The Dawes family home was not the ideal environment in which to convalesce after suffering from a serious illness. No matter how many times, Belinda Dawes shouted at the younger Dawes siblings to 'Pipe down, you little bleeders. Molly needs her rest!' it seldom had the desired effect for more than a few minutes. Even if Molly stayed in her bedroom she was usually disturbed by her younger sister, Bella, with whom she shared the room. Privacy was a little known luxury for the Dawes family.

Molly had been warned that she might suffer from fatigue after her recovery from a severe form of Dengue Fever and almost three weeks after being discharged from hospital she still found herself suddenly overcome by exhaustion and would need to stop whatever she was doing and rest. With so much spare time on her hands, she didn't really know what to do with herself. Mostly she stayed in her room lying on her bed, idling the time away and thinking back over events. Occasionally, if she could prise her Dad, Dave, away from the television for long enough, she would stretch out on the sofa downstairs but only if the house was relatively quiet. It was at moments like these that she found her mind drifting back to those still, warm nights in Africa, gazing at the stars with Charles by her side.

The best time of day was lunchtime when her younger siblings were at school or nursery and Dave quite often nipped out for 'a swift half' which was seldom swift and never merely a half. These were the times that she and Belinda could sit down together and talk. Her mum didn't pretend to understand everything Molly had experienced. She had learned from Molly's return from being on tour in Afghanistan that she needed to be allowed to unwind in her own time and that asking questions was counter-productive; if she wanted to talk about her experiences, she would.

The post had just been delivered and Belinda heard Molly hurrying down the stairs. She glanced out of the kitchen doorway and up the hallway to see Molly stooping to pick up a blue airmail letter from the mat.

"A letter for you, love?" she enquired.

Molly straightened up and turned to face her mum with a beaming smile on her face.

"Yeah, it's from a friend of mine."

"That's nice!" She raised her eyebrows slightly. Molly wasn't fooled. Belinda wasn't asking directly who the letter was from but Molly knew she wanted her daughter to tell her.

Molly sighed, "It's from Charles."

"Charles!" Belinda repeated, surprised at the name.

In all her correspondence home during the six weeks she had been in Africa, Molly hadn't once mentioned Charles. Belinda knew that Molly had been involved in the rescue of her Captain and her friend, Smurf, shortly before returning from Afghanistan. She had been surprised when Molly had not wanted to go and see Smurf in hospital on her return. All her enquiries on the subject had met with,

"Just leave it out, mum, it's my business!"

She had assumed that Molly and Smurf had fallen out. It seemed a shame to Belinda as she'd liked him when she met him during Molly's R&R. She thought it might only be a small tiff of some kind that would easily resolve itself over time but nothing seemed to have changed. Molly had certainly seemed pretty miserable during her post tour leave and Belinda had put it down to readjusting and possibly missing Smurf. However, Molly had gone back to her unit and then onto a long training course before volunteering for this most recent deployment. There had been no further mention of Smurf and she had to assume that whatever had existed between them was now over.

"Yes, Charles." Molly repeated to her mum, pulling a face and feeling disinclined to elaborate further.

"Just showing an interest, love. It's nice to know about your friends." Belinda said quietly.

Molly hesitated. Perhaps now was the moment to open up just a little to her mum. At some point she hoped that she would be able to tell the full truth but she had realised a long time ago, that her family liked Smurf and had misinterpreted their relationship. She wasn't sure how they would react to her news about Charles.

"Charles is the Senior Field Officer for the main charity at the refugee centre." She offered.

"Oh, nice!" Belinda responded and carried on looking at Molly as if she expected more information and Molly fell into the trap.

"We knew each other before he left the army. We just happened to run into each other in Africa."

"Cor, it's a small world, aint it? Fancy that happening." Belinda replied

"Yeah, " Molly agreed, "Fancy!"

Belinda seemed satisfied and headed back into the kitchen,

"Want a cuppa, love? I'll bring it through. You go and read your letter."

Molly settled down on the sofa and opened the letter. It was the second one she had received since being home. The first had arrived while she was still in hospital and her mum had brought it in for her to read. It had cheered her enormously to hear from him and although never having previously been a diligent scholar, she had written back to him, taking great care with her spelling and grammar because it had suddenly mattered to her a great deal to express her feelings properly.

Just like the first time, the sight of his handwriting on the page made her heart leap. There was something very personal and intimate to Molly about receiving a handwritten letter knowing that someone had spent time composing these words just for her. She traced her index finger over the paper and felt the slight indentations on the page where his pen had applied pressure as he wrote. She imagined him sitting at his desk in the Operations Centre writing this letter and wished that she was there. Seeing his handwriting on the page, she smiled to herself, remembering the time he had written 'Rosabaya' on her arm in the Med Tent before she left for R&R. That had been the first moment that she had realised he had feelings for her. She had cherished that message and kept it on her arm for days, carefully drying it whenever she had a shower, to preserve it for as long as possible. Whenever she had looked at that message in the days that followed, she recalled that moment in the Med Tent and felt those sensations anew. She had wished her leave away longing to return to him.

In his letter Charles told her that the situation was finally easing in the camp. There had been a ceasefire in the civil war and both sides had agreed to formal talks. They were beginning to see people returning home or being resettled and it seemed likely that Molly's fellow medics might return home in the next few weeks as the medical staff had the situation under control. She was glad to hear that things were getting better but wondered how long Charles would be there. They had never discussed this situation. She had expected to be in Africa for at least three months and their reunion, so unexpected and wonderful to both of them, had been much too brief for either of them. In his letter Charles didn't mention anything about the length of his contract or when he might next take leave in the UK. He did, however, take time at the end of the letter to tell her how much he missed her. She smiled at the phrase,

"What I wouldn't give to hear you swearing at me again. Accept that as proof, if ever you needed it, that I love you."

Coming into the lounge, carrying two mugs of steaming tea, Belinda saw Molly smiling and said,

"Good news?"

Molly looked up warily. She'd already said more than she had intended earlier.

"Yeah. Things are getting better…there!"

Five days later, Molly was woken from her sleep at six in the morning by the sound of her phone vibrating on the bedside table. It was light outside and she blinked a few times, trying to focus on the flashing display. Catching the name of the caller she almost dropped the phone in her haste to pick up.

"Charles!" she said excitedly.

"Molly?" The line was faint but it was unmistakeably him.

"Where are you?" She asked in wonder

"On my way back to the UK. I'm sorry to call at such an ungodly hour but I just wanted to let you know as soon as possible." He sounded uncharacteristically flustered. There were other voices in the background and the sound of engines.

"Where are you?" She asked.

"Don't worry about it. I'm just in transit right now. I've got to go. Can you meet me tomorrow at three thirty pm in Russell Square gardens…..by the fountains?" His voice was getting fainter, the connection was very poor.

"Yes!" She almost shouted down the phone unsure whether he had heard her reply.

She waited for a response but the line had gone dead.

Molly threw herself back on the pillows and stared at the slats of the bunk above her. She laughed to herself, it would take an earthquake to wake Bella who continued to sleep despite the noisy phone exchange. She sighed deeply and smiled. At last, he was coming back and they could spend time together.

The next thirty six hours seemed to pass interminably slowly. Molly remembered how she had felt as a small child on Christmas Eve willing the hours to pass more quickly and bring the longed for day nearer and yet as the time approached she felt a growing sense of apprehension. Uncomfortable memories returned of the train journey to visit Charles in hospital when she had lost her courage at the last moment. It was the same feeling of wanting to travel but being afraid to arrive.

She realised that Charles had never seen her wearing anything other than her uniform, with a scrubbed clean face, hair scraped back and off of her collar and a pair of clumpy army boots on her feet. She remembered the sight of well-groomed, expensively dressed Rebecca in the hospital and felt her nerves return. For the very briefest of moments she allowed these thoughts to torture her before thankfully the voice of common sense and reason silenced them by simply telling her 'He loves you.'

It was a fine, mild spring day with warm sunshine and a light breeze. Molly, dressed in a light summer dress and cardigan, exited Russell Street tube station and walked towards Russell Square Gardens. She was wearing new shoes and hoped they wouldn't hurt her feet too badly. After months of wearing mostly army boots and thick socks she wasn't used to shoes with heels and felt slightly unsteady on her feet. She crossed the road and entered the gardens. She was a little early so she slowed down and strolled along the tree-lined paths towards the fountains at the centre. The lovely weather had brought many visitors into the gardens, some couples lay sprawled on the grass others sat in small groups chatting. Despite the roar of traffic all around, in the gardens there was an air of peace and relaxation.

Molly followed the winding paths towards the fountains. She glanced at her watch; it was almost half past three. As she reached the fountains she looked at the groups of people around her taking in the scene. Some tourists nearby were laughing and joking and taking selfies and Molly smiled at the sight. Turning her head she looked through the water of the fountain. Charles stood out in the crowd. He was tall, lean, very tanned and had lost none of his military bearing. Dressed casually in a pale blue shirt and jeans, he stood waiting for her with an air of confidence in his stance that she remembered so well. He was directly opposite her looking to his left and right until finally he turned his head towards the fountain and looked directly at her.