Carousel

Chapter 7

They walked slowly back to their cars, no longer holding each other's hands. Charles carrying his blankets, Molly their breakfast rubbish. It wouldn't have been practical, or at least that's what they both pretended was the reason for their lack of contact with each other. They were now for some reason slightly shy around one another.

Charles and Molly had laid there next to each other on the rug for over an hour. Both very had been content, comfortable, and silent. Charles had been so content that had allowed the peacefulness to take over him and drifted off. Molly for a while lay there too next to him, not sleeping but watching. Never once imagining that she would once again feel the thrill of his sleeping body so close, it was too precious a feeling to waste on sleep. Eventually though she knew the reality of the day, their lives, needed to be faced, and so Charles' dreams were broken by Molly standing up and tidying away the rubbish.

"Think we should go." She said as soon as she saw him sit up. He offered her a smiled.

Charles Watched her, expecting something more, he felt a stab of disappointment as it led to nothing. He noticed that she didn't return his smile. Instead she looked worried, troubled, the bottom lip she was chewing on a familiar sign.

"Yes. Ok then." Was all he felt safe to offer. She still seemed delicate.

Their walk back to the cars continued in the silence that had somehow engulfed them. He kept hoping she'd say something anything, and kept stealing glances over at her as they walked. Molly however walked on not looking at him even once of that he was sure. He had no rights anymore, he could not push her, the next steps needed to come from Molly. The misunderstanding between his circumstances cleared up, but he still had no idea just where they stood with one another. He felt if he pushed he would destroy this delicate friendship that had developed between them.

"So?" She broke him out if his thoughts. "I best... you know..." Holding onto her keys and indicating her car to him.

"Right." He shuffled in front of her. Intent not to just let her go. Trying one last time. "You said we could talk?"

"I did, didn't I? Yeah well we will. Just ...I don't know...soon. Ok?" She half smiled back at him praying this offer was enough to appease him.

Charles realised she was desperate to leave his company . That hurt. She constantly played with her keys and kept opening and closing the car door. He stepped back from her. Out of her space. He was going to have to let her go.

His heart had been so alive merely moments ago and now it seemed all was lost again. Molly's defences that had momentarily lowered were now back up.

"Ok. You know where I am?" He sadly replied. "Look after yourself Molly."

He wanted to hold her again, to give her a simple kiss, but he didn't. Instead he just turned and walked away, keeping the pain he was feeling from her.

She watched him go.

Missing him already.

She smiled at how that was the way it always used to be, surprised that was how it still was. Even after all this time she still missed him.

"Charles." She shouted to his back. He turned quickly, as though he'd been waiting for her to call him. The look of expectation not hard to miss on his face.

"Thanks...you know for coming after me and that. Thanks."

He smiled his smile.

"I'll always come after you Molly. I love you." He simply replied to her words of thanks.

Then before she could answer he dipped his head, stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and walked just as quickly away.

"Charles. She shouted after him again. She couldn't let him go, not just yet. She ran to him.

He was surprised when he turned around this time that she was so close to him. She'd covered the distance between them quickly and she stood closer to him than before.

"I don't though do I?" She smiled up at him. Tipping her head up to his to stress her point. He looked confused by what she just said.

She carried on though enjoying his confusion.

"I don't know where you are? Where to find you.? How to contact you? You've never said." She clarified.

A special Charles James' smile broke out on his face, and they both started chuckling. Thrilled for an instance be in each other's closeness again.

"Are you asking me for my phone number Molly Dawes?" She bravely nodded her head to his question, now smiling.

He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a pen. Then pulling her forearm towards him he rolled up the sleeve of her jumper. She giggled when she realised what he was about to do, and this made him braver.

Slowly he wrote his phone number on her forearm. Scribing in their own unique manner. Ending the list of digits with a flourish….drawing a heart and a kiss alongside. She watched him intently during the task. His eyes constantly flickering to hers. Watching her watching him. It felt so familiar. So right.

"There now you do." He commented as he finished. He let go of her arm, but was reluctant to let her go completely. He gently took hold of her cheeks, holding them both in the palm of his hands. Stroking her face lovingly with the pad of his thumbs.

"Any time Molly. Any time. I'll be there for you." He quietly spoke.

He noticed how she held his gaze and nodded at his words. This gave him hope.

"I know." She quietly replied, matching his tone, as though they were sharing a secret no one else should hear.

And then standing on her tip toes she placed a soft kiss on his cheek, briefly, much too briefly.

She then turned around, never looked back, got into her car and drove away.

The drive back for Charles was long. The Sunday traffic on the country roads making his task even harder, but he didn't notice, he didn't mind. Half his concentration was on the drive the other half on the two inch squared piece of flesh on his right check that Molly had kissed. He delicately rubbed his fingers over the spot, almost hoping to feel her kiss still. Touching it, remembering it felt glorious, as though that was the only piece of his body that was now alive. For so long he had hidden everything away, stopped all feelings when it came to matters of the heart. Yet here a simple peck on the cheek by Molly had, as he always knew it would, changed that.

He was hopeful, and hours later as he arrived back at his house, close to camp, that hopefulness continued.

It continued for the first couple of days. He found himself constantly checking his phone, constantly reassuring himself that he had a signal. Instructing everyone where phone silence was necessary that he couldn't possibly comply with that order as he was expecting an important call.

Yet as the days turned into a week his hopes started to fade. She never called.

He kicked himself that he hadn't taken her number, but at the time he believed that she would contact him. In her own time, and she had never offered it to him. He started to realise he most certainly had lost her again. She still didn't want to talk, she still didn't want him. They had those brief moments together on their hill , but that was it. It had been just enough for Molly, but certainly not enough for Charles.

"God Dad. You look bloody awful." Sam huffed out as his Dad collapsed on a park bench.

They'd come running together. Something they had always done. It was their father and son thing. Charles, however as the years went by, struggled more and more to out strip his son in the way he used to. However still it was something that they regularly did together. His pride never admitting defeat. Happy to accept the humiliation that occurred in the hands of his younger fitter son just to spend time with him. Until today, his heart wasn't in it.

"Feel it. Your old man is getting old." He reasoned to his son.

"Not that old." Sam jogged on the spot hating to break to his regime. "Still life in the old dog yet?" He teased. Sam knew his Dad was thinking about Molly, noticing the regret that tinged his voice. He tried to keep him positive.

Charles however felt old. Tired of waiting for the life he wanted to restart. Accepting that the years had rolled by and so maybe had all his chances.

"Don't think so. Think the 'old Dad' is just going to trot back to the house and curl up on the sofa for a bit." He replied to Sam. Feeling defeated in a way he'd never truly felt before.

And so the two James men went their separate ways. Sam to continue his work out. Charles to return back home and start on their lunch.

The house was lonely, cold and still after all these months of him living there it still had boxes that he had yet to unpack. Since his marriage to Molly ended he'd been living a transitory type of life. A couple of years with long term postings abroad, and a few short tours. Not settling anywhere long enough to make this his home.

This posting however was to be his final one. Now in his early forties thoughts of retiring from the Army played on Charles' mind. He'd given them everything. The Army had in return given him a career and the promotion he had so desperately sort after. It had also give him a purpose after Molly left.

Among his stored boxes there were also items packed away that his mother had wanted him to have. Things before her death she had deemed important for the family history that she now entrusted to Charles with the hope that one day he'd pass them on to Sam.

He'd only briefly looked through these boxes over the past year, hadn't gone through them all in detail. Citing time as his reason, and not because of the sad memories it would invoke. Seeing them all standing there he now regretted that, feeling as though he was by ignoring them also ignoring his mother and her life.

He set to work on them instantly. His curiosity started to get the better of him. The planned shower and lunch prep forgotten. He need to explore, needed memories as he was still missing his mother and her wise counsel daily.

She'd never, not once, told him anything about Molly and her life after they ended. He'd always known that they had stayed in touch, and he had in the early days asked his mother about Molly a lot.

However as time went on, as he started to heel he stopped asking about Molly, not because he didn't care, but because he really never needed to. His mother played a skilful game between them all, never breaking Molly's confidence, but somehow, every time she'd had contact with Molly she absent mindlessly left the letter or card out on the hall table for him to read. He never admitted he did, but he did, he read them all, and he very much guessed that his mother knew that. That had been the purpose of her game.

So opening the box he wasn't surprised to find a stack of cards and letters addresses to his Mum from Molly. All carefully stored, and preserved. The correspondence started from the happy years, her time away on tours, all the way though their hard times, and eventual split. Molly had continued writing after that to his mother just as frequent during the ten years since. Molly shared with his mother everything about her world, and everything that was in her heart.

Charles sat there on his spare bedroom floor for hours. Sam had been and gone. Seeing the task his father was engrossed in he chose not to disturb him. Instead made him a coffee and some sandwiches leaving them on the bedroom floor. He then left closing the door silently behind his emotional father.

It was dark before he surfaced again. He'd sat and read every single line of Molly's letters. Plotting the course of Molly's life through her own words.

Some letters he remembered reading, others he had no recollection. Wondering if the saddest of Molly's letters his mother had purposely kept from him. Her letters ranged from her happiest days to the blackest, from excitement in her new adventure, to amazement as to what she could achieve, to eventual acceptance of what her life now was.

For Charles it was heart breaking to read all her good times and all her bad times, and how she went through them all without him by her side. How he could only imagine those experiences, years later, could only share them with her because of the papers he held in his hands.

Not for the first time he lamented just how much they both had lost, and he knew they never get it back again. Yet the thought still did not take away hope...hope that maybe they could still have some type of future together.

The days without hearing from her eventually turned into weeks, which inevitable turned into months. Sam had visited again and tried to suggest that Charles used the phone number Sam had for Molly. Charles refused, he still held onto some misguide view that whatever they could have it all needed to come from Molly, and so refused it. Strongly, but wrongly perhaps, believing that if Molly wanted to talk to him then she would.

Of all the people to change Charles' mind, to highlight the foolishness of his ways, it was Georgie. She succeeded where both Sam and Edward had failed. The voice of reason spoke to him during one of their very few meet ups...Laura's 13th birthday party.

After Elvis' death his parents and his very large family had closely stayed in contact with Debbie. They had a huge amount of respect for her and her values. They adored Laura, one of their many grandchildren, but secretly in their hearts their favourite, because she was so like Elvis.

Due to their close ties and beliefs in close families they were always present at special occasions in Laura's life. Debbie always made sure Elvis' family were always invited, along with her favourite uncle, Charles.

In the early days these relationships helped Charles deal with his losses, by being so close to Elvis' family and his child, he felt grounded, connected. They had always made him feel welcome and in the early days of grief and guilt that Charles had over Elvis' death they merely scolded him to put such thoughts out of his head. They never blamed him, and repeatedly told him neither would Elvis.

During all the years Charles was unsure if they ever knew about him and Georgie. Certainly it was not something that he had wanted to advertise. To anyone. Ever. They knew however about Molly and their separation, never once questioning or asking the reasons why, but like his mother they would never, during his angry early stages, allow a bad word to be said against her. They had loved her too, as had Elvis. They had accepted her as their son's best friend's wife. She was therefore family.

He often wondered what they truly thought of Georgie marrying into the family. They were always happy to see her, included her in everything, and treated her with kindness. Yet in Charles' neutral eyes, whenever he stumbled across Georgie at these dos, he could see that it was Debbie they seemed to favour. Georgie he observed never seemed to get offered that extra piece of cake like Debbie did, or the offer of a second helping from Grandma's famous pasta.

When Georgie and Marco stared dating little was said, but Charles was sure that the older ladies of the family and their faces would have shown their displeasure. When they announced their engagement, again very little was said, for many embarrassingly silent minutes, until they all snapped back into family loyalty mode and congratulations were offered.

Charles never attended Georgie and Marco's wedding. He found the whole thing a bit disconcerting, but not entirely surprising. Marco was so similar to Elvis that he could see how Georgie would end up settling on him. Wondering if she knew herself where her love for Elvis stopped, and the new love for Marco began.

"You're a fool Charlie." Were her opening words.

Charles had slipped away from the party and was resting on the swing in Debbie's back garden. He'd taken time out to check his phone, just in case.

"Sorry. What?" He wasn't used to being spoken to like this, and certainly didn't appreciate it from Georgie.

"About Molly. You're a fool. She still loves you."

Charles stared at Georgie. He didn't, he thought, need her interference in his life. He wished he hadn't had it all those years ago, and he knew he didn't want it now.

"This has nothing to do with you. You going to see her was wrong. It achieved nothing. There's nothing to achieve anyway." He spoke firmly.

"Of course there is. You still love her don't you.?" She asked.

He stood from the swing, pulling himself up to his full height, towering above her. Arms folded across his chest, in some form of defence, forehead creased with conflicting thoughts.

"Of course I do." He admitted. "Always have. Not that it's got anything to do with you." He replied.

"Well it kind of has doesn't it Charlie?" She whispered. After all..." She didn't finish the damming sentence, instead left their crimes unspoken.

He turned to walk away. To put some distance on the memories, on her company, on his loss. It was a conversation he never wanted to have again.

"Call her Charlie. Don't lose her again. Fight for her. This time go after her." Georgie shouted out as he left her standing there alone.

He didn't know how to begin again. He didn't know what to say. He didn't even know if she would welcome him, never mind be at home. He did know though that this time he would fight for her, for them.

Yet he knew he had to try. So try he did and this was why he was standing outside her flat door.

Charles found himself standing there the following Sunday on her doorstep. Feeling like an extra from a 1920s film, feeling like a man who had gone to get he is girl. He was smartly dressed, holding onto the obligatory bunch of flowers, standing there, and hoping.

Hoping she'd be in, hoping she'd answer the door to him, and hoping they could begin again.