A/N: I know this is long, hopefully not long enough to get boring, and that you enjoy it as much as I'm enjoying creating the picture in my head. Thank you for your reviews, they mean the world to me, so please carry on letting me know that you're still with me, otherwise I get paranoid ….. . Chapter 4 is almost done (unless I get the urge to re-write it – again).

-OG-

The sofas were designed for two people to sit side by side or maybe three at a pinch if they were very close friends, so it was cramped sitting there next to him trying not to press her thigh against the fat bloke sitting on her other side taking up all the space, Eddie …. or Freddie, something like that, someone had told her but she couldn't remember. It did mean having to sit with Charles' leg touching hers though and his arm brushing against her when he moved so that she was a bit distracted from whatever it was the others were talking about but couldn't think of anything to say to fill the sudden silence between them, well nothing sensible anyway. Her psychology lecturer had told them once that the best thing if you're not sure and it's all gone a bit quiet and funny is to ask the person to talk about themselves, as a rule people don't get bored if they're the main topic of conversation.

So she asked him to tell her about Afghanistan, what it had been like before the bearded nutjob with a gun had used him for a target, and where else he'd been and then worried that it might sound as if she was interrogating him. But she was enjoying listening to his voice and the way he sounded when he was telling her how hard it was sometimes being in charge and being responsible for everyone staying safe. She laughed when he admitted that they had to call him 'Sir' and had asked whether they had to salute him all the bloody time as well, seeing as how he was like their boss or something, because she didn't agree with calling anyone 'Sir' ….. she never had and she'd never saluted anyone in her life either, and wasn't about to start so he could forget it if he thought that was going to happen.

He longed to ask her what circumstances she was conjuring up in that brain of hers that could possibly lead to him expecting her to salute, but then wondered if it might sound a tad 'Fifty Shades-ish' so told her instead that that was what being in the army meant, and that he had to call people 'Sir' sometimes as well and even had to salute them. She'd looked at him with a wicked grin on her face and said it all sounded a bit shit to her and that she'd maybe just stick to chopping up dead things, frogs 'n rats 'n that, even if they did pen 'n ink a bit. Charles pretended to be squeamish so that the thought of doing anything like that made him shudder and then threw his head back and roared with laughter. He simply didn't remember the last time he'd spent so much time talking about, well, about himself really, usually any of his conversations of any length were with Sammie, or work-related, he didn't know when he'd last enjoyed one as much as he was enjoying this one.

Molly had begun to have the best time she'd had since Max, she was doing a lot of laughing with him but at the same time, unfortunately, had sort of begun to lose track of exactly how many drinks had found their way down her throat, although it might have been a fair few, if the way she found herself staring at his mouth when he talked was anything to go by … and the way that she had to force herself to look away when she started to wonder what it would be like to kiss him. She had to give herself a little mental shake and remind herself that even a nice mouth and lovely white teeth like his didn't make him her type….

To start with he was far too old for her ….. too … Mr Darcy-ish …. too posh, even if he did have this voice that was really sexy, and he was most likely married, of course he was, and she didn't touch married men. Blokes of his age usually were, especially blokes who looked like him, although she didn't actually know any others so he was definitely a first on that front, but she was beginning to feel as if she needed one of them human shields to get in between her and him and stop her from … from well, whatever, she had to remember it was the booze that was making her think stuff, and that she should concentrate on the him who was an up-himself miserable git because how the fuckitty fuck did she go from him making her skin itch so that she'd wanted to lamp him one, to here, to where she kept wondering what he was like under all that … suit … shit, she was as bad as Phoebe with the beer goggles.

Bloody Elvis had ignored Charles when he said for him to shut the fuck up and had kept on with all these little nods and winks and this saying stuff that she couldn't hear but what was obviously about her because it was making Phoebe and Zoe giggle and keep on looking over. Molly wasn't actually renowned for her patience, although she'd have said she had the patience of a saint, still enough was bloody enough. She could take a joke with the best of them, but he was seriously pissing her off so much that she leaned over and patted him on the knee and then told him sweetly that she hoped he didn't mind her saying but he could get treatment for them twitches these days. Charles had snorted a really loud laugh down his nose before he turned back to look at her, his face alight with laughter and his eyebrows almost disappeared up in his curls.

"Sorry, just that he's getting on me tits"

"No, Oh no, please don't apologise, that was wonderful, you're wonderful ….. Elvis is …. very bad news where women are concerned"

"I used to work in this pub in the east end, years ago now, but it was bloody full of knobheads like him, all thought they was god's gift" She shook her head ruefully as she thought about the days when she'd perfected the art of dealing with blokes like Elvis "Don't worry about me, I'm well used to it"

"Tell me something, Molly, how old are you?"

"24 ….. why, what's that gotta do with anything?"

"Nothing, just curious, and I'm surprised to hear that you'd worked in a pub, you look too young"

Charles didn't even try to work out why the sudden surge of pleasure and of … relief … that she was older than he'd originally assumed.

"I'm wearing well, it's me good healthy lifestyle, five a day does it every time" She waved her glass about before turning it upside down in the air to show it was empty.

"Indeed, I can see that ….. or is that your subtle way of telling me that you'd like another? Oh and by the way, I don't think five a day applies to Vodka"

"I know, bit of a bugger that, innit? But nah thanks, you know, thanks anyway but think I've had enough …. So come on then Charlie it's your turn, how old are you?"

"I'm not dead … and you're not my mother last time I looked, so I'm not Charlie, I'm Charles ….. and I'll be 33 next birthday"

"Shit, will you? Poor old bugger you, mind I thought you was older, specially when you get all miserable about not being Charlie 'n that … nah, nah, I didn't mean it …. I never…. Stop it, I'm sorry ….. sorry … just messing …"

Suddenly there was nothing to say so he slowly stopped laughing and very reluctantly moved his hands away from round her throat. He'd been intent on shaking her gently, pretending he was about to try and throttle her, but touching her had filled him with an overpowering urge to run his thumbs slowly along her jaw instead and to tangle his fingers in her hair and pull her towards him, to close the gap between them and to silence her giggled protests by kissing her…. In spite of where they were and of being surrounded by people and in spite of the total inappropriateness of it, he couldn't think of anything he wanted more …..

-OG-

The party ended when the hotel sent in the big guns, the manager, to stand behind the bar with a disapproving look on his face and to glower in their direction. Other residents had obviously objected to the way they were behaving and Charles couldn't say he blamed them, the bride was loud and very drunk and was using really offensive language, she was shrieking with laughter and swearing at the top of her voice so that several families had gathered up their children and left, after sending deeply disgusted looks in their direction which made him, for one, extremely uncomfortable. Much as he didn't want to stop talking to Molly, Charles wasn't sorry when it was time to go in search of food, even with all his years of experience of squaddies on the lash, this was something new and he found it distasteful and embarrassing and even Elvis had put his hand over her mouth at one point and the other girls kept telling her to keep it down. Zoe and the other girl, Julie, were also very, very pissed, although not as bad as the bride, and even Molly was slightly unsteady on her feet, although she was nothing like as bad as the rest after their head start. She was also just a tiny bit angry, she'd been really enjoying herself until Phoebe had started with all the shit and didn't want to go out in the cold and go off somewhere and get even more pissed, but knew they'd have to leave in any case because they were going to get thrown out any minute.

"Bye, Charlie"

"Bye, be careful won't you? Don't get arrested or anything"

Her insistence that he'd given her his permission to call him Charlie, which he absolutely hadn't, ceased to matter when she stood on her tiptoes and pecked his cheek.

"Don't fall in if you go on the pier, and" He inclined his head towards Phoebe "And if she falls in, just chuck her a life belt, don't dive in to save her will you?"

"No chance of that … can't swim, can I?"

She grinned and laughed, even though for some reason, probably that she was a bit drunk, her eyes were beginning to prickle at the thought of not seeing him again, stupid, when he was a stranger "It was really nice meeting you Charlie….. and don't get yourself in the way again when people start shooting"

"Ditto"

"Ditto? What does that even mean?"

"It means ….don't you get in the way when people start waving guns around …. And that it was really nice to meet you too"

She waggled her fingers in an attempt at a wave looking back at him over her shoulder as he stood and watched her go, and wanted to shout after her, to tell her not to ….. but she was following Phoebe so he was left there ….. just watching ….

-OG-

Despite her initial reluctance to go out, the fish and chips in their box things tasted good, she was bloody starving as soon as she got out in the fresh air and they'd gone back to Plan A and were walking, or in Phoebe's case staggering down the pier eating with little wooden forks and their fingers, and shivering. It was chilly and damp although it wasn't raining but she could hear the sea crashing about under the pier which she wasn't sure she liked that much. But Bella's shoes were hard enough to walk in at the best of times and rain would have made it a whole lot worse and it was a hell of a lot further than she'd bargained for. Every step was agony and she hadn't had anywhere near enough booze for it to be an effective anesthetic for her feet.

-OG-

The Chilli Pickle turned out to be good, much, much better than he'd expected. An Indian in a nice part of the town so not jam packed with noisy drunks and Charles was still sober enough for the smell to make his mouth water. He'd already turned down another drink because he definitely didn't want to be more pissed by the time this so-called award-winning food showed up, whatever the fuck that was, even though right at that moment he was so hungry he'd settle for edible. When he'd been sitting on the sofa with Molly he'd toyed with the idea of asking her if she'd like to eat with him, with them, but had then rapidly dismissed it as not one of the best he'd ever had. To carry on talking to her would have made his evening, but inviting her would have meant inviting the others and sitting with them in the restaurant while attempting to have a quiet meal, at least with the ones that weren't out cold under the table, was not a particularly attractive proposition.

Eddie had lost a great deal of his hair since Charles had last seen him but the dreadful comb-over he was sporting where his hair had gone south was something that Charles thought made him look a whole lot older than the others, in fact, a lot older than he actually was, and the extra weight he was carrying about didn't help much either. It was no doubt a legacy of driving a desk all day and pushing bits of paper about, but he seemed to have appointed himself as group comedian as he started regaling them with a whole load of jokes about having to make the most of it because of only being allowed off the leash for one night … and then out of the blue he turned to Charles and asked how Rebecca was keeping these days. It was the first time anyone had mentioned her and the silence round the table was palpable. Charles felt sorry for the poor sod as his face flushed an interesting shade of purple and beads of sweat started popping out on his forehead, and as someone obviously kicked him hard enough under the table to make him jump like he'd been cattle prodded. Charles smiled and shook his head, wanting to tell him not to worry, and reassure him that it didn't matter but one thing that was evident was that Elvis had filled them in, not that that should have come as a surprise, in fact it would have been far more surprising if Elvis had kept what he knew to himself.

He knew he was being anti-social, well Elvis kept on pointing it out for a start, so Charles had made an effort, he didn't want Eddie to think his careless enquiry had upset him, but he was struggling to think clearly. His mind kept running over and over their conversation and his thoughts kept spinning back to the most glaringly obvious omissions, he hadn't asked her for her number, hadn't put his number in her phone and not once in the whole conversation had either of them volunteered a single word about whether there was anyone waiting at home. So now, he simply didn't know what to think, whether there was someone important in her life. He would have staked his life on her being on her own, she wasn't a Phoebe, but then she was a brilliant little actress, was very good at spinning a line and getting him to believe it … she'd told him with a completely straight face that she loved to cook and garden and, well he'd believed her until he'd asked what sort of cooking and had caught sight of that 'look' on her face again. She'd admitted it the minute he'd challenged her, had said that she'd been having him on and that in fact she'd been known to cremate water, and had never had as much as a window box … but she'd said it because she thought it sounded well posh …and had smirked at him ….. If it had been anyone else he'd probably have been bloody annoyed and would have described it as telling lies, but somehow with her, it didn't seem like that ….. but doubts were starting to creep in.

-OG-

There didn't seem to be much to choose between the clubs, maybe some were bigger and smarter looking than others, but there was a lot of them and they all had one thing in common, they all had long queues outside and a couple of tough looking bouncers on the doors. The four girls had tried three but the queues didn't seem to be moving very quickly, and Molly had begun to moan that she was turning into an ice-pop and would prefer to go back to the hotel, but Phoebe, who was made of sterner stuff as well as still being pissed eventually hit pay dirt. Her simple ruse of flaunting her tits and making veiled promises of being up for a bit of fun later, meant one of the bouncers immediately let them jump the queue, much to the loud disgruntlement of those stuck waiting in the cold. Phoebe was used to the privileged access to the local clubs that was afforded by her status of being the fiancée of the local drug dealer and didn't see why she should wait in a line on her hen night.

As far as Molly could see the place was unbelievably horrible, there was a lot of that smokey stuff floating around so that she couldn't actually see how dirty it was, although she had her suspicions and it smelled of old chip fat and febreze, like when her mum had tried to get the smell of the old fag ash out the carpet. It was packed to the rafters with drunken teenagers grinding against each other; well they all looked bloody young to her anyway.

"Wanna dance?"

He wasn't the first arsehole who'd asked her, maybe it was the way she was standing there wondering whether to just cut her losses and leave the others to it because they seemed to be having an okay time dancing together but she wasn't in the mood. She wasn't enjoying any of it, anymore than she was in the mood to dance with some fifteen year old who was not only spectacularly pissed but had the worst B.O. she'd ever come across, worse than some of the people on the tube, so that the thought of him waving his pits around anywhere near her was enough to make her want to gag.

"Nah, thanks, you're alright"

"Come on" He got hold of her arm and started to pull her towards him "Pretty girl like you shouldn't be standing here all on your own, come and dance with me"

"I said nah, now just piss off, will you?" She shook her arm angrily until he let her go.

"I'll buy you a drink then, what do you want?"

"Nah, I don't want anything, just push off and find someone else to bother ... how old are you anyhow?"

"Old enough" He leered then thrust his groin towards her before stumbling and almost falling over, catching hold of her arm again in an attempt to get closer as she backed away from him, he really did smell atrocious "Come on, what's it going to be?"

"Go ... you heard the lady, she said leave her alone"

Suddenly there was a hand on the back of his neck and he was being hauled back from her by the collar as the voice she'd been listening to for over half the evening cut across the music, only this time there was a lot of quiet menace in the way he held onto the lad and in his voice, as if he meant what he said.

"And go and have a shower while you're at it, you stink"

They watched in silence as the lad tossed his head full of bravado and started to weave his way back into the crowd, intent on finding someone else to take advantage of his charm.

"Thanks ... Where did you come from? Not that I'm not glad to see you or nothin', but.."

"Keeping him out of trouble" Charles nodded his head to indicate Elvis who was draped all over Phoebe as if they'd been separated for years "Supposedly ... but looks like it's you I shouldn't have let out of my sight ..."

-OG-