Chapter 21
Thursday 28th July
"So, I found a little place," he says on Thursday morning, doing his tie in the mirror, Elsie watching as she lay on her stomach on top of the bed.
"Oh? Where are we going?"
"Not far, I mentioned it to some of the staff at the house," he turned to look at her, "the PA."
"Fancy."
"I know. That's money for you, I guess they earned it."
"Aren't they rich through old money, family wealth?"
"They are but still…" he saw her pull a face but ignored it and went on. "Anyway, a place was suggested, it's not usually rented out, or not been rented out in a while. But I said we'd take it for a week, and I hired a car too as from tomorrow."
"I'm impressed," she flopped onto her back, looking backwards at him.
He turned around, "I make things happen, see," leant over her and kissed her mouth. "Kissing you upside down is odd."
She stroked his arm, enjoyed the quality of his shirt, "Come back to bed."
"You know there's nothing else I'd rather do," He reached for his jacket off the hanger. "But I'm almost done."
"What do I have to do to convince you…?"
"Elsie…"
She rolled over again, moving onto her knees, "Because you know I'd do pretty much anything."
"Damn it, Elsie," he caught hold of her arms, holding her as he knelt in front of her and kissed her deeply. "Stay right there and I'll be back in about ten hours."
"Oh, if I'm lucky," she laughed. "I'm going to get the bus and go into the next town," she said, climbing back beneath the bedsheets and lying down. "After I've read my book for a while, had some breakfast, general laze around in the pool, that kind of thing."
"And tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow I am making use of the spa facilities, having my eyebrows done," she waggled her hands at him, "my nails, general tidying up."
He felt his neck warm, "I won't press you for details on that, women's stuff."
Elsie laughed, "Does it embarrass you? You benefit from it."
"How do you figure that out?"
"Because you clearly prefer…"
He held his hand up, "Wait, let's just leave that, on second thoughts." He took his phone from the bedside table and popped it into his pocket, "Just have fun. I booked a table for tomorrow night by the way, last night in this hotel, we ought to make the most of it."
"I might look for a new dress then."
"Alright," he leaned over her again, "see you later darling."
"Bye," she lifted her mouth to his. "Have a good day."
Friday 29th July
As it was she didn't wear the new dress.
She'd been brave, opted for red, which was a colour she never went for really, but there was something about it that caught her eye. Hanging in the window of a local store she'd felt compelled to at least try it – it fit so she bought it.
But then when it came down to the evening she'd opted for one of the black ones hanging in the wardrobe and played it safe.
Charles had been late back, and flustered and exhausted and grumpy with it. Stomping through their suite as she put her hair up in the bedroom.
"Hi," she'd chirped from her position by the mirror. "I had the most wonderful time today."
"Mine was lousy, bad organisation, I let things slip," he ripped his tie off, kicked his shoes to the side of the bed.
"Oh?" She turned to face him; his face was flushed, cheeks red. "Are you alright?"
"Just annoyed with myself, I never do anything less than – forget it. Do I have time for a shower?"
"I think so," she moved to pick his shirt up from the floor, folding it neatly and laying it on the end of the bed. "You're tired," she placed a hand to his bare chest, "you seem tired, do you think we ought to stay here? We can order to the room."
"Absolutely not."
He saw the look on her face and chastised himself. Bringing his hand up to squeeze her shoulder he breathed deeply and found a softer tone, "Absolutely not because it's the only thing that's got me through the day, the thought of having a romantic meal with you."
"Oh it's going to be romantic is it?"
"I certainly hope so, I asked for the best table."
She smiled, "Go get your shower then, then we can get all romantic."
By the time they were escorted to their table Charles' mood had lifted; partly by the fact that he was looking forward to a top class meal, the fact he was now officially 'on holiday' for a week but mostly down to the fact Elsie looked so downright gorgeous.
He couldn't have felt prouder as he walked in with her, his hand slipping to the base of her back as she moved in front of him and toward their table. He remembered doing that on their first date, his hand hovering near her back, how nervous he'd been then, how unsure of where this would go or even if he'd make it through the night without turning her off.
"Let's order Champagne," he whispered across the table to her. "Make the most of it, last night here."
"In absolute luxury."
"You look beautiful, have I said that?"
"You were rather distracted by your bad mood."
"I apologise for that; I'll get the Champers to say sorry."
She let him order it whilst she looked at her menu, ordering, in the end, three of the specials.
"So, you want to tell me why you felt so stressed when you got home?"
He took a sip of his water, "I like how you say 'got home'."
"You know what I mean."
"I do know what you mean, but I like how you say it nevertheless."
"Okay," she felt herself blushing and looked away. "Lots of couples here tonight."
"Mm, Friday night isn't it."
"I guess so. So, why was your day so bad?"
He folded his hands, "It wasn't bad, just long, just stressful. I realised maybe I'm getting too old for it. Maybe I should give it up altogether."
"Oh. And how do you feel about that?"
"Sad, actually. I worked hard, I mean I've always worked hard but I worked hard to make a name for myself. With the business I mean."
"I know what you meant."
"Times like these…" he paused as the waiter poured their Champagne, lifted his glass instantly towards her, "To the pleasure of your very wonderful company, Elsie Hughes."
"Why thank you. And to yours." She tapped her glass against his and took a sip, "That was a nice toast."
"I'm sitting here with a nice lady."
"I like being referred to as a 'lady'. Now, tell me, what were you going to say? Times like these make you what?"
He swallowed his drink, resisting the urge to take a gulp. "I was going to say it makes me wish I had somebody to pass it on to. It's ridiculous, clearly, but just sometimes," he shrugged, "I don't know."
"Can I ask something sensitive?"
"Just as our starters arrive?"
She sat back as the scallops were placed in front of her, "They smell delicious. You want my lemon?"
"I'll see how I get on. So, what's your sensitive thing?"
"Well, do you think, I know what you said before, but do you think you'll ever tell William? You said about that account for him. The money."
"I did, didn't I?"
The look on his face made Elsie wish she'd never asked, she hadn't meant to trouble him, it just seemed such a logical step in their conversation.
"You don't have to answer –,"
"No, it's fine, I want to. There's nobody else I'd talk about this with." He put his cutlery down, pushed his plate aside, "I suppose it depends on her."
"Alice?"
"I wouldn't want to hurt her…"
"Excuse me?" She snapped, then caught herself, sitting back in her chair and taking a long drink.
"You disagree, clearly."
"I just think," she shrugged, "it's not for me to say."
"Please, go on, do, I don't mind. I'd like to hear what you think."
"What I think is that this woman has treated you badly, knowingly so, for many years. For too many years. And you need to step back from her, step back from worrying about hurting her and do what's best for you."
His eyes tightened, jaw lifted, "She's treated me badly?"
"That's what I think, Charles. But then it is just my opinion, I don't know the ins and outs of it, granted. So, maybe I shouldn't give my opinion."
"I asked for it."
She nodded, how quickly the atmosphere had become uncomfortable.
"Maybe she has," he said after a while, refilling their glasses. "But who knows what's it like for her, being in that position."
Elsie bit her lip, shifting in her seat.
"What? Just say it."
"Nobody forced her to have sex with you."
Charles glanced about quickly, "Don't say the 's' word so freely at dinner."
"Nobody's listening, I could stand on the table and flash my breasts and some of these diners would only give me a second glance."
"I doubt that."
"Well, I'm just saying. Nobody did, she made her choices, that's all. And I think she's very aware of what she's doing, what she's done."
"You clearly dislike her."
"Oh I don't know; I don't want to be that jealous girlfriend type. It isn't that. I just see how she is with you, she draws you in, purposefully. At your birthday, the way she leans in to you, touches you like it's all casual and easy. I let her do that then, but if she ever does it again –,"
"Have things changed?"
"Of course. I'm madly in love with you now, completely, if she touches you again I'll –,"
"Madly?"
"You keep cutting me off."
"Sorry. Completely?"
She smiled, shaking her head, "You're steering the conversation elsewhere."
"My prerogative."
"Is it?"
"I don't want to argue over her."
"We're not arguing." She reached to touch his hand on the table, "All I'm saying is he is your son, and if you want a relationship with him, as messy and painful as it may be in the start, then that's your decision, not hers. He's an adult now, he's old enough to make up his own mind about whether he wants a relationship with you or not."
"Perhaps."
"Okay, let's talk about something else. Select a topic."
"Erm… where do you stand on Earl Grey?"
She replied instantaneously, "Awful, what's wrong with Yorkshire Tea?"
Charles laughed, which made Elsie laugh, and the momentary awkwardness was gone.
"Sorry if I got on my high horse," Elsie said later as they walked around the complex and back to their private suite, her arm hooked through his. "Over Alice, I didn't mean to get heated over it."
"Yes, it didn't seem like you, to get like that."
She smirked, "It was very like me, Charles. If we're together I don't want some other woman thinking she has a hold over my man."
"We're very much together."
"I know. Hence my reaction."
He tilted his head towards her, "I would never have thought."
"That I can be jealous? Of course."
"You have no need to be."
"Oh but how many times did I tell you that over Tom…?"
"Point made. What would you do? Surely not fight for me?"
"You're enjoying this," she nudged him in the ribs.
"Just a little fantasy finally coming to fruition – two women fighting over me."
She loosened her arm from his, walked ahead of him, turning to face him, her tone sassy and teasing, "I wouldn't fight. You want her, off you toddle, but there'll be no coming back."
"Oh no?"
"Definitely not."
He shook his head, "Tease," and moved quickly to catch her up and grab her arm. "There'd be no choosing of her over you. Ever. We clear on that?" He said, suddenly serious.
"Yes," she was breathless, which surprised her, "Very clear."
"This is it, you know. You do know that, don't you? You and I – this is it."
That statement, as stark and simple as it was, made her breathless too. And dizzy. She leant against his arm as much for support as comfort.
"Yes, I think I know that."
"You think you do?"
"We haven't discussed it."
"Our future?"
She quickly pressed her hand to his chest, "Let's not. Not now." She stood on her tiptoes, feeling simultaneously nervous and excited. "Let's get back to the room. I want to swim."
"Now?"
"We have a private pool. Let's make the most of it."
If Charles was surprised, or even annoyed, by her avoidance of the topic, he let it slide. He followed her back to the suite, keeping up with the pace she set.
"Pour some drinks," she'd said when they got through the door. "I'll meet you by the pool."
"Alright," he stripped down to his boxers, realising his clothes were now all packed and ready for transportation to a new 'home' for the next week, and made them up G&Ts, plenty of Gin, and followed her outside.
The black dress she'd been wearing was laid out on one of the loungers, and it was only as Charles bent to place their drinks on the table that he noted her underwear lay on top of it.
"Did you…?" He looked up sharply to where she floated leisurely in the pool. "Elsie Hughes, are you…?"
"Don't put the drinks there, we can't reach them."
"Elsie?"
"Come and get in here."
With his mouth twisted into a smile he made his way to the edge of the pool, bending to place their drinks down, his eyes seeking her body through the blue. The lights danced on top of it, the air was warm, and above him the sky inky, studded with stars.
"Well?" She said expectantly. "Are you getting in?"
"I'm not sure how to?"
"You could try jumping."
"You know what I mean, I suspect you're naked."
She pursed her lips, "Why not give it a try? Could loosen you up Mr Carson, after a very heavy month of work."
"Christ you're good," he pushed at the band on his underwear, hooking it with his thumbs and pushing them down, kicking them aside. "No jokes now."
She raised her hands in a sign of innocence, floated back in the water, tantalisingly so as he caught a glimpse of her breasts.
"And you wouldn't even wear that bikini the other day."
"That was different, we were going to a public beach."
"You looked sensational, I did tell you that, right?" he said lowly before diving in and swimming along the bottom of the pool.
She was smiling enigmatically when he emerged in front of her, pushing a hand through his hair. "That felt good."
"Nice, isn't it?"
He smiled, gathering himself as he placed his hands on top of the water either side of her body. "Very refreshing."
"Would the old Mr Carson have swum naked in his hotel pool?"
"The old Mr Carson? You mean the one that existed prior to meeting you?"
"Something like that."
"Stop moving."
"Maybe you have to catch me," she twisted again, onto her back, then her front, until she was at the other end of the pool with nowhere to go.
"I already did the catching part, didn't I? Months ago."
"You did pester me for a while."
"Pester?!" He caught hold of her foot.
Elsie giggled, tugging on her leg until Charles' strong arms held her body and lifted her legs around his waist.
"You know," she said, her hands draped over his shoulders as he held her tight, turning them in the cool midnight water. "Beryl didn't think we'd last."
"Oh?"
"She told me a couple of months ago. Said I always push men away, never let myself fall for them."
"I see."
"So, maybe I didn't only change you. Perhaps you changed me too."
"Perhaps. Or maybe we just complement each other."
She smiled, "Yes, maybe that too. Why are you laughing?"
"It just dawned on me I'm actually naked in the pool with my girlfriend, at my age, and it feels rather wonderful."
She nudged his nose with hers, drawing him into a long, sweet kiss.
"Love you," she whispered against his lips.
"I love you too. Very much."
"Very, very much?" She teased, jiggling in his arms.
"Very, very, very much! Especially when you move like that."
"You wanna do it here or move inside?"
He chuckled, "You're so forthright about it."
"Just want to check."
He laid her back in the water, bent his head forward and kissed her stomach.
"I guess that's decision made," she smiled, closing her eyes.
"Maybe this is just foreplay."
She lifted her hand up, ran her fingers into his thick hair. "Maybe."
Charles' hands slid beneath her back, one lifting her up in the water until her breasts were visible, glistening in the moonlight.
"You are stunning." He kissed her stomach again, felt her thighs tighten around his waist, the heel of one of her feet pressing into his bottom. "I honestly," he started, gasping out words between kisses, "can't believe I'm this lucky."
"Will you still feel the same when I'm old and grey and these are saggy? Saggier?"
"Won't happen." He pulled her back to him, lifted her again and moved them back through the water until they were at the end near their drinks, half hidden beneath the veranda that hung over one section of the pool.
He lifted her, which made her yelp, and sat her down on the edge, remaining between her legs, her feet by his side.
"You didn't want to talk about the future," he pointed out.
"Didn't I?" She twisted her mouth, reaching for the drink he'd prepared for her and taking a sip.
"You don't think we have one?" He squeezed her feet in his palms, rubbing the soles with his thumbs. "Worried you'll go off me?"
She took her time in answering, "Why can't we just enjoy now? Is there anything wrong with that?"
"Nothing at all. I just wondered, being with you this week, it made me think."
"I understand that. But this started in January, and look how far we've come already. For a start we haven't killed each other on our first holiday."
"Oh I don't know; you've tried pretty much every night."
"Ah!" She splashed his face with water. "That's naughty."
He was laughing as he helped her slip back into the water, wrapping her body in his arms as he kissed her.
"Sexiest moment of my life," he whispered, "happening right now."
"It's nice in water, kinda supports your body."
"You would've done this before," he stated, pouting.
"Haven't you?"
"Clearly not. I've led a very sheltered life."
She smirked, shaking her head, "Of course you have. Luckily now you know me."
"Luckily."
"Mmm," she kissed him again, hummed against his lips in that way she knew he loved. "Charles." She said lowly, watching his face, his eyes closed, a delighted expression settled comfortably on his features.
"Yes?" He kissed her neck, "Darling Elsie."
His voice was so endearing, so like the water that lapped about their entwined bodies, that at that precise moment she could think of nothing better than making sure their futures remained entwined.
Whatever she was going to say disappeared.
"Yes?" He said again, his lips so tender against her skin.
"Make love to me," she finally breathed, her fingers lacing with his.
"My first time in a pool," he smiled, his eyes sparkling when he looked up at her, and she couldn't recall ever feeling so deeply in love.
Saturday 30th July
"It's small," Charles grumbled as he carried their bags in from the car, having to bend as he went through the front door. "Where's the style? Where's the luxury?"
Elsie followed him in, expecting the worse, "Oh, I don't know," she put her handbag on the table by the door. "It's cute, I like it."
He brushed his hand over the small, round dining table, checking for dust.
"It's nice," Elsie called back through the rooms, "little kitchen area, bathroom, bedroom – ooh nice view from the bed."
"It's a grand four-poster?" He asked, following the sound of her voice.
"Hardly," she smiled at him, kneeling on the bed, "but it's a double and it's sleepable…if you want to sleep."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Don't be grumpy, really, it's lovely, quaint and lovely. Just look at the view through those doors."
"I guess you're right," he said, casting a glance down the valley.
"I often am."
His eyebrow rose again which caused her to laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing," she moved to him, resting her hands on his shoulders and stepping up to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Just life, Charlie dear, just life."
He sank onto the edge of the bed, watching as she made her way barefoot back through the tiny house, or cottage, he wasn't quite sure what to label it as.
Elsie pulled her suitcase through to the bedroom, sighing as she positioned it in the corner of the room. "You think it'd be really out-of-line to live out of this for the week and not unpack again?"
The look on his face told her that would be very much unacceptable.
"I'll unpack now, get it over with, then do you want to go out somewhere? Explore the village?"
"Yes, despite that mile walk down the hill to it in this heat."
She leaned over where he'd collapsed back on the bed, "Sweetheart, you're on holiday."
"Come here," he yanked her down on top of him, "let's just cuddle for a moment," he said, kissing her head.
She was content with that, and settled against him.
"You think we'll be okay, in this little place together for a week?" He asked, gazing out of the window to the spectacular view – he had to concede that, it was spectacular.
"Of course, we managed in the hotel room at Valentine's."
"That was two nights, wasn't it?" He pointed out.
"I guess so. Does it make a difference?" She suddenly laughed, rolling onto her tummy to look at him. "Being in a smaller place? We just spent a week together in the other place."
"Yes, but that was different. I was out working most of the day. And there was plenty of space for us to have some privacy if we needed it."
"Sweetheart, you're so unbelievably clueless and yet wonderfully astute at times it baffles me."
"I like it when you call me sweetheart."
She bit down on her lip, "If I get in your way just tell me. Be honest."
"I can't imagine you getting in my way."
"You might, as hard as it is to believe, but you just might get aggravated by me. Just as I might by you. You can be insanely tidy."
"I'm just organised."
Her eyes widened, "Don't I know it."
"Hey."
"Just an observation, I mean I'm not untidy but you, you're…"
"Anal. This is why I had such problems sharing a house at University."
"Good job we're only sharing a room then, not a house." She caught something in his face that made her stop and, momentarily, feel anxious at her own words. Her heart reminded her of its position in her chest by pulling tight and she pushed herself up from the bed quickly.
"Let's go out, make the most of the day. It's a little cooler today I think, there's a breeze. Let's wander around the market. I like markets."
"Me too."
He watched as she tied up her hair, slipped off the dress she'd been wearing and put shorts on instead.
"Are you getting up?"
"I am. I'm ready, just need to put comfier shoes on for the walk."
They'd done markets before, back home in York he'd learned quite early on she liked to meander around them; hunt for bargains, unique things, locally crafted items.
He, on the other hand, was quite happy to stand back and watch her. Shopping wasn't really his thing, though he could appreciate the time and effort put into crafting and he did enjoy how she found the best food stalls. So far they'd munched their way through little pots of mussels, different cheeses, freshly baked bread, olives – but he'd gotten quite the taste for Turrón. It stuck to his teeth and reminded him of being a child and his Gran making nougat from scratch for him; that rich, almost sickly sweet smell filling the house.
Elsie was standing between two gentlemen at a jewellery stall as Charles stood back munching on a little bit more of the sweet, picking out another piece from the paper bag and watching her scan the items on display. He saw one of the men lift their hand, just catching Elsie's back, a little too close for comfort for his liking. She lifted her head, glared at the man over her glasses; he was older than the pair of them and should've known better. He took a slight step to the left. She was fine, she could handle herself.
When the second man deliberately knocked his hip against hers, sending her sideways into the older man, Charles stepped in. His imposing figure behind her within a second, his hand on her side, fixing the men with a stern gaze.
"Okay darling?" He asked loudly, and she looked back at him, glad of his physical presence.
"Yes, I rather like this ring here." She said, in an attempt to keep the tone light. "What do you think?"
Charles watched the older man move away, along the side of the stall and then disappearing into the crowds of shoppers. He squeezed her hip, checked to the other side of her and the younger man had gone too.
"Are you really okay?" He said by her ear, and he felt her exhale as much as he heard it.
"Yes, I think so. I'm not sure if that was some sort of sexual thing or if they were trying to steal my purse."
"Me neither. But if he'd touched you I would've broken his arm."
She smiled, "Oh, my hero."
"Well, not quite, I think you had it covered. But still, I'm not having anyone intimidate you. Bastard."
This was very unlike him, to swear, to appear in any way 'masculine'. She lifted her head and kissed his cheek, "I'm fine. You were here, and I'm very glad you're so tall and imposing."
He felt his ire drop a little.
"Protection officer at your service ma'am. Now, which ring do you like?"
"It doesn't matter, it's rather expensive I think."
"So, show me."
"It's silver, here, see."
"Does it fit?"
"I haven't tried it."
"Well, do so. Here," he took her bags from her, "Let me hold these."
"It's expensive," she said turning to face him but trying the ring anyhow, slipping it onto the middle finger of her right hand. "Oh and now I like it."
"It fits perfectly."
"It does," she waggled her finger about to check. "It's nice, and the woman running the stall assures me she makes them all."
"Buy it."
"It costs more than the dress I bought the other day."
"You mean the flashy red one I'm not allowed to see you in?"
"It was an impulse buy that I regret." She took the ring off, popping it back into its box. "Because I will never wear something that screams 'look at me.'"
"Let me get the ring," he pushed the bags back into her hands.
"No, that's not –,"
"I want to," he was already taking out his wallet, counting out notes. "Consider it a memento of our trip."
"Charles, this wasn't what I meant. You don't have to buy me things."
"I haven't bought you anything, I want to get this."
"You bought me flowers, several times."
He frowned, "That hardly counts."
"It does to me."
She watched helplessly as he handed the money across and the lady wrapped the box in tissue paper and handed it across in a tiny paper bag.
"There, done. Now you have something nice to remember the trip by."
"Yes, I guess."
He took the shopping bags back from her and hooked his free arm through hers. "You want to go have a drink somewhere?"
"We can. I think I'm done here now though."
"Are you annoyed with me?"
"No, why?"
"Your tone's changed. Are you aggravated I did that?"
"I just… it was a very sweet thing to do." She paused momentarily, let a group of people pass them and then moved in front of Charles, his arm still holding hers as she led them out of the row of market stalls and back into the main street.
"But?"
"But, I'm not used to men buying me gifts. Not like that. I wasn't pressing for you to do that; I don't want you to think that."
"I don't think that. I never would."
She looked up at his stricken face, "I'm sorry."
"No, I am. Clearly I've done something wrong, upset you."
"No I have. And I feel terrible now. Charles, I'm very grateful, I love it. I'm just… You see I often feel like if somebody gives me something then I have to give them something in return, see?"
"You don't owe me anything."
"I know that, because you're you and you're kind and wonderful. You're very kind."
"I sense there's a huge 'but' coming that will knock me down a peg or two."
"There isn't," she squeezed his arm, breathless as they set off up the hill back to their little house. "And I wouldn't want to knock you down. I just wanted you to understand why my reaction was less than overwhelming. And I feel a real selfish bitch for doing that now."
"I need to stop," he pulled his arm free from hers.
"From the conversation?"
"No just, ohh," he breathed deeply, closed his eyes as he leant against the wall.
"Charles, are you okay?" She rested her hand over his, one hand on his arm.
"Just lost my breath, went a bit dizzy is all."
"Do you want some water?"
"Be alright in a second. This hill you know."
"And me prattling on. I'm sorry."
He waved his hand, "Don't be. Shouldn't have done it, stepped in, took over."
"No you should have, oh god." She kissed his cheek, moved closer to him, "Sit down here for a moment. Catch your breath."
"Yeah. Forget I'm an old man, you make me feel young."
"My…" she rested her hands on his shoulders, closed her eyes momentarily and then he was looking up at her and she kissed him again. "I do love you. And I'm sorry for my reaction. I never said thank you. And I am thankful, very, it's beautiful and I love it too. And you're right, it will be a lovely memory."
"You don't owe me anything, I told you that. This isn't some power game, we don't have to try and outdo each other."
"I know. I try to…" she drew in a tight breath between her teeth. "I try to remind myself of that. You're different you see, to other men I've been with, and I forget that at times. I forget that where I've been before and how I've been treated before doesn't mean it will be the same with you."
Charles nodded, his cheeks flushed but his breathing having settled once again.
"You feel any better?"
"Much."
"Think you can manage the rest? Go lie down when we get back, I'll get you a cool drink."
"If I lie down I'll sleep."
"I don't mind that; I can read for the rest of the afternoon. You've had a busy time. I've just been lounging around for the week."
"Wouldn't be much of a challenge to the old guy at the stall now."
"A challenge to any man," she assured him, kissing his forehead and smiling. Yet as he rose, on slightly wobbly legs, she felt the queerest surge of concern. She was reminded he was older than her, and he had worked non-stop for the past five weeks and anything could happen at any time.
As she watched him walk ahead of her, his broad shoulders slumped, heavy with fatigue, she felt a lump in her throat – she actually couldn't imagine him not being around.
Tuesday 2nd August
They set out relatively early Tuesday morning, after a few days of being lazy – enjoying the weather, reading, swimming, lying about and talking (wonderful, endless talking) – they were determined to make the most of Tuesday. It was a little cooler, still glorious but cool enough that they could walk without fear of collapse.
Elsie had made sandwiches that morning, they'd packed a picnic of sorts, their towels, sun cream and loose change, and set off using an old map Charles had found in one of the desk drawers in the lounge.
It was a good three hours before they found a place to settle to eat and relax. They'd walked the cliff edge, Charles guiding, Elsie happy to follow and sit back on the grass whenever he 'found the map out of date' i.e. 'got lost'. They passed an isolated café just after eleven and used the restrooms, refilled their water and bought iced lemonade to enjoy underneath an umbrella outside before setting off again.
"Careful," Charles said as Elsie navigated the steps in front of him. Hundreds and hundreds of steps. "You want me to go in front?"
"So I fall on you?" She snorted. "I'm fine Charles."
"Not great footwear for climbing," he said, noting the flip flops.
"Thank you for pointing that out. Now, stop talking, you're distracting me."
"Okay, okay," he paused, took a deep, steadying breath as he gazed out at the breath taking view. The sweat was pouring down his back and he couldn't wait to peel his t-shirt off and get into the water. From their current position it looked like paradise; endless calm azure.
"Oh!" Elsie gasped and he glanced down quickly, "Ow," she added, rubbing her arm.
"What happened?" He was at least ten steps behind her now and climbed down quickly, shouldering the backpack he'd momentarily allowed to slip. "You hurt yourself?"
"Banged my arm on the wall," she leant against his when he offered it, "and stubbed my toe as I slipped." She rubbed at her foot, "Stupid. I went a bit dizzy, the heat, or the focus on the steps."
"You want to rest?"
"No, I want to reach the bottom. These are going to be a killer on the way back."
"I thought we could maybe walk along the beach, find a different route," he took the water bottle from his bag and handed it to her.
"Don't get me stranded, I don't want to drown."
"As if." He took the water back from her and took a drink himself, "I checked it on the map."
She glanced over the top of her glasses at him.
"Yes, yes, the odd miscalculation," he admitted grudgingly.
"Mmm."
"Now then love," he slid his arm around her shoulders. "We can't all be as perfect as you are."
"I never claimed to be."
"But you are," he tugged her against him, kissed her head, "especially from my position behind you, watching you in those shorts."
She elbowed him, "Old pervert. Perhaps you should go in front."
"You only want to look at my bottom."
"Very true, now, off you go, lead the way."
"Yes sir…madam."
"Sir sounds good," she laughed.
They weren't exactly surprised to find the small cove was absent of holidaymakers – the climb down had been long and tedious; winding stone steps and unkempt hedges.
They set up their belongings on the rocks, the cliff offering some semblance of shade, stripped down to their swim wear and waded into the water.
"Lord that feels good," Charles said, flopping onto his back, dipping his head back and soaking his hair. He felt the slickness of his body, uncomfortable as it had been, slip away as he floated.
Elsie was still near the shore, standing to her knees in the water, adjusting to the slight temperature change. "Don't go too far out," she called to him.
"It's fine, I'm a good swimmer and its calm. Come on, join me."
"Your legs are stronger than mine," she said, stepping in a little further. "And I feel nervous being the only two here."
"It's fine, we'll be fine." He pushed himself forward, tightening his stomach muscles to assist him, and set his feet on the sand beneath him. His toes sank into the thick, cold dampness of it, and he stood still for a moment, letting his weight settle, judging where the water reached to. Just over his stomach, he was fine. "Look, see." He said, watching as she bent, pushed her arms forward and swam.
"You're taller than me, don't forget."
He walked towards her, the surface beneath his feet altering as he got closer to shore, pebbles between his toes.
"Come here," he held his arms out, caught hold of her hands, then slid up to her upper arms. They moved in sync, Elsie giggling, Charles smiling, as their bodies came together. His hands patted her bottom beneath the water, encouraged her to lift her legs, weightless in the water as she curled them around his body and he supported her.
"This feels familiar. And is much better than working myself," she admitted.
"Pretty nice for me too," he moved his mouth to hers, and they kissed slowly, languidly, because there was no rush, no pressure to go anywhere or do anything. "I love you," he breathed against her mouth as they parted, his eyes still closed.
He felt her forehead rest against his and he smiled, opening his eyes now to see her, brushing his hands across her back, "Do you know how much I love you? How deep this has become?"
"I think so," she whispered in return, kissing him again, "because I feel the same."
"Are you shocked by it?"
She bit on her lip, eyes sparkling, "Yes, I said before – you're a surprise. I never expected to meet anybody, not now, after so many years of superficial whatevers. And even when we started dating, not that many months ago, I never even considered for a second that it would turn into this. And then suddenly…"
She leant back in his arms, lifting her legs, pushing her feet through the water, trailing her fingers upon its surface.
"Suddenly?" He jiggled her a little, which was a mistake really, given their position and her proximity to her penis. "Elsie?"
"You were in my heart," she said gently, holding his gaze, "and burrowing deeper every day."
He lifted her up, his strong arms supporting her, hands wide on her shoulder blades as he brought her body back to his and kissed her again.
"I feel braver now," she said, "now I'm used to the temperature."
"You want to try swimming around the edge, towards that rock there, we can hunt for things."
She pulled a face, "Hunt?"
"Shells and the like, keepsakes from our trip."
"Free keepsakes," she laughed, "you're such a man at times."
"I would hope I'm always a man, or male," he let go of her as she swam out of his arms. "Swim next to me."
"Yes," she did just that, grateful for him slowing his stroke to allow her to keep up. "I'll test the depth when we get closer."
The water was deeper by the rocks and so Charles lifted Elsie up, let her lean against his shoulders as she clambered up and he followed, finding a foothold and climbing up behind her.
"This is where we need flip flops," he commented.
"See, I know shoes, and they're all weather terrain. That one's nice," she pointed out a shell floating in a puddle of water.
"Ooh yes, good choice," he collected it, dropping it into the pocket of his shorts. "This is a Tulip –,"
"You know different shell types?"
"Of course."
"A shell is a shell."
"Read a book on it, some years back, I remember a few."
"You've a brain like a sponge, a memory like one."
"Yeah, well, I had a lot of time to kill. Travelling and the like, planes, trains."
"And Automobiles."
"What?"
"It's a film, never mind," she touched his arm, brown and glistening with droplets of water. "You look very handsome today, Mr. Carson, do you know that?"
"Not an Englishman on holiday?"
She chuckled, "Yes, that too. There's another."
"Don't slip on the seaweed."
"Here you go, pop it in your pocket. What type's that?"
"Erm, that's a Tellin I believe."
"I like the colours."
"Will you save them?" He watched as she walked on tiptoes across a sharp section of rock.
"I'm the one saving them, am I?"
"You could put them in your kitchen, there's a glass bowl you have…"
She glanced over at him, "Your memory!"
"I know. I know. Is it time for lunch?"
"I guess. Our sandwiches will be warm."
"Might be okay, those freezer packs might have held up." He stood on the edge of the rock. "I'll jump then get you."
"Don't lose those shells."
"Oh yes," he zipped up his pocket. "Safe now."
"Do be careful," she bit down on her lip as she watched him position his feet and then jump forward and land with a splash. "Are you alright?"
"Fine, perfectly fine. Come on, you're meant to be the brave one."
"Whatever gave you that idea?"
He shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked up at her, "You did. Bravest person I know. Come on," he held his arms aloft.
"I don't think I can jump."
"Course you can, just state of mind." He waved his hands in the air, "Come on."
Taking a deep breath, she held it as she took a giant leap forward, landing almost on top of Charles. She yelped as he fell backwards, laughing together as he kept his hands firmly on her hips and tripped backwards, searching for his footing.
"Are you alright?" He gasped between laughing and trying to settle them in the water.
"Bloody hell," her hands were pressed tight against his shoulders, legs kicking beneath the water.
"Bloody hell? That's a very English thing to say, where's the Scottish fire?"
"Has my makeup run all over my face?"
"No, you still look perfect."
"Thanks for catching me, I think I'm okay now."
"Good. Kiss?"
"Mmm," she pressed her mouth to his. "Do you think this trip is proving a little too perfect?"
"How can it be too perfect? Do you want to argue, have a bit of a barney?"
She laughed again, "Not necessarily."
"No point to it, people waste too much time on arguments and confrontations. This is perfect, being with you is, let's just enjoy it while we can."
"While we can?"
"We've got to die one day."
"Oh, nice, cheery thought." She kicked away from him, "Come on, swim close, just in case. I don't want to die just yet."
"No. Absolutely not."
A young family joined them on the beach just a little after lunch. Two young boys and their sister playing in the surf, their father with them, mother swimming close by.
Charles settled back on the sand, his bag serving as a pillow beneath his head. Elsie covered him in sun cream and within minutes he slept. She didn't blame him, they'd walked pretty far in the heat, then swam, and he'd worked so hard for the past month. And like it or not, he wasn't a young man, not old, not quite, but not young neither. She'd dwelt on that a little more than she was comfortable with over the past few days.
It surprised her, how much she cared for him now, that she was concerned for him when he was tired or grouchy. When he'd called her in the evening from his hotel room over the past few weeks and she could hear the fatigue in his voice she left the call feeling anxious for him. So, to see him relax now was comforting, in some way, and she certainly didn't begrudge him an afternoon nap.
She settled back with her book, sitting at first and then, when her back complained, she moved, turned sideways and leant her head back against Charles' stomach. His hand instinctively came up to rest on her side.
"What?" He mumbled, eyes still closed, jerked from sleep.
"Nothing sweetheart, just getting comfy, go back to sleep."
"Don't burn," he slurred, and she wondered which one of them he meant.
Thursday 4th August
Charles paced the small lounge area, fiddling with his cuff links and cursing the sunburn on the back of his neck. Ridiculous, he'd been there over a month and he burns his neck on a day out searching for seashells.
"Are you still uncomfortable?" Elsie asked as she came into the room, and any worries Charles had about his neck disappeared, his cufflink slipped from his fingers and clattered upon the terracotta floor and he stared at her. "Goodness me."
"What?" She smiled.
"That dress is…" he swallowed, "I've never seen you in red."
"I told you, I don't usually wear it, I'm not sure it suits my colouring. You think I should change it?"
"It looks… You're stunning."
"Flatterer," she bent to pick his cufflink up from the floor. "Let me help you with this."
He held his arm out, keeping his eyes on her face as she fixed his shirt sleeve for him.
"Stop staring," she whispered.
"Can't help it," he whispered in return. "Are you going out with me tonight?"
"I believe so. There all done." She patted his arms, moved her hands to straighten his collar, "I like this colour on you. Very smart, and the open collar." She felt his arms slide up her back, just gently grazing over her hips, then up the curve of her spine. "Charles…"
"Mmm," he was nudging her hair with his nose, kissing her forehead.
"I've done my makeup."
"It looks wonderful," he managed before covering her mouth with his. He felt Elsie's hands slide over his shoulders, the pads of her fingers pressing into him. "Still looks wonderful," he added when their lips parted, "perfect."
"Do be quiet," she kissed him again, drowning in the moment.
They'd found the restaurant during one of their many walks around the town. The fact they could dine outdoors was alluring and, for their final night there, Elsie had bravely opted for the red dress. The dress that Charles now couldn't keep his eyes off as they walked through the square and the throngs of tourists.
"I'm glad we got a taxi, I couldn't have walked the entire distance in these shoes." Elsie said, her heels clattering on the stones.
"Do you know; I feel a little melancholy."
"Because it's our last night?"
"Yes, it's gone too quickly. I like being outside of reality."
"Don't we all. No point worrying about it, let's just get drunk and dance the night away."
"Er, nobody said anything about dancing."
"We're eating at an outdoor restaurant in a square packed with music and entertainment, and I'm wearing the red dress, so we're dancing!"
"Outside though. People will see me."
Elsie laughed, "Nobody knows you. Time to loosen up Mr. Carson."
"Oh I think you've done plenty of 'loosening' already." He caught hold of her hand, "Somebody to blame for that."
"Mm," she leant into his side, "Let's share Paella, and an expensive bottle of wine."
"And split the bill, I know."
"How very in tune we are. You did ask for a table outside?"
"Of course."
Charles watched as she moved ahead of him and into the entrance, giving their names, her shawl slipping from her shoulders. She was brown and looked healthy and invigorated. He still felt so tired, he couldn't quite work out why. The heat, it was possibly that, maybe his body had had enough of it. And the walking, they'd walked plenty this week. And the work of course, he hadn't committed to such a long term project in years. And the sex, they'd been having lots and lots of that too – not that he at all minded that fact.
"Darling?" Elsie said gently and he looked up to realise she had already gone to their table and he was still standing in the entrance staring at the floor like a fool.
"Sorry, daydreaming," he smiled ruefully and joined her.
"Ooh, let's have the prawns to start," Elsie said before even opening her menu. "Like on our first date."
"Gambas al ajillo," Charles said brightly, his accent perfect.
"Yes, if we both have them then neither of us can complain about the garlic."
"Very true." He lifted his hand, fiddled with his shirt collar, "Do you think we might get some water."
"You're hot?" She looked up at him, slipping off her glasses, concern already creeping in.
"Mm, yes. Wish I'd forgone the jacket," he said as he hung it from the back of his chair.
"I did say."
"I know, I know. You know best."
She ignored the off-hand comment and waved towards the waiter, "Do you think we might get a jug of iced water?"
"Of course, madam."
"Thank you."
Charles sat back in his chair, stretching his legs out, "Thanks. He'll be quicker as you asked. Gave him that smile."
Breathing deeply, Elsie folded her menu, leant forward a little and danced her fingers across the back of his hand, "Now, if you're going to slip into the man-mood zone we might as well go back to our accommodation and just pack."
"No. No, I'm sorry, just sick of feeling so lethargic."
"Well, it'll be cooler in England in about twenty-four hours."
"True." He squeezed her hand, smiling, "Sorry."
The water arrived and Charles took a long drink as Elsie placed their order. He felt somewhat better as he chomped on a piece of ice and turned his attention to events in the square. Some sort of acrobatic thing taking place, three men playing acoustic guitars, a fire-eater – now he liked that, that did entertain him, he even clapped and threw money into the young man's hat as he'd walked the circuit afterward.
After they'd eaten, when the hour was getting late, he'd shifted his chair round next to hers and they'd watched the professionals dance. Elsie had sat forward, engrossed in their movements, clapping her hands in time with the others filling the square.
The atmosphere was tangible, and he felt grateful to be there, grateful to be alive and actually living life rather than watching it pass him by. Charles Carson, always a bystander to the events going on in everyone else's life, an audience member. But perhaps not now.
She gasped in excitement and he turned his attention to her face.
"Oh wasn't she wonderful," she enthused. "The way she moved, the rhythm."
"You can move your hips like that."
She pouted, turning to look at him as she clapped, "I don't think so. I don't have much rhythm."
"Here's your chance to find out," he said, pointing as the dancers moved around the tables getting folks up from their chairs.
"What?"
"Go on, go do it."
She looked up as a hand was held out across their table towards her, "Madam?"
The gentleman in question was shorter than Charles but bulky, with thick black hair and olive skin. His eyes as dark as night.
"To dance?" the young man said, smiling and she felt her hand being held as she got up and out of her chair.
She glanced at a grinning Charles as she passed his chair and was led out to the square with the other amateurs.
When the music started, and the man gripped her body against his, she was overwhelmed by his cologne, and by the way he ground against her. There was nothing soft or gentle in these movements. She gasped as he spun her around, then felt him grab hold of her arms, directing her, whispering instructions about her foot movement.
Everything happened so quickly she didn't really have time to worry about how she looked or the mistakes she was making. She just went with it.
For his part, Charles felt, only momentarily but it was there, that tiniest tinge of jealousy at the sight of her with another man. He reflected that perhaps in the past this kind of handsome, flirtatious chap was the type she would've gone for. Especially on a holiday like this. One night of abandoned passion and then moving on the next day.
He wasn't jealous because of the man or the fear Elsie would do anything with him.
He was jealous of the fact the man could dance with her like that and he couldn't.
As the music reached its natural conclusion she was danced back over to him, spun around until she was dizzy and breathless and with no real idea where she was.
"Now you get your husband up, yes?"
"My what…?" She wobbled slightly as the man let go of her, stuck out her hand and found the table edge.
"Here, you get him to dance."
She turned her head to look at Charles, he shrugged at her, eyes innocent.
"Well, you fancy it… wife?"
She smirked, "I feel like a spinning top, about to drop."
"I'll catch you," he got to his feet, took her hand and led her a few steps away from the table edge.
The music was different now, more suited to slow dancing, and the square was full of couples holding onto each other. It felt good to be in his arms, to rest her head against his broad chest. Charles was so tall, so strong, sometimes she forgot that; he was always so gentle with her. Absolute tenderness with her.
"I can sway pretty well," he admitted, kissing her hair.
"I like it," she said, "this is even nicer than dancing like some wild thing with a stranger."
"You looked impressive."
"I have no idea what the hell we did. Or how I didn't fall over."
"The dress though, wow," he teased.
"Oh shut it," she looked up at him, "my feet hurt now."
"Want me to carry you home?"
"The entire way."
"Deal," he tilted his head down and kissed her. "Who said romance was dead?"
"They've clearly never been on holiday with you."
He chuckled, "You've enjoyed it then?"
"I have, you know I have. Every minute of it."
"Me too." He cradled her to him again, enveloping her slight frame in his arms. "Me too."
Elise's mouth was on his shoulders, kissing, suckling, tasting. Her wonderful, heavenly moans in his ears. He could feel her fingertips dancing over his back, up his neck, palms squeezing his shoulders. She shifted beneath him, one leg hooking around him, her other foot pushing away the sheets that draped over them. He felt the heel of her foot drag up the back of his leg.
She was so warm. Smelled so good, intoxicating, swirling around him, under his skin, through his veins.
There was a thudding in his brain, every pulse point on fire. His skin slick, legs like jelly, stomach swirling.
"Oh god," he groaned, hips stilling.
"Yes," she breathed, kissing his face, hands in his hair. "Don't stop, darling…"
"I need," he shifted his weight on her, felt his arms buckling.
"Are you –?"
"I just need a min…" he groaned again, dragging himself from her body and collapsing at the side of her.
Elsie shifted quickly onto her side, a hand hovering over his back. "Sweetheart?" Her heart was still pounding, there was still this intense heat and desire between her legs that she was doing her best to ignore. Her fingers touched his shoulder blade and he rolled over, flopping onto his back and sucking in a long breath.
"Sorry, just lost my breath."
"It's alright, I don't mind. Do you need anything?"
"No," he ran a hand through his hair, "Christ, embarrassed."
"Don't be. It's me, doesn't matter."
"Course it does, halfway through it and the old man cracks."
"Oh don't be silly," she kissed his mouth and down across chest before settling her head there. "Long as you're okay."
"Just need to rest. Must be the dancing," he suggested, an attempt at humour that fell a little flat.
For a while they were quiet, listening to the breeze outside, lifting the thin curtains that hung in the room, moving over their naked bodies that still lay curled together on top of the bedsheets.
"Back to reality," Charles suddenly said, his hand heavy on her lower back.
"Mm. Unfortunately. Thank you for inviting me, I had the most wonderful time, I told you that earlier didn't I?"
"You did, but I like hearing you say how 'wonderful' it's been."
She smiled, tipping her mouth forward to kiss his chest again.
"Have you heard from your family?" He felt her stiffen a little, shake her head.
"I'll call when I get home, see how he's doing." She sighed heavily, "I may have to go up there."
"I don't mind coming with you."
She laughed, a brittle sound that made her throat hurt.
"What's wrong with that?" Charles asked.
"My father's never met any of my men."
"Your men?" He said awkwardly and Elsie pulled back from him, laying on her back beside him.
"You know what I mean."
"Do I…?"
His raised eyebrows made her feel in the slightest judged but she pushed it away, dropped her legs over the side of the bed and got up, stretching her back. "I need the bathroom," she stated, getting to her feet. There was a slickness between her legs that reminded her only fifteen minutes since they'd been in the middle of making love.
Charles lay on his back staring towards the window, watching the rise and flutter of the thin curtain. How still it seemed tonight, oddly, despite the breeze. How quiet.
When she came back he kept his eyes on her face, watched as she scooped her hair up and tied it with a band and then got into bed beside him. On her back, eyes closed.
"Tell me about him," he suddenly said, and her eyes shot open.
"Who? My father?"
"The farmer."
"Oh god," she rolled onto her side away from him, the pale skin of her back a wall going up. "There's nothing to tell, you know it."
"I don't think I do," he moved deliberately behind her, pressing a hand to her hip. "What was his name again?"
"Geoff," she said grudgingly.
"And, do you ever see him? When you visit, I mean."
"Not especially."
"Your father, though, is he still friendly with the man?"
"Of a fashion. Why do you need to know this? Why are you asking now?"
He would've shrugged but it was dark and she wasn't facing him anyhow. "I'm not sure, just seemed the moment to ask."
She huffed and he squeezed her hip, "I'm not being…"
"What? Nosey? Judgemental?"
"None of that. I care. I want to understand."
She felt guilty then for being snappy, she closed her eyes again, felt his hand soft and warm on her skin, his breath on her neck.
"I told you, I thought I was in love. I was in love, the wrong kind perhaps, but I was, deeply."
"Yes."
"You know… oh god, such a cliché, of course it was sex for him, of course. Flattering to have some young girl showing you attention."
"But he could've walked away, behaved…better, shall we say."
"Perhaps. Maybe, I don't know. It's a mess. Always was. You know, one night… We used to have these parties, Christmas time, Dad liked to show off a bit I guess, so he'd invite the neighbours and we'd have a table piled high with food and there'd be drink and music. It was always fun and sometimes there was too much alcohol consumed and people would end up sleeping in the spare rooms or sprawled on the sofas."
"Yes," he said it so softly it was barely a word.
"My room was in the attic; Dad had converted it for me years since so I had this larger space. It was nice, it was almost private."
"You said before he adored you."
"Did I?"
"I think so. Clearly he did."
She was silent again then and he wished he hadn't spoken. But he waited patiently, his hand sliding forward to her stomach, drawing her body back against his.
"I woke in the early hours because he was kneeling on my bed."
"The farmer?"
"Mm, we'd been seeing each other for months by then and he'd crept up to my room whilst the others were passed out. Told me to be quiet, and then we were naked and having sex in my bed, with my family downstairs. And do you know what's the most awful thing about it? It was so exciting, so thrilling. Nothing ever like it. I never thought of the consequences, of the people I was hurting by doing it. So selfish. So deluded."
"You were still too young, I think."
"Maybe."
"Do you not, do you not ever think this man was…"
"What?"
"Well certainly he made questionable moral choices but somehow, was there something else? I don't know, I don't know what I'm suggesting."
Elsie shifted from the edge of the bed and Charles moved backwards as she lay on her back beside him. He could see her face better now, realised it was shining with tears and he felt so very protective of her.
"Sorry I brought this up."
"No, I understand why you did, why you want to know. I get it." She suddenly gasped as her throat tightened and tears rushed down her face. "I still feel so guilty, you know."
He reached to hold her and she turned into him, his arms trying to gather her, hold her as she wept.
"I feel like I carry this around, this weight, always here," she touched her chest. "And I miss him so much, all these years."
"Your father?"
She nodded, "He hates me. Hardly speaks to me, it's like I don't exist and I loved him so much, I do. And I can't ever get that back."
"That might not be true," he brushed her hair back from her face.
"It's been years. Too many years. I've lived more of my life alone than with a family." She was calmer now, snuffling, but calmer. "I let him down, disgraced him. He was so ashamed and then I left and the rest…" she shrugged.
"If you'd stayed, you think things would've been different?"
"I don't know, I'm not sure if I made it worse by going. Maybe he felt abandoned, I certainly did."
"I'm sorry."
"You didn't do it."
"No, but I'm sorry for you, I'm sorry you're still so affected by it."
"It's just hard, seeing him is hard. And Becky too, she doesn't know me so it always takes a couple of days for her to loosen up, to be comfortable around me. And then she's fine and we're fine and it's so wonderful to be with her again, to feel her joy at having me there. And then I leave and she's in floods of tears. It would be awkward, you see, having you there too. For her. For my father. And – well, I'm not sure I'm quite ready to let you see it, let you into all that mess."
"You don't have to hide anything from me. My love isn't dependent on just 'the good bits of Elsie.' I want the complete person."
"I know that," she slid her hand up his arm, "This is by no means a reflection on you. This is me. All me."
He nodded, "Well, the offer is there. You know I'll come with you."
"Thank you. I do appreciate knowing it."
He kissed her forehead, drew her body back against his. "It's very late."
"Mm, are you feeling better?"
"Yes, my pulse had slowed for one thing."
"Good, I'm sorry for becoming faintly hysterical."
He smiled, "No, you weren't."
He kissed her head and no more was said, each lost in their own reflections.
How odd life could be, how painful, how sharp. And then there was this – stillness, gentle. A heartbeat soothing you to sleep. Hands on bodies. Fingertips ghosting over silky skin.
Friday 5th August
Morning came late. And there was sunlight on the bed and glassy rainbow patterns on the white walls. Quiet and soft it crept in and the couple in the bed awoke lazily.
There was endless kissing too. Streams of it, ribbons of affection tying them together. No other way to show it but through kissing, and holding the other.
It was Charles who groaned first, pulling back slightly from it, stroking his hand through her hair, loose now, hanging from the band she'd scooped it up with.
"I don't want to go," he said.
Elsie blinked, wiped her eyes before settling her head next to his on the pillow, facing each other. "What time do we need to be at the airport?"
"Around two I think. We've got plenty of time."
"My car's parked at the other end, I can drive us home."
He allowed himself a satisfied smile, "Home?"
"I keep saying that, don't I."
"You do. It'll be useful, dropping me off."
"Oh, you're going to your place," she said quickly, without thinking.
"I've been away a long time, plants to water."
"Of course, I know, I…" she shook her head, felt slightly foolish about herself. "You can just say you need some space now, that's fine, we have been together every second over the past week."
"That wasn't at all what I meant."
She bit her lip, slid her hand over his side, "It'll be odd, going to bed without you."
"I know. I feel that too."
"You do?"
"Of course, I'm not heartless."
"Far from it," she kissed him again, nudged her knee between his legs.
"Drop me off to water my plants, empty my suitcase and check my mail. Then I'll come over later, I can pick something up for dinner."
"You're sure?"
"Unless I'll be in the way. I can imagine you'll get in and revert back to work mode after two weeks away."
"I might," she smiled, "but I'll stop when you turn up with food."
"See, I have my uses."
"Lots of them. You feel okay this morning?"
"Very much refreshed."
"Good. I must admit, I feel slightly silly. Embarrassed about last night."
"Because of what you told me? You mustn't feel that. I told you last night, I thought I made it clear, this is a warts and all type of relationship. Always will be."
"Always?" her voice wavered slightly, "Is this a 'future' thing again?"
"You really don't like that do you?" He smiled, "What's wrong with just thinking it? I know I want to spend the rest of my life exploring this with you. Learning about who we are together. I can't envision for a moment not wanting that."
"It's a long time, who knows what will happen, how we'll behave, what might change."
"You don't feel the same then?"
She knew he didn't believe that, he was teasing, playing Devil's Advocate. "You know I do," she said gently. A tenderness to her voice she was unaccustomed to. "I'm just saying, we don't know what might happen in the next few years."
He gathered her in his arms, "Well, you aren't moving to Scotland, I know that."
"Oh?"
"I'm not letting you go, not without me, anyhow."
"Charles."
"It's not up for discussion." His voice altered and his tone became more serious. "I've meant every word this week, Elsie, this is not some holiday fuelled confession that'll change when the sun's gone in. I'm in this now, with you, whatever happens." He glanced down at her, frowning, "Are you crying?"
"No," she hastily wiped at her face, smiling through her tears.
"I've upset you?"
"Far from it." She snuffled, admonishing herself. "I just, you see I've always been alone. Always. I'm used to it. Whatever happens I rely on me. I know I've got good friends, Izzy and Beryl are wonderful, but they have their own families, their own lives. When all is said and done I've always been alone. And I've found ways to deal with that."
"You're not alone now."
"No, and hearing you say that, knowing I have someone who's on my side…"
Surprisingly Charles felt his own eyes fill with moisture, "Your side is the best side, that's why." He said flippantly, slightly uncomfortable with his own outpouring of emotion.
"I'm not sure about that, most of the time I can be so difficult and everything can be so complicated."
"Perhaps. But we'll make it work. No leaving me, no moving to Scotland."
"I don't know how I'm going to deal with that when the time comes."
"Don't worry about it now," he kissed her forehead, tilted his head down and their mouths found each other. "I love you so very much, Elsie."
"I know; I can't believe…" she shook her head.
"What?"
"It's sad to say how happy I am; how happy you've made me."
"I feel the same. Nothing sad about it."
She pressed herself against him, "I love you too."
The earlier kissing, born of gentle affection and sweet tenderness, progressed now to something deeper. His hand drawing her leg up over his hip, readjusting themselves, finding the right position until she gasped and he shuddered as their bodies joined.
The sunlight dancing across their skin as they moved. Slowly, deeply. Whispered words, breathless confessions. The building pressure between them, the absolute pleasure they could give the other.
Many months ago she'd wondered where this would go; she'd always been such a physical person, a sexual person, and that was fine, she'd accepted that particular personality trait a long time ago. But she'd wondered, with him, it was so different – he was – to the others she'd been with. She'd wondered how their sex life would go, predictable, safe. And now there was this wondrous union between them that was more to do with their love than the mechanics of sex.
Hearing him speak of his love for her whilst actually making love was a sensation she never expected to revel in. Yet here she was, overwhelmed by it.
His mouth was on her neck when she heard the door to the cottage open. And she'd grasped tightly at his shoulder and he'd moaned something as he thrust inside her again.
"Charles, Charles."
"Yes, I know, I can feel…"
" –There's someone in the house."
He jerked back from her, disorientated, yanked from his pleasure so abruptly. But her eyes were wide, face pale, and he almost fell backwards out of the bed.
"Stay there," he'd instructed, voice clouded with emotion.
She'd snatched the bedsheets up to her body, and nervously watched him stumble naked down the hall. Ears strained she heard patches of speech, his voice, a warning and then a woman screaming and a slammed door.
Falling onto her back she giggled, knees bent, arms above her head as she laughed.
"Well, that was bloody embarrassing," he said as he re-entered the bedroom. "It's not funny, I don't know why you're giggling."
"I'm sorry."
"Maid, come to clean thought we'd have left."
"Oh dear, get quite a shock did she?"
"If it's not bad enough I'm naked, there I am with this… probably thought I was going to attack her."
She glanced down his body, between his legs as he crept back into bed.
"Bloody hell," he said again.
"Oh sweetheart," she crawled over, kissing him, "it'll recover, won't it." Her hand wandered down over his belly.
"I might not, in the middle of… and her husband will probably be turning up in a minute to thump me."
"I won't let him."
"Right in the middle…" he said again, exasperated.
"I know; I was so very close."
"I could tell that, and that doesn't help at this precise moment Elsie."
"Okay," she smirked, "Sorry."
"Scaring the maid! What about my reputation?"
Elsie laughed so hard she fell onto her back, her stomach shaking with the effort of her giggles. Just when she thought it had subsided it started up again, laughter that shook her entire body and left her feeling exhausted.
"It's not so funny."
"I know," she gasped, "I'm sorry I just…" she burst into a fit of giggles again and this time he joined her because there was something oddly intoxicating about Elsie Hughes laughing uncontrollably.
As they laughed together he felt free, calm, and so suffused with joy it was immeasurable. Whatever the future had in store, she was his home now.
Sorry for the delay with this. Basically I've got about 4 writing projects going on at the moment and I do this for free so unfortunately it's been pushed down my list. I will try to update as and when I can but I've tried to at least leave this in a nice place for if I don't get to all the ideas I had for them.
Thanks for all the reviews and support with it. x