Thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed chapter ten. To be honest, I'm not sure that it turned out quite the way it should have, probably because the writing of it was very drawn out. Apologies to anyone who scratched their head and wondered what it was all about. Please bear with me and hopefully it will all make sense… eventually!
Chapter Eleven
It had been a long walk but Molly had enjoyed being alone with Charles although for someone who had been looking forward to seeing her again he had said surprisingly little. There had been long periods of silence. Molly assumed these were what other people called companionable silences. She hadn't minded because they didn't seem awkward but once or twice when she had asked Charles a question he hadn't replied or hadn't seemed to be listening and she assumed that he was pre-occupied. Once when she had repeated a question he had blinked and looked surprised she had spoken and she couldn't help remarking, "You look like you're miles away somewhere."
He had shrugged. "Sorry, just tired, I think." He had squeezed her hand. "I am glad you're here, really glad."
She had smiled back at him, pleased to hear this but wondering why he needed to tell her. The fact that he had called her last week, managed to get leave as soon as he could and was here with her now, holding her hand, told her more than any words could that he wanted to be with her and she wanted nothing else.
By the time Molly and Charles had returned from their walk, the tide had uncovered the causeway and Charles said he would fetch his car and take it over to Northanger as he had no plans to go anywhere on Sunday.
"It'll be nice to have a leisurely day." Although he wrinkled his brow and added as an afterthought, "I just remembered that Dad said something about wanting me to do an inspection of the observation post. He's worried it's unsafe and might need sealing up. We get visitors and bird watchers who venture over sometimes so it's best to be on the safe side. You might like to take a look as well, Molly. It's kind of interesting." Molly had nodded her agreement. At this moment even the most humdrum of reasons to be alone with him was welcome.
As they approached the steps leading up from the beach to the promenade Charles released her hand and moved ahead of her. Regaining the promenade they walked side by side back to the Beachcomber Café but he didn't reach for her hand again and she didn't feel that she ought to do so either sensing that he didn't want to make his feelings public or at least not yet. When they found Emma she was still sitting at the table outside and she looked up from her sketch pad and greeted them with, "I thought you'd got lost. I ended up having to buy two cups of tea and a cream cake." She glanced from one to the other and Charles said hastily, "We were just chatting and forgot the time. Let's have a look at the sketches."
Emma passed over her sketch book. She had filled a dozen pages with ideas for the carnival float and Molly was impressed by the drawings.
"Do you think you can make that on a float?"
"I think so," Emma replied. "But we'll have to get on with the painting right away or we'll never have enough time. It's next Saturday."
Charles rolled his eyes. "Looks like a lot of work. Are you sure you want to do this?"
Emma gave him a strange look. "Does it bother you if I do?"
To Molly's ears it didn't sound as if Emma was being petulant it sounded more like an enquiry.
"No. Do whatever you like. It's your business."
"Are you going to help?" Emma asked.
Charles shrugged. "Do I have a choice? She twisted your arm pretty quickly."
"Meaning what?"
He sighed. "She knows people's weaknesses. She's taken this on without thinking too much about what's involved and left it to the last minute. She knew you'd love to help out with the arty stuff. Only it won't be helping out, you'll find yourself or, better still, we'll find ourselves doing all of it. Same old Hannah!"
Molly listened to this exchange in fascinated silence. She thought of the initial greeting she had witnessed in the car park between Charles and Hannah. Charles had seemed genuinely pleased to see Hannah but from what Emma had said five years or more had passed. During the last two hours he seemed to have had a change of sentiment and he appeared slightly irritated by Emma's enthusiasm for the project. He pushed back his chair from the table and stood up.
"I'm going to fetch the car. Are you ready to leave?" He sounded tired.
Emma nodded and they agreed to meet him at the slipway.
Molly watched him stroll away. There was something about his gait that told her he wasn't entirely at ease. Something had changed since they had set out on the walk but she wasn't sure what.
Molly frowned. "I thought Charles liked Hannah."
Emma was preparing to collect her belongings together and stand up as well. She glanced at Molly. "Yes. Or perhaps I should say yes he did. After all, they haven't seen each other for years." She lowered her voice as if fearful someone would overhear. "When she went, she left quite suddenly towards the end of the summer. She didn't give notice on her summer job, she wrote a note for Joe and Pauline and there were no goodbyes to any of us either. All we've ever heard since then are snippets from Joe and Pauline when we've been here on holiday. It was strange. Just like her turning up here again was sudden and strange."
"Your father said Hannah and Charles were inseparable when they were children."
Emma considered this. "Well, it's true that they were good friends for many years. I don't really remember what they were like back then because I was too young. The thing is, though, that Charles is right about Hannah. I'd just forgotten after all this time. Everyone likes her. You heard my Dad talking about her, he thinks she's great but the truth is that she was always getting away with things in those days because she can charm people. That's what Charles meant about this carnival stuff."
It sounded to Molly as if Charles' initial pleasure at seeing an old friend had quickly subsided when it became obvious that she hadn't changed very much in the intervening period. She wondered now exactly what he had been thinking about during that long walk in which he hadn't said very much. From the way he had seem mildly irritated when they returned she guessed that his thoughts hadn't really been about her and she couldn't understand why he was so bothered. It was Emma who would be taking on most of the work and she seemed happy to do so.
"I know Charles thinks Hannah's taking advantage but actually, I'm quite looking forward to it." Emma's expression was animated, her eyes bright and she was clearly relishing the challenge.
Molly smiled at her. "It'll give you a chance to show everyone how good you are."
It was unspoken between them but they both knew Molly was thinking of the General.
X-X-X-X
The steep cliffs on the southern coast of Northanger were home to many species of seabird. As Molly and Charles strolled along the coastal path on Sunday morning heading towards the old observation post, he pointed out razorbills and guillemots and several types of gull. To Molly he seemed more like himself this morning; more like the Charles she had come to know in Bath. Perhaps he really had just been tired yesterday. He had certainly been quiet in the evening. They had eaten dinner on their return to Northanger which had been conducted in a relatively sombre atmosphere as the General had returned from his day in Truro and much of the conversation had revolved around Charles' work and acquaintances they had in common. Later, Charles, Emma and Molly had sat outside with a drink watching the sun setting and the light fading. Gazing across to the twinkling lights of Woodston, Emma said, "It'll be a lot busier next Saturday. You won't know the place, Molly."
Charles had scoffed, "What an exciting picture, Emma. The bright lights of Woodston tempting you across the water."
Molly could tell he was joking but he still sounded a little irritable and she wanted to counter it saying, "Well I can't wait."
Charles had only smiled faintly as he replied, "Then I hope it meets your expectations."
This morning he seemed much brighter and he had been in good spirits at breakfast when he had repeated his invitation to her to take a stroll up to the observation post. Then to Molly's surprise he had asked Emma too. Emma, however, had declined saying she was going to do some more work on her sketches and excused herself shortly afterwards. Molly was surprised at the appeal to his sister but assumed that Charles didn't want to make Emma feel excluded knowing what good friends she had become with Molly.
Northanger was small and it only took Molly and Charles ten minutes to walk along the narrow clifftop path to the observation post on the opposite side of the island. The path was too narrow to admit two people side by side and Molly followed on behind him. The weather had turned overnight and it was now overcast and a stiff breeze caught them square in the face as they reached the top of the cliff out of the protection of the hillside. Molly was glad she had put on her coat because it was surprisingly chilly considering how warm and sunny the last few days had been.
"Good old British summer," she said through gritted teeth.
Charles gazed up at the sky and pulled a face. "Looks like it could turn stormy later."
"Really?" Molly said not liking the sound of his prediction and seeing nothing but a few grey clouds in the sky.
He nodded. "It's rough out there and the wind's getting up plus there's just a certain something about the air today." He stood still and gazed into the distance as if sensing something mysterious and invisible to the naked eye.
Molly stared at him in wonder. "You can tell from the air?"
Charles cleared his throat, "Well, maybe, although the local radio forecast helped too."
Molly laughed. "You got me there."
He laughed too and she thought how much more relaxed he looked. A gust of wind caught them and he held out his hand, "Come on there's some shelter up at the observation post." She took his hand and allowed him to lead her along the path the rest of the way.
Molly hadn't been sure of what to expect but it turned out to be nothing more than a low roofed hexagonal shaped concrete pill box perched on the edge of the cliff with narrow slits looking out to sea. There was a short flight of steps leading down to a small entrance at the rear. There must once have been a door there but only the hinges remained now. Charles pulled out a torch from his jacket pocket and bent his head as he entered the bunker.
"Come in," he called nodding his head in the direction of the interior.
"Is it safe?" Molly replied warily remembering his words about the possible need to seal it up.
"Oh, I don't think it's about to fall into the sea anytime soon but be careful the floor's a bit uneven now."
Gingerly, Molly stepped down and entered the bunker. It was cold, dank and smelled musty. She wrinkled her nose and Charles caught her expression in the torchlight and said with a laugh, "I swear it's the building although after a few months in Afghan I probably smelled as bad."
"Ugh," Molly giggled, "too much information."
"Well that's war, Molly. Never very pleasant." He swept around the interior with the torch. "I daresay the soldiers posted here in World War Two didn't enjoy the best of conditions either, although they at least only had to do twelve hour watches and then went back to civilisation."
"What were they doing here in the war?"
"On invasion watch to start with, I suppose, and then looking out for German E boats which patrolled the channel and sometimes came in quite close under cover of darkness. Just keeping watch for any unusual shipping movements."
Molly shivered. "It must have been cold and boring."
Charles nodded. "It is. But it's necessary."
"Do you have to do watches like that?"
"Not here but I did in Afghan sometimes. Not as often as the enlisted men, mind you. There are some privileges of rank. It was boring but certainly not cold there."
"Dangerous, though," Molly observed.
Charles sighed. "Well that's also war for you. Long periods of boredom interspersed with brief moments of terror."
It was a sobering thought and they fell silent. Molly wandered towards one of the slits in the wall and looked out taking in the view. There was nothing but an expanse of grey water. She couldn't imagine having to stand here for hours on end scanning the sea with binoculars.
"How on earth do you stop yourself going mad?"
"Doing watches or in general?"
Molly shrugged. "Both, I suppose."
"When you're on tour it's amazing what you can find to entertain yourself. We used to have competitions, in-jokes, lots of banter anything really to keep up morale and of course, letters, parcels, messages, phone calls from home all mean so much. When you're so far away from everything familiar it really focuses your mind on what's important and those are the people you care about at home and the man standing next to you when you're on patrol."
He shone the torch at the wall just to Molly's left. "Look at that."
Molly bent to see what he was indicating and saw some graffiti scrawled on the wall and read aloud, "Tom Parsons loves Betty Watkins June 1941."
"I suppose Tom was doing something similar back then," Charles said. "Thinking about how important Betty was to him and recording it for posterity."
Molly smiled. "I wonder if Tom and Betty got together. Maybe they got married, had children, lived happily ever after. Perhaps they're a lovely old pair of pensioners now."
Charles exhaled. "I suppose we'll never know but let's hope so."
Charles stepped away and started inspecting the observation post in earnest, checking the walls and floors for any further signs of decay or imminent danger and Molly, fed up of the smell inside, moved outside into the fresh air to stand slightly out of the wind near the steps until he had finished. He came out and turned off the torch.
"Look's alright to me. I'll report back to Dad and if he wants to he can take a look himself. Shall we go back?"
"Can we walk all the way round the island?" Molly asked pointing in the opposite direction to the way they had come.
Charles shook his head, "No, the path peters out a bit further on. There's only one way up and back."
Molly started out towards Abbey House. The wind had strengthened and her hands were cold. She dug them deep into her coat pockets and turned up her collar.
"I don't know about you," Charles said, "but I could do with a cup of coffee. Ever tried Rosabaya?"
Molly shook her head. "Sounds like hand cream."
He laughed again, "You should try it. You'll love it."
Molly pulled a face. "If it's all the same to you I'll give it a miss. A teabag will do me."
X-X-X-X
The moment Emma mentioned the painting, Molly realised she had made a mistake. They were all sitting in the dining room eating dinner. The winds had steadily picked up all day and developed into the storm accompanied by rain that Charles had predicted. Although they were partially protected in the lee of the hill the wind rattled at the old windows and whistled around the building and Molly remembered Emma's words about being cut off in bad weather and hoped it wouldn't be the case this time, apart from the bonus that Charles was now with them.
They had discussed a variety of local topics and amongst them the carnival and Emma's involvement with the Ship Inn entry. Emma was describing some of her ideas to them all for background scenes and her inspiration.
"Do you remember that painting Mum did of the cove at Porthcurno. The way she painted the sea there was incredible. That's how I want my scene to look." She turned to her father. "Dad, do you think I could go and have a look at the painting. It would really help."
The General put down his knife and fork and gazed at her long and hard, weighing up his words before saying, "It's out of the question."
Emma glanced at Charles looking to him for support and taking the hint he said, "Surely, it wouldn't hurt for Emma to go and have a quick look. She's really set her heart on doing everyone proud next week."
Emma joined in hoping to stir her father's competitive spirit, "There's a prize for the best design. Nat Mortimer's made a special trophy plate for the occasion."
"Mortimer," The General said with thinly disguised disgust. "I might have guessed he'd be involved with all of this."
"He's not involved," Emma cried. "He just made the prize, that's all."
Emma's voice was rising and Molly could tell she was starting to get upset. She wanted to say something but she knew it wasn't her business.
Emma had taken a deep breath and composed herself. "I know you only stored the paintings away because you were worried about me but I'm much stronger now, Dad. I want to see them again. I'm ready. Please."
She was pleading with her father but he remained resolute. "No Emma, I can't agree to it."
"You mean you won't." she cried pushing her chair back from the table with a scrape on the floor as she stood up. "You can't keep trying to protect me like this. I need to go out and live my own life. Mum would have wanted me to do that. You never stopped her doing what she wanted but you seem determined to run my life for me." Her voice started to break and Molly could see tears in her eyes.
"Dad…" Charles began again but the General put up his hand.
"I've told you my decision. It is not up for discussion." He didn't move. His expression was implacable and everyone knew he wouldn't change his mind.
Emma turned and left the room, slamming the door behind her and Molly sat in embarrassed silence not knowing whether to look at Charles or the General. In the end she said very quietly. "Please would you excuse me," and not waiting for an answer stood up and left the room.
Emma was in her bedroom and when Molly knocked quietly and said, "It's me," a small voice within called, "Come in." Emma was sitting on the end of the bed and had clearly been crying. Although she had wiped away the tears her eyes were red and it looked as if they might start to fall again at any moment.
"I'm such a fool. I should have known what he'd say but I just thought he'd be happy to see me doing something like this especially when I told him Hannah had asked me. You know what he thinks of her."
Molly made no comment. She was trying not to think about Hannah.
"He just can't see that I've grown up and I have learned to cope with everything now. I want to see those paintings. I don't know why he can't understand that."
Molly sat down next to her friend and put a consoling arm around her shoulders. "Do you have to ask his permission? If the paintings are stored away somewhere here why don't you just go and have a look yourself?"
Emma shook her head. "They're locked away in Mum's old studio in the tower and he's got the key."
"Can't you get hold of it one day when he's out?"
"No, it's in the desk drawer in the Study and he keeps the room locked when he's not in there." She turned her face to look at Molly, "You see. Short of breaking the door down there's nothing I can do. I just wanted to look at it again. To see the brush strokes on the canvas and just feel as if I was close to her again."
Molly nodded. She understood even if the General didn't. Emma had reached the point where she needed to remember everything about her mother. She could handle everything now but her father was no longer helping but hindering her.
"Let's go and find Charles," Molly suggested. "I bet he can cheer you up. Cos, I'm doing a rotten job."
"Don't say that. You're brilliant Molly."
Molly didn't feel as if she deserved the accolade especially when Emma said she didn't feel like going downstairs again and couldn't be persuaded.
"I think I'll just have a bath and read a book."
Ten minutes later Molly found Charles waiting in the hall.
"Have you seen Emma?"
"Yes. She doesn't want to come down again."
He grimaced at the news but said nothing apart from, "It's going to take time to work on Dad. He's not someone to be easily shaken from his convictions."
A gust of wind whistled around the building and a door slammed somewhere in the distance making Molly jump and giggle nervously. They stood rather awkwardly for a moment or two not knowing what to do next until Charles said, "What are you like at snooker?"
Molly pulled a face. "Pretty shit if it's anything like Pool."
He rubbed his hands together in anticipation and grinned, "Oh good. Shall we play for money?"
X-X-X-X
By half past nine Molly's patience with Snooker was at an end. Abbey House was fortunate to have a large Games Room housing a full size Snooker table and in spite of Charles spending a lot of time instructing her in the finer points of the game and standing behind her, holding her cue arm and generally trying to improve her posture and technique, her appraisal of her skills was proving accurate. She slumped down in a chair. "Sorry, I'm not much use at this. Good job I didn't take you up on the money offer."
"Well it wouldn't have been a fair fight anyway."
"What fight is this?"
The General walked into the room just as the wind howled around the building, the rain lashed at the windows and the lights flickered overhead. Charles glanced up and shivered slightly before replying, "Molly's not really a fan of Snooker whereas you, Dad, have spent many a night in the Mess hustling unsuspecting subalterns."
"I resent that suggestion," the General said with a faint smile. "I never hustled anyone below the rank of Major."
"So, do you fancy a fair fight now?"
Charles knew his father too well. He couldn't resist a challenge.
"I actually came in to ask you about the Observation Post. I was writing a letter to the landlord but seeing as you've laid down the gauntlet, very well, put a tenner on it."
Charles nodded and they prepared to cue up the balls for a frame.
Molly stood up. As much as she liked being with Charles she had no desire to watch a long frame of Snooker.
"I think I'll head up to bed. I'm a bit tired."
Charles looked up from the table and she could see disappointment in his expression but he had the good grace to smile at her.
"Goodnight."
The General echoed his words and Molly slipped from the room to make her way upstairs.
Just before she reached the main staircase Molly passed the General's Study and to her surprise saw the door standing ajar and beyond it his desk. She paused and stared through the open doorway. In the distance she could hear the sound of the break-off as the red balls split and rolled over the green baize and Charles speaking to his father. She stared at the desk and remembered what Emma had said about her mother's Studio. She had tried not to get involved in the family argument but in her heart she was sure that Emma was right and her father was wrong. She knew from her own experience that the General was controlling Emma's life too tightly. She wondered whether she could take the key and give it to Emma but then she realised it might be missed and Emma would be the first suspect even if the General normally kept the Study door locked.
Molly felt her heart beating very quickly in her chest. All Emma wanted was to see the painting. Could she get the key and fetch her? There was every chance by now, however, that Emma had gone to bed and time was short. In the back pocket of her jeans she felt her phone and an idea came to her. What if she took the key and made her way up to the Studio right now? It wasn't quite the same but perhaps she could take some photos of the paintings and give them to Emma. It would be something and at least Emma wouldn't have defied her father. Time was short and she needed to make a decision. She closed her eyes and then willed herself to do this. She stepped into the Study and made her way over to the desk. If the drawers were locked she would leave and go to bed as she had said. She reached out and pulled open the left hand drawer. There was nothing inside other than some envelopes and writing paper. She moved swiftly over to the right and pulled open the drawer. Among the pens, pencils and stationery items she saw a large old-fashioned iron key about four inches long. The tower was old, the oldest part of the house. There was every chance this was the right key. She picked it up and held it in her hand. It was too large to fit in her pocket. She paused and listened again. Charles and the General were still chatting. She must hurry.
Emma had told her on her first day that the tower could be reached via a door which led from a passageway at the top of the back stairs. There were utility and storage rooms up there on the first floor. She hadn't taken Molly up there but Molly knew that the back stairs were accessed through the kitchen. She took a deep breath and headed in that direction as quickly as she could. She crossed the kitchen and threw open the door to the backstairs. They were old and creaked and even though she knew Charles and the General were too far away to hear she tried to climb them as quietly as she could. When she reached the top of the landing she glanced to her left and saw the old wooden door which led to the tower. She took two steps in its direction.
The lights went out. It was pitch black, the darkness so complete that it almost felt as if it were pressing against Molly. She stood still and held her breath, waiting for the power to come back on and the bulb in the passageway to flicker back into life. Five seconds passed and then another ten but still no light. She tried to remember the layout of the passageway and what had been directly to her right and left and felt along the wall with her right hand eventually making contact with a piece of solid wooden furniture, possibly a cupboard. She tried to move to her left and caught her shin on something hard and sharp. "Shit," she bent down to rub her shin with her hand and was shocked to bump her head on the furniture to her right. It smarted painfully and she winced and rubbed the skin just above her eye with the heel of her hand. She stood still again and took a couple of deep breaths. She had never liked the dark very much and it was very different here to the darkness of a big city where street lamps, shops, offices and traffic never allowed it to be truly dark the way it was in the countryside. In the darkness she was ever more conscious of the wind and rain and took a couple of deep breaths to steady her nerves.
She waited another minute or perhaps it was less but she couldn't tell. It was no good she was going to have to try to find her way back down the stairs and get out of here. She had to get the key back but she knew that it would mean negotiating the steep, old creaky staircase in the dark. She cursed herself for being so stupid. She was going to get in so much trouble. What on earth had she been hoping to achieve? Just because the General had upset Emma at dinner and she thought he was in the wrong it hadn't given her the right to go behind everyone's back and do this. Her only hope was that the General would be stuck in the darkness in the Games Room waiting for the power to return as well.
She thought she could find her way back to his study and hopefully slip the key back in his desk without him knowing. She felt along the wall and gingerly started to take steps forward until with relief she felt the newel at the top of the staircase. All she had to do was to step down as slowly and quietly as she could. She took the first steps and then caught sight of a small beam of light through the crack in the door at the bottom and heard the sound of footsteps approaching across the flagstones of the kitchen below. She froze on the spot fearing it was the General. The footsteps paused at the bottom of the stairs and then to her horror, she heard the creak of the first stair swiftly followed by another. Someone was coming up towards her. She daren't move and her heart was thumping in her chest. She would have to go back. She turned and the stair creaked ominously.
"Who's there?"
It was Charles. For a brief second relief washed over her but it was swiftly followed by the realisation that she had no reason for being here but there was no escaping him. The beam of light was directed to the head of the stairs and picked her out.
"Molly!" His surprise was obvious and the stairs creaked as he ascended towards her. As he reached her he lowered the torch and in the shadows she could see his confused expression. "What are you doing?"
"I … just felt like a..walk." She wanted to kick herself for saying something so stupid.
"Really?"
"Yeah, couldn't sleep."
He shone the torch over her and noted the fact that she was dressed.
"Do you always sleep fully clothed?" She detected a note of humour in his voice.
"I didn't bring a dressing gown or anything and I didn't want to shock anyone." She tried to make a joke and she saw the corners of his mouth twitch as if he was trying to suppress a smile.
"I see. Well, I suppose it's best to be prepared and all that." She knew he was laughing at her now.
"Must be taking a leaf out of your book, then, seeing as you were in the boy scouts," she countered.
"Weren't you in the Brownies or anything?"
"What do you think?" In spite of herself she was struggling not to laugh now.
"I'll take that as a no, then," he replied. "Glad to see I'm rubbing off on you, though."
He stepped a little closer and with his free hand reached for her right hand. It was the hand holding the key. She didn't know what to do. She was trapped and about to be exposed. She couldn't let him find the key and then, mercifully, Ingrid Bergman came to her rescue. Molly flung both her arms around Charles. He was startled for a second or two but it didn't last as he welcomed the sudden invitation and instinctively his arms slid around her waist. Her body was pressed in close to him she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face, sense his lips close to hers and knew he was about to kiss her and yet she was distracted by the need to hold onto the key in her hand behind his back and not drop it. Throwing it onto the stairs here would be a dead giveaway as it clattered its way down two flights of ancient oak. The last thing she wanted was him knowing about her well-meaning but misguided attempt to snoop. Charles' lips brushed tantalisingly against Molly's. She sighed and a tingle ran down her spine as she anticipated the moment they committed in earnest. He was pulling her closer to him and she was conflicted between desire and fear but at this moment she knew which was winning the battle.
"Charles!"
The General's commanding voice echoed through the kitchen. Molly could hear him walking towards them and caught sight of the powerful torchlight beam heading in their direction.
"Where are you? I need some help with the generator."
Charles sighed, released Molly from his embrace and stepped hastily away from her whispering, "Sorry," and running his fingers through his hair in a gesture of exasperation.
Molly stepped back up onto the landing and into the shadows not wanting the General to see her, particularly as she wasn't supposed to be here and Charles seemed to have the same idea. He hastily descended to the kitchen calling, "I was just checking the upstairs fuse box."
Molly remained motionless until she heard the footsteps of Charles and the General fading into the distance. She closed her eyes and breathed out. That had been a close call in more ways than one. She'd been racked with nerves and embarrassment at being caught almost red-handed and then thrown into emotional disarray by Charles. He must have wondered what on earth she was doing flinging herself at him with sudden uncharacteristic abandon like that, not that he had seemed to mind. She couldn't decide if she was relieved to get away with being where she shouldn't have been or disappointed to be cheated of a kiss thanks to the General. On balance the latter won out but there was no time to dwell on this. Now was her moment to return the key whilst Charles and the General were outside fixing the generator.
She rapidly descended the stairs, not caring how much they creaked and found her way to the General's study which was still, thankfully, open. She felt her way to the desk and was just slipping the key back inside the top right hand drawer when all the lights in the house suddenly came on again. They must have fixed the generator and she had made it in the nick of time.
She rushed out of the room and hurried towards the main staircase just in time to encounter the General and Charles returning from outside. Charles looked damp and windswept and he had grimy hands. He had clearly been the one to do the hands-on work.
"Nothing to worry about," the General informed Molly. "The generator's a bit temperamental but it's served us well over the years. Sorry it disturbed you."
Molly shook her head. "It's fine. I was just going to get a drink from the kitchen and got caught in the dark."
"Jolly good. Well, goodnight again."
The General headed in the direction of his Study and Molly cast her eyes towards Charles. He was standing there watching her with a smirk on his face.
"You're quick with the excuses, aren't you?"
"So are you. What was all that about the fuse box?"
Charles frowned. "That was true. There is a fuse box up there."
Molly shrugged. "Well, I was going for a walk."
He nodded slowly. "OK, if you say so." He stepped a little closer to her. "But that's just a dead end up there. There's nothing to see. Or am I missing something?"
"I didn't know what was up there," Molly replied wondering if he was serious, "and then the lights went out."
He narrowed his eyes. "If I was the suspicious type I'd think you'd gone exploring. But why?"
"Are you the suspicious type?" Molly asked trying to sound light hearted but wondering if he had guessed what she was doing.
Charles shook his head. "No, I'm not suspicious but I'm definitely curious about you." He had moved even closer to her now. "I can't help it."
The kitchen door opened again and they hastily moved apart as the General appeared carrying an empty whisky bottle.
"Need a refill," he supplied in explanation heading for the larder.
Molly glanced at Charles, wondering what he had really meant just now. As much as she was deeply attracted to him she didn't want this conversation to go any further this evening. There was a danger he might start asking more questions and in spite of the fact he supported Emma she couldn't help thinking he wouldn't like the idea that she had taken the key from his father's desk without asking. She pointed to his grimy hands.
"You'd better go and wash those." Without a moment's pause, she turned away from him and hurried out into the hall calling over her shoulder, "Goodnight."
Charles stood in the kitchen with a bemused expression on his face. Strange girl. One minute, much to his surprise but pleasantly so, before his father's ill-timed appearance, she'd been all over him and now she was in a hurry to get away as if she was Cinderella fearing the stroke of midnight. He thought he'd made it obvious he was attracted to her and was pretty sure she'd given him the same signals and let's face it she'd given him more than a signal a little while ago but he now felt as if she'd just pushed him back to arm's length again as if he'd overstepped the mark somehow and, he thought ruefully, it couldn't really be because he needed to wash his hands. He sighed and shook his head. He was confused and slightly frustrated. He'd been more than ready to continue where they'd left off on the stairs just now but she had left him stranded.
He was disturbed from his thoughts by his father returning from the larder bearing a bottle of single malt.
"Fancy a nightcap, Charles?"
It was late and Charles feared he would end up mulling everything over until the small hours and getting nowhere if he didn't dull the edges of his wakefulness.
"Thanks. I think I could use one."
X-X-X-X
Molly stood in the darkness of her room with her back to her bedroom door. She sighed in annoyance. She was exasperated at herself. Shit. She'd caught the expression on Charles' face as she turned to leave the kitchen. He must think she was mad. It was all her own fault, of course. She had acted rashly and the end result was that she looked nothing better than a tease. She didn't think he was the type of man who would put up with that sort of behaviour for long. He'd walk away rather than be messed around by someone who couldn't make up their mind what they wanted. Everything had been moving along surely and steadily. She hadn't wanted to rush things and now she'd thrown a spanner in the works. She just hoped it hadn't done any damage.
