A/N This is a long chapter which incorporates a slightly cut down version of the shortie "second thoughts". I'm not cheating, it was always going to be a part of the main story. Hope the integration is seamless.
I love the Rebecca character. She's Cruella Deville meets Made in Chelsea!
Now as there seems to be some confusion, let me be explicit. Please review if you are happy with things and want to give me moral support. I also welcome constructive criticism, it makes me a better writer. But please PM me for that. It's only polite.
og og og
Return to Afghan (via Bath)
Part 8
20 Royal Crescent Saturday 7.00am
Molly was in that pleasant transitional state between deep sleep and waking up, where the brain can drift enticingly in any direction. Despite the pitch black of the room she was still aware of Charles lying close beside her; the sound of his breathing, the now faint trace of aftershave, the radiated warmth of his body and the back of his hand which was gently resting against her bare hip.
She let her mind float back to the evening she arrived. The first family dinner with the James's had been a great success. The food was delicious and they'd chatted all through the meal. The amazing thing was that the conversation had all been so interesting, that at no time was she bored or did she feel she wasn't part of it. At home, if they spoke at all at meal-times, it would be in competition with the TV, and usually be about football if her Dad was speaking or the last episode of Eastenders if her Mum could get a word in. Over Ruth's chicken and leek casserole they'd talked about a huge range of issues; the implications of Army downsizing, Ruth's experiences as Deputy Head at the Royal High School, snooping laws, what was going on in Bath and Jane Austen, a subject on which Molly now felt she could make an informed contribution. It was clear to her that she had been completely accepted by the family. More than accepted, she felt she was actually now an honorary "James". In the short time she'd been there she was growing to love them all and they clearly felt the same about her.
That evening, after the family had gone to see their movie at the Bath Odeon, she and Charles had gone upstairs to her room with hardly a word being spoken. Truth to tell they were both nervous. They had made love before, after their first date, but it had not been a satisfying experience for either of them. Inevitably this was on both of their minds. Charles had been in considerable pain back then, although he'd tried hard not to show it. Molly could tell though, and was only too aware that he'd not long had a serious operation on his stomach. There would still be a large number of internal sutures in his abdomen and she didn't want to do anything to risk overstraining them. Pain for one partner and worry for the other. All in all not ideal conditions for the first steps in their physical relationship.
But now he was almost fully recovered. He had told her so and she could also tell, as a medical professional, just from observation. They were still learning about each others' bodies but Charles was an experienced and unselfish lover unlike any partners she had had in the past. This time it was everything she had hoped for. She had meant to insist that he went back to his own room before the family returned but in the end he stayed all night and she was happy with that now. Her obvious acceptance into the family, indeed the warmth she was now feeling from the James's, meant she was no longer worried about their perceptions.
Yesterday had been a wonderful day but it had gone so quickly. They'd spent the morning in Bath doing the tourist trail, diving into the odd shop for items Molly had forgotten to bring from London. After lunch at Pret a Manger in the city centre, they'd walked hand in hand back to the house and got two bikes out of the garage. Charles had his own and Molly borrowed Emma's, but only after Charles, with a few sarcastic comments, had adjusted the saddle height down as far as it would go! Molly's reply was suitably rude! Then it was down to the canal to cycle to Bradford-on- Avon along the towpath. It was almost 10 miles and Molly hadn't been very keen when Charles first suggested it. Her exact words were "Sounds shit". But once they were a few minutes into the ride she had to admit it was magical. They saw nobody at all the whole way and heard no sounds except the rustling of the wind in the bare branches, the murmur and rippling of the water as it moved slowly in the canal and the crunch of the bike tyres on the towpath gravel. It was chilly but the sun was shining brightly giving the Winter landscape a beauty of its own.
They found a cosy teashop in Bradford and then set off back the way they had come, arriving at The Royal Crescent with rosy complexions just as it was getting dark. As promised the dinner that night had been fish and chips, but eaten, once again, in the beautiful dining room, off plates, and accompanied by a sharp, crisp Chardonnay. Not off Styrene trays wrapped in newspaper with a mug of tea, which was what Molly was more used to.
The morning light was now starting to seep into the room and she was starting to wake up. The reality of the day ahead could not be ignored any more. The meeting with the principal family members could not have gone better but now was the most important and daunting meeting of the trip. Sam. Sam was such an important part of Charles's life and would be for the foreseeable future. If Sam took a dislike to her, for whatever reason, it would put an inevitable strain on their relationship.
Charles's hand was now on top of her bare thigh and she wondered if he was sneakily moving it there while pretending to be asleep. She looked at him in the dim light that was now permeating the room. No, he did actually appear to be asleep. She'd maligned him (and was slightly disappointed)! She gently lifted the hand up and slid out of bed gently lowering it to the sheets. Then off to shower wrapped in an oversized dressing gown which Emma had lent her.
16 Somerset Lane, Bath, Saturday 8.10am
"Sam. I told you. Only three toys. And they have to fit in your rucksack as well."
"Oooh Mum, please, five, they're a set. I need them all. And two books. And two jigsaws. They're not toys so they don't count."
Rebecca opened the front door of the house. "OK, OK, come on or we'll be late, and Daddy's taking you out somewhere special today."
"Where's he taking me, Mum, do you know? And its 'Dad' not 'Daddy' Mum, I'm not a toddler you know."
"Come on, get in the car you, and don't make a noise, we don't want to wake Rob up."
Rebecca opened the rear door of Rob's gleaming black BMW X5 and threw in the holdall packed with Sam's overnight gear. Sam got in, sat on his booster seat and did up his seatbelt, all without being asked.
It was only eight-fifteen in the morning and it was very cold. There was a clear blue sky and the Sun was shining brightly but very low in the sky. It promised to be a lovely, if chilly, day. They set off on what was usually just a ten minute drive to Royal Crescent, but as it was a Saturday there was significant traffic heading into the city for a morning's shopping at the Winter Sales. Sam was playing quietly with a small diecast "monster" truck which he was driving, with appropriate engine noises, up and down his leg and over the armrest beside him. Rebecca's mind was wandering as she drove stop-start through the increasingly heavy traffic.
Had she made the biggest mistake of her life? Yes, she had to admit, she probably had. What the Hell was she thinking! But what could she do about it now though? Rob was OK, very well off and all that, and he was very good with Sam. But in the final analysis he was just the best of the bunch available when she was looking around for somebody to replace the ever-absent Charles in the bedroom. She didn't really love Rob, never had. He already had a paunch and was starting to lose his hair and he was only thirty two. What would he look like in ten or twenty years? She pictured him as she'd got out of bed this morning, lying there snoring with his morning stubble and some drool on the pillow beside his mouth. Yuck!
This made her think about Charles again with his perfectly toned body, finely chiselled features and his thick brown, wavy hair. He always looked amazing at any time, day or night! Why couldn't she have been more enthusiastic when he'd wanted sex. Looking back, she was embarrassed thinking about the number of "headaches" she'd claimed to have had. And why did she do that, for God's sake? Half the women in Bath would jump into bed with Charles at the drop of a hat. He was gorgeous, intelligent, a wonderful lover and, that rarity of rarities, a real gentleman. She admitted to herself that what she had been doing was punishing him for not being and doing what she wanted and, yes, it had seriously backfired on her.
You were bloody mad! she repeated several times to herself in her head. But, come on, it was HIS fault the marriage went down the pan not mine, she reasoned, never there for me or for Sam. Always itching to get off to his next big adventure.
Whoever's fault it was, every time she saw Charles nowadays to hand over, or pick up, Sam, she still felt something stir inside. She desperately wanted him to ask her to join them for one of their trips out, to be a little family again, but he never did. To cap it all, he was now giving up the Army, or at the very least, active service, something she'd wanted him to do since they got married. Whatever the reasoning, now, every time she met him for the hand over, she paid special attention to what she wore and took extra care with her make-up.
Her feelings had resurfaced when she'd heard about his injuries, and how life-threatening they were. She was terrified, not just for Sam's sake, possibly losing the father he adored, but because she knew at that moment that she still had feelings for him. Then she'd heard he'd turned a corner and was on the road to recovery. She and Sam, by chance, were staying at the one of the family rooms at the Queen Elizabeth hospital and had been informed at six in the morning that he had come round and was OK to receive visitors. She could remember it as if it was yesterday, getting them both quickly dressed, going down the long corridor with Sam towards his room at the hospital, feeling so happy and looking forward to a tender moment or two with him, perhaps holding his hand. But what happened? She was confronted by a scruffy female squaddie standing by his bed looking tenderly at him! What the Hell was a girl soldier doing at Charles's bedside? How long had she been there? How dare she be there caring for him before Sam and herself!
"This is someone who helped me in Afghanistan, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her", he'd said.
Yeah, I bet, she thought, immediately suspicious.
"Don't go on my account," Rebecca had replied, after the soldier had offered to leave, but what she was really thinking was, yes, get the Hell out of here.
"Good to see you Dawes." Charles said as she'd walked out through the door.
"Ditto" was all the girl had said in reply. It was an innocent enough word but said in a strange way, full of secret meaning. She watched Charles's eyes follow this Dawes woman as she went through the door. The look in his eyes suggested to Rebecca that there might have been something going on, hopefully in the past.
But if so, what on earth could he have seen in her? she thought. A bit of rough while he was away maybe? She sounded as common as muck and didn't look the slightest bit feminine or alluring in all that combat gear. Any port in an Afghan storm I suppose and probably the only woman within 50 miles. Anyway, hopefully she's out of the picture now and won't be back. Good riddance!
"Mum, are we going to stay with Rob forever?" came a voice from the back seat. The question brought her back to reality with a jolt.
"You like Rob, don't you sweetie?"
"He's OK Mum but he's not like Dad"
No, he's not, she thought ruefully, for a start he's a total bore in bed!
"Maybe, we'll see"
The drive continued. Rebecca felt desperate at times. She knew that Charles's mother and father had never really liked her and that Charles would find it difficult to forgive her the string of lovers culminating in Rob. She had no allies in the family apart from one of his aunts with whom she got on well. But at the back of her mind was a hope, however faint , that he might still have some residual feelings for her and that these could be rekindled if she tried hard despite his parent's dislike. She was forming a strategy as she drove. Why not suggest joining them both on the trip today? Couldn't do any harm, it will be innocent enough and it might start things going again. I can do charming when it suits me and Sam is definitely the catalyst; our common bond. I can always ring Rob and dream up an excuse. By the end of the journey she had convinced herself that this was a good strategic move and was resolved to see it through.
og-og-og
Molly came back to her room after her shower thinking carefully about what to wear. She thought a "glamorous soccer mum" look might impress a seven year old boy and so laid out jeans and boots with a pretty deep-blue tunic top. As she was finishing towel-drying her hair, Charles was stirring and she went over to stand beside him. His arm stretched out from under the duvet and snaked through the opening in the dressing gown and around the back of her legs pulling her close to the bed.
"Morning Gorgeous".
"Morning Babe", she replied.
His hand started to wander upwards, fingers gently caressing the inside of her thigh. "Oi, no time for any of that", said Molly, trying hard to ignore the sensations it was creating, "you 'ave to get up pronto. Sam will be 'ere in thirty minutes."
"Spoilsport", he said with a mock crestfallen expression on his face.
Molly got dressed with a great deal of care and went downstairs to be warmly greeted by Ruth and Edward. She took charge of the coffee making and was joined in the kitchen ten minutes later by Charles. He kissed her gently on the lips, said "hello again you" and they all sat down to breakfast.
og-og-og
The BMW drew up at the back of 20 Royal Crescent, Sam undid his seatbelt and got out. He ran over to the intercom which he could just about reach on tiptoe and pressed the button looking up towards the small camera and screen.
"Not today thank you", came Ruth's voice over the intercom, saying what she said every single time Sam pressed the button.
"Ooh Grandma, let me in", said Sam, exasperated by his grandmother's lack of originality.
"OK just this once". The lock buzzed and clicked, Sam pushed open the back gate and ran into the garden, closely followed by Rebecca carrying the bulging, but very light, holdall in one hand and Sam's rucksack in the other. Sam ran on ahead, down the two hundred feet of the garden and straight through the back door which Ruth had opened and left ajar.
Kitchen, 20 Royal Crescent, 8.30am
Molly and Charles had just finished their leisurely breakfast when the intercom buzzed. Ruth and Edward were tidying up.
"They're here", Charles said to nobody in particular, looking towards the tiny screen beside the utility room door which had just lit up. On the screen was the unmistakeable face of Sam peculiarly distorted by the fish-eye lens of the security camera. Ruth wandered over and pressed the intercom button.
"Not today thank you", she said.
They could hear an impatient Sam at the other end.
"Mum, why do you say that every time?" said Charles.
"Tradition" said his mother.
After more entreaties from the seven year old, Ruth pressed the enter button and his face disappeared from the screen. No more than a minute after that, a small boy came rocketing into the kitchen heading straight for his father with a cursory hello to everybody else. Charles caught him, gave him a hug and hoisted him into the air. "Hi Scamp". Molly watched them from the other side of the table. It was lovely to see what a great relationship they had. And Sam obviously idolised his Dad. She smiled at them and waited to be introduced.
"Say hello to Molly, Sam, do you remember, she was there when you visited me in Birmingham?"
"I remember. Dad called you Dawes at the hospital. You were funny"
" 'ello Sam, you can call me Molly. That OK?"
Sam smiled and nodded before his attention went back to his Dad.
By the time Rebecca arrived at the kitchen door at her more sedate pace, Edward and Ruth had also said their hellos to Sam, who was now being held aloft by his Dad at the far end of the kitchen, pretending to be Superman.
"Hello Ruth, good morning Edward,...Charles" she said in her nicest, friendliest tone.
Rebecca noticed an unknown person seated at the table, with her back towards her, watching Charles and Sam playing together. All she could see of this person was a mass of lustrous cheshnut hair like something out of a shampoo ad. Maybe it was one of Charles's cousins she'd heard about but never met, or a friend of Emma's staying over? The person with the chestnut hair got up and turned to greet her. She was a very beautiful young woman, the blue top and jeans revealing a stunning figure. She had remarkable green eyes and looked like a glamorous actress or somebody from a fashion magazine. For a few seconds Rebecca did not recognise her. Not surprising really, as at their previous encounter this person had been in army combat gear, with no makeup, and had had thirty six hours with little or no sleep making those eyes somewhat bloodshot! Then Rebecca suddenly realised who it was.
The blood drained from her face. She felt quite faint. The bottom fell out of her world and all her devious plans were in tatters. Almost immediately, jealousy and anger began to take over.
Charles spoke as he lowered Sam to the floor.
" Rebecca, I think you've already met Molly."
"Pleased to meet you Rebecca", said Molly holding out her hand.
Molly felt a pair of ice blue, humourless eyes bore into her and no hand was offered in response. The incivility was not lost on anybody; Ruth and Edward were appalled, Charles was furious.
"What is she doing here Charles? I want a word, in private...now."
...
A/N My wife thinks a) this chapter is too long and b) Rebecca would not be as rude as this. I'm not so sure.
