A/N: Sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter but as some of you know I have been poorly, NO not that, thank goodness, I have had a recurrence of a problem I have with severe Vertigo which means I can't move my head without being in the spin dryer cycle – anyway going now (hopefully) so getting back to normal – thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter (so long ago you're probably having trouble remembering) and hope that you enjoy reading this. As always special thanks to Flossy, she knows why!

You Don't Know What You've Got till It's gone

I'd forgotten just how bleeding cold upstairs is in that house once the heating's off for the night. Bloody place might be lovely and worth a fortune, well worth more money than I've ever dreamt of having in my entire life, but it seems Ted refuses to spend any of the shed-loads of cash it would need to keep all the hundred spare bedrooms warm at night. Well, not really a hundred but you know what I mean? Bloody place is big enough that they could open a B&B if they wanted. It could be like that Four in a Bed thing off the tele, although somehow can't see Etta being all warm and hostessy with people she thinks are common, can you? I could do that though couldn't I when I live here, because I don't care how people talk. I remember from before Charles laughing and telling me he was surprised his dad didn't dish out Kendall Mint cake to anyone who stayed to help them survive, that his mate Elvis used to say he needed it to make sure he didn't freeze his bollocks off. I did try it once, not frozen bollocks, obviously, but Mint Cake but got to admit that even though I like sweets, well, you know that, it's not for me. It's not really very sweet and it's not that it's horrible or anything but it was a bit like eating something pretty tasteless apart from being like a mouthful of Colgate.

We hadn't actually talked about the house since we got back together, not once, we hadn't talked about his plans for it or anything, to be honest it all seemed a bit previous seeing as how he'd only get his hands on it after they've popped their clogs. Can't see him evicting them somehow. It still felt a bit weird knowing I'm going to live in it one day, like something out of some crappy Sunday afternoon film. Molly Dawes in her stately home. But that doesn't change the truth that getting ready for bed in that bedroom is like getting undressed in a sodding fridge. He's really going to have to spend some of the money he says he hasn't got to fix the fucking heating before I move in. Hey, what do you reckon are the chances of Mr Visa upping the credit limit on my card if I tell him I got prospects? Nah, perhaps not, I don't want to look like a bleeding gold digger, do I?

Tell you what though with it being so cold couldn't help thinking I'd wasted my bleeding time wearing that new stuff I bought for, well never mind about what is was for, but I'm beginning to think it's possibly jinxed. Maybe I should think about binning it? I'd been keeping it for best, it's a hell of a lot better than any of the rest of my stuff and not only would he like me in it but that wearing it would make me feel good. I'd read somewhere that knowing you're wearing your best stuff under your dress will give you confidence so it was a bit of a shame I'd forgotten that thermals would have been a better bet. Wearing beautiful sexy stuff was a complete fucking waste when I flaming well dived under the duvet with me teeth chattering. I was bloody shivering. To be fair he did say how much he liked them, well, that he loved them and loved me in them and that I looked gorgeous, but it was too bloody cold to think about any of the seducing stuff he'd obviously got in mind. But, you know what, it didn't really matter that much, because I might as well have been wearing my most grotty saggy knickers and the bra that's gone a funny colour in the wash because the underwear might be sexy and beautiful and all the bloody rest of it but I didn't feel a bit like I was. Not even the tiniest little bit.

Usually he's only got to smile at me and I'm practically having a heart attack in my knickers, but I just couldn't get this picture out of my head of him with those sexy black boxers of his clinging to his bum like they were as he smiled at her and told her he thought she looked gorgeous in her best bloody bra and knickers. I bet all of hers match. Every single one of them. And that they're all sexy. There were all these thoughts running round and round in my head about him and her and I couldn't shut up the little voice that was whispering that he'd probably done all the same bloody things in this room with her. I just couldn't help it, couldn't stop imagining him saying the same things when they were together as he'd said to me and laughing at the same stuff before they'd touched one another the same way we had. Because you know what, there's no fucking question in my head, no doubt at all that she had to have been there a lot, a lot more than I'd thought, because if she'd only ever stopped once or twice or even a few times and it was all before he was in Kenya, then Ted wouldn't know her, would he? The whole Amber thing was getting to me in a way it hadn't got to me when we were at home and I don't know why I couldn't shut it out of my brain. There was just something about being there in his room that meant I couldn't switch off from thinking about it. About her. And to be honest, thinking about how she'd become part of the family and got invited to stuff in a way that I never would. Not that I wanted to exactly, but it was me was his wife, not her and it didn't seem to mean anything.

I never get all irritable and impatient for him to well, bloody well get a move on and get on with it, do I? Not as a rule, well, except in a good way, but that was exactly what happened. I didn't actually have to break my promise not to fake anything, but I've got to say it was a pretty close-run thing and I know he knew just as well as I did that I wasn't as into it as I usually am. He kept asking if I wanted to stop, if I was okay, if I was too tired or something, but don't know why, I didn't take the easy way out, but I just kept on trying to switch off that fucking annoying little voice niggling away at me. And anyway, I couldn't get the words out to ask. I mean, maybe because I was bothered what he'd say, you know what he's like about telling the fucking truth. And it wasn't like I could just get up and walk away if he told me something that hurt, if it upset me, was it? I couldn't just flounce off and find somewhere else to sleep, not in that house, where the fuck would I even go? The whole thing ended up being a bit bloody half-hearted to say the least and the worst of that was that neither of us said anything about it afterwards. I suppose we were both just busy pretending nothing was wrong.

I woke up hours before it was time to get up, didn't I? Ended up just lying next to him in the dark listening to him making all these soft little snoring noises, something he only ever does when he's had a few. But it was just loud enough to bloody get on my nerves and when jabbed him with my elbow and told him to shut up he'd stop for a bit and then start again so that I ended up waiting for it. It'd never bothered me before, but I couldn't stop tossing and turning and most of all wishing we were at home. I tried to do that counting sheep thing people talk about, but how do you do it? I mean I had enough trouble remembering what a bloody sheep looks like, except for it being white and woolly, and anyway I was pretty sure that the woolly fuckers would most likely just tell me to stop being a prannet and wake him up and talk to him.

-OG-

Don't know what exactly he said to her about inviting Amber, I missed that bit, but soon as I appeared it all went dead quiet so it was just the three of us standing there not saying a word, and not looking at each other, no eye contact at all. Fucking awkward or what? Couldn't think of what to say. My brain seemed to have been wiped clean, have you ever suddenly thought that maybe you shouldn't have done something? That you might actually have made a mega fucking mistake but that you haven't got a scoobie of how-to re-wind. I mean you can't just go back can you? Normally I'd have gone and stood next to Charles for a bit of you know, a smile or something, anything, but I don't think he was actually any more pleased to see me than she was. He just looked into the space over my head and started to rock backwards and forwards on his heels, tucking his hands under his armpits in a move that was straight out of his "I'm the boss" handbook. And he wasn't the only one who wasn't exactly thrilled to bits to see me, was he? It was just I didn't expect her to be. But Charles being pissed at me was a whole different ball bag, and I hadn't really thought that was going to happen.

And there was no bleeding sign of Ted anywhere which was a total bummer because I'd been counting on him to be Team Molly. Couldn't ask where he was hiding himself though could I, not with the bleeding atmosphere in there. Maybe I should have stuck to what we'd said, but it had been more what he'd said, not me, or even we, but it obviously hadn't been the best idea I've ever had. The trouble was it'd felt more like he was dishing out an order and you know how good I am at following them, he'd told me it would best to let him handle it. But I'd really thought that was just he didn't think he could trust me to keep my gob shut. But he was wrong, wasn't he? I wasn't going to wade in and say stuff. Well, not unless I had to, it just didn't feel right to me being stuck in another room waiting out and not being able to hear what was being said about me, because if anyone's got anything at all to say, then they could bloody well say it to my face. But that didn't mean I wanted to upset him and I could see how hard he was trying to force his lips to smile. Shit. I didn't care one little bit if Etta was upset at me being there, and it was obvious she couldn't give a rat's bum if I was upset either. All those little chats I'd had with myself about being nice and seeing things from her point of view and all the rest of it actually meant fuck all standing in her kitchen while she tried to pretend, I didn't exist. She was looking at melike she wasn't sure which rock I'd been hiding under before she turned back to carry on giving him hell about whatever they'd been arguing about before I got there.

Actually, I was beginning to hope they weren't still going to talk about me, for some reason I seem to be thinking better of wanting to hear it. Any of it at all.

"Tell me Charles, what about Sam? Have you even thought about him? Where exactly does he fit in with all this or have you forgotten that he's your son and should be your number one priority? … I can't believe you're serious … you're really not going to make time to see him at Christmas, not when I think of all the times I've listened to you complain about being away on tour and that you weren't going to be able to see him"

I don't think Etta was actually reading him right, I mean, watching them was like watching some car crash interview, she didn't seem to see the steam practically coming out of his ears. His face had closed up with no expression like when he said he didn't do emotional involvement. He was trying to look like he didn't care what she was saying.

"Thank you, Mum …" He didn't even sound like he was being sarky, but I knew he bloody well was "You're right, of course you are … Sam is indeed my son … and thank you for reminding me where my priorities lie"

Even though he still sounded polite, I could tell, even if she couldn't, that he was absolutely fucking furious at what she'd said. I knew he was probably counting to ten in his head as he tried to hold onto his temper.

"Sam and Rebecca will be going to her parents for Christmas this year … And just in case you've forgotten, Bill and Wendy are his grandparents as much as you and dad … you are not the only ones who want to see him" He took a very deep breath "Molly and I will be home in time for New Year and Sam will spend it with us"

Lovely. Home from where? I mean it's good we're apparently going to see Sam, well that's what he said and obviously Charles will like that and it'll be a chance for me to get to know him now he's older, which I probably should do, but, well if it's true, and is not just something he's saying to shut her up. It's definitely the first I'd heard of it. But Charles wouldn't lie to his mum, would he? If he's really making all these plans about Christmas then he hasn't told me, actually, it's the first I've heard of any of it, I just hope he hasn't forgotten my job is not that different to being in the army. I have to ask to get time off. Got no idea what usually happens in the holidays, hadn't even thought about it, but I'm not necessarily getting any time off at all, might have to go somewhere, or be in the office answering the bleeding phones or something. Someone's got to. It doesn't seem very likely that people needing rescuing will be told they got to wait out till after Christmas because of us being short staffed because of Christmas, does it? Actually, I think we might be dead busy. Lots of people go skiing or go and sit on a beach somewhere hot or something and some of them are bound to get themselves in trouble, aren't they?

But you know something, that's the first time I've ever heard him get even a little bit snotty with her, seems she might possibly have overstepped when she said about him forgetting Sam was his son. Oh dear, what a shame. I'd say my heart bleeds for her, but I'd be lying.

"Will we see you at all, will you be spending any of the holiday at all here … with us?"

"Nope … sorry Mum, but I really don't think that's a good idea, do you?"

"I can't believe you're telling me you won't be on tour but we won't be seeing you … not at all … I mean, not you or our grandson, or …. "She flicked her eyes at me before looking back at him, seemed she was having a bit of trouble remembering my bloody name.

"Molly… my wife's name is Molly, Mum, as you know only too well" He was doing his "don't bloody mess with me, I'm the fucking boss" bit, the act that used to have 2 section shitting themselves "Indeed, that is precisely what I'm saying"

Shit, this was beyond fucking awkward. Have you ever really, really wished you'd stuck to the plan and let someone else get on with it? I'm not saying I hadn't still got this urge to punch her lights out for her, she couldn't have made it any more bleeding obvious how much she hates me, and I know how dumb it is, but I felt just like I used to feel when I'd really wanted to protect the lads. I didn't want him to be hurting. Told you it was ridiculous, didn't I? We're talking about Charles, my great big tough 6 foot something of solid muscle, the bloke with no soft side to him at all, except for with me, my husband who doesn't do emotion because he believes that way he won't get hurt, and all I wanted to do was stand in front of him and scream "leave him alone"

But you know, there was this tiny little bit of me that felt just a little bit sorry for her as well. How stupid am I? But she'd sounded so hurt, and there's no question she loves him, I know she loves both of them to bits, him and Sam, but it's just like Ted said, she hates not winning. It didn't matter what was going to happen she wasn't going to back down, silly cow was going cut off her nose to spite her bloody face as me Nan would say, because even I know what a big deal Christmas is for her. I remember Charles telling me when we were in Afghan, about how she loves to decorate to make the house magic, he'd told me I'd love it, but then I never got the chance to find out, did I? First year I was on tour and by the second we'd gone to shit.

But Christmas is a big deal for my mum as well, alright without all the fancy pricey poncey shit, but that isn't what Christmas is about, is it? Well not in my house it isn't and telling Mum we're off somewhere and won't see her means she'll likely kick off as well. It was one of the things she hated most about when I was in the army. Alright, maybe she won't throw a hissy, but she'll be hurt, and will pull one of her faces and then tell me it's okay and I'm not to worry because all she wants is for me to be happy. Which will make me feel even more thoroughly bloody shit. Think I might put off telling her anything until I'm sure he isn't just winding his mother up.

-OG-

"Do you want to tell me what that was all about?"

"What? What you on about?"

"Come on Molly, don't …." I didn't have to look at him to know he was pulling a face, probably frowning, which wasn't good "I thought we'd agreed … I thought you were going to wait out and let me get on with sorting it out"

"I did"

His eyebrows shot up again as he flicked a little sideways look at me before turning his gaze back on the road, he obviously didn't believe me, but then I was lying, wasn't I? And I'd sounded like a sulky school kid so I didn't blame him for pretending to be fascinated by the traffic. But he wasn't, we both knew he was actually doing the silent thing to force me to say something else, he's always been bloody good at that, hasn't he?

"I did … you bloody know I did, I waited out … well … I didn't say anything, did I?" Okay, I know, you don't have to tell me "I never meant to upset you, I just … well, I didn't … Umm … Are we really going away somewhere for Christmas? Where? Somewhere nice?"

"Nope, somewhere shit …" He gave this little snort of laughter as if he couldn't quite help himself and then shook his head "We'll talk about that later… after you stop trying to change the subject"

He was either totally fascinated by the number plate on the lorry in front of us or was really, really determined to keep on being pissed at me. It seemed he wasn't even going to look at me, lovely, perfect end to a perfect bloody weekend.

"You know Molly, we said no more secrets, remember that? I thought we'd agreed … so now I'd appreciate it if you'd do something for me and stop trying to pretend there's nothing wrong, just tell me" He took this great big gulpy breath and then let it out in a big whoosh, but I didn't know what to say. I wasn't even sure what exactly he was talking about and it's dead hard when someone's not looking at you to know, there's nothing to help you say the right thing. But I couldn't ask him to look at me could I, not unless I wanted us to end up in the back of that fucking lorry.

"What do you mean?" Yeah, alright it's calling buying time while you have a think about the right words, innit?

"Okay … have it your way, let's start with what the fuck all that was about last night?" He flicked a little glance in my direction, and stayed looking at me just long enough for me to see the frown on his face "And whatever you do, do not say nothing"

Oh fuck, not that I should be surprised the mood he was in or the way our day was going so far, but I really didn't want to talk about it, not without being bloody sure what I wanted to say. I'd known it was bound to come up sooner or later because I wasn't going to get lucky enough for it all to just go away, but just not in the car going home. I was tired and grotty and hadn't even had a proper wash, had only splashed my face and armpits and as you know I'm never at my best when I'm minging. And not while we were having a bit of a domestic, because there was more than a fighting chance that if we started on about all that, I'd end up bawling. And I didn't want to. I just wanted to get home and have a bath and wash my hair, and then catch up on some sleep before getting something nice to eat and having a few drinks, and then if we had to, we could perhaps have a chat about it. If we hadn't forgotten all about it by then. With a bit of luck. But not now when he was so obviously having a major sulk.

"Nothing … sorry, yeah I know, I heard you but please don't huff… it was all of it, wasn't it? … it was … pretty crap, the whole bloody thing … the party and that, and then being cold … I'm not talking about the sex, really I'm not, but there was … nothing wrong"

I know, I shouldn't have said that, should have just told him what had upset me, but there was nothing he could do to make it go away, he couldn't wipe her out of his history. And I didn't want to spend the whole fucking journey home talking about him and Ginger Fucking Barbie, did I? And I was beginning to feel a little bit better about her now we were out of that bloody house and away from Etta looking down her nose at me. A bit. I just wanted it all to go away.

"What did you say to her?"

"Who? My mother? What do you think I said? Well I certainly didn't give her any medals for the way she tried to make you feel welcome, did I?" He huffed to show he was still feeling a bit shitty, hopefully with the whole thing, with her and not with me "I told her she has to pack it in … that it's got to stop … not that it will make a scrap of fucking difference … I've said all the same things before and it hasn't sunk in … but what does worry me is that you didn't trust me to sort her out … do you want to tell me why that was?"

"Nah … that wasn't it … you're wrong … course it wasn't I don't trust you … it's not that" I do, don't I? Or I'm getting there "Why did you tell her we was going away for Christmas … just asking so I know?"

"What do you mean just so that you know, what are you talking about? Obviously because I thought you might enjoy a break somewhere … but whatever we're definitely not spending Christmas in Bath"

"Are you serious? Not about Bath, I know that, but that you want to go away? Where was you thinking?"

"Of course I'm serious … and it's up to you where, but you did say you'd like to go back to Abu Dhabi and I thought you'd enjoy spending a few days there over Christmas, well, that we both would … we could go to the hotel with the huge bed and room service"

"You mean it?"

"Yup"

"I'd bloody love to … well, long as I can get off work ... I'll have to ask … you know something, sometimes you're not that bad, are you?"

"What do you mean sometimes? And what does not that bad mean?"

"Stop fishing … it means sometimes you're almost the bleeding nuts, as husbands go of course"

He looked over at me and there was this big grin on his face, something that had been missing ever since we got out of bed as he risked running into the back of the lorry that was still in front of us. He turned back to watch where he was going, and began biting his lip as he tried not to smirk. It seems we might possibly be friends again.

"Did I just hear you pay me a compliment, Dawsey?"

"Nah … don't do compliments, you know that" His eyebrows shot up as he huffed "Alright maybe, might of … yeah, alright …I did… 'n you just called me Dawsey"

And then suddenly it was funny, don't exactly know what we were laughing at, maybe we were just laughing, you know, at nothing in particular but I was laughing hard enough to make me worry I was about to pee myself. Everything just felt like it was back to normal.

"'ang on …. they don't do Christmas in Abu Dhabi … they don't have lights and trees or Santa or anything?" I had this vague memory of chatting to one of the chambermaids and although I couldn't tell you exactly what she actually said, I just remember thinking it all sounded a bit shit. But that was when I was there on my own, got a feeling it'll be a whole different ball-bag being there with Charles.

"Molly …?

"What?"

He was pulling a face like he couldn't believe what I'd just said, mind you I couldn't either not when I remembered it's the same as in Afghan and a whole lot of the other places he's been, innit?

"No booze neither"

"Anyone would think you didn't want to go … I mean if you'd rather go somewhere else you only have to say, but no booze just means we'll be sober and I don't think that will matter, I'm sure we can find some way of enjoying ourselves"

"Course I wanna go … just wondered whether it would feel more Christmassy somewhere cold with snow"

"If that's what you want, your choice, we can go anywhere you like … but now stop that …"

He picked up my hand where my fingers seemed to have somehow found their way onto the top of his thigh, don't know how that happened exactly, it's just they do seem to have a mind of their own sometimes. But I could tell he was enjoying it until he picked my hand up and held it to his mouth and then kissed my knuckles slowly one by one before he grinned and gave it back to me. Like it was a parcel. Spoilsport.

"And you can stop looking at me like that as well because it's bloody distracting when I'm trying to get us home in one piece"

"Sorry"

"No, you're not … and don't be sorry, just hold onto those thoughts until we get home"

"What thoughts? Dunno what you're on about"

He didn't answer, didn't say anything, just shook his head and grinned.

-OG-