A/N: Well, this hiatus has been almost as long as the gap between DA seasons. Thank you everyone who has reviewed, PM'd and commented to me the last few months. You can't imagine how much that has helped me get back to this and I am honestly blown away by how many of you are still loving this little world after all this time! I can only apologise for keeping you guys waiting so long. There was work and then my muse died off about the same time. However, I always said this one would get finished. So I'm back with the next chapter (which incidently is the first chapter to the second part of this fic) and I hope that those of you still interested in this little story enjoy it. During my re-read I picked up a few of the plot threads I'd sort of let fade away, so this chapter starts to bring those back in again. There's little mention of Charles in this chapter (sorry), but that'll be made up for next chapter. It just didn't feel right to shove them together in this one. Not when we all know Charles would have been avoiding her while his mind sorts everything out. For those that need it, a very very brief recap is below.

We left off with Charles having finally started to work out that perhaps he feels more than friendship for Elsie and has done for more years than he can bear to count, whilst Elsie had begun to work at moving on from her 'hopeless' love of Charles by allowing herself to be set up on dates, some possible skydiving trips and enjoying the friendship she shares with our favourite History professor. In the meantime; Beryl has finally accepted Bill Mason's hand in marriage, the wedding booked in for two weeks away, and our old boobies are set for their annual birthday non-date of dinner and a show. We pick up with Elsie, the day we left off with Charles. Elsie of course, has no idea what her casual smile earlier set off (and likely won't for some time).

Enough from me, onto the story:

In which the author comes back from an unexpected hiatus, Elsie might lying to herself but there are lemon flapjacks, strippers and Tom Branson to keep her mind off it.

Part Two

Chapter Thirty-Eight

"Professor? Do you have a minute?"

It would, Elsie thinks jumping in her seat at Tom's voice, have been easier all round if she'd just waited until she got home to do this.

Clicking the window closed for the third time this afternoon, she smiles, waving him over to the chairs and slowly lowering the laptop's lid. She hopes she's giving off the impression of a professor who has been avidly researching for an article and not one that's spent most of her office hours distracted by various male stripper sites.

In her defence; Daisy and William have a habit of borrowing her iPad and she'd rather they not stumble across this in her internet history; she's having enough trouble with them over that E-Harmony thing - she should have known better than to let her curiosity take hold there. Her work laptop seems a somewhat safer bet this time, even if it's giving her heart a bit of a workout every time someone walks past her door today. Besides, she's hitting dead-end after dead-and-buried end on the article front anyway.

"How can I help you Tom?"

She waits until the young man has settled into a chair before moving her own a little closer. She only saw him the other day and she can't think why he might be showing back up here so soon; unless it's to do with that chat last week and a certain young Crawley.

Fingers picking at a loose thread on the chair arm, he grins at her and Elsie's certain now that this has nothing to do with his coursework.

"I take it you've spoken to Miss Crawley then?" She says, just to get the ball rolling. She really hopes Charles is right about this being a phase, because she's sure it's all going to come back to bite her if not.

Tom's smile spreads a little wider; his eyes lighting up and he looks so much like a little boy at Christmas that her heart falls. Of all the times for Charles to be wrong.

-x-x-x-x-

"For goodness sake woman, it's not that funny!"

"It really is." Beryl manages between snickers. "You'd think so too if it weren't happening to you."

"And yet it is, so will you please stop." She says with a slap to her friend's arm.

Beryl quiets, plucking a bite size, low fat flapjack up from the open pot between them. A gift she'd said when she turned up, to keep Elsie from any more microwave cake disasters. Elsie's not really sure it counts as comfort food if it's good for you, but the smothering of lemon curd on top is her favourite so she supposes she can make an exception. Besides which; she's been rather hesitant to do much more than plug in the new microwave anyway, at least until she's finished reading up on all the settings.

"So he's really asked her out then?" Elsie nods, because she's already confirmed that twice now. "Good on 'im."

"No it's not! Beryl, she's three years younger than Tom." After a moment's hesitation, she takes another flapjack herself.

"So? Three years is nothing; Bill's got almost eight on me, you know." Beryl pauses, licking sticky lemon curd off her fingers. "And Charlie's what, ten years older than you?"

"Something like that." She hedges automatically, then frowns. "It's different for them. How'd you feel if it were Daisy bringing home some college lad?" She nods at the glare Beryl gives her. "Exactly."

"That's different. Daisy's still a child, Sybil's nearly eighteen and she's been making cow-eyes at that boy for months. It's a miracle they've taken this long to get around to it."

Elsie smacks Beryl's hand away from the pot when she reaches in again, snapping the lid in place and getting up to put the shamefully few remaining pieces away before they finish the lot of them between them.

"If you're such a supporter, what on earth do you find so funny?" She calls back from the kitchen, checking the time before flicking on the kettle; it's a bit late for coffee now and she's had about enough wine for the evening but she's never known Beryl to say no to tea.

"You said Tom was asking for advice." Beryl says from right behind Elsie's shoulder, making her jump, the mugs in her hand clanking together.

"Good lord." She mutters, settling the mugs down. She's not sure how many more scares she can take today.

Beryl ignores her, shifting out of the way when Elsie pushes at her to get to the fridge. "I think it's funny, is all. A young boy like Tom Branson, coming to you of all people for that kind of advice."

"Well, he's got no one else, I suppose." She pours milk into their mugs, a little less in hers than Beryl's.

"Still though, you." Beryl leans back against the counter, lips pulled up in a smirk.

"Mmm, well I'm sure news about my dating has got round the students by now, thanks to you." Elsie points out, dropping two tea bags in the teapot just as the kettle clicks off, the water boiled.

Beryl snorts. "One passionless date in fifteen years. If the lad takes after you, you've nothing to worry about."

Hands full with pouring the water Elsie narrows her eyes, she rather regrets telling Beryl so much about that evening now. "Just you wait 'til it's Daisy," she warns "we'll see if it's all so funny then."

Beryl just shakes her head, fitting the lid on the teapot. "Well, so long as it's not you introducing anyone to her; you don't want Crawley and Bill after your neck."

It doesn't bear thinking about.

Returning the milk to the fridge she tenses as Beryl clears her throat, sensing a change in topic.

"So, have you picked out a stripper yet or are you still phaffing about deciding? There's only a week or so to go, you know."

"I know." She says, picking her iPad off the side and handing it over to Beryl, resigning herself to having to delete her history after all. "Go on then. You might as well pick the one you want." It's only at Beryl's insistence that she's booking one anyway so it was never going to be much of a surprise.

Although she is rather looking forward to the look on Charles's face when she tells him-

"Good grief, you seen the muscles on this one?"

-that'll make the next hour or so all worth it.

She pours the tea and nudges Beryl back to the living room with her elbow, a mug in each hand.

She'll tell him tomorrow over dinner, give them both a bit of a laugh.

As she settles back onto the sofa there's a little voice in the back of her mind that wants to think about tomorrow, about the trip to the theatre and dinner they've got planned. That wants to consider what to wear and how the evening will go; whether this time it'll be different than all the others.

Taking a sip of too hot tea she pushes the voice away, leaning over to peer at the photos Beryl's zooming in on.

That voice is the old Elsie talking. Now she's just looking forward to spending some time with her friend. That's all.

"What about him?" She taps at the screen when Beryl finally zooms back out.

"Bit old ain't he?"

"We're no spring chickens ourselves, you know." Elsie laughs, but doesn't argue when Beryl clicks on the next picture, the blonde man looking like he's barely out of short trousers, posing topless against a motorbike.

Maybe she'll wear the blue dress tomorrow; Charles has always seemed to like that one she thinks and then promptly takes another scalding sip of tea to shut herself up.

Key:

E-Harmony - Dating website. (She hasn't signed up yet, but she does like to do her research)

get the ball rolling - Get the conversation moving on, getting to the point of it a bit quicker.

lemon curd - Yummy lemon-y goodness that if you like lemon tarts and you haven't already you really must try. The Savoy serve it with their scones as an alternative to clotted cream and jam because it's so good. ;)

cow-eyes - big pleading eyes, basically meaning someone's been looking at someone else like they'd really really like to get to know them better...

phaffing - messing about, hesitating.

no spring chickens - not exactly young anymore.

barely out of short trousers - reference to the fact that when they're little, boys wear shorts, or trousers that only go down to their knees, this is/was especially prevalent in school uniforms. As they get older, they switch to wearing full length trousers. The stripper isn't actually young enough to have just switched out, but it's common hyperbole.

I'm getting back into it. I hope this was marginally worth the wait. Up next? Charles as he prepares for the non-date and tries to sort out his head and heart. Thank you to everyone that's sticking with me!