dressed and coiffed people standing in small chattering groups.

"Fuck me" Molly hadn't meant to say anything out loud at the picture of gracious living that was set out in front of them. Being in the marquee all evening hadn't prepared her for the sheer number of people in the garden, she hadn't paid much attention to how many there were as she'd rushed to serve them, and the garden looked packed.

"Not at the moment thanks, I don't really fancy you and it's a bit hot" Ronnie giggled and looked around at the crowd "Do you reckon she put this on Facebook?"

"Muppet"

-OG-

He was doing his best to pay attention to the incredibly boring story that some Colonel's wife was relating to the group of people he and Miranda were standing with, Miranda looked as though she was listening attentively, hanging on every word the tiresome woman was spouting, and Charles realised that, despite the months they'd been together, he didn't actually know her well enough to be able to judge whether she was listening or not. He was actually bored shitless, but obviously couldn't give any outward sign of it without running the risk of upsetting his host, the Brigadier, his hostess, the Brigadier's wife or Miranda, which, apart from being unforgivably bloody rude, wouldn't be a sensible career move on his part. So he stood there, fixed grin on his face, his mind wandering as he tried hard to concentrate and wondered exactly how many of these evenings he'd have to endure if he took the plunge and married her and whether it was a price worth paying.

"Muppet"

He knew his head had whipped round like some sort of cartoon character from one of Sam's DVDs, as his eyes scoped the crowd looking for and failing to find a small girl, with long dark hair, the source of that voice from his past, calling someone that name with that tell-tale giggle that he'd never quite forgotten. After a while he began to doubt himself as he realised that he must have imagined it, the garden was crowded and there was a lot of chatter all around them and the voice hadn't been loud; he couldn't possibly have remembered someone's voice that clearly from hearing just one word, someone he hadn't seen for, he couldn't think for how long exactly, but for more than four years and anyway what the hell would she be doing here. He made a conscious effort to stop looking for her and forced his attention back to Miranda who was staring at him strangely as though she had asked him something and he hadn't answered.

"Sorry?"

"I said shall we go and get a coffee or something? Where were you, you were miles away"

"Yep, a coffee would be great and sorry if I was a bit …you know, distracted for a moment"

"That woman is enough to make anyone a bit distracted or to try and be"

For a moment he couldn't think what woman she was talking about, and then made a conscious effort to pull himself together and follow her into the sweltering marquee where a young, very flushed and warm looking waiter was serving coffee.

-OG-

"Here, I've just copped an eyeful of that Miranda's bloke, how did some bird who looks like an ironing board get her hands on a fit bloke like him, she must have more going for her than I thought, must be shit-hot in bed or something. They're over there getting coffee" Ronnie nudged Molly who was loading up another tray with glasses of wine ready to circulate again through the garden "If all the blokes look like him I'm not surprised girls join the bleeding army"

"What, he's in the army too?"

"Yeah, maybe it's the uniform"

"I think it's time you found another bloke, Tits, you're beginning to sound desperate for a shag"

"I wouldn't say no to that one, wouldn't kick him out of bed, I think I'm in lust with him, and anyway what about you? How long's it been? Long enough for you to become a born again virgin yet?"

"Nearly and you don't want some bloke that's already spoken for, Ron, you've tried that before"

Molly was still giggling as she looked over her shoulder in the direction that Ronnie had indicated with her head and met a very familiar pair of deep chocolate brown eyes which were staring at her transfixed as if he'd seen a ghost. He patted Miranda on the arm and said something to her, then walked towards them, which wiped the grin off Molly's face in record time.

"Oh, bollocks"

"Hello Molly"

-OG-

Author's notes: I know this is a longer chapter than I normally do, but the scene is now set! I hope you enjoyed it.