Molly started to collect her belongings together, ready to escape and go home, it had been a heavy night and she had only called in to drink a cuppa to try to raise enough energy to walk home. She felt self-conscious and uncomfortable as she suddenly found the top of the table fascinating, with its sticky spills and she started drawing circles with her fingertip in some spilt sugar, knowing that all she wanted was to ask him whether Suzie had been right about why he'd lied to her but she didn't know how she could after all this time, she wouldn't have a clue how to start. He was finding it equally difficult to stop himself from asking her why she hadn't mailed him.
"Are you going?"
"Yeah, I was on my way home, only came in to get a cuppa before I set off"
"Where do you live, is it far?"
"Livingston Park, it's in Epsom"
"Excellent"
"Yup, I'm a bleeding genius I am, I can still remember me address even after a hard night at the coal face"
He looked up quickly and then looked at her face properly for the first time since he'd said hello and realised that she was laughing at him, she was still the Molly he remembered from Bastion.
"Are you taking the piss?" He started laughing.
"No, well, yes, but just a bit. I really do have to go though, it's a long walk and I don't wanna fall asleep half way home"
"Will you meet me the same time tomorrow? If you meet me, I'll buy you a coffee, no I won't, I'll buy you a tea. Please?"
"Maybe"
Answering "maybe" meant that she could get away and think about it when her head was back on straight, maybe when she'd had some sleep. Despite her exhaustion she lay awake for hours, trying to decide what she wanted. In spite of the strict lecture she had given herself during her trudge home, the question of whether she would meet him or not was a non-starter, of course she would meet him, but it was the 'what comes after' that was keeping her from dropping off. After all, she hardly knew him, had only spent a few hours in his company, when he had been a sort of captive audience for her chat, and Suzie was probably right about how and why it started. They hadn't seen each other for more than a year, what the hell would they talk about? Unlike the fantasies of him that had helped her to get off to sleep wrapped in a warm glow, she could no longer pretend that everything was as straightforward as it had been in her day dreams. He was still married, so that made him a definite out of bounds, she did not get involved with married men, he was still an officer, so that made him another definite no, there were strict rules about relationships between different ranks and he was a patient, and there were strict rules about that as well, so that made it the hat-trick. On the other hand, one look had reminded her just how much she fancied him and one smile had sent the butterflies in her stomach into free-fall and the look on his face when he smiled at her told her that she wasn't imagining anything, that it wasn't just her who felt like that.
He had spent most of yesterday with a stupid grin on his face, so that the physio had asked him what was making him so happy and had then said that if he was that cheerful they obviously weren't working him hard enough and then trotted out the cliché that there was no gain without pain. He had laughed and said for them to bring it on, he just wanted to get fit as quickly as possible, although he didn't mention what he wanted to get fit for, it was none of their business and anyway he was scared to even spell it out to himself in case he jinxed it. It was only now, sitting in a bloody cafeteria waiting for her that the nerves had kicked in. "Maybe" she'd said "maybe", and he remembered now that that's what she'd said when he'd asked her to e-mail him and she hadn't done it, so 'maybe' could possibly be her way of saying no, and now she was late and he was horribly afraid she wasn't coming at all.
"Sorry I'm late, it was mental last night"
"You look tired" He went to the counter to get her a cup of tea. He badly wanted to kiss her hello and was very tempted, but the cafeteria was packed and he didn't want his face slapped in front of all these people.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that if you tell a girl she looks tired, it's like saying she looks old and 'aggard and 'orrible" She laughed although she wanted to add 'didn't your wife ever tell you that?' or maybe his wife never looked tired, she was probably as posh as him and had never had to work in her life, let alone work a night shift.
"Sorry" he pulled a contrite face then smiled at her, sending her butterflies into orbit again "You don't look old or haggard or horrible, you look beautiful" he paused "and just a little bit tired"
"Thanks, you don't look too shabby yourself"
"Even with a limp?"
"Stop looking for sympathy, cos you won't get any here. Some of the poor bastards I was looking after last night would be bleeding grateful to have got away with just a limp. I know they're really brave and that, but I was looking after one this morning who was a bit upset, he's had both his bloody legs blown off and his wife's just dumped him. I mean, how could she do that? He's still the same bloke she married isn't he? I know I'm not supposed to judge or nothing but he makes me want to go out and hit something, preferably her. And he's not the only one, some of them are so badly hurt so that the state they're in makes me wonder how they keep so bleeding cheerful all the time, but they do, you know? They spend all their time cracking jokes and laughing at themselves, and each other"
"I know, but they're lucky having you looking after them"
"Are they? What with my shit bedside manner?"
"There's nothing wrong with your bedside manner, I liked it, in fact, I loved it"
"You're biased"
Their conversation had suddenly drifted into very dangerous territory without either of them steering it there and for the moment there was complete silence as they locked eyes, unable to look away from each other and unsure how to get back to neutral ground, or even if they wanted to. They were rescued by a shout from a young male CMT who called across the room to Molly.
"Oi Moll, you working tonight?"
"No, why?"
"Rehearsal 7 sharp, and don't even think of trying to get out of it, or of making some sort of shit excuse, if you're not working we need you" He flattened his hand over his heart as he said the last bit as if he was making a life or death plea.
"Okay, but I didn't know you was that desperate"
"Yes you did" He laughed as he said it and Molly nodded an acknowledgement, both of the rehearsal and his implied insult to her talent.
"Cheeky sod"
She turned back to Charles, who lifted one eyebrow as a question.
"We're putting on a bleeding panto for the poor sods what are stuck here for Christmas and aren't fit enough to run and hide in the bogs. As if the poor bastards ain't got enough problems, they get to watch us murdering Snow White, well not literally of course, but near enough"
"Who are you playing, Snow White?"
"No, of course not, we've already got the bloody costume and Snow White has to be tall enough to fit it. No, I'll give you a clue, and don't you dare say Dopey" she was giggling "This is the low budget version; we've only got 5 dwarves, cos no other bugger would join in, unless you want to do it?"
"I'm a bit tall to play a dwarf"
"Don't matter, I'm the wrong sex and I'm doing it. I'm playing a cross between Sleepy, which will be right cos I'll probably be bloody knackered as I've gotta work the night before and Happy, because I don't usually give a toss. I didn't want to be Doc cos I don't think anyone cares about blokes with man flu in here"
"Sounds like fun, can I come and watch?"
"What on earth would you want to do that for? What are you, some sort of martyr? You'll be back in Bath having a normal Christmas" she resisted the temptation to say 'with your wife' "and it'll be complete crap anyway" She badly wanted to add 'and what'll you do with your wife while you're here watching a shit pantomime?'
"I wouldn't know what a so-called normal Christmas feels like, I haven't had one at home in Bath for years, most of my recent ones have been spent walking around with a weapon at a FOB somewhere surrounded by a load of homesick squaddies"
"Even that's gotta be better than watching our crap pantomime which will probably end up being totally unsuitable for the kids and families cos it will most likely be very blue. I dunno what it is with soldiers but being funny usually means being bleeding disgusting and very smutty"
"Will you be going home to see your family any time over Christmas? "
"Nah, I might pop home the day after Boxing Day, but I'm working Christmas Eve and Christmas Day so I'll be knackered on Boxing Day but then I've got till New Year off, so it'll be hard to avoid going home completely. Not that it'll make much difference to them, they won't miss me, well, me Nan might and maybe me mum a bit, but we ain't exactly the Waltons"
"Who?"
"You know, John Boy, Jim Bob? Oh, never mind, forget it" She laughed at his puzzled expression "It's just something off the tele, it's not important"
"Why do you think they won't miss you?"
"It's a long story, mate, and I don't really wanna talk about it, it's just that I ain't exactly me dad's favourite person"
She had mentioned a strained relationship with her family during their chat at Bastion and she couldn't have made the 'keep out' signs any clearer so he decided to change the subject, much as he would have loved to ask her why she and her dad weren't close. He couldn't think of anything he would rather do than spend Christmas here with her, crap pantomime or not. He wasn't looking forward to spending it with his parents in Bath, especially as he wouldn't be seeing Sam; Rebecca was taking him skiing with his other grandparents.
"Have you got just one night off? "
"No, two nights, bleeding fantastic , two whole nights in bed and God help anyone who wakes me up unless the 'ouse is on fire"
"They're throwing me out of here the day after tomorrow for Christmas; can I take you out to lunch before I get the train back to Bath?
There was a long pause during which Molly suddenly found the table top fascinating again as she thought about it.
"I dunno, you're still a patient and it's against the rules"
"I won't be a patient in a couple of days, and it's only lunch"
"Where?"
I don't know, you're the local, you choose"
"Give me your mobile number and I'll have a think and call you"
"Is this going to be the same as saying you'll e-mail me? Because if it is I'd rather you told me now"
"No, I will call you, I promise"
Author's notes: I know, I know, it's a bit of a cliffhanger! Thank you for your reviews, they mean the world to me.
It is lucky that I had most of the outlines of these chapters written before I started to upload as I now live in a sanatorium, the cockwomble has a cold, or double pneumonia as he would have it, so he requires the services of Florence Nightingale, aka me, 24/7, another thing I don't have a natural talent for, as well as keeping the house immaculately tidy and running a B&B.
