It didn't help that you felt conspicuous just by the passing of a few hours.
Finally, finally, finally she was his, and he hers and they were each other's. Peter had woken, in her room, disorientated, sure she had been there when he had woken vaguely a few hours ago, unsure what had disturbed him. Then, now with the dawn peeking through the net curtains, the flood of somewhat pleasant memories assaulted him as he stared at the ceiling stretching out in an empty bed that only he now occupied. Something settled in his heart just at that moment that this was now forever, but quickly he got up knowing that if he was found where frankly he ought not to be, his life would not be worth living.
Seeing she was nowhere to be seen, even at six o'clock in the morning, he found the bathroom light not on and noise downstairs. He washed and dressed quickly and went downstairs finding his mother in the kitchen.
"Where's Camilla?" he asked, only concerned with finding her and just to make sure she was alright. As much as the events of last night were of her inception, he knew her enough to wonder if she might have regretted it. No, regret wasn't the correct word. Perhaps feel as though he would think different of her. Well, he did, but not in the way she might believe.
"An' good mornin' to you as well son" his mother replied sarcastically as she walked across the kitchen.
"Sorry Mum" he replied, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Good Morning. Where's Camilla?"
His mother tutted as she brought a pan out of the cupboard. "See wheres your loyalty lies now. Out wiv ve 'ens, gettin' eggs".
"Oh right" he said sitting at the breakfast table feeling newly possessive of her.
"Vat's a long face" Irene remarked, going back to the stove to start breakfast. "Got out of ve wrong bed vis mornin'?!"
His head shot up.
"an' vat's a guilty face too!" his mother teased.
"Sorry Mum".
"I was jokin' son" she laughed. "From vat face you'd fink you 'ad somethin' to hide from your muvver".
"No Mum" he lied, relatively sure they had not been rumbled. It didn't help that it was one of those times where there was actually something that had to remain a secret, if only for Camilla's sake, and his mother had just picked an unfortunately provoking mood to be in.
To his side the kitchen back door opened and Chummy walked in, followed by that black cat that nobody seemed to know who owned it sauntering in and sitting under the table.
"Will those do Renee?" she said putting the basket down on the table by Peter, feeling entirely unable to look him in the eye. She wasn't embarrassed, not at all, but she did wonder what was running through his mind as she hadn't managed a word to him since it all happened. Chummy was overcome with conflicting emotion too; knowing that as much as it had been her decision, and it had been, she ought to be feeling guilty or perhaps tormented with shame too. She didn't.
"Wonderful!" his mother said. "Pop vem on the boil whilst I visit ve ladies room…an' keep an eye on vat toast".
Chummy did as she was told waiting to make sure his mother was way out of hearing distance. The pan full of water was already on the stove and the egg timer tipped over before she finally turned around and looked him in the eye for the first time, before walking across the room.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly as she sat next to him, desperate to ask the question.
"Yes", she replied. "Just perfectly wonderful". It was the truth entirely, focused on the future and that future was with him. She knew it now and getting there had not been to bad at all. Overwhelming yes but not something she would ever begin to regret.
Peter smiled out of joy and relief in equal measure, quickly looking behind himself for his mother's location, giving Chummy a quick 'good morning' kiss. She did want to reciprocate but there was that feeling over her shoulders that their behaviour had been more than patent and that someone would know and the consequences to that would be far too much to consider. He could tease as much as he liked about her being a fallen woman as it would not matter to him; he'd get a slap on the back for it. She however, if her mother knew, would receive a slap around the face although, now thinking of it, the little bit of strength she had developed through one night in his bed squashed that feeling of vulnerability down to insignificance for the time being.
"Your Mum wants me to go and see Liz today" she said, squeezing his hand underneath the table.
"Does she?" He couldn't say he was entirely interested.
"Yes. Your mum said she didn't think she was right when she saw her yesterday", Chummy offered, that conversation had not so long ago that Irene felt that her friend did not look too well and a visit from a nurse might do her good.
Peter nodded, then frowned. "There's a doctor in the village though".
"Doesn't want to see him" Chummy replied, keeping her voice low. "Nature of the surgery". His mother had revealed to Camilla that it had been a hysterectomy.
"When are you going?" Peter asked, hoping the visit would be quick.
"About eight she said" Chummy replied. "So we can get her out of bed and get her breakfast". He actually felt disappointed. "But we will be back long before lunchtime" she said "and I feel like a walk".
"That can be done" he replied, just wanting to spend some time alone with her, wanting to have a proper conversation rather than checking every word he said.
"Is that pan on?" they both heard from the hallway as Irene returned, bustling back through the door towards the stove.
"Yes" Chummy responded, extracting her hand from his as they sat side by side. Peter turned his attention to the teapot in front of him on the table as they sat uniformly side by side.
"Good" his mother replied, brushing down her pinny, hearing the door go and post fall onto the mat.
"Go and get that for me son an' can you go an' make sure your Dad's up. 'E was moanin' last night his leg was playin' 'm up after vey were playing wiv tractors!"
Peter slid off his chair and Chummy took a sip of the tea that she had left before she went to visit the hens who had greeted the new face with silent feathery contempt.
"Are you alright petal?" Chummy looked up at his mother's concerned voice.
"Yes" Chummy replied. "Sorry Renee. Was miles away for a moment".
"E'll look after ye, ye know or at least e'll try 'is best to" she offered, still not convinced that her son's apprehensive face was not indicative of trouble.
"I know" Chummy replied with a wistful smile. "You must have been a wonderful mother" she commented, not for the first time wondering what it must have been to grow up in a house like the Noakes', or even for that, any other household except her own.
"I am petal!" Irene joked. "No" she carried on. "'E was born that way. Nuffimk to do wiv me" she concluded before pushing a plate of buttered toast in Chummy's direction.
"Do you need us to do anything today Mum?" Peter asked reappearing with the post and taking up a slice of toast, hoping that once Camilla's nursing duties were over, they could go on their walk.
"Vat was quick. Fought I tol' ya to see if yer Dad was up?" He'd seen his father coming down the stairs and didn't bother.
"E's up!" Bill said, feeling quite spritely as he walked into the kitchen, too stealing a slice of toast and sitting down opposite his son.
"After Camilla's been down to see Liz wiv me" Irene started taking up her conversation with Peter again, "I fink we can spare ye ve rest of ve spuds. Yer uncle's goin to do it".
Peter nodded.
"Why don' you take Camilla down to ve coast? Take ve car" his father offered, entirely oblivious to the atmosphere that his mother had picked up on.
"Do you want to go?" Peter asked her.
"Only if you do" she replied, actually not being too concerned where they went for the day in all truthfullness. She wasn't fancying the fields again but it was looking like it could possibly be a nice day after the downpours of yesterday.
"Well make up yer minds" his father said, starting on the toast.
"Car keys are on ve 'ook by ve door".