Well, trying to write this week has been like getting blood out of a stone! Sorry, everyone. Thank you all for reading and all the reviews and also your continued patience. So, where was Charles going and will Molly find him?

Chapter Twenty One

It must be the right place. Charles looked up at the block of maisonettes within a stone's throw of Upton Park and reckoned that having put the address Harry had given him into the satnav on his phone, he must have reached his destination; Molly's home. He looked around him with surprise and a sudden newfound understanding of Molly and her world and realised how little he had known of either and with an increasing sense of embarrassment thought of how little he had asked. With all that had happened in the last few weeks it simply hadn't mattered to him but he could now see how very different their backgrounds were and appreciate how daunting everything must have initially seemed to Molly, not only working for the Allens in Bath but when she had first travelled to Northanger. The life he and his family lived was very different to this and he was now even more ashamed of his father's outrageous, high-handed behaviour towards Molly. It had been undeserved and he wondered briefly what her parents would have made of it. They might be entirely justified in giving him a mouthful of abuse about the way the General had behaved and from the few comments Molly had made about her father, he reckoned it was quite likely.

Charles took a deep breath and headed for the stairs. All the way here on the train he had been anticipating this moment, longing to see Molly but also fearing it too. Her silence for the past five days could mean that she was having second thoughts about him. After all, being verbally abused and thrown out of the house to which you had been so cordially invited only a few weeks before by the father of the man you loved, would make most people think twice. As much as none of this was his fault Charles felt the overwhelming need to apologise for what had happened to both Molly and her parents if they would listen.

He reached the first floor and walked along the landing checking the numbers until he reached the end house. Another deep breath and he knocked at the door. He waited for what seemed like an age, his heart thumping in his chest until the door opened to reveal a man of around forty dressed in jeans and a West Ham shirt, a can of beer in his left hand. The television was blaring away somewhere behind him and Charles could hear the sound of young children squabbling in what appeared to be an argument over possession of a toy.

"Mr Dawes?"

The man looked back at him suspiciously. "What's it to you?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you but I'm…"

"You're on a hiding to nothing, mate, if you're trying to sell us anything." The man looked as though he was preparing to close the front door.

"I'm not selling anything, Mr Dawes."

The man looked at him more closely: he wasn't carrying a clipboard or leaflets and he wasn't wearing a badge furthermore his manner was much too polite for him be some sort of heavy sent to extort the overdue stake money the bookie out the back of the Earl of Wakefield had put on the slate for him. Nevertheless, he knew the story of the wolf in sheep's clothing all too well.

"What d'you want, then?"

Charles was trying hard not to show how taken aback he was by the person he presumed to be Molly's father.

"I was hoping to talk to Molly. This is where Molly Dawes lives, isn't it?"

Dave Dawes narrowed his eyes and regarded the man. He was well spoken and well dressed. He wondered just how he knew his daughter.

"Might be."

"Forgive me, I should have introduced myself. I'm Charles James. Molly was staying with my family until recently."

Realisation dawned on Dave's face. Of course, he was one of the toffs Molly had stayed with in Cornwall but what on earth was he doing here?

"Is Molly at home?"

"No, mate. She's out working."

The news took Charles by surprise. He hadn't really thought what Molly might be doing now that she was back at home but the news that she already had another job was unexpected. If she was working she might be planning on staying in London for some time to come. He had no claims on her but he felt strangely disappointed by the idea that she already seemed to be moving on. Charles glanced at his watch. It was late afternoon. "Are you expecting her back soon?"

Dave looked Charles up and down. This man was certainly intent on seeing Molly for some reason.

"Hard to say."

Charles took a deep breath, this was proving hard work. "Do you know where she might be? Perhaps I could catch her when she finishes."

Dave shook his head and took a slug from the can. "No. sorry."

There was a commotion behind him, the squabbling of the children reached a crescendo of squealing and screaming and from the top of the stairs a woman's voice called down, "Dave, for god's sake sort those kids out."

"I'm busy, Belinda, come and shut 'em up yourself."

Charles heard the sound of someone running down the stairs and then a woman's face appeared over Dave's shoulder and peered at him with curiosity before hurrying into the living room. Charles heard her telling the children off and although they didn't shut up the noise at least died down.

"Could I leave a message for her?" Charles said hoping to bring Dave's attention back to the matter in hand.

"If you want."

Belinda reappeared in the hall and called out, "Was it Molly you wanted?"

Charles nodded. "That's right. I'm Charles James. Molly's been staying with my family."

Belinda smiled. "Oh, yeah. She said. Come in."

Dave looked unimpressed by the invitation but nevertheless stood to one side and Charles stepped over the threshold uncertain whether it was a good idea or he should have declined. Belinda was gesturing towards the sitting room and as he walked in Charles encountered two small children of between four and six years of age sitting in front of the television, eating crisps and still arguing with each other.

"Belt up you two," Belinda admonished.

The two children stared up at Charles as he walked in and he smiled at them eliciting nothing in response but more wide-eyed suspicious looks.

"Sit down, Charles. Do you fancy a cuppa?"

Charles was grateful for the welcome. "Thank you."

Belinda hurried out to the kitchen to put on the kettle and Dave drifted in and perched himself on the arm of the sofa."So, Molly was staying with you."

Charles was unsure whether it was a statement or question. "Well, with my sister and father mainly."

Dave nodded. "Pity they had to rush off like that."

"Pardon?" Charles wondered what he meant.

Dave noticed the frown on Charles' face. "Molly said they had to go and visit friends, sudden like."

With an inward sigh of relief, Charles realised that Molly hadn't told her parents the truth about what had happened. It didn't seem likely he was going to be hauled over the coals about his father's treatment of Molly after all.

"Yes, it was."

Charles could hear the sound of the kettle starting to heat up and Belinda appeared in the doorway. "Did Dave tell you that Molly's working?"

"Yes. What is she doing?"

Belinda pulled a face and looked in Dave's direction. "Handing out leaflets, apparently. Not that she was very keen. To be honest, she's looked pretty miserable since she got back here on Saturday. Can't be much fun after being on holiday."

"No," Charles agreed. Belinda went back into the kitchen and he heard the sound of cups being taken out of the cupboard.

"So, how did you meet our Molly?" Dave asked, his tone slightly more conversational.

"At the Assembly Rooms in Bath."

Dave frowned. "What's that? A club?"

Charles was about to answer when Belinda swept in carrying a mug of tea. Charles accepted it gratefully. In truth it had been a very long day and he'd eaten next to nothing since the early morning breakfast in Cornwall. Belinda grinned at him. "So, you're here to see Molly then."

Charles nodded and sipped the tea.

"That's nice, aint it Dave?" Belinda looked at her husband meaningfully.

"Yeah," Dave concurred unsure why he should be expressing an opinion or why Belinda was so keen to keep Charles here.

Charles sensed the awkwardness and looked around the room and wondering what to say next ventured, "Have you lived here long, Mrs Dawes?"

Belinda laughed, "Call me Belinda and yeah, we've been here since Molly's sister, Bella, was born. The council moved us here when we outgrew that flat, didn't they Dave."

"You have a good view from up here," Charles ventured looking out of the front window in the direction of Upton Park.

"Not for much longer," Dave moaned.

"Why's that?"

Belinda giggled. "West Ham's moving to the Olympic Stadium. He's gutted."

"It's not a laughing matter."

"Well your face is making me laugh," Belinda said. "Although that's true most of the time."

Dave looked offended and Charles tried to maintain a neutral expression.

Belinda glanced at the clock on the wall. "I don't suppose Molly'll be much longer, will she Dave?"

Dave shrugged and looked as if he hadn't got a clue why Belinda thought he would know and was looking to him for confirmation.

"You're welcome to wait unless you've got to rush off."

Molly had said very little of her parents but Charles was beginning to get the measure of their relationship. Molly was like her mother. He recognised both the warmth and the wit but her father was harder to fathom. Charles had gained the impression that he and employment weren't the best of friends and there seemed something more, possibly a degree of frustration in his manner. Maybe life hadn't turned out quite the way he had hoped and whereas Belinda was trying to make the best of things, Dave was still mildly annoyed.

Charles wondered if he was making the right choice but he smiled at Belinda. "That's very kind of you, Belinda. I think I'll wait."

X-X-X-X

Molly sat in the minibus driving her back to East Ham in the uncomfortable state of mind torn between total apathy and rage at all the circumstances that had placed her so close to Charles and then left her stranded at the station with Ronnie's constant unwelcome presence as he hustled and nagged at his band of workers. It was only the lack of funds that had persuaded Molly to stay. She'd had one taste of hitch-hiking and she wasn't going to try it again. Although she carried on working for the next two and a half hours, robotically handing out leaflets with a face like stone despite Ronnie telling her to lighten up, her thoughts were a million miles away, wondering where Charles had gone and how or if she would find him. She was determined, if nothing else, to go to Bath as soon as possible or even to Warminster. It must be possible to ring someone in the army who could tell her where Charles was. For a little while she felt better but then the memory of Charles walking away and being unable to reach him hit her again like a body blow. Sodding Ronnie, sodding Dad and his stupid cash in hand jobs, sodding everyone.

It was almost half past seven by the time the minibus finally pulled up outside the Earl of Wakefield. The tired band of workers climbed out and queued up to receive their pay. Molly was at the end of the line and shuffled forward as each person was handed their cash. Finally, alone and standing before Ronnie with a face like thunder, it was her turn.

"Six thirty tomorrow morning here. Alright?"

Molly glared at him. He had to be joking. "No way."

Ronnie leaned a little closer. "Look, Molly, I'd like to say it's been a pleasure, but, frankly you've probably scared off more people than you reached. However, seeing as you're Dave's daughter and he owes me, I'll let you off. Just turn up tomorrow like a good girl and we'll forget about it. Alright?" Molly heard a hint of menace in his voice and remembered the betting debt her Dad owed. She looked at the money in Ronnie's hand, pitiful as it was, she still needed it.

"Alright, only tomorrow and that's it."

Ronnie shrugged. "Just put on a smile love. It won't kill you."

She threw him a sarcastic grin and was forced to tug the notes from between his thumb and forefinger as he annoyingly tried to keep hold of them. He laughed and she felt an overwhelming urge to deck him but forced herself to turn away and head as quickly as possible in the opposite direction. She turned the corner, slowed down and let out a long breath that was closer to a cry of anguish. One of these days she'd make her Dad do them all a favour and take responsibility for his own problems. Just one more day she told herself and she'd be heading out of here as fast as she could. All she wanted now was to go to bed and try to forget everything, if only until tomorrow.

X-X-X-X

Charles wondered just how long it would be before he had outstayed his welcome. The only reason he hadn't left after half an hour of being perched on the Dawes' sofa was his desperation to see Molly and Belinda's obvious efforts to make him welcome, although during the last hour he had started to sense that after all her many enquiries about Cornwall and what Molly had been doing whilst on holiday she was beginning to run out of topics of conversation. He soon realised from Belinda's eagerness for information that Molly had told her parents very little about what she had been doing in Bath or Cornwall and that they certainly didn't know anything about what had happened between them both. He could understand it, particularly after her abrupt departure from Northanger and the uncertainty that must have followed.

When Dave picked up his jacket and muttered that he was heading down the pub, Charles began to feel, however much he hated the idea, that he should leave too. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a piece of paper.

"I really shouldn't trespass on your time any longer, Belinda. You've been very kind. Could you give Molly my phone number and ask her to call me."

Belinda seemed surprised. "Are you sure you won't wait?"

Charles stood up. "I should go. Could you just tell Molly…" he paused. What message should he leave? How could he make Molly understand everything that he wanted to say in just one short second hand message? "There's nothing I'd love more than to speak to her. Exactly that."

Belinda stared at him. The expression on his face spoke volumes. Dave might be fussing about in the background paying no attention but Belinda suddenly realised the reason why Charles was here and the reason he had stayed so long. Molly had only called her a couple of times in the last few weeks and been vague about what she was doing. When she'd returned without any warning a few days ago she'd looked pale, tired and on edge. She remembered now that Molly had cried when she'd hugged her. It wasn't like her to be emotional and gazing at Charles' face she realised that something was going on between them and wondered if that was the reason for Molly's sudden appearance without warning and the fact that she was definitely out of sorts.

She nodded. "Don't worry. I'll tell her that."

She took the piece of paper from Charles and put it in her pocket.

"Goodbye. It was nice to meet you." Charles smiled at Belinda and Dave and then headed for the front door.

"Likewise," Belinda called after him.

He nodded in her direction and let himself out but not before he heard Dave muttering in a loud whisper, "Why the hell did you ask him in?"

Charles had shut the front door and walked away before Belinda replied, "He's in love with our Molly."

X-X-X-X

Molly turned the corner after the first flight of steps and heard the sound of someone descending rapidly from above. It was probably some kid about to run slap bang into her and right now she was too weary to risk being sent flying. She stopped and pressed herself against the wall to allow whoever it was to pass. Although it wasn't dark outside the stairwell was dim and the security light was permanently on. The footsteps were just above her. She waited, eyes cast down, for the person to pass.

The footsteps stopped as they reached her. Molly looked up and her heart missed a beat.

"Charles!"

He was smiling, that broad open smile that lit up his eyes. He sighed in relief, "God, I thought you'd never come home."

It wasn't an illusion and her eyes weren't deceiving her. "It was you. I knew it was."

"What are you talking about?" Charles was obviously bemused.

The words came tumbling out. "You passed me at Paddington today and I couldn't get to you in time. I lost my phone on Saturday and I didn't know how I was going to find you again."

Everything became clear in a second: the reason there had been no response from Molly when Charles had called and left messages, the reason neither he nor Emma could reach her, the reason she hadn't called him. Charles had only to look at the expression on her face to know that everything was fine between them, more than fine. She hadn't changed her mind about him. He laughed in relief and reached for her, pulling her close and hugging her. Just to feel her in his arms and know that his father's words had had no effect on her feelings for him was all he wanted. He was still holding her when they were disturbed by the sound of more footsteps heading their way. Dave appeared, clearly heading for the pub as he had mentioned.

"Found her then," he observed.

Charles was still holding Molly when Dave passed by, pulled a face, chortled to himself and called over his shoulder, "For God's sake put her down. You don't know where she's been."

He disappeared from sight, laughing and Charles, obviously amused by the look of disgust on Molly's face at this remark, whispered in her ear, "Oh, yes I do."

X-X-X-X

"How did you get back here from Northanger Molly?"

Molly paused for thought, torn between the truth and a softer version which omitted the long, lonely night at Exeter services and the frightening encounter with Chris the following day. They were sitting in an almost deserted Italian restaurant in the High Street. The food wasn't great but both of them were hungry after a very long and stressful day more than anything else they needed somewhere quiet to sit and talk.

"I caught a bus to Truro and then got a lift some of the way and a coach from Reading."

Charles frowned, "What do you mean you got a lift?"

Molly shrugged, "I had to hitch-hike some of the way."

Charles looked angry.

"I'm sorry, " Molly began but he stopped her.

"I'm not angry with you but if my father was here he'd get a piece of my mind. You shouldn't have been put in that position."

Seeing the effect of this piece of news upon him, Molly didn't dare say tell him what had really happened. She smiled and tried to reassure him. "No harm done, I'm in one piece aren't I?"

"You should never have been treated like that. My father was totally out of order."

They had talked about the past few days and Charles had told her how, having heard her message from Friday but being unable to get hold of either her or Emma and then eventually learning from his father that Molly had been sent away, he had driven to Cornwall that morning met and talked to his father and after finding Emma as good as under house arrest had returned to Warminster with her. It was late he'd had a beer and now, with the relief of finding Molly, everything was catching up with him.

Molly had used Charles' phone to call her mum. "I don't know when I'll be back, Mum."

"That's alright, love," Belinda had said brightly, "You're a big girl now. You have a good time and we'll see you whenever." Molly could almost imagine her mother winking at her down the phone as she said this and was surprised by her conspiratorial manner but she was glad that she obviously approved of Charles.

Belinda lowered her voice a little, "You've done well for yourself. He's a bit of alright, Molly. Good on you." Molly tried not to blush and hoped Charles couldn't hear what her mother was saying but nonetheless her endorsement pleased her. Dave might not always have her best interests at heart but at least her Mum appreciated that Charles was a big improvement on all of her previous boyfriends and wished her well. She ended the call and handed the phone back to Charles.

"What have you been saying to mum? I think she wants to marry you."

Charles smiled. "She's nice, Molly. I like her a lot."

Molly rolled her eyes. "I won't ask you about Dad."

Charles was diplomatic, "I don't know him well, yet, Molly."

"Trust me, he don't improve."

Charles sighed, "Don't worry about it, Molly. If anyone has a reason to say that about their father right now it's me. The things he's said and done in the last few days make me feel ashamed of him."

"Funny, isn't it," Molly replied, "My mum's over the moon, cos you're so nice but I sort of knew that your Dad didn't approve of me. It was obvious he'd found out about us when he said I wasn't 'decent or honest' and he just didn't like it."

Charles felt awkward. The last thing he wanted was Molly to carry on thinking that she was somehow not good enough for him, at least in his father's eyes, but to tell her the real reasons his father had mentioned for throwing her out might also hurt her feelings despite being untrue. However, at least he could reassure her that they were worthless in his eyes.

"It wasn't that Molly. None of it was your fault. "

Molly looked at him with surprise wondering what would follow. "Believe me, I don't agree with anything my father said."

Molly looked worried now and Charles began to regret his decision but there was no going back. He had to tell her the truth.

"My father found out that Emma was seeing Francois and that you and I knew about it. It was Jack Thorpe. He ran into my father last week and told him about seeing us all in Bath that night in the University bar and also that you'd been moonlighting with the catering agency. In fact he told him that the Allens were going to sack you because of your dishonesty."

Molly's mouth dropped open in horror. "The little shit!"

"Quite." In spite of himself, Charles smiled and shook his head. "I make you right about him causing trouble."

"So, that's what your father meant about me not being 'honest' and 'decent'?"

Charles nodded. "It's rubbish, of course, but I'm afraid he is rather a stickler for these things. Honesty and honour go hand in hand with him. I think he'd even convinced himself that he was doing the right thing by trying to warn me off you with lurid tales." He smiled nervously, conscious that a difficult moment was approaching. He'd said nothing to Emma about the private conversation with his father but one comment had sat at the back of his mind all day refusing to budge despite the fact that he knew it must be a falsehood. "Do you know my father even told me that you and Emma were in Penzance picking up men in bars while I was away."

Molly's face fell and seeing her expression Charles felt an uncomfortable knot form in his gut. It looked as though the comment resonated with her for some reason. She took a deep breath but when she spoke he heard anger.

"I should have guessed she would have told him. She was loving it when she saw me leaving on Friday."

The penny dropped. "Do you mean Hannah?"

Molly nodded and said rapidly, "It 'aint true, you know."

Charles could tell immediately from her expression that she was telling the truth and nodded. "I thought, not." But even as he said it he could tell from Molly's eyes that she knew he had been wondering about the veracity of the report and it made him feel bad for even raising the matter.

"They, I mean, the two annoying blokes in the bar, tried to pick us up and they followed us outside but I told them where to get off."

Charles started to laugh, "I bet you did."

"I wouldn't have done that, Charles. I like a night out but I wouldn't do that."

"Shh." He reached out and took her hand in his, "I believe you and in any case I can't imagine you'd take my sister with you if you were planning a night out on the pull."

Molly laughed, "Yeah, not very subtle, is it?"

He held her hand and smiled at her. Thank goodness everything was finally coming good.

Charles suddenly yawned, "I'm really sorry, Molly, but I'm exhausted." He held her gaze for a few seconds and said very quietly, "Shall we get a room somewhere?"

Molly giggled. "Thought you'd never suggest it."

The problem for Charles was that his suggestion to get a room for the night wasn't some sort of ploy to get Molly alone, not that he needed it, but he really was exhausted and although the thought of being with Molly was irresistible he feared he might fall asleep as soon as he lay down.

"I'd better warn you, Molly, I'm knackered."

"It don't matter, Charles. I'd rather have you fall asleep on me every day of the week, then be alone thinking you didn't care."

"Did you think that?"

Molly shook her head, "Not really but you wonder for a little bit don't you? I mean, for a bit I really thought your Dad hated me because I was the wrong class or something but I knew deep down you didn't care about stuff like that. It sounds daft but I sort of feel better knowing it was about the job at the Allens or because of Emma and Francois and not something else that I did although to be honest I'd started to think even before he slung me out that your Dad wasn't very keen on me because of the paintings."

Charles frowned. "What do you mean?"

Molly wondered if she should have said anything but in the circumstances, after the lies Jack Thorpe had told the General about her that he had willingly believed and the damage that had been done to his relationship with his son and daughter, what reason did she have to keep quiet now.

"I found out by accident on that day after I drank the cider at 'The Ship' and I was on my own, that your Dad had moved all the paintings from your mum's studio at Abbey House. The door up there was open and I went to have a look and the room was empty."

Charles' expression was blank. He was very surprised that Molly hadn't mentioned it but he also had no idea where this was going or how it related to the conversation. Molly bit her lip, knowing the next part would come as something of a shock

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you, 'cos Emma doesn't know this either, but your Dad's shipped them out to America and he's sold them all."