A/N - SURPRISE! The doggies are back! Friends, after the regular writing that filled MY Lunar Year of the Dog, I found myself confronted with different triggers that took my mind back to our favourite newlyweds. Like when, IRL, I met Finn, said a long-distance goodbye to Ernie, played with 16 week old Henry in his new (well-gated) home and saw book/ movie titles or other words I thought would be great YoTD chapter titles.
At the same time, I couldn't take on anything like YoTD again (as you've probably noticed by way of my other FF stories of 2019/2020). But it kept "gnawing" at me and I finally decided, well, maybe there's an alternative - checking in on YoTD Chelsie every year on their anniversary until it's the next YoTD and who knows what I'll be up for then, in another decade! So here goes, complete with a little spooning for Hogwarts Duo/ ChelsieCarson on Tumblr, until another Chelsie anniversary rolls around.
As it's been a year, and will be one more...a heavy T/ low M below. Enjoy!
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Tuesday, 4 February 2020
7:45 am
Elsie tiptoed back into the cottage's front bedroom, intent on not spilling her cuppa that she'd just poured a little too full in the kitchen. Hearing Charles' light snoring, she paid him no mind, continuing to focus on the rim of her mug. Only as she felt her bottom settle against the window bench did she look his way and clucked at the sight.
Whether he'd kicked his right foot out from under the duvet or she'd pulled the duvet in her direction during the night, she wasn't certain. What she was certain of was her darling husband of exactly one year this morning was lying on his back, mouth wide open, right arm above his tousled head, his left hand tucked in the front of his shorts. "Charlie!" She admonished as she shook her head and wrapped her legs up in the blanket she kept in the window.
Sunset watching was what they did together at South Bank Tower - when she was home for it - sunrises on the other hand had become her indulgent moments of mindfulness at the cottage. And she'd been taking in more of them in the weeks since Martha died.
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It had been a rocky ride over the last many months, months that had aged Elsie. Because they didn't bother him in the least, Charles never said anything, but he had noticed the appearance of a few grey hairs on her head, and elsewhere on her body.
Martha always had a way of meddling in Elsie's life it seemed and Martha's last hurrah began when she needed to be rushed to hospital the morning of last May's Moon Walk. Looking back on it now, it was the beginning of Martha's end. Elsie's mobile had buzzed - inside Charles' bra - that early morning when they were at mile 25.5. They hustled as best they could to the finish line, where Bill conveniently was waiting with Team Elsie hoodies, and went straight to hospital. Nearly six months later, Charles and Elsie cancelled their plans for another Scarborough weekend when Martha was admitted to hospice.
Whereas many hospice patients pass within a matter of hours or days, Martha had lingered for weeks, into early December. As it turns out, Charles was at Martha's bedside when she took her last breath, whilst Elsie had momentarily stepped out for a glass of water. It was as if Martha wanted to spare Elsie the exact memory, yet knew Charles would have the strength.
In those final months of Martha's life, Elsie had spent an inordinate amount of time with her, at Charles' insistence. She'd lost a few clients as a result but was intent on building up her counseling practice in 2020 and even was considering joining a group practice.
Martha had made her wishes for the future clear. No heroic lifesaving measures - this Elsie knew already - but also some requests for the Brighton cottage. Specifically, don't sell it - not just yet - enjoy it with Charles as she and Harold had. Spruce it up a bit, and plant a red fern out back and be ready to bury her ashes there. When Elsie explained there were laws against the burial of ashes outside a cemetery, Martha held firm explaining she would be at the cottage - Elsie could keep her on the mantle in the living room, or plant the damn fern and her.
They'd opted for the fern which Charles picked out and planted in the autumn. He dug in the sand once more when they returned in December.
One of the "sprucing up" cottage projects that had begun in late October. They'd hired the Bunting team in the summer already but had to wait for availability in their diary. Richard Ellis, one of Sarah's new hires, built a new surround and installed new pipes and fixtures for the outdoor shower before the weather turned too cold. Inside, Richard and his boss took out the cast iron tub entirely, replacing it with a rain shower that was more conducive to Charles' height. It had all been finished shortly before Christmas, affording them to spend the long weekend ahead of the holiday at the cottage with Becky.
Thankfully, as Martha's health had faded, Becky's actually improved - all things considered. Richard Clarkson speculated and Rose confirmed that it was because Becky was far less worried - if at all anymore - about Elsie's well-being after she'd married Charles.
Charles had continued to be especially thoughtful about including Becky in their plans. Yet that practice moving forward had been tested on Christmas morning at the cottage when an overly-excited Becky had barged into their front bedroom to share that Father Christmas did indeed know she'd be at the cottage overnight.
Becky never did figure out that it was Charles who ate Father Christmas's biscuits and the reindeers' carrots, but she would never forget the sight of him "eating" on Christmas morning, his face all but buried between Elsie's bare legs, his bare white arse perched atop the duvet. Elsie's one hand had held his head in place, whilst Elsie's teeth pinched her other index finger in an attempt to muffle increasing in frequency and volume sounds of her satisfaction.
It was Becky's scream, therefore, that had broken the lovers' moment before she backed as quickly as she could out of the room. Caught like a naughty schoolboy, Charles's head spun toward the door, his whiskers scratching the inside of Elsie's thigh in the process.
"Fuck, Charlie!" Was all Elsie could say or think as her centre throbbed and hips continued to buck reflexively whilst digging her heels into the mattress to scramble away from him.
As Elsie had clambered off the bed, grabbing her nightdress as she headed toward Becky's room, and slamming their door behind her, Charles's shoulders and face dropped as he cursed into the mattress, "Shit." And though Violet had always been one to stick beside Becky as she'd been trained, finding herself stuck in the room with Charles, she instead climbed up on the bed and lay beside him seeking a little love of her own.
Embarrassed, Charles had dressed and stayed hidden in their bedroom until Elsie returned sometime later having comforted Becky and explained a few things to her. When Elsie had returned, she found Charles seated on the bed, his right hand shaking and a somber expression on his face as he looked up. After shooing Violet out to return to Becky's side, Elsie had shut the door then sat down beside him leaning against his arm.
"Helluva Christmas morning, I'm afraid."
"Ach, give it a little time, and everything will be okay again," she assured him.
Charles seldom doubted Elsie but on that point he had. "Hmpf." After he kissed her temple he had added, "You said you didn't want anything for Christmas, but maybe a new lock set for your birthday would be a good idea?"
"No, I don't think we have to worry about her walking in on us ever again. I think she's going to announce herself here forward more loudly than a town crier." Elsie carded her hand through his hair then and pursed her lips making clear she wanted a kiss. "Happy Christmas, darling."
It had been a quiet remainder of the morning at the cottage and an even quieter drive to Robert and Cora's, Charles looking up every so often into the rear view mirror to catch Becky's eye, and quickly looking back at the road ahead. But as Elsie had predicted all was fine as the day wore on with all the distractions of Sybbie, Marigold, and of course the babies! They stayed one more night in Hampshire; with Becky (and Violet) having been invited to spend the night with the young lasses on air mattresses in Robert and Cora's library, Charles and Elsie and Rosamund stayed at Maggie's. It was an opportunity to see firsthand that Maggie too had aged.
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Elsie found herself thinking on Maggie as she stared through the cottage window as Charles began to stir.
"Good first anniversary morning, my beautiful Elsie," he rumbled.
She turned her head toward him and saw he was now on his side, his right arm and hand - the occasionally troublesome one - stretched in her direction. "Hello, handsome husband. Happy first anniversary to you as well, love."
"Come here, I have something for you," he beckoned.
She raised her eyebrows then, remembering where his left hand had been not five minutes before. "Is it in your hand?"
Charles quirked his brow and turned over his outstretched hand wondering what she was talking about. "No, it's here. He pat the edge of the bed as he scoot toward the centre to make room for her.
"Oh, okay," she smiled. She stood, placed her mug on Charles' bedside table avoiding his wristwatch, mobile, book and reading glasses and climbed in beside him as he raised the duvet for her.
"Happy anniversary, love."
"Happy anniversary, Charlie. I love you." Their lips met as Charles pulled Elsie closer to him and he deepened the kiss. When a moan exited her lips, Charles' lips left hers and traveled first to the tip of her nose and then to her forehead, placing kisses on both of them before he hummed his pleasure.
"God, one year already!"
"You aren't having second thoughts are you?"
"I'm having thoughts, alright."
"Oh, Charlie!" She swatted his chest.
"What's that for?!"
"Nothing, ye old booby! Because nothing is what you're going to get this morning, beyond a cuddle!"
"I'll settle for a cuddle - for the time being!"
"One track mind!"
"Oh, you should talk!" Elsie gave him a good stare down before they both burst into laughter and she turned in his arms, cradling his right forearm against her stomach, Charles spooning behind her as they watched the sun rise together as one.
2:30 pm
"Nonsense, I'm an old woman. I've seen a lot. I've seen enough."
"Maggie."
"For the last time, Charles, you need to be getting yourselves on the road. You've an anniversary booking tonight at Butler's Wharf Chophouse!"
"She's right, Charlie. We should be going."
"Alright then, but you take care."
"I shall, and Lucy will lend a hand. Be well my dears, and once again, happy anniversary!" Lucy was Lucy Bagshaw, the nurse's aide who had moved into one of Maggie's spare rooms shortly after the new year, after Maggie had fallen off a stool at Robert and Cora's New Year's Eve party courtesy their seven-month-old puppy, Pharoah, breaking her wrist.
"Charlie, I'll drive." He handed Elsie the keys as they climbed in the old Volvo wagon, headed home.
They were no sooner out of her driveway when Charles declared bluntly, "She's aged immensely since Christmas."
Elsie couldn't deny that yet she focused on the positive. "Yes, but we had a lovely visit today and she seemed to really enjoy it."
Charles felt his mobile buzz and pulled it from his trouser pocket. "It's the front desk. Hello, Charles Carson speaking." He could be so formal, Elsie thought. "Ah, well, can it wait? Mrs. Carson and I are a couple hours out." He listened. "A cake box? Well, yes, by all means, have them brought up so they aren't in your way. Thank you very much. Bye." He disconnected.
"We've a delivery?"
"Deliveries. One cake box, flowers and more flowers and then some."
"Ah, the top tier of the wedding cake. Beryl saved it for good luck."
"Won't it have freezer burn?"
"Don't be daft, I'm sure she wrapped it well."
5:20 pm
They returned to their flat on the 30th floor to find three floral bouquets, one succulent arrangement, two bottles of Margaux, one bottle of Veuve Clicquot, another of Sherry, and a note that said the cake box was in the refrigerator, all on the kitchen counter. Those were all from friends and members of the Grantham family and in addition to the handmade cards in the post from Marigold, Sybbie and Becky.
Elsie found the cake box and an envelope with Beryl's handwriting taped to the side. "Charlie, you best be jumping in the shower so we won't be late for our booking."
"Aren't you going to join me?"
"No, I'm going to call Becky."
"Okay, say hello."
"I will."
Elsie opened the envelope and read Beryl's note.
Happy anniversary, darlings! This has been frozen solid for 365 days - best let it rest at room temperature a couple hours if you hope to get any tonight! - xoxo Beryl and Bill (but mostly Beryl)
"That's a strange way to put it but yes, I'm sure Charlie will want some after dinner." Elsie moved the cake box onto the counter, filling the refrigerator void with the Champagne. She went to her purse with the intent of calling Becky and then thought about the cake more. "I'd better see what it looks like." If it did burn, they'd want to order pudding at the restaurant instead.
She sliced open the seal and lifted the lid, pleased to find the cake wrapped in a clear plastic bag, only there was something else in the box. Confused, Elsie reached in and pulled out a small, lightweight package wrapped in what appeared to be a blueprint. The outside said, "The traditional first anniversary gift is paper." Elsie knew that, Charles too. It's why they'd purchased for one another a rice paper lamp two weeks ago. They'd agreed it would go in the entry hall, near the Butler's Pantry, but also that they would not put it out until today.
Elsie proceeded to unwrap the blueprint only to find a short and sheer royal blue negligee inside. "Beryl!"
"Now what has she done?" It was Charles.
"I thought you were in the shower," Elsie turned around, hiding the negligee behind her back.
"Not yet. What're you hiding?"
She held the negligee out in front of her now. "This. From Beryl and Bill. Mostly Beryl."
He whistled, taking in the sight, imagining Elsie in the garment. "Thank you, Beryl."
"Uh-huh. And what have you behind your back?"
"This. Happy anniversary, Elsie." He held out a small box, one with the now-familiar Brounker Road Jewelers branding.
"Charlie, you shouldn't have."
"Oh, on that you're wrong, my love. I thought I'd best gift it to you before you decided what to wear to our dinner."
Elsie opened the box to find a sapphire and diamond tennis bracelet. "Oh, Charlie, it's absolutely beautiful."
"And it will look even more beautiful on your wrist. Some of the diamonds...they were Martha's. She insisted."
"Ah! I'd wondered what happened to them. She lied."
"She did, made sure I had them, and promised to 'create something magical' were her words."
Elsie shook her head in wonderment. "That it appears you did. Thank you, darling. Help me put it on?" He did so. "It will go wonderfully with my earrings and pendant."
"Mmm. That's what Mr. Fellowes said. And -"
"Let me guess. He wants me to model it for an advert."
"Ha! You're probably right. No, what I was going to say is, I say it will go wonderfully with your new negligee!" He leaned in for a searing kiss, not the last of the evening, for sure!