Chapter Thirteen: Safety

Harry Stephens drove his two horses out of the dirty industrial town of Manchester, the horses pulled him and his carriage through country roads again and into the cold and beautiful Peak District.

It was where the couple in the back of his vehicle wanted to go. The generous and protective old man had paid him handsomely to stay in Manchester so that he could ferry them again the next day to a new location. Mr Buxton his employer had told him to take them to Liverpool and then come back to Cranford alone but he had also told his driver to listen to Mr Jenkyns.

He noticed today that the girl and the old man were now a lot more comfortable with their situation, they talked and laughed in the back of his carriage and there was not nearly as much crying. He had noticed it though he'd tried not to but at one stop the day before he had pulled the carriage over and tended to his horses but heard the girl crying in the comfort of his carriage. He had not investigated but he had seen from the corner of his eye the old man comfort her and Harry had come to the conclusion that she was definitely on the run from the young boy who he'd seen floored by Mr Jenkyns' punch that morning. Now when they stopped for a rest the girl left the carriage with Mr Jenkyns and took his arm happily, accompanying him into the coaching inns they stopped at.

It was not until the third stop and the occasion when the girl did not leave the carriage she simply sat and enjoyed the views of the countryside that they made their way into, that Harry noticed the ring on her finger, it was something that he felt sure he would have noticed the day before because it had kept him busy, trying to figure out what was going on, he had distinctly noted no wedding ring. She had married in the few hours he had been away from them, correction; they had married. She had married the man that Harry had earlier concluded must be her father.

She spoke to him through the door, opening it a little so she could hear him. "Have you been to the Peak District, Harry?" she asked him.

"No, Miss," he told her.

"It looks very lovely so far," she said not hiding her excitement, "I should think your horses would love to holiday there."

"So this is a holiday, Miss?" Harry asked watching her play with the gold and green ring on the fourth finger of her right hand.

"Yes," she smiled and looked up at him, "a sort of holiday."

"I wasn't sure if you were running away from Cranford," he told her.

"No, I love Cranford," she smiled. "Will you go back all in one night?" she asked him.

"Horses got to sleep, Miss!" he said in amusement and she laughed.

"Yes, of course," she blushed.

"What do you and him talk about?" Harry couldn't help but ask, "I mean, what you got in common?"

"Harry!" Amelia said his name quietly but she smiled still, "We both like to read," she informed him.

"You don't think you might find a young man who likes to read?" Harry said slyly.

"Or a young man who can't read anything but his own name?" Amelia joked and the driver laughed and grinned back at her. "You don't talk to him like that," Amelia said quietly and she raised her eyebrows, "why do you think I'll let you talk to me like that?"

"Because you already are, Miss."

Amelia closed the carriage door and looked away from him but she smiled still. Harry shook his head and moved back to his horses. He shamelessly flirted with Miss Whyte back at the Old Hall but he knew he probably shouldn't have been flirting with the young girl in the back of his carriage, not now he figured she was married to the old man she accompanied. He thought about the old man's left-hook and decided he didn't want to be on the receiving end of it, he'd stop talking to the pretty girl with the unusual hair and he would be a good driver to them.

"This is lovely, thank you," Amelia said to the little wife of the landlord, "Thank you so much for these things," she looked into the small hamper, "do you think you could get us some potatoes? I shall of course come out into the village tomorrow and see what there is- did you say Wednesdays and Saturdays are market days?"

"That's right, Mrs Jenkyns," the old woman told her, "though not many Wednesdays and Saturdays left until it's too cold for Market days."

"And then is there no way of buying food or supplies?"

"You are new to housekeeping, aren't you?" The woman grinned at her and shook her head, Amelia did not want to say that she had solely been looking after her mother for the past ten years so she smiled wanting to make a friend of the landlady. "I will come and call on you, and you may call on us, your husband has the address. I will find for you whatever you need. Do not worry, my dear," she said with a smile, "you are not down south anymore but you are not in a different country!"

Amelia laughed politely and thanked the old woman for her kindness. She had been given the tour of the house by the old lady as Peter and the man who owned it stood outside and talked seriously of money. The stove in the kitchen and fire in the parlour were straight forward, like those she was used to tending for her mother. The house was full of thick dark curtains to keep out the cold and when they had arrived the landlady had lit the fire to show Amelia how it was done and so now, only half an hour after they had arrived the house was already warming up despite the chill winter wind outside.

They had parted from Harry Stephens and his horses two hours earlier in a small village named Bakewell, Peter had given him a lot of money that he'd tried to refuse and Amelia listened to her husband stressing how important it was that he did not tell anyone, including his employer where he had taken them. Amelia could see that the boy was uncomfortable, after talking to him just briefly she knew he was a good and loyal person and he would have told Mr Buxton if he asked where he had taken them, but Amelia could not have Harry's good loyalty ruin everything and so she had spoken to him too. Told Peter to go for a moment and let her speak to him.

"I cannot accept this, Miss, you have to tell him." Harry protested looking at all the money, he was already paid and kept by Mr Buxton at good wages and this little venture had earned him extra already, he did not want to take money from them.

"Harry you have to take it," Amelia stressed, "You don't understand how important this is, to me," she told him.

Harry shook his head, "I cannot lie to Mr Buxton, he keeps me," Harry pressed.

"Then tell him you took us to Manchester, but do not tell him anymore, it is true. No one can find us, Harry, you- you put me in danger if anyone finds out."

"How in danger?" Harry asked quietly.

"You saw that man, the man who my husband hit yesterday morning?" she asked nervously. The driver nodded, "he is my brother, that man," Amelia told him truthfully for if Mr Buxton were to demand the truth from Harry then Robin's name would be revealed. "But he is not a good man, he would have me sent away, married to someone I do not love," she swallowed nervously, "and I love my husband," she stressed, "I know that must be strange to you, but I do, I love him with all my heart."

"Why does your brother not see that?"

"It is not love that is important to him, not money either, but power and being in control of me." Amelia felt her eyes water, "We- we do not plan to stay here long, I told you. We will return to Cranford, but we need this time so that my b-brother can calm down and will not harm me. Do you understand?"

Harry looked painfully down at her and nodded, "Your brother is not a good example of a young man, Miss," he told her, "I will keep your secret but I won't take his money." He handed her the coins and shook his head. "I do not need it."

"Harry, you are a splendid young man," she whispered gratefully.

And Harry had left them in the inn at the edge of the place with their bags, Peter had asked the innkeeper about property to rent and the man had taken Peter out into the village while Amelia sat in the warm inn having a cup of tea with milk and sugar. Forty minutes or so later, after Amelia had drank two more cups of tea and eaten a scone, her husband had returned with an elderly couple and a horse and cart.

Amelia looked at the rooms interestedly as the old woman showed her around, the beds were bare but the landlady had brought with her on the cart a small hamper of goods for the newlyweds and clean sheets and blankets. There were two rooms upstairs, one small bedroom with a single bed in it and the main room with the large double bed in it and thick warm blue curtains, in the other room there had only been a lace curtain and it was above the front door. This large room was strategically placed above the warm parlour and the stove in the kitchen, it would be fine and warm at night after both the downstairs fires had been lit all day.

Downstairs the parlour was unfortunately not separate from the entrance and so the cold air would come in from the door straight into where they sat and read, but the fire was large and the chairs had high backs. Beneath the staircase was a connecting door to the kitchen, which was small and basic but had a large larder to the side that would certainly keep cool in the northern weather. In the small garden was a shed stacked full of firewood and broken tree branches blown off by the wind.

Amelia liked the house very much, it was a quarter of a mile walk from the main village, sheltered by surrounding trees, the village was a growing little place, soon to become a market town, where they would have easy access to food and supplies. It was different from her first home, isolated in the fens of Cambridge and different from her new home in Cranford slap bang in the centre of a community, it seemed the perfect balance.

Peter had obviously told the old couple that they were from the south and she had not corrected them, Cranford was in the west of England, but with her soft accent and Peter's hard to pinpoint accent of a traveller they could quite easily pass for Southerners.

In the pub when she had sat and taken a late afternoon tea she had looked down at the money Harry had given back to her in the pocket of her fine dress and thought about spending it. She had known that if she gave it back to Peter immediately then he would have chased after the boy and made him take it, believing that he had to bribe him as he had no doubt bribed the hotel the night before to let them stay unnoticed and probably all the other people they had encountered over the past two days. But Amelia knew that Harry would not have taken it and Peter would feel foolish, she planned to give it back to him later in the day but sitting in the pub and looking at the cold windy weather through the window she had a strange urge to spend it on something important. Something that they would no doubt need if they were going to live in such arctic conditions and something that she had found quite useful the night before for steadying her nerves. She had bought a full bottle of whisky from the man at the bar and hidden the bottle in the box with her dress, which she insisted on carrying. She hoped that Peter would forgive her, she regretted it almost as soon as she bought it, but she did not want him to get cold, he had only spent one winter in England over the last however many years and though Cranford got chilly it was nowhere near as cold as the Peak District seemed to be. They would need it, she told herself, to prevent illness.

And so the landlord and his wife left them alone, it was past six and it was dark outside, the old couple had given them plenty of candles and Amelia moved them from where the old woman had placed them around the parlour to the small table between the chairs and on top of the fireplace so that they could sit in some light.

"Do you like it, Amelia?" Peter asked her as he watched her busy herself with the distribution of light.

"I do," she told him quietly and she looked up at him from where she stood by the warm fireplace, he moved to her and too stood in front of the fire. "Are you cold, Peter?" she asked him, "you must be starving." Peter shook his head but he did feel hungry, "Stay here," she told him and she picked up a candle and took it into the kitchen with her, moments later she returned with a glass of whisky for him, "here," she handed it to him. "Sit down, I shall fetch you something to eat, I ate at the inn, you did not, you- you were working hard again," she smiled at him and he drank the whisky.

"That old woman gave you a bottle of whisky?" he said in surprise realising what it was.

"No, I- I bought it from the innkeeper," she admitted, "Harry didn't want your money," she said nervously, "so I took it back."

Peter wondered for a second who Harry was but then realised she meant Mr Buxton's driver, "He did not take it?" Peter said in worry.

"No, no, do not worry," Amelia smiled and touched his chest, "he is a good boy, he won't tell. He promised me."

"You charmed him," Peter smiled affectionately down at her, "did I not tell you you were beautiful?"

She blushed and looked down, "He will not tell," she said again and she looked up at him. "Sit down, Peter, I want to fetch you something to eat."

He nodded and sat down in front of the fire. Amelia left him and took her candle back to the kitchen with her where she looked at what the landlady had left her with and she decided to light the stove and cook him an omelette. The stove took a while to heat up and Amelia stood by candle light preparing the mixture of egg and chopped ham, she buttered bread too and after waiting for the stove to heat she got impatient and made scrambled egg with ham instead, mixing it in the only pan she could find until she knew it must have been cooked. She took it through on a plate she had warmed for him and handed him a fork.

"I think it's scrambled eggs with ham," she told him, "but it's a bit dark in there."

He laughed and felt so much better for eating after just one mouthful. "Where are you going?" he asked her when she did not sit down with him but instead wandered away again.

"I am going to make the bed before it is too dark to see anything at all. I do not want to sleep down here, Peter," she pointed out and she took the armfuls of sheets and bedding from the chair and a candle carefully up the wooden staircase.

Peter ate thoughtfully and wondered if she would make both the beds, he had seen briefly that there were two rooms, one small cold one that he would take and the larger one he would insist she have. He should have been helping her not sitting eating. But she had made it for him and he was suddenly terribly tired again and so he sat in front of the fire after he had finished and he felt himself drifting away from the world. He had done what he had promised, he had married her and taken her somewhere safe, now all he wanted to do was sleep.

Amelia looked at the large bed, she climbed onto it and found it was soft and dry, she was relieved, it would have been awful had the mattress been damp in this old house. She had made the bed but she feared that they needed more bedding, people from the north were notoriously tough but she worried still that Peter would get cold without enough blankets. She would have to keep him warm. She shivered and thought about being in the bed with him, she knew it was strange, not normal, to feel the way she did, but she felt it strongly when she was near him, the urge to be even closer, she wanted to touch his thick silvery hair and kiss his face, she wanted to thank him, show him how grateful she was, and she wanted him to touch her.

She sat down on the made bed and worried about what he would think of her, she already knew that he did not desire her that way. And she knew that he must have thought she was damaged, that her brother had made her that way but that was not the case. She felt sick thinking of what her brother had made her do and the way he had spoken to her and touched her. What she wanted when she was with Peter was to show him how she loved him, not to hurt and shame him or herself. She knew it could be different than what had happened to her, she knew that it was supposed to be an expression of love, she had read about it in poetry and in the books Peter had given her. She would not have been able to identify those feelings if it had not been for the poetry, she was very much in love with him and despite being scared she wanted that closeness.

She worried though that if he did touch her in a way she remembered her brother touching her that she would be frightened or upset by it, she wanted it all to be completely different and she had a feeling that it wouldn't be. And she couldn't bear to associate Peter with anything horrible.

She went downstairs quietly by candle light and saw him sleeping in front of the fire, she hoped he wasn't in a draught, the fire had started to die away without him conscious to tend to it, that was for the best though, it was only half past seven but she could see he was exhausted and she was too. She picked up his bags and her box and took them quietly up the stairs, she changed into her nightdress up there, took her cream wedding dress off with only a small struggle, and wrapped the green robe around herself. Amelia unpacked Peter's bag a little, found his nightshirt and his thick warm robe and put them on the bed before putting his bag to one side with their other things.

She then went quietly back down to the kitchen, picking up his empty plate as she went, the stove was cool and so she went into the parlour where he sat and collected the candles and took them upstairs where she lit their room, their bridal suite. She looked at it nervously and knew in her heart that he would not touch her, but at least she would be allowed to sleep next to him.

She walked down the stairs again with a lone candle in her hand, there were none left in the parlour and the fire was very low, only a few embers burned gently in the grate, it was getting cold, she touched his shoulder and shook it a little, Peter opened his eyes and Amelia shielded the candle so he would not see stars because of it. "Come to bed now," she told him gently and he nodded and stood up wearily.

"Oh, you managed to get your dress off," he said quietly as he looked down at the green robe she wore. She nodded. "Thank you, Amelia, for making the beds, I am so tired."

At the top of the stairs he moved to go to the small room but Amelia took his hand and shook her head, she saw in the candlelight his expression change to one of concern but he held her hand and followed her. "I am not letting you sleep in that cold room," she said quietly.

"Amelia," he said her name cautiously as he looked down at the inviting bed with the candles all around it, "We- I should not sleep in the same bed as you."

"You are my husband," she said quietly, "I want you to. Please," she said quietly.

"But," he started and she put the candle down on the bedside table with the others.

"It's all right," she said quietly, "I- I told you before," she swallowed, "You do not have to desire me, Peter, I- I can understand. I just want to be near you."

He nodded and looked at her standing there with her long dark hair loose and wavy down her back, her face was porcelain white in the candlelight and her eyes were large and dark. Light flickered on her face, "I should like to kiss you again, if you'd let me?" she asked him quietly and she touched his arms softly through his clothes. Peter swallowed and thought about how easy it would be to make love to her, despite the tragedy that had turned her hair white from shock she seemed a very loving girl, it had been so long since he had done anything sexual with a woman and she was so beautiful and her body was so soft up against his…

He leant and kissed her, she put her arms around him and touched his hair gently, Peter held her and kissed her affectionately, he held onto her while she shivered against him and he kissed her cheek and the corner of her mouth softly when she moved her mouth to breathe. Amelia shivered as she held onto him and she closed her eyes as he held her up against him, she sighed and leant against him when he stopped kissing her and just embraced her. "I love you," she whispered shakily while he pressed his cold nose against her warm cheek.

"I love you too," he assured her and he squeezed her still tightly. "I'm tired, Amelia," he told her gently and she nodded against him. "Get into bed," he instructed and she let go of him and got into the bed.

Peter took his jacket and waistcoat off and put them on the chest at the foot of the bed, he took the night things she'd laid out for him and walked to the door, "I shall change in the other room," he told her.

"You don't have to," she said quietly, "it's cold in there, I shall close my eyes," she offered and he nodded.

Peter got changed in the warm candlelit room while his young wife lay in their bed with her eyes closed. He felt indecent getting undressed in front of her, he had thought the hotel the night before was bad but this was their life now and it was already difficult. He moved to the bed and got in beside her. Amelia opened her eyes and looked at him, she smiled and moved closer, leant against his side and nervously rested her head on his shoulder holding her hands in front of her. Peter put his arm around her shoulders and looked down at her, he smiled. "Lovely silly thing," he said softly and she closed her eyes and breathed out shakily.

"Would you like the candles blown out?" he asked her softly and she shook her head.

"Not yet," she told him, "Thank you, Peter, for marrying me."

"Not at all," he said flippantly, quietly, "It was my pleasure," he smiled a little and rubbed her shoulder gently.

She smiled, "It was mine," she told him softly, "I love you so much."

She moved from him, sat up a little and kissed his cheek, her hair flopped from behind her ear when she moved and she looked down at his thick white hair, she touched it affectionately, brushed it into place, "You're wonderful, Peter," she said quietly.

"You sweet girl," Peter said gently and he pushed his fingers gently through her silky cold hair, he held it out of her eyes and wanted to return her affectionate kiss, he bent a little and kissed the skin on her neck below her ear, he could feel her pulse race as he kissed it softly.

"Peter," she whispered his name shakily in appreciation for the soft kiss and she put her hands up onto his shoulders and kissed his mouth, Peter kissed back gently and lovingly holding her up against him and was sorry he could not be a proper husband to her on her wedding night, she deserved a normal life and a normal marriage. "Peter, would you like to see me?" she whispered against his mouth and he shook his head.

"No, no, it's fine, Amelia. You don't have to."

"I want to," she pressed her lips against his cheek, "I want to show you, don't you want to see?" she touched his face gently with her cold fingertips, "please," she said again.

"I- only if you want to," he crumbled and gave in.

Amelia moved out from under the covers and shrugged off the thin cotton robe, she pulled the white nightdress over her head and breathed harshly looking at her husband for approval. Peter looked at her lovely soft body in the dim light, she was so pale she shone irridesent, he had thought her face pale before but her body was like porcelain, the only difference in colour was on her pretty pink nipples, dark and pinched hard in her obvious excitement.

"You're so perfect," he told her quietly and she moved next to him on the bed again but did not get under the covers she kissed his cheek gratefully and sat next to him leaning her head on his shoulder once more. Peter felt anxious as he sat under the covers with the naked girl sat at his side. He didn't know why he hadn't told her not to take her clothes off. She'd just seemed so eager to do it and he hadn't wanted to upset her. He told himself not to be excited, not to be passionate, not to say anything amorous, just to tell her she was lovely, like a painting. He put his arm around her again and touched her naked shoulder softly, her skin was like silk. She reached for his other hand, which was on top of the covers in his lap, she held it instead in her lap and he let her. "You're beautiful," he told her and her pale white skin shivered, she rubbed her long legs together gently and pressed them against him for warmth.

"I would like it, if you touched me," she told him and she brought his hand up to her chest, she looked up at his face anxiously.

"I- I wasn't sure if you would," he said quietly.

"You- you do want to touch me, don't you?" she said unsurely, "because, you don't have to, of course," she said nervously.

"Amelia," he breathed her name "I- of course I want to," he pressed his nose against her hair and kissed painfully. As soon as she had taken her clothes off he had forgotten everything he'd spent the last two days telling himself, as soon as she'd sat there beautiful and pale and breathing so deeply he had known he could not say no to her.

"Oh," she said in happy surprise and she shivered, "thank you," she whispered and she put his left hand in its rightful place covering one of her breasts, he breathed out shakily and felt the soft weight of it in his palm. He cupped her breast gently in his hand and squeezed it, "kiss me again," she moved her face to his pleadingly and kissed him as he warmed her naked skin. She held onto him tightly, her right hand clutching at the shirt on his chest, she pushed her hand down further beneath the covers as he kissed her and stroked her skin gently, moving his fingers to her nipple he felt the hard silky skin between his fingers and she gripped at his leg through his warm shirt until she found what she was looking for.

"No," he said quickly and let go of her, pushed her hands away from him, "no, don't do that, Amelia," he whispered, "please don't."

"I thought you wanted to. It- it is our wedding night," she tried pleadingly, "there would be nothing wrong," she whispered to him but he shook his head and looked down at her, naked on the covers, her body lusting for him. He shook his head still though he too longed for her suddenly.

"I- I am not young like you, Amelia," he tried, "I would not want to disappoint you."

"Disappoint me?" she asked quietly, "I do not understand."

"It- it gets harder for men," he said gently, "when they are older, it is not because you are not beautiful, you- you are. But I am so tired, too tired to do this."

"But- but we shall do this," she whispered, "won't we?" she looked up at him pleadingly. "Peter, I ache for you, my- my body aches for you. I feel such strong feelings," she said nervously and her voice shook as she confessed, "my heart beats hard, not just in my chest, all over my body. My- here," she held her fingers up to her breast, brushed her fingertips against the hard nipple that he had been touching gently and she shivered and looked down at his hands rather than up at his face, "I ache for you, Peter," she whispered again.

Peter watched and listened, he had married a quiet and intelligent girl who despite her hardships seemed to have a large sexual appetite, when she had finished, when she sat still on the bed and looked nervously up at him he put his arms around her and kissed her again.

"Not tonight," he told her against her lips, "not tonight, but I will relieve your aches," he said gently, "I will pleasure you, Amelia."

She shivered all over and she put her arms up around his neck and she sighed, "I- I don't understand," she admitted but she smiled as he moved her gently down on the bed, pushed the blankets off himself and he lay next to her, up against her. He stroked her body realising he could not be married to her and completely ignore her yearnings. He had never wanted to upset her, to touch her and remind her of her awful past but by not touching her when she wanted him to he would upset her more. He vowed to be gentle and to be kind to her body, he would not do anything for himself, just for her. He pushed his hand gently down her soft white skin and over long soft legs, she shivered at this and her limbs flinched nervously.

"I will do nothing that will hurt you," he promised, she nodded.

"I know," she whispered and he kissed her cheek softly and returned his hand to her breasts, which he touched gently.

"I love you, Amelia," he said softly, she closed her eyes and shivered, her face flushed in excitement at hearing him say those words while he touched her tingling body.

He moved again, moved his face down to her and kissed at her chest gently, Amelia shivered and put her hands softly up against his face, her fingers strayed into his hair and they stayed there as she shivered under his lips and his soft wet tongue.

While Peter kissed her skin he moved his hands over her body gently, her legs were pressed tightly together but she sighed and let him open them, she breathed shakily as his large hands massaged at her thighs gently, he moved again in the bed and she let go of his thick silvery hair as he moved down.

He kissed her thigh softly and Amelia's leg twitched against his cheek, he heard her make a small noise as his face tickled her soft thighs. She looked down at him nervously, watched him kissing her skin so gently, it made her shiver and shake to watch him and to feel his lips kiss and the stubble on his face scratch lightly at her legs.

He moved his strong hands to her secret place and he stroked her gently, spread her open to him and he moved his face from her leg and kissed her. Amelia breathed in through her mouth and gasped, she continued to breathe harshly as her husband's mouth became fixed on her, she did not look down to see him she simply closed her eyes and felt intense pleasure from his attention.

She sighed shakily and her legs twitched against his face, she moved her fingers from his hair and raised her cold hands to her hot face, she felt breathless and her body shivered but she let herself smile a little in relief, relief that the man she loved was being so gentle with her, that there was a way that he could touch her and it did not hurt at all, it did not remind her of anything she had experienced before. She recognised the feeling though, she had felt at night, in her dreams when she was safe and with him and now it was real and it was so much more. Amelia felt the tightness in the pit of her stomach snap suddenly and her body reacted, pulsated against him. He moved his tongue against her as she came to her climax, she shuddered against him and cried out. Her sighs were almost louder than Peter had ever heard her speak or laugh, the tension that had been built up in her evidentially needed to be released.

He removed his mouth and he put her legs together for her, he moved up on the bed and looked down at her shaky body, her face was pink and hot and she breathed heavily through her mouth. Gripped again by irrational fear he wondered if she had enjoyed her experience or if she hated him, she had not said anything for the last twenty minutes, he swallowed anxiously. She smiled and opened her eyes to look at him, he lay down next to her and she put her arms around him and kissed his mouth softly, she kissed and kissed gratefully, tasting herself on his lips. "You did something wonderful to me," she whispered, "Peter, you- you are so wonderful. Thank you."

"The pleasure was mine," he said again quietly to her.

"I- I have felt that before," she whispered, "I have dreamt of you and felt that before."

He shivered and put his arms around her, pulling her soft naked body up against him. "You mad girl," he said still in disbelief.

"Not like that though," she admitted as she pressed her nose against his cheek and held onto him tightly, "you're so wonderful," she sighed and she closed her eyes sleepily.

"Here, put your nightdress on," he told her gently and he sat up and found it for her, it was on the bed still, warm and crumpled beneath them, "it's time for bed now."