time for coffee...


Chapter 11 - Reconciliation

1st December 2015

There were things they needed to discuss. Serious things. Proclamations he wanted to make, promises, pledges - call it what you will. All he knew was, he was forty-one years old and had reached an impasse in his life. The fact that the woman he'd loved since he was twenty years old was living apart from was unfathomable. You could make a pretty long list of reasons as to why that was the case but at the end of it all you might as well burn it because all that mattered was the he loved her: he'd loved her when she arrived late to that lecture and slipped on the floor, he'd loved her when he was kissing her in a crowded bar at Christmas, loved her intensely when he married her, loved her immeasurably when they'd been in that stuffy hospital room both exhausted beyond belief as they'd held their first daughter. Even when he'd moved out, even when they'd torn each other to shreds with their words and their hurt and their jibes.

He'd reached the conclusion years ago that his heart belonged to her no matter what happened.

So, as he'd laid there, in the early hours of Sunday morning, staring at his ceiling and remembering the feel of her body against his as they'd danced hours earlier at the party, he couldn't quite understand why he wasn't finding some bloody way to just be with her.

So he'd started.

He was a man of organisation if nothing else. Therefore Sunday had been spent writing a different kind of list - a list of all the things he planned to change, the things they needed to change, if this was going to work. Love may not always be enough, but it was a damned fine place to start.

He'd called her later that day - it was her birthday after all, arranged to meet. He was glad when she suggested Starbucks - it was neutral ground, not too far from either of their offices, and besides that he liked the Caramel Waffles they did in little bags on the counter.

She'd got there twenty minutes early, he'd arrived three minutes late (parking!) and they'd both stood staring at each other across the shop for a good forty-five seconds before one of them made a move.

Then a shared smile, bashful perhaps, nervous as he made his way across to their table.

"Hi," he said, reaching to rest his hands on her upper arms.

"Hi," she looked up to his face, his cheeks and nose were rosy from the crisp weather and it made her smile, some things about him never changed.

"Sorry I'm late - couldn't park." He kissed her cheek respectfully, and she smiled at that too, turning her head just slightly so she could kiss the corner of his mouth, very quickly, but enough to let him know she wasn't backing out of this.

"It's okay; it's a nightmare at the moment, all those roadworks."

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked.

"I've got a pot of tea, actually. But you go."

She sat back down, fiddling with the ends of her scarf as she waited for him to return. How childish it seemed, to be so damned nervous around him - he'd been with her through so much, seen her during illness, bad moods… childbirth for god's sake! It was silly to be nervous with him now. Yet she was - more nervous than she'd ever been around him, because she couldn't escape the niggling feeling that this was their last chance to fix things.

Charles returned to the table, and set his cup down, as well as a bag of caramel waffles. Once he was settled in his chair, he opened the bag and offered one to Elsie. She shook her head. "Thanks for meeting me," he said. "How's your day been?"

So apparently he was nervous too, she found that endearing. She leant back in her chair slightly, twisting her body to face his, legs crossed. "It was fine, you know this time of year, busy of course. And the heating's been on the blink for the past few days in the office so…" She shrugged.

"Not the best timing," he agreed. "Did you enjoy your party?"

She chewed down on her lip, her eyes sparkling as she watched him. "I did. I had the hangover from hell come Sunday morning - not the best way to be on your birthday - but I'm over that now - no wine for a while though." She sat forward again, uncrossing her legs and reaching into the open bag of mini waffles. Taking one out she began separating the two sides, picking at it with her thumb nail.

"I hope the girls looked after you on Sunday?" he asked. Shortly before they'd left the party, he'd instructed Mae to leave a glass of water and painkillers on Elsie's bedside table, anticipating that she may need them.

She chuckled, "Oh, they did." She dropped the crumbled waffle onto her napkin. "Mae's knowledge of dealing with a hangover consists of painkillers by my bed and eating rubbish food… so we went to McDonald's and had cheeseburgers then watched my favourite films for the afternoon."

"Let me guess… Casablanca?"

"Well, yes… but you know I have a fondness for Mamma Mia now too! And the girls will sing to that."

"I can see it now. The three of you dancing round the living room." He smiled at the image.

"They danced." She sipped her tea. "My head wasn't quite in the right place for it. Even after the greasy breakfast."

"You should have called; I'd have come round and made you poached eggs on toast." It had been their hangover cure of choice when they'd been at university.

She smiled at that, she had fond memories of him being in her tiny kitchen in the shared student house, his huge bulk filling it as he insisted on making her breakfast.

Charles' voice brought her back from her reverie. "I can't remember if I told you on Saturday, but you looked stunning. That dress was… wow!"

She felt her cheeks warm at the statement, it wasn't just the words - the compliment - it was the way he said it, an odd mix of nerves and sincerity. "You did tell me, twice I think. And thank you, it wasn't my choice, it was chosen for me by our darling girls and your mother - hence the glam factor being way higher than I'd usually go for." She shrugged, "But it was nice to feel spoilt, I don't mind admitting that."

"You deserve to be spoilt every now and then."

"I guess you're only forty once." She refilled her tea cup, taking her time adding milk and stirring it.

"I guess you are. Did whatshisname… John… have a nice time?" He didn't really want to talk about her 'date', but he needed to know, before this conversation went any further and they got into the nitty-gritty of their problems, if there was anything in it.

She rolled her eyes, "Oh god. What a mistake on my part that was." She sipped her tea. "I thought…, it was an impulsive invite you see, he'd been chatting to me for weeks, months I suppose, flirting." She noted the look that crossed Charles' face. "And I was still annoyed over the bonfire thing and the upset… it's why I decided we should finally divorce. You know. I thought we needed to make a clean break, but that hurt even more, so when John next started flirting I thought it best to just move on, make a quick move, and so I invited him." She shrugged, embarrassed, "I knew as soon as we got to the party it was a mistake. I was mortified by people looking at us together. What can I say, I'm a jealous woman and Alice… well, that really shook me."

She leant back in her chair, uncrossing her legs and stretching them out. "Ah well, I guess I can still learn things. And he seems okay, he and Anna have always had this...flirtation...I have a sneaking suspicious it may have gone a step further now."

He nodded, "They did look rather friendly." He picked up another waffle. "You should know… Alice was all Robert and Cora's idea," he admitted, glad to finally be able to explain the whole thing to her. "I didn't go looking for a date. They set us up. And, we got on well enough… she was well spoken, friendly-"

"Pretty?" she asked, a little too quickly for it to be seen as a casual reflection.

Charles smiled. "You did say you were a jealous woman. Yes, I suppose she was pretty. But she paled in comparison to you."

She allowed herself a smile at that, fiddling with her teaspoon on the side of the saucer. "And you would be fine, with me dating, I suppose?" She knew she was leading him but it seemed they'd both made decisions about where this conversation was going and the tone was growing more relaxed and natural.

He looked down at his coffee, stirring it and watching the patterns the cream made as it cut through the dark liquid. "I'd hate it."

"Lucky I'm not dating him then, nor intending to," she said, her voice low and heavy with meaning. "You know, Charles, before we get too deep into things, I wanted to just… that ring." She looked at him meaningfully, wiggling her fingers deliberately on the table. "You'll see I'm not wearing it, but that doesn't mean I don't love it."

"The girls helped me pick it." He didn't want to tell her that it hadn't been his idea; he'd promised the girls when he'd spoken to them the previous evening, that he'd play along, but he didn't want to lie either, not when he was trying to start afresh. He'd reimbursed his mother for it though; so technically he had bought it now. "Why aren't you wearing it, if you don't mind me asking?"

She breathed deeply, chewing her lip again. "I'm not sure…" she sighed, "I'm not sure what it means, Charles, if I'm honest. You didn't put a tag on it and..." She shrugged, "Well. I don't want to assume anything."

"It's an eternity ring. It symbolises never-ending love."

She smiled, "I know that, I know what it means. I'm not sure what you want it to mean, to us, for us. If there even is an 'us'."

"Well that depends. Do you want there to be an us?"

"Oh goodness," she groaned. "I have to be the one to make that decision…?" She tapped her fingers nervously upon the table top for a moment, glad he was silent, not pushing.

Charles swallowed. She was right, it wasn't fair to put all this on her. "Would… would it help if I told you that I did… want there to be an us, that is?"

She felt her pulse quicken at his words, something in her chest tighten and bloom. 'Yes, it made all the difference. Of course it did.' But she didn't say that, she remained silent, turning his hopeful words over in her mind.

Reaching back into her handbag and pulling out the small box, she flipped open the lid and took out the ring. "You see, Charles, the thing is, the last time you put a ring on my finger that symbolised our future, it was my wedding ring." The absence of which now seemed hugely significant as they both glanced at her bare finger.

He reached for her hand and ran his thumb over her empty ring finger. "When I slipped that ring onto your finger that day and made my promises to you, I meant every word. I'm only sorry that I didn't live up to them."

"Oh God, don't say that." She turned her hand over, letting their fingers fold around each other's, finding comfort in the touch of his hand against hers. "There's nothing to apologise for, I'm the one… I pushed you away, I know I did, time and time again. I'm the one who broke the vows we made." Speaking those words made her feel self conscious about holding onto the ring he'd bought her, about the meaning of it, so she slipped it back into it's box.

"I hardly think that's fair. 'For better or worse' remember? I didn't do very well with that one; when it got tough, I walked away."

"I don't see it that way," she said softly. She was doing her damndest not to cry, not there, in a public place. "You were always so good to me, you still are…" she breathed deeply, trying to regulate the beat of her heart, to slow her thoughts and gather them into some kind of meaningful sentence. "I love you," she finally stated, "I never stopped."

At her words, the tension that had filled Charles since this whole conversation started began to recede, but a part of him still needed to hear her say it again. "You love me?" he asked, feeling a little like a child seeking confirmation.

She shook her head, feeling her eyes fill with tears, what a state she was in. "Of course I do. It wasn't so easy to stop. If anything, I kept waiting for it to happen. I thought at some point it would just ebb away, you know, or change, that I wouldn't feel it so strongly or miss you so much." She licked her lips, "I tried so hard to stop," she admitted.

"I know. I never stopped loving you either," he admitted. "Sometimes I wished I had. I thought if I could just stop loving you that maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. But I do still love you Els."

"I've missed that, you calling me that."

"I've missed calling you that. I shall endeavour to do it more often… if you're agreeable?"

His words brought on a slight giggle and she glanced at him almost shyly. "I do rather like it." She felt his fingers flex in hers, his thumb stroking her palm, she wondered if he's even aware he's doing it. Hearing words of love and affection from him again after all this time, caused the tears that had been threatening to fall since they started this conversation to spill down her face. "Oh god, what a mess," she snuffled. "What an absolute mess. I've convinced myself a thousand times over that you didn't love me anymore, that I'd hurt you once too often. Pushed you away one too many times…"

"Never," Charles whispered, squeezing her hand. "I've never gotten over you Els. If I had, I wouldn't have carried this around with me everyday for the past five years." He reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet, opening it to reveal a photo of the four of them during happier times and his wedding ring, tucked into the see-through panel. "Most people keep their driving license in there, but I keep you… us. Everytime I open it, I'm reminded of how perfect life can be... in the midst of all the rubbish that happens in the world… there's this, us, what we had together. What I hope we can still have."

"I forget how good you are with words." She smiled tearfully. "But you know," she reached to the silver chain that always hung around her neck, the discreet way it was hidden inside her clothes, and pulled it free, "I've never really taken mine off…"

His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her wedding ring resting on the delicate chain. "How have I never seen that?"

"You know me, I'm good at hiding things."

"A woman of mystery, if ever there was one," Charles replied.

"Ha! Oh yes, I'm a closed book." For a while they sat in silence, letting their emotions settle, the words they'd shared turn over in their minds. She extracted her hand from his and reached to her handbag again, taking out a tissue for herself and one for Charles. "Embarrassing ourselves," she said, as she dabbed at her eyes. "I need to ask you something."

It felt as if butterflies had taken up residence in his stomach, leaving him feeling breathless, almost dizzy, as his brain mulled over the possible questions she may have. "Go on…" he said, trying to hide his nerves.

"I know how much you love our children, Charles, I have never doubted your absolute devotion to them." She paused, nervously folding the tissue in her hand. "I wonder, sometimes, is it just because of them?" She shrugged, tilting her head to one side as she finally looked to his face. "The way you feel for me, is it just because of them?"

"No." His answer was instant; there was no doubt in his mind. "Els, I have loved you since the day you rushed into that lecture hall, soaked to the skin, slipping and sliding everywhere."

"I hardly think I was coming in from a hurricane, Charles," she chuckled. "You make me out a Bronte heroine."

"Perhaps I exaggerated slightly," he grinned, feeling a little like a boy again. "But it doesn't matter really, because the point still stands. I love you now, just as much, if not more so than I did then. Yes, the fact that you had my children means that we have a bond like no other, but it's more than that, it always has been."

She touched his hand again, resting hers on top of his and stroking his knuckles before placing her other hand on his cheek and leaning up to kiss his mouth very gently, very tenderly. "If all this time we've never stopped loving each other," she whispered, caught up in her emotions, "then why… why couldn't we make it work back then? We tried so hard for so long." She squeezed his hand, desperate in a way for this to just work. "For two seemingly intelligent people we really cocked all of this up, didn't we?"

He took a sip of his coffee, needing the distraction to calm his thoughts. "We were both so young."

"I feel like a child when I look back now," she agreed. "I was nineteen when I met you, imagine Mae meeting somebody and falling so passionately for them as we did. It's not so far off."

"I know. We thought we knew it all though. We shouldn't be too hard on ourselves, Els. We thought love would be enough. But I realised something over the weekend. Love, however deep, on it's own is never enough. There needs to be communication and compromise, something I wasn't particularly good at. I need to change and I will."

Elsie raised an eyebrow, she didn't mean to be judgemental, it was purely an instinctive response, but he'd said similar things in the past, and the second she saw him take in her response she wished she could take it back. Everything felt so very temperamental and she didn't want to risk damaging an element of it.

He knew she wasn't sure whether to believe him and he couldn't blame her for that; he'd made promises in the past about his work commitments that he'd failed to keep. But it still stung a little, that she doubted him. "I know that given our history, this might all seem like meaningless platitudes - a good sales pitch to get you back - but it isn't…"

She quickly interrupted, "I didn't mean to seem doubtful…"

"No, I know. I don't blame you. But I do mean it," he said honestly, keenly aware of the warm weight of her hand in his. "I've asked Mary to become a partner in the firm," he plunged on, "and I've advertised for a junior accountant, so I can take a step back, reduce my workload, maybe even cut back on my hours. It will cost a bit, but we can afford it; and it's a small price to pay to make things work Els."

"Goodness, you've done all of that in the two days since the party?"

He nodded. "I was awake most of Saturday night, well Sunday morning really, just lying there trying to get my head around everything… to find a way to make it work. The advertisement should be in tomorrow's paper."

"You don't hang around with things, Charles, I always thought that."

"No point, not with things that are important. And nothing could be more important."

She nodded, the magnitude of his actions just sinking in.

"But, it has to work both ways," he said softly, terrified of damaging the very fragile bridges they'd just started to build.

She swallowed, she was very much aware of her part in all of this. "Did you hate me? Back then, I mean. When I went back to work full time, I felt like you hated me for it."

"I didn't hate you. I'll admit that I didn't really understand; we didn't need the extra income." He paused for a moment, knowing his next words would very possibly feed into the long held fears she had about her abilities as a mother. But, he decided, they had to be honest with each other, no matter how difficult it was. This was a fresh start, so they needed to hash out all that had gone before. "And I'd always imagined my children would have a childhood that was different to mine; where their mother was at home to greet them after a long day at school."

"I know that," she said sadly. "I know how you felt about that, even before we married - you made it very clear how difficult you found it growing up with absent parents." If he was brave enough to be brutally honest with her then she had to do the same. "But Charles, I never wanted our children to be coming home from school and not having anyone there, either one of us, not just me… do you understand that? I needed my own life outside of the home, just as you did, maybe that was too modern of me, I don't know…" she shrugged. "It didn't mean I would neglect their care in any way, I just thought… no, I needed for it to be balanced between us."

"It should have been," he conceded. It had taken him a long time to come to this conclusion; not wanting to admit he had been wrong, but when he'd become a 'single father', he realised, for perhaps the first time, how hard it must have been for her to balance her duties as a wife and mother with her work and the need to have a life outside all of that.

"I tried to understand," he continued. "When you agreed to keep Lil. I fully intended to be there more… but then everything happened with Robert and Cora and…" He sighed. "I never told you this because I didn't want you to worry, but the business was struggling then. I had to make a decision… to be there for my family or to provide for them. To me it seemed like an obvious choice."

"Perhaps… but then you always saw it as the man's role, don't tell me you didn't." She deliberately kept her voice soft, "I'm not saying this to be harsh Charles or hurt you, but if we're doing this, if we agree to do this, then we both need to be honest - it seems communication from either one of us hasn't been great. And we can't possibly dream of moving forward if we can't share everything. Even the things we worry might hurt the other."

She watched him nod very slightly, his mouth open, tongue wetting his lips. "I needed to know about the business, about our finances. Remember how embarrassing it was for me two years ago when my business was suffering, when I was stressed beyond belief and you found me crying in the office when you brought Mae home? Who was the one who helped me through that…?"

"Yes I should have told you, but I thought you had enough on your plate; two children under five, one who was teething and not sleeping. You were surviving on about three hours sleep; I didn't want to add to your stresses. I wanted to protect you; I vowed to protect you when we got married. It was probably very old fashioned and chauvinistic," he agreed, "but that was the way I was. Now, I'd like to think I view the world in a different way. I don't think I've ever told you how proud I was, the day you completed your first solo event. You were so thrilled that it had gone so well - you'd got several new clients from that alone if I remember - and I was happy for you and immeasurably proud that you, my wife, had achieved that."

"I knew," she said gently. "You may not have said it, but I knew, nevertheless."

"Nevertheless, I should have told you. I should have talked more about what I was feeling… but I wasn't brought up that way. Yes I can turn on the charm and pull out flowery, romantic words from time to time." Elsie smiled, he could certainly do that. "But to talk about what I really feel, deep down… the fears, worries, insecurities, it just wasn't done."

"Firstly, it wasn't just you who was bad at communication Charles. I kept a lot of what I was feeling to myself, until it all got too much and came out in blazing rows." She squeezed his hand in between both of hers, "But you must, you must talk to me, share it all with me. You're such a kind, warm man Charles, especially with our children. And I know why you shut things away, I know you never grew up being used to sharing how you feel but you must, with me."

"I will," he said sincerely. "If by some miracle, you agree to give us another chance, I will talk to you. I'll talk so much you'll be begging me to shut up."

She giggled, thankful to him for lightening the atmosphere but not in a way that made what had gone before seem trivial. "I think that if we decide, together, that we want to move forward and try 'us' again we need to agree to do so slowly. Both for the children's sake as much as ours."

"Slowly?" He mulled the word over. "I can do slowly. Date nights; I can pick you up and drop you off again like the perfect gentleman." He flashed her a smile. "No pressure. No demands… except that we talk to each other."

She smiled. "You always were the perfect gentleman, even when we were in the middle of the most horrendous row you were the perfect gentleman!"

"So?"

"So, I agree, date nights and the like. Just the two of us, separate to our time with the girls. And we take our time and see where it leads."

Charles smiled and leant forward, resting one hand on her shoulder, the other on the back of her chair as he moved in closer to her. "Thank you," he whispered. "I won't let you down. Not this time."

"I know. And we still have so much to say," she said earnestly. "I feel like we've just started…"

"We will talk through everything we need to. I promise. But this has been quite an emotional afternoon and I think I'd rather like to just enjoy this wondrous feeling for a while before we…" He paused, searching for the right words, he was so very aware of stepping carefully around this, not pushing, not holding back, just the right balance.

"...Before we wrangle with the more difficult areas?" She continued. "Before we thrash it all out?" There was humour in her voice and she pursed her lips together to hide her grin.

"You're teasing me."

"I am. But I agree. Let's just enjoy this, for today at least. Everything else will still be there tomorrow." She gazed up at him, eyes brimming with tears, and felt the familiar pull between them. She didn't hesitate, just let herself be drawn towards him and, as their lips touched she melted, the soft murmur of absolute pleasure coming from the back of her throat. She felt Charles smile at the sound, his hand coming up from her shoulder to rest gently against her cheek.

"That was nice," Elsie whispered against his lips as they reluctantly parted.

"It wasn't too fast?" he asked, wanting desperately to get things right; to not mess this up again.

She felt almost giddy, fighting the urge to kiss him again - she was the one who insisted on 'slowly' after all. "It was lovely, I've rather missed kissing you," she said playfully.

"Not as much as I've missed kissing you."

"Let's not turn this into a competition, darling"

"Oh, and I've missed that too. Both your sassy quickness…" he touched her hair, "and the endearment." He felt like wrapping her against him, smothering her with affection. But instead he merely kept his hands folded with hers, left his chair where he'd pushed it closer to hers, their knees pressed together.

They sat there for a while, hands clasped on the table, a feeling of hope building between them, when Elsie spotted a familiar red coat and matching hat out of the corner of her eye, as soon as she glanced up it disappeared around the corner. She shifted her head, scanning down the street and frowning.

"Els?" Charles questioned. "What's the matter?"

Her eyes narrowed and she stood to her feet. "Excuse me, dear, I won't be a moment. I just have to..." she trailed off as she turned towards the door.

Confused, he watched her exit the shop and walk past the window. He wondered what was going on and where she was going - she hadn't even put her coat on and it was freezing out.

His questions were answered a couple of minutes later when she marched back past the coffee shop window, a sheepish Mae and Lily in tow. He fought to keep his smile hidden; Elsie would not appreciate their nosiness, even if they did inherit it from her.

"Look who I found."

Charles glanced at the clock on the wall; he hadn't paid much attention to how long he and Elsie had been there, but if the girls were here it must have been later than he thought. So, he was rather surprised and confused when he saw what time it was. He looked at the girls sharply. "It's not even three o'clock. Shouldn't you still be at school?"

"It's called playing hooky, Charles." She turned to the girls, "And I want to know why. Right now!" Elsie's tone was firm and, not being as familiar with how to get out of trouble with her Mum as her older sister, Lily caved.

"We just wanted to know what was going on… if you two were back together?"

Charles softened at his daughter's obvious distress and the tears already filling her eyes - clearly she was terrified at the idea of being caught skipping school; it was understandable they would be confused after seeing their parents kiss when they'd been apart for so long. Elsie rolled her eyes as she noticed the annoyance fade from his face; they could always wrap him around their little finger.

"That's no excuse for skipping school," she told the girls, ever the disciplinarian.

"It's only PE," Mae defended. "And I refuse to run five miles cross country in this weather. It's bloody freezing."

"Mind your language," Charles reprimanded gently before turning to Lily. "And what lesson are you missing?"

"French," she mumbled. "But I'm not planning to go to France like ever, so it's fine." Charles noted something of Mae's tone in her words and wondered just how much her older sister had coached her.

"One lesson won't hurt." Mae offered, leaning against the third chair at the table, already contemplating what to have to drink.

Elsie ignored Mae's protests. "Where do your teachers think you are?"

"Dentist," they chorused.

"And I suppose you forged one of our signatures to pull this off?"

Lily nodded before Mae could stop her. She shook her head; great now they'd be getting done for fraud too!

"We did Dad's," Mae admitted, "his handwriting is terrible, easier to fake."

"Ever the plotters," commented Charles. "You're both too much like your Mum."

"That's not helping Charles. They've broken the rules."

Charles dug into his pocket and passed Mae a ten pound note from his wallet. "Go and get yourselves a hot drink," he told them. "But no cake… as a punishment."

"You're far too soft with them," Elsie chided, slipping back into her chair as the girls made their way to the counter.

"Maybe. But let's cut them a bit of slack, eh… just for a minute. Put yourself in their shoes. Their parents, who've been separated for five years, and who they probably only ever remember arguing when they were together, shared a very public kiss three days ago. Their thoughts and emotions must be all over the place."

"But they wanted this. Remember all the plotting?"

"That doesn't mean it won't have confused them, especially Lil. Let's just sit them down and talk, explain what we've agreed. Then we can decide on an appropriate punishment. Hmm?"

Elsie sighed. "You're probably right."

"Can I get that in writing?" he joked.

Elsie giggled despite herself and they were still smiling when the girls returned; Mae with an eggnog latte and Lily with a mocha.

"It's almost Christmas," Mae grinned.

"What makes you say that?" Elsie asked as she watched her eldest pull over a spare chair for her sister.

"Well, look, eggnog latte is back! This makes me happy." She sat down, ever confident in her abilities to win her parents over. "So this looks promising," she observed, getting straight to the point. "You're both smiling."

"Your father made a joke."

"He's not usually that funny," teased Mae, pulling a face at Charles, which he reciprocated. "But seriously, what's going on? Are you guys back together now or what?"

"Yeah, I mean we have a right to know, don't we?" added Lily, staring over the venti sized cup at them.

"What did you get her such a huge cup for?" Elsie asked Mae, handing Lily a napkin to tuck in her shirt. "It's like a bucket!" She sighed, holding Mae's wide-eyed gaze for a moment. "Yes, alright, I suppose you do," she agreed.

It would affect them, this decision she and Charles had made. She looked to Charles and he nodded for her to continue; she took a breath before speaking, hoping her words would be greeted with a positive response. "Your father and I have decided to give our relationship another go."

"Really?" / "Seriously?" the girls chorused at the same time.

Charles nodded. "We still love each other. We've always loved each other." He reached across to touch Elsie's hand again.

"That's brilliant," declared Mae.

"So, are Dad and I moving back in?" Lily asked enthusiastically.

"Not yet love," Charles replied and Lily's shoulders slumped

"Oh."

Elsie reached over the table for her hand. "Your father and I need to make sure it will work first, us being back together again."

"Are you saying you might split up again?" she asked worriedly. She hadn't considered that possibility. In her head when her and Mae's plotting had succeeded, it would be a fairy tale ending… a happy ever after.

"Nothing in life is certain Lil'," Charles explained gently. "But I hope not. We've talked and we both know we need to change for this relationship to be a success. The long term aim is for the four of us to live together again, to be a proper family, but your mum and I need to get to know each other again first. So we're going to take it slowly."

"How slowly?" Mae asked. Elsie gave her a look that she knew well; a look that meant she was bordering on impertinence. She shrugged. "Just wondering what sort of time scale we're looking at, that's all I mean, I'll be leaving for University in two years time and you two move at a glacial pace!"

"Yeah," Lily agreed. "Tortoises move faster."

Charles chuckled, ruffling Lily's hair. "We don't know yet, sweetie. But my plan is to wine and dine your mother and woo her to within an inch of her life!"

"Which I look forward to," Elsie replied with a smile.

"Can we come?" Lily asked brightly.

"That's hardly the point, stupid!" Mae said.

"Don't be mean Mae," Charles said. "You two can come along sometimes, on family days, but not date days."

"WIll you get mum roses, Daddy?" Lily asked, not minding when her Mother took away the half empty mug of hot chocolate, she didn't want her being sick in the car on the way home. "Like they do on television?"

"I might, she prefers daisies though."

"I do," she agreed, surprised that Charles remembered.

"Don't look so surprised. I'm hardly likely to forget… not with the disagreements you and my mother had over the wedding flowers."

"I prefer to think of them as discussions." At her children's questioning gazes, Elsie explained, "I wanted daisies in my wedding bouquet, but Granny thought they weren't… appropriate."

"Who won?" Lily asked.

"Mum did," Mae said proudly. "You've seen their wedding photos, remember. There were daisies."

"Oh yeah. So you'll buy her daisies then? And chocolates too? And nice perfume?" Lily was getting excited, a mixture of the adrenaline of cutting school, her parents reuniting and the sugar she'd just consumed.

"I will endeavour to use all the classic romantic cliches that I can."

"And, you won't hurt her again, will you Daddy?" Mae suddenly said seriously. It was perhaps the first time she'd really thought about that, and perhaps the first time either parent had truly realised just how mature Mae was now. She, much more than Lily, had witnessed so much of their break-up. She was older, she knew more, she understood more, and the constant arguing and then losing her dad (because in her eyes, that was what she'd seen happen) had hit her hard so she'd toughened up quickly.

"Lil," Charles said softly. "See at the counter there's 'Guess the teddy bear's name'?"

"Yeah." She nodded, straining to look at it.

"Well, here's three pounds. Go have a few guesses." The coffee shop was practically empty and he gestured to the young girl cleaning the table behind him. "You couldn't just help her place her guesses, could you?"

"Sure." The waitress smiled.

"Mae, honey," Elsie said softly, holding her hand. "I know how mature you are now, not a child anymore, not to us. But it's okay to be a bit scared of all this."

"I'm not scared," she shrugged.

"You do understand it wasn't just your father, don't you? That we both played a part?"

She shrugged again, stirring her spoon in the dregs of her coffee and avoiding their gaze. "I just know that when Dad left you cried every night, you thought I didn't know, but I did. I could hear you Mum."

Feeling the burn of tears cloud her eyes, Elsie blinked fiercely and wrapped her arm around her daughter, kissing her head. "I know baby, I know. And I know how much you missed your Father, and Lily."

"It was like, I'd done something wrong, you know, because I lost Dad too."

"Oh god," Charles swallowed the lump in his throat as he wrapped an arm around Mae's back, his arm covering Elsie's. "Never sweetheart, I'll always be here, whatever happens."

"And we weren't with your Dad," Elsie added. "We don't know whether he cried too, you mustn't think it was his fault."

"He was the one who left."

How simple it must have seemed to a ten year old to try and rationalise the whole thing, to explain it away by concluding that her Father had simply left them both. No wonder she was so hostile and distant with him for the first five months following the split.

"Mae-bae," he said softly, "leaving your mother was the hardest thing I've ever done, moving out of our home and starting somewhere else. But leaving you darling, that was the most painful, and I'm sorry I put you through that." He felt Elsie squeeze his hand. "That we put you through that."

"It wasn't good for any of us to stay in that situation though honey," Else said. "Neither your father and I were happy and the constant arguing was causing untold amounts of stress for you and Lil - you were having the most horrendous nightmares - and we couldn't carry on like that. We truly thought it was for the best."

Lily bounded back and Elsie quickly moved her chair, giving her youngest daughter access to the table. "Come here you," she said, pulling her onto her knee and tearfully kissing her face.

"Now, both of you need to know that we will never, ever, do anything to deliberately hurt either of you. Whatever happens between us, is nothing to do with you; you're both the most precious, important things in our lives. And if ever, at anytime, you want to talk about something then you just do it - don't feel embarrassed or nervous, you just say whatever you need to. Ask whatever you need to. Right?"

Lily nodded, curling her head against her mother's chest, the coarse material of her blazer scratching Elsie's chin.

Elsie smiled at Mae and then watched as Charles pulled her round and into an embrace, his eyes full of tears as he cradled her; she may have been going on sixteen, but she was still his baby, after all.

"Now, young ladies," Elsie finally said. "Despite how lovely this all is, we cannot escape the fact that you two lied to your teachers and skipped school. That's not acceptable behaviour."

"I'll do the ironing all week, Mum," Mae said, turning her face against her father's chest and sitting straight in her chair as she left his embrace, she wiped at her face, suddenly concerned the kids would be leaving school soon and passing through town.

"That's good," Elsie said.

"What can I do?" Lily asked. "You could take my new netball kit away?" she suggested sadly.

"You love that new skirt," Mae giggled. "Don't punish her mum, I made her do it."

Elsie appreciated Mae's honesty and nodded, "Alright. Maybe you could both help clean your father's house this weekend, to balance it a bit."

"I'll hoover!" Lily offered.

"That's not a punishment," Mae scoffed, "she loves that new Dyson thing he's got, it's dinky."

"Dad nearly broke the handle the first time he used it." Lily proudly proclaimed.

Elsie shook her head at him.

"It didn't look so small on Amazon. When it arrived I thought it was a piece of furniture for a doll's house."

The girls all laughed at him and he felt consumed by the warmth of family life, the simple joy it brought him.

"Yes, yes, laugh at Dad."

Mae shifted her hand across the table and turned the ring box that sat there, she recognised it immediately and for a second worried her Mum knew that secret too.

"What's this doing here?" she asked. "You're not returning it, are you Mum?"

"No honey, I'm not returning it." she said softly, holding Charles' gaze. "I was waiting for your Father to give it to me properly though, rather than just casually slipping it into the gift bag with my other things."

The girls shared a look with their father. "Yes, well… I didn't want to make too much out of it. Not when I wasn't really sure where we stood." He raised his eyebrows momentarily at the girls until they switched their focus back to their mother.

Elsie brought her hands from around Lily and rested them on the table. "I'm not quite sure where an eternity ring goes," she admitted.

"It's here, Mum," Lily chimed. "We googled it! It goes on your wedding finger between your wedding ring and your engagement ring, to show you'll be together forever."

"Alright then, well, that's awkward…" she said, glancing at Charles again for help.

"Maybe we can bend the rules slightly," he touched her right hand. "Maybe here? Until… well, just… for the moment?"

"I think that might work," Elsie agreed. "Do I have to put it on myself?" she prompted and she heard both Mae and Lily 'aww' at her words.

Mae nudged her father. "Go on, Dad," she urged.

Chuckling at the three expectant faces gazing at him he reached for the box, his large hands struggling a little with the small clasp as he popped it open, and took out the ring. "You three are far too beautiful," he said, "and far too quick for me."

He took hold of Elsie's hand, caressing her elegant fingers with his own before sliding the delicate silver band onto her finger. She wiggled her hand slightly, flashing the diamonds.

"Perfect fit," she said.

"What can I say? I have wonderful taste." he added, and Mae rolled her eyes at him. "So, maybe this calls for a bit of a celebration, despite it only being a Tuesday night, how do we feel about going somewhere special for dinner?"

"Yay!" Lily clapped.

"Not that Bistro place Gran took us to though, Dad," Mae pointed out. "She kept saying how 'special' it was and we got measly portions."

"And no marshmallows on the ice cream!" Lily added, as if this were the most shocking thing she'd ever encountered.

"Lord above!" Elsie exclaimed. "No marshmallows! What was Granny thinking taking you to such a wretched place?!"

"What about Delrio's," suggested Charles. "They do a gorgeous spaghetti bolognese - almost as good as mine - and I know for a fact that they serve their ice cream with marshmallows."

"Almost perfection," Elsie smiled. "What do you say, dinner out?"

The girls nodded in unison.

"I want to change out of this uniform though," Mae said.

"Well, it's not even four yet. Your father could ring and book a table for 6:30, we can nip home, you can change AND you can do your homework, the both of you."

"Aww Mum…" Mae complained. "Dad said it was a celebration!"

"No homework, no dinner," Charles added. "Do the hard work, then you get to celebrate."

"I'd forgotten how great it is to have you tag team me!" Mae said sarcastically, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet. But when they'd got their coats on and were leaving the coffee shop it was Mae who slid her hand into her Mother's, not caring anymore who might see her as they headed to the car park.