A/N: Oh you wonderful, wonderful people. I adore each and every one of you! Thank you so much for all of your comments and compliments, I'm so glad you're enjoying this as much as I am.

In which Charles and Beryl have dinner and bad decisions are made.

Chapter Ten

"This is nice."

"Is it?" Charles looks around, he can't see any obvious problems; of course he couldn't see anything amiss at the Slug and Lettuce either and how wrong he had been.

"It is." Beryl nods and smiles. "I've not tried the food yet, mind."

"Of course." It's not time to relax, not until their meal has been served.

He has learnt over the years that although he might feel a little nauseous after, it's best to eat as much as he can before Beryl passes judgement. He might not want to come back again, but at least he isn't left hungry and disgusted. Elsie, of course, can ignore her friend's words and carry on enjoying her food. But then she hardly cooks herself, so he supposes she must eat far worse in all of those quick cook meals of hers.

"I'm surprised Elsie didn't join us." He chooses to ignore her tone, reaching out and straightening his fork against the table cloth.

"She's visiting her sister, she said she'd 'make it up to you' another time." And she had seemed far too gleeful at the idea of he and Beryl eating alone. If he didn't know how much Elsie looks forward to her weekly visits with Becky, he would half-expect to find her hiding behind a menu a few tables back.

"Of course she is, I forgot. We could have done this another time, I'm sure."

"Am I not good enough company alone?" He lowers his voice, raises an eyebrow.

"Oh hush up, you old fool." Beryl smacks at the air, the table between them too wide for her to hit his arm, he supposes. "You know what I meant."

"Elsie and I do spend time apart, we aren't joined at the hip." He reaches over to top up her glass.

"Much as you might like to be, eh?"

He is incredibly proud that not a drop of wine spills from the bottle as he pulls it back sharply.

"I don't..."

"If you say you don't know what I mean I'll club you with this napkin." She holds it up threateningly.

He frowns, feels the tips of his ears heat. "I think I'll put the whole thing down to to much of this." Shaking the wine bottle pointedly he tops up his own glass and returns it to the cooler in the centre of the table, takes a large sip.

"If you must."

He spots the waiter then, their meals in hand and barely contains a sigh of relief.

At least now Beryl will be distracted away from talking about he and Elsie. He doesn't think he can take another night of her prodding. "I must."

She opens her mouth but is interrupted by the arrival of their food before she can say a word.

After the usual rigmarole of having black pepper ground over his risotto from an oversized pepper mill, he takes his first bite and smiles. Well, if her steak pie is as well flavoured then he might just be able to enjoy this meal without Beryl looking for reasons to turn him off it.

They eat in silence for a while, experience tells him that she is taking each bite carefully, separating her vegetables and mash up, and then combining them with the pie. With crust, without crust, stabbing her fork at the meat and eating it with no accompaniment at all. She approaches a new dish the way she did as a critic and after all these years he has long given up thinking she might grow out of it.

But he does know not to engage with her at this initial phase; until her mind is entirely made up he wants to hear nothing. She'll give him her assessment whether he wants it or not, best to just enjoy his own food while he can and let her get on with it.

"Have you thought about what I said?" He jerks in surprise and looks up; she never speaks to him this early in the game.

"What you said?" He spears an asparagus tip with his fork, the texture perfect between his teeth.

Beryl rolls her eyes, gathering carrot, potato and pie crust onto her own fork. "About Elsie's birthday. The party?"

Oh yes, the party. "I think she'll like it, if you can keep it from her."

"That'll be the hardest part, but everyone's so chuffed about it, they're determined not to let on, but-"

"But this is Elsie Hughes we're talking about." He finishes.

Beryl nods. "'Course, if she does find out we'll never know, but I think we might do it this time. Leaving it to the last minute's the key."

He nods, continues on with his risotto. Beryl goes back to her pie, a small smile on her face.

"So you'll keep her out?" She asks a few minutes later. "Get her back to her rooms when I text we're ready?"

Charles swallows awkwardly, rice sticking to his throat. He coughs, takes a large sip of wine and chases a pea around his bowl. Somehow he'd hoped to avoid this, although he can't remember how he thought he might.

"I'm afraid I won't be available."

There is silence, filled with the clinking of cutlery from those around them and the oppressive disbelief coming from the other side of the table.

"You won't...if you've something planned, cancel it! This is Elsie's birthday, you can't miss it."

But he can, and he will. "I'll see her before of course, give her her gift. But I won't be at the party."

He looks up when her hand thumps against the table, rattling the glasses and dishes. Beryl points her fork at him threateningly. "You'd better have a damned good reason, Charles Carson."

He thinks he does, the awkwardness of making small talk with the people he works with, who he never says a word to at work, the way he always seems to monopolize Elsie's company at any social event, keeping her away from her other friends. And from the stories he has heard when he hasn't been present, he's fairly certain they'll all have a much better time without him; which is what she deserves. To enjoy herself without worrying that he's having fun too.

"I'm busy, Beryl. I'll talk to Elsie after, she'll understand." Of course she will, she's always had to convince him to attend any 'gathering', she knows his reasons as well as he does for wanting to avoid them.

He can't meet his friends eyes as she lowers her fork. "I hope you're right, Charlie, because I think you're gonna regret it."

His heart gives an odd jump at her words, the warning in her tone, but he ignores it, takes another sip of wine. Elsie will understand. She always has before.

Key:

Slug and Lettuce - a brand of bistro restuarants around the Country.

rigmarole - a lengthy and complicated procedure; usually used when something seems to take way more time and fuss than necessary.

chuffed - really happy, enthusiastic.

Also, one missing key from the last chapter; in the UK, the term 'college' is used for the period of schooling between the ages of 16 and 18. Children remain in schooling until the age of 18 now, either in a college (academic or vocational) or a sixth form within their secondary (high) school. Sybil is completing her last year of college before moving on to University. She's applied already because that has to be done early, but she's now considering deferring for a year. I also noticed a missing word from chapter 8; Mary was supposed to say that Sybil is "almost" 18. So I've gone back to fix that.