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The staircase: an embodiment of princesses and princes, dances and balls. Elsie glared at the staircase as she made her way down. Charlie was already at the bottom and she could imagine him looking up at her as she descended.

She wasn't a princess. Nor did she ever want to be.

Biting her lip, she turned on the final landing and started walking down. Just as she had predicted, he stood at the bottom, checking his watch. Two glasses of wine stood standing on the table besides him.

He glanced up. His brow shuttered to his forehead as he watched her walk down the stairs.

She paused half way down, her princess metaphor drifting away as she took note of what he was wearing. Handsome. That was the first word to spring to her mind. Sharply dressed and handsome, he wore a grey suit with a midnight blue button-down shirt. No tie. She swallowed sharply.

Midnight blue.

They would have matched.

She pushed the thought from her mind. He hadn't meant for them to match, of that she was certain.

"You changed," he said as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

She nodded, "I did. That dress isn't quite for me."

Instead, she had chosen an old green one. Something she had worn to a posh friend's funeral once. It was festive enough in color and hid some of her less-than-sexy parts.

"I liked that dress," he said, then quickly added, "You look beautiful in green as well."

She smiled. He had been married for eight years and she figured he had learned a few things during that time, one of which was clearly to complement regardless of sartorial choice.

"Thank you," she said, picking up a glass of wine, "you look quite handsome yourself."

He hummed his response and they clinked glasses. They drank in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. He checked his watch again and suggested they head out before they were late.

She pulled on a dark brown coat and frowned. She looked like a tree. Shaking the thought away she followed him out the door determined to enjoy Beryl's party.

They had decided to walk, Beryl's house being just a few blocks away. She took his arm, tottering slightly in her heels. There was a chill in the air. The wind had died leaving behind a quiet night.

They walked quietly for a block when Charlie broke the silence, "It's just," he sighed, "we would have matched."

She tripped in surprise. "Matched?"

He nodded, glanced at her, and then looked quickly away. His face held a light pink twinge as though he had been caught out.

"I suppose we would have," she said, "It wasn't right, not for tonight."

"Wasn't right that we…?" he asked.

"No, no, the dress wasn't right," she clarified, "perhaps some other time."

"Perhaps."

She pursed her lips. A change of subject was due but the only things she could think to discuss were how long she was going to stay and whether or not he had found a job prospect. Casting around for something else to talk about she settled on silence. She wanted to avoid another fight.

They arrived at Beryl's promptly at a quarter after nine. Many guests had already arrived. A thumping bass drum and distorted guitar reached their ears as Charlie rang the bell. Elsie smiled: The Clash, Beryl's favorite band.

Bert answered with a sway and a large smile. They must have started drinking early. He took their coats and ushered them into the house. Smells greeted them: various pies and pastries, sweet and savory alike. A large curry sat in the middle of the food table. Samoas huddled together in a large bowl and were quickly devoured by party goers.

Charlie's brow rose in excitement as he eyed the rack of wines. Stepping away from her, he wandered to look over the labels. Left to her own devices she drifted around the perimeter of the party looking for someone she knew.

She jumped when Beryl grabbed her from behind in an awkward hug, "Elsie!"

"Beryl," Elsie responded, her voice choked by Beryl's strong embrace, "you're squashing me."

"Sorry, love!" Beryl released her, and looked her over, "I suppose you could look worse."

"Well I certainly feel better now," Elsie rolled her eyes.

"I told him, you know," Beryl continued on, "I told that fucktard, 'you're not invited, you show your ugly mug and I'll pull grandad's shotgun off the wall!'"

Elsie gave her friend a half smile, "I didn't think Joe would show up tonight, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"I still can't believe him, Elsie!" Beryl's brow furrowed, "You two were so good together. Sometimes I thought you were what Bert and I should strive for. You certainly seemed to argue less."

A memory stirred in Elsie's mind, "It's funny you should say that."

"Why? Was I wrong? Did you two not get along? Was it all a front?"

"No," Elsie put a hand on her friend's shoulder to calm her, "but I remember, before Joe agreed to marry me he said that I was a good match because he knew if we ever divorced we could do so amicably."

"What?!"

"I know, I know, in retrospect it seems a shitty thing to say," Elsie said, "but at the time I understood. We understood each other enough to respond kindly even in the worse situations. And for a long time, that worked quite well."

"You had better not make this divorce amicable!" Beryl nearly shouted.

Elsie grabbed her friend and pulled her further to the side, "No need to shout my life story! And besides, I'd rather it be amicable. It's faster. There's no need to drag it on and on."

"Elsie - you had better get everything from that bastard," Beryl said, "that's all I'm saying."

"Can we leave it now?" Elsie sighed, looking around to see where Charlie had got to, "I'd rather enjoy the rest of the party and not discuss Joe again. Can you do that? For me?"

"Of course, love, of course. He's not worth the breath anyway."

"Thank you," Elsie sighed, then added, "You don't by chance know a woman, surname Denker?"

"Doesn't ring a bell, why?" Beryl asked.

"Oh, nothing really, I hadn't thought it was you anyway." Elsie mumbled.

"I'm not sure I'm following here."

"Never you mind, it's nothing. Really." Elsie scanned the crowd again and found Charlie talking with a young woman wearing a short black dress. She couldn't tell if he was uncomfortable or if it was the knot in her stomach that was making her think he was uncomfortable.

"I see Charlie's met Ethel. She's our new hire. A bit immature, but she gets the job done." Beryl explained.

"She looks rather young," Elsie agreed.

Beryl chuckled, "Rumor has it, that's how Charlie like's 'em."

"Beryl!" Elsie chided. The knot twisted in her stomach, "that was years ago!"

"True, but he is a man, isn't he?"

Her friend was looking at her funny and Elsie decided she didn't want to press the issue further. Her stomach hurt to follow that line of thinking, and she wasn't entirely sure why.

"You and Bert are up for catering our first day of shooting, yes?" Elsie changed the subject.

"Of course, love! Just give us the schedule, you know we'll be there." Beryl smiled wryly, "I won't have Ethel there if you like."

"What?" Elsie glared at her friend, "I don't care who you bring, just make sure you make your Eton mess. That should calm his Lordship's nerves."

"You're calling Robert 'his lordship' now?"

"Now that I'm working with him and he's acting an ass, yes."

Turning back to see Charlie still in deep discussion with Ethel, that pink twinge returned to his face, Elsie exhaled sharply, "I'm going to go rescue him. He looks uncomfortable."

"If you say so," Beryl said. That funny look had returned, and Elsie rolled her eyes at her friend.

As Elsie crossed through the rest of the party-goers she tried her best to be objective. Charlie and Ethel stood about arms length apart. He was blushing slightly, but it didn't look like he was flirting. Yes, she decided, the blush was due to embarrassment.

She tripped as she reached them, catching herself on Charlie's arm. "Oph, there you are."

Ethel excused herself, touching Charlie lightly on his other arm. The young woman's rolled eyes did not go unnoticed by Elsie. She watched the Ethel walk away. When she turned back to Charlie she was surprised, and pleased, to note his eyes were trained on her and not on Ethel's swaying bottom.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Hmm? Yes, yes, of course," her body temperature was rising again and she cursed inwardly, "I'm just feeling a tad hot, was thinking about getting some fresh air. Would you care to join?"

"Certainly."

They pushed through the other guests and found their way to the patio doors. Stepping out into the cold air, Elsie let go of the breath she'd been holding. For a moment they stared up at the stars. She wondered if he knew the constellations.

Doubt began to creep into her mind and she bit her lip. Turning to him, she hesitated as she watched him smile at the stars. Debating quickly, her doubt won over and she nudged him with her arm, trying to keep her tone light, "I hope I hadn't interrupted anything."

"You mean Ethel?" Charlie asked, bringing his gaze back to earth, "No, no, she was just telling me about a new way to make custard. Apparently Beryl isn't fond of different techniques."

Elsie nodded, then continued quickly, "It's just - Joe once said you had a fling, or preferred younger women or some such -"

She stopped when she caught how red he'd become.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked back at the stars, "I had a fling with an intern. Yes. I'm not proud of that, you know."

"If she was into it -"

"She wanted my money," he explained, "Which we both now know was rather foolish of her. And of me. I was a fool. I suppose it was fun while it lasted, but there you go. I'm not entirely sure why I became known for this 'younger woman' thing."

"People talk," Elsie shrugged, "Besides, I've always pushed you to get out more, as long as everyone is consenting, I suppose the age, up to a point, doesn't really matter."

She wasn't sure why she was telling him that, except perhaps to ease her own nerves. Yes, Charlie could date, shag, whomever he wanted.

Charlie sighed, "It's odd, really, because most of the women I've been with were older than me." .

"Alice was older?"

"Only by a year," he said, "but still."

"I'm trying to remember the other women you dated," she said.

"Well, Martha was the intern. And then there was Cassie, she was four years older, and Julia, three years older, and," he blushed again, "Janet. She was one year older as well."

Elsie ran through her rolodex of memories. Squinting through the trees she could vaguely put faces to the names he was saying, except the intern, and except -

"Who's Janet?" She asked.

He shook his head, "I'd rather not."

"Oh come on, Charlie," She shoved his arm, "I've know you for how long? And only now do I get to hear about Janet?"

"It's rather embarrassing."

Elsie rolled her eyes, "It's only me."

He grumbled for a moment, "She was the first…"

They stared at each other. She waited for him to explain. His eyes grew wide as if that was explanation enough.

Realization dawned, "You mean, she was your first. The first person you shagged."

"You don't have to say it like that."

"Go on then," she smiled, loving how open he was being with her, "you tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

"Mine is worse," he said.

"You don't know that." Elsie countered, "For most women the first time isn't exactly all flowers and unicorns. I'm guessing you at least got off."

He nodded, his blush consuming his face, "well, yes, but still."

They stood in silence for a moment. She knew if she waited just long enough he would open up to her.

"Oh alright." He said finally, "I can't believe I'm telling you this."

"We've been friends for over twenty five years, it's not going to change the way I look at you."

"Right, well," he struggled, "She was in the year above mine at school. I must have been fifteen or sixteen. I didn't know it at the time, but she was a bit of a tart."

Elsie giggled. It was rare for Charlie to use words like that: tart. She giggled again.

"Anyway," he continued, "She asked me out and we drove to this - this field. We - you know - we kissed for a bit, and then - well, she ran out of the car."

Elsie gasped, "ran out? Just like that. Snogging and then boom - gone?"

"Just like that," he said, "She ran and looked back, said something about chasing her. So I did, naturally. She ran into this wooded area, and I couldn't find her for the life of me. And then, well, I started to find other things."

"Other things?"

"Mmhmm," he nodded, "the skirt she was wearing, then the shirt - all on the ground you see. When I finally found her she was in nothing but her bra, laughing at me."

Elsie laughed, "I'm surprised you didn't just run away."

"I'm surprised I didn't just run away!" He joined her laughter, "but I was a teenager, and I was quite ready to - well, you know - and then we did it and the next day she told me I wasn't her type and I was crushed."

"Oh, Charlie," she touched his shoulder sympathetically, "that is quite harsh."

"Like I said, I didn't know it then, but she was a tart. Shagged the entire school or some such nonsense." He rolled his eyes at himself.

She bit back a giggle, hearing Charlie say 'shagged' was equally as funny as 'tart'.

"Alright," he said, "your turn."

"Oh my word, I did say that didn't I?" she chuckled, "well, you were correct, yours was worse."

"Go on then," he smirked.

"His name was Joe - but not Joe Burns," she smiled wanly, "As it turns out I've only ever been with Joes. Joe Moseley. He was a year younger than me and clearly had such a crush. I - well I felt a bit sorry for him really, and everyone else was getting laid, except, it seemed, for me, so I started dating him and then one night I let him have a go at it in one of my father's barns."

"Your father's barn!"

"Yes, yes, I know, scandalous," Elsie laughed, "I can't say it was terribly pleasant. I certainly didn't get off. But it didn't put me off the whole concept either. We dated a while and then he moved away. Not long after that I met Joe, my Joe, and you know the rest of that story."

He nodded. She bit her lip, knowing full well she had said 'my Joe'. She hadn't meant to. He wasn't hers anymore. An awkwardness crept between them, and she knew Charlie was struggling to find something to say.

"I found him, you know," She tried to keep it light-hearted.

"Found who?"

"Joe Moseley." She explained, "On Facebook. He might not have been great in the sack when we were young, but it sounds like he figured it out alright. He's got five children."

"Five!"

"I know. He's married to a woman, Pamela, or Phyllis, something like that," she said, "they seem quite happy."

"Doesn't everybody on Facebook?" He laughed.

"Yes, I suppose so."

They stood quietly. At some point during their conversation she found him standing next to her, arms touching. She shivered. It was rather cold out. Charlie pulled off his suit coat and threw it over her shoulders.

'Thank you," she said.

He nodded. He went back to looking at the stars. The trees held her vision but she was really off in her own world. She had only ever been with Joes. Two men. Maybe Joe had been right, maybe they had married too young, too early. She shook her head. She didn't want to think about him, not tonight.

"You two popsicles are gonna freeze out there!" Beryl's voice broke through the silence.

"Aren't popsicles supposed to freeze?" Charlie asked. Elsie chuckled.

"Come on in, I'm putting out the rice pudding," Beryl walked away from the patio door, leaving it open for them to follow.

Before they reached the door, the return to the party, Elsie touched Charlie's arm, halting him, "I wanted to thank you."

"For what?" He asked.

"For coming tonight."

"I'm not sure I've ever missed a year," he said.

"Yes, but I'm glad to have you here," she continued, still trying to lighten the mood, "at least I've got somebody to kiss now."

He frowned, his jaw clenched, "You know, you don't have too. I never wanted anyone to feel obligated."

"You're shunning tradition?" She joked, "You. You're -"

"You know what I mean." He said.

She nodded and said quietly, "I enjoy our little traditions."

They were standing close. She could feel his breath on her cheeks. She wanted to tell him something, it was on the tip of her tongue. But her mind returned to that memory, and she wondered if he was thinking about it too. They had been on this very patio when she -

"Come on," she said, forcing her voice to be fuller, "It's another hour or so and then I'll give you your twenty-first kiss."

She headed into the party, and resolutely ignored his mumbled, "twenty-second."

He did remember.

The party thronged as the beat changed from punk rock to pop eighties music. Elsie sniggered at the thought that Beryl must have won the coin toss and had been allowed to choose the music. She found Isobel and Rishi dancing to Cyndi Lauper. Charlie brought her into the thick of things and they danced together too.

As the count down began, Elsie's eyes found Ethel standing next to a gentleman she didn't know. Charlie stood by Elsie's side, champagne glass held at the ready.

"10, 9, 8…" the whole party shouted in unison. Elsie felt the familiar butterflies return to her stomach. Butterflies of guilt she had always called them. She had them every time she had kissed Charlie on New Years. But now, really, there should be no guilt. She was free to kiss whomever she pleased.

"4, 3, 2 …"

Everyone shouted Happy New Year together. The radio blasted Auld Lange Syne and all the various couples locked lips. Ethel pulled her gentleman to her rather forcefully. Isobel and Rishi smiled as they kissed. Bert dipped Beryl.

She turned to find Charlie looking at her. He offered her a sad smile. She returned it, letting it blossom into a show of gratitude. She pushed herself onto her tipy-toes, tilting again in her heels. He leaned his head down and gently captured her lips with his.

It was short. She pulled away, looked away, not quite wanting to see what his face held. She didn't want to be pitied. And it was hard to look him in the eye when the butterflies in her stomach were now wildly beating against her heart.

When she did glance at him, she saw nothing but care cross his eyes. She touched his arm, feeling slightly dizzy and not remembering a time when a kiss had made her feel dizzy.

His hand touched his chest, and he swallowed sharply.

"Are you alright?" She asked, pushing the butterflies away.

"Yes," he said, "curry."

She nodded. He must not have taken his pills. She watched him touch his chest again and knew he was fighting his acid reflux. That curry dish Beryl had supplied had been quite spicy.

"Come on, let's get you home."

They donned their coats, wished Beryl and Bert goodbye and headed back into the cold. She kept up a brisk pace. He belched once or twice and apologized profusely when he did.

Upon finding herself stood on his doorsteps, she hesitated. There had been something she had wanted to say and all the alcohol in her brain pushed her to say it now.

"Charlie," she said, pausing him from opening the door, "Can I say something?"

"Yes, of course."

"It's just," she swallowed, "I never tell you how happy I am that you're my friend. I love you, dear. I hope you know that."

Pain crossed his face, and Elsie grabbed the key from his hand, "Come on, I'll get you your antacids."

They crossed the threshold. After making sure Charlie had his pills and they both had drank some water, she kissed his cheek goodnight and spent the beginning of 2009 alone in her room at Charlie's house.

End of Part 1


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