A/N: Thank you for all the support I've had for this story and for all the kind comments, I really appreciate every one, and for the time and trouble people have taken to leave reviews. I can't thank you enough. This is the last chapter, or as you will see it is actually the last two chapters in one, I decided to post the epilogues at the same time which has made it very long I know, but it was ready so … Enormous thanks go to Flossie for her invaluable support and for the suggestion of the name Amber for Ginger Barbie … IJ do hope you enjoy the last bit ….

Forever

"Well … say something will you?"

"Not sure what you want me to say … mmmm …come on Moll, open your eyes and look at me …"

"Can't … sorry … bit of a bugger all this, innit? And you don't need to tell me … before you say anything I know I should 'ave said … "

This wasn't quite the way it was supposed to happen, there were no bloody Disney blue birds twittering round my head and I wasn't looking at him all starry eyed and he wasn't staring at me all awestruck. Well, wouldn't know about that because I wasn't looking at him, didn't want to see if his expression was as bleeding horrified as mine. Hadn't meant to blurt it out like that, had been going to work out what I was going to say when he accused me of being sodding careless, which I had been, or worse if he thought I'd done it on purpose. But I hadn't even been going to think about kids till I was a lot older, at least 30 or something, still didn't mean I wasn't worried he might think I'd lied to him. Who's to say? He might even throw a hissy and walk off on me again. Well, nah, I didn't really believe that, I knew he wouldn't but still thought I should be prepared. You know, just in case. And fuck it, I'd been determined NOT to say sorry but the word seemed to have slipped out, have you ever tried telling someone something without saying it? It's a bloody sight harder than you'd think. I'd been focussing on not sounding pathetic and girly and on not saying it was all my fault, because it bloody wasn't, it was only half mine at most. And I can't even remember what I wanted to do before I had kids, I just remember thinking I wasn't ready, but things change, and maybe I got more in common with Amber and her sodding ticking time clock these days than I thought? But whatever, all the "if only's" and the "what if's" in the world weren't going to help, were they?

In case I haven't told you, this is another example of how good I am at fucking things up just when they start to go really well, ask my dad if you don't believe me, but got to say that even with my special talent this is a pretty spectacular own goal. It probably wouldn't have been quite so bad if I could have told myself I didn't know it could happen, that it was a pure accident, but can't even lie to myself like that, can I? It was my fault that I'd been in such a tearing bloody rush to get off to Abu Dhabi that I'd forgotten all about my pill till I was sitting at Heathrow, and it was too bloody late then. Can't blame anyone else, although to be fair it wasn't really that big a deal at the time, was it? I hadn't had a sex life for about 100 years, well at least three years anyway, and had no bleeding intention whatsoever of having sex with anyone in the near future, and definitely not without using something.

And then things didn't quite work the way I expected. Shouldn't have come as a surprise, should it? It's always a distinct possibility when you can't keep your hands off of someone and don't use anything, I mean, I do know that. Have known since I was about 12. And we'd spent every last minute in bed together that weekend, I've got no idea how many times we did it but all that mattered at the time was that I was happier than I had been for, well, for three years. I'd been completely lost in this little bubble of wanting nothing more than to be having sex with him, alright making love to him and I know I should have said something but he should have asked and he definitely didn't. Don't think so anyway. But I'd been so lost in it and in him that I probably wouldn't have been able to stop even if I had thought it through. Wouldn't have wanted to. And those Tigger moments hadn't exactly been encouraging him to stop either, had they? I'd missed it, had missed the way he makes me feel, missed all of it, all those feelings I thought had gone forever. Just not quite so bloody gung-ho about it all now though, am I?

I didn't know how I was going to manage if it did all go to shit, you know, with work 'n that, because they're not going to let me fly, are they? And what about afterwards? I really didn't want to have to go home to listen to my dad giving me the benefit of his considered opinion. Alright, maybe I do know Charles would never let that happen, he would never walk away and leave me to get on with it, he simply wouldn't do that. But that didn't stop me scaring myself half to bloody death at the thought of ending up having to live in some scuzzy tower block with no lift and no money, was panicking and imagining myself as some poor little orphan Annie off one of them Sunday afternoon things on the tele. What with that and shitting myself whether bloody Noel was going to conk out on me, it hadn't exactly been my best week ever, had it?

"Molly … look at me … please, I want you to look at me"

I had to open my eyes and look at him, didn't I? I mean didn't particularly want to but knew he wasn't going to shut up asking and wasn't going to say anything till I did and I couldn't keep on acting like a little kid. There was a bit of me wished I'd looked at him straight off because then I'd have seen the look on his face before he got a chance to hide behind that Captain mask of his, before he could pin a look on his face that said it was like hearing he'd won the fucking lottery. I couldn't help wondering what the fuck he found to smile at, if it was a real smile and not just something he was putting on for my benefit, you know, Charles doing his thing of trying to make me feel better? Mind you, if that's what he was doing, he might be going to have his work cut out a bit.

"Come on Moll … listen … I know you're probably right and that you should have told me, but I should have asked and I didn't … and anyway, we both know that even if I had known, it wouldn't have made a scrap of bloody difference … and … well, this is without doubt the best Christmas present you could ever have given me"

"What?"

"There's nothing that would make me happier … alright, maybe it is a bit soon and I'm not altogether sure it's what you want …"

"A bit soon? Course it bloody is … 'n nah, hadn't bargained on it but … s'pose it's bit late now to start worrying whether it's what I want … I dunno what I want"

"Indeed " He was bloody smirking "You know, until that day, things for me had gone back to how they used to be … once again I'd get up every morning hoping to see you, to have the chance to spend time with you and with a bit of luck talk to you … and you'd make me laugh like no-one else can, but … I thought … no I really believed I'd lost you … I thought we were actually going through with getting a divorce … and then, there you were … we were in bed together, both of us naked and holding one another … and I know you think I'm bloody Superman …" He actually started laughing, although I'm not sure what was funny.

"I do not"

"Yes, you do … but believe me, I don't have the kind of superhuman self-control you think I have where you're concerned … and right now I couldn't be happier … I look at you and see the girl I'll always want to come home to … you're my family Moll ... you're all I want"

"You're not just saying it?"

"Of course not … why do you sound as if you don't believe me?"

"I dunno … maybe I know what you're like, you've always been bloody good at knowing what the right thing is to say … and …"

"And nothing … and I haven't, far from it … but I have never lied to you, not once and I'm not going to start now, I mean it … mind you I'm not sure how the fuck you're ever going to top this as a Christmas present" I could see the grin on his face and suddenly had to grin back, not only because his smile is bloody catching, but because even though I knew I was being a bit of drama queen, I still couldn't help being almighty bloody relieved.

"Not gonna try … and it's not bloody Christmas yet"

"Feels like it"

I didn't want to spoil it by going on about how worried I was about my job and how I hadn't been working there anything like long enough to qualify for anything and about what might be going to happen when they wouldn't let me fly. Money for one thing. We, or rather he, had got all these bloody expenses, and even without spending a fucking fortune on Abu Dhabi, things were probably going to be dead tight. But nothing he could do about any of that was there?

"Forever …. is composed of … now's"

"What?"

"It's a poem"

"Oh … yeah … is it Dylan Thomas?"

"Nope …" He shook his head "Emily Dickinson, and it's a bit of a favourite of mine …"

"Oh …" I couldn't think of anything to say, I mean wasn't going to say I'd never bloody heard of her, was I? Or that I didn't understand what it meant, instead I made a mental note to Google it when I got the chance.

"You know your mum's gonna freak, don't you?"

"Oh yep" He shouted a laugh and then rolled over so that his head was on the pillow facing me and put his hand over to smooth my bird's nest back from my face with his thumb, or rather tried to "I love you so much Mrs James ... looking at you now it's so fucking hard to believe how quickly life can change"

"For the better I 'ope … and I know you do … love me I mean … well, you'd better had …" I was going to say 'ditto' but then remembered how I thought I didn't say the words enough, I don't know why I find saying them a bit embarrassing, I just do "Love you 'n all"

"I know you do" He sounded dead happy and was smirking all over his face as he gave this little laugh "And nothing could possibly be any better than this … now, is there anything else you want to say to me or have you finished talking?"

"Why?"

"Because I badly want to kiss you, and I don't want you to think I'm trying to shut you up"

"And are you?"

"Trying to shut you up? Of course"

"You really 'ad better not be" He picked up my hand and laced his fingers with mine before slowly kissing across my knuckles one by one looking at me the whole time. Then leaned over and started dropping little kisses all round my mouth, before shuffling me across the bed a bit until he was lying on top of me. He began to nibble gently on my bottom lip "Hey … is that you bloody showing off I can feel?"

"Might be …"

-OG-

"Take it easy …. Just be a bit careful, will you?"

"I am … 'n stop being an old woman"

"I'm not … but listen Dawsey, just so there's no mistake …" He shook his head "You might have to get used to it, I'm going to take care of you whether you bloody like it or not, it's my job to keep you safe"

"Is it? How you gonna do that?"

"No idea … but I'm going to keep you … alright both of you … safe if it fucking kills me, and at this rate it probably will … now stop arguing and come here …"

"I'm not arguing … 'n show me your hands first … not sure I trust you"

"That's cruel … and uncalled for"

"Nah it's not"

He was laughing all over his face and walking slowly backwards away from me, as he stuck both hands out in front of him and made a big deal of opening his fingers, to demonstrate he hadn't got a snowball ready to mush on me. But that didn't mean he couldn't scoop up another great big handful and chuck it at me when I got close. He was right, snow is bleeding cold when it gets down your neck. It had been coming down for most of the night by looks of it, it was really deep and everything was all quiet, like the snow was muffling any noise from the traffic, and even though it was just the odd flake fluttering down, it looked like it was going to start again any minute. The sky was this funny greyish yellow which Charles said meant we were going to get a whole load more which I thought was bloody brilliant, and the whole thing was nearly as good as I thought it was going to be. I'd been having a great time, although got to say it was a lot harder than I expected to make a handful of snow stick in a lump to use as a weapon to chuck at him. It stuck to my gloves in little icy clumps which kept falling apart and then melting so by the time I was ready to lob it at him there was nothing left to throw. He was finding it dead funny for some annoying bloody reason and I was buggered if I was going to give him the satisfaction of asking how it's done. And there was this icy cold wind stinging my face and giving me a full-on snot attack and hadn't got a tissue, so it was either having a bloody good sniff or wiping it on my glove, alright both. And have to say my feet were so fucking cold I couldn't swear my toes hadn't actually fallen off, not that I was going to admit that to him either, because I'd turned down his offer of extra socks, but there was no way he was going to win even if I had to stay out till I bloody froze to death. And okay I might be stubborn, but I wasn't going to tell him how hard it was to walk without slipping, I think I had the wrong boots, especially when I had to dodge the bleeding snowballs he was lobbing at me. But if I told him how cream crackered I was, it would give him another excuse to bloody well fuss.

"Had enough yet?" In spite of my suspicions he hadn't actually had anything in his hands, even though he put one behind his back and kept moving it out of my reach, teasing and trying to make it seem like he had. He was laughing his head off at me doing my best to get hold of his arm.

"Nah … why would I?"

"Come on, let's go in and drink hot chocolate in front of the fire … I'll give your cold feet a rub"

"How do you know me feet are cold? Might not be"

"Because mine are fucking freezing"

"Oh … well in that case … I s'pose we better had if you're finding it a bit taters out here, I mean it's probably a lot 'arder when you start getting on a bit …"

"Lovely … that's what you get for trying to be nice … You know Dawsey, that's something I've always loved about you… so fucking gracious"

"I know"

-OG-

Christmas was nearly how I'd expected. Although he was right and the snow had long gone so we were having a wet Christmas not a white one, but didn't matter. Not that much. When I was little, alright a bit younger, I used to have all these pictures in my head of what Christmas looks like when everything is all done up and covered in tinsel. Like in the adverts on tele or in magazines. Where there's fairy lights all round and lots of exciting looking parcels all wrapped up lovely waiting under a real tree, not plastic ones like the one Nan liberated from the pound shop. Well, think it was plastic but it might have been some sort of paper, but it was a shit bright green like no tree you've ever seen. Mum always said real ones were for other people, that she had enough to do without clearing up the bleeding mess but think that might have just been an excuse because she couldn't afford one. Poor mum.

Charles and me went to the Garden Centre for ours, and okay by the time we had it put up you could see it was a tiny bit lopsided, there were more branches one side than the other, and it was a bit on the big side so he'd had to cut the top off to get it in. But I thought it was lovely, it smelled well nice and actually most of the needles were still on it at Christmas. I might just possibly have got a little bit carried away, you know, gone slightly over the top on the decorating front but you can't have too many, can you? Well known fact. We did have a tiny bit of a domestic when he came in and saw it, I hadn't been able to make myself wait for us to do it together and the bugger had laughed and asked whether the tinsel fairy had thrown up on it. He then had to do some serious grovelling when I got a bit upset. Although actually, I knew he might have a point, but I was a bit all over the shop and I let rip, then got dead offended when he got all bleeding tolerant and kept muttering about hormones. I'd wanted to gouge his bloody eyes out with a rusty spoon, had screamed at him and accused him of believing everything he's read on the sodding internet, that he thought it made him an expert on being pregnant. Told him he was stupid if he couldn't see it was more about me not being allowed to have a proper drink.

Anything and everything with chocolate, even my top favourite things like Coco-Pops all smelled like they'd gone off and tasted like it 'n all, which put me off eating any of it and Christmas is all about pigging out on Quality Street, isn't it? Course it might be it'll turn out to be a good thing if it keeps on like this after, I'll be all slim again without any help from the likes of Popeye. Every cloud 'n that? I suppose I should be grateful not to be actually puking, I just felt dog tired all the bloody time, and a little bit shit as well as needing to wee every 15 seconds, but it could have been a lot worse.

We did Christmas dinner together and alright the turkey might have been slightly on the over-cooked side, I'd perhaps read too many warnings about how under-cooking made it sodding lethal and couldn't make up my mind whether it was still a bit pink. I'd wanted to blow torch it as well but he wouldn't let me, and the vegetables might have been a tad al dente, alright downright bloody raw, but the roast potatoes were spot on. But, as he kept reminding me, they were Aunt Bessies. Still doing it together made it okay, even the washing up, although he insisted we leave the pans 'soaking' and that he'd do them later which was bloody fine by me. Afterwards we lay on the sofa with my head in his lap as it got dark outside and I listened to him talking about Christmas's where he'd been deployed and from when he was a kid, he didn't mention the couple he'd spent at home when Sam was little, and can't help thinking that's a bit sad, although it might have been him being tactful and I might just possibly have dozed off a little bit once or twice. Not that I was bored with listening, I love listening to him talk, could listen all day, especially like then when I was happy and warm and comfortable and it was dead cosy with just the lights of the tree and the rain lashing down outside.

The only thing that was a bit of a worry was that I still hadn't told a soul, not Claire, not work and not my mum or Nan or any of them. Kept saying I knew it was too soon until Charles laughed and said people would notice on their own before I got round to it, which I actually think is a great idea. Then I wouldn't have to tell anyone anything. I don't think Charles is looking forward to telling Etta and Ted either, although he says he can't wait, and the same goes for telling the lads and everyone else that knows us, but think he's just saying that. We've agreed it's probably best not to say a dicky bird to Sam at New Year, it really is a bit soon and if we tell him then the whole lot of them will know just as soon as he gets home. You can't expect a kid his age to keep his mouth shut, can you?

-OG-

Telling people wasn't as shit as I expected, alright it definitely wasn't great with some of them, but it did make me feel a bit excited about it all as well. Made it seem real somehow. I told Claire first, used her as a sort of test run, which probably wasn't my best idea ever because instead of being happy for me or forcing herself to pretend she was, she couldn't hide that she was bloody appalled I was even thinking of going through with it. She kept trying to tell me that no matter how good the reunion, getting a bit carried away with being pleased to see someone didn't mean you had to live with the consequences of the reunion shag. It was all a bit hurtful because I thought she was my mate, but seems we don't have that much in common anymore, so haven't seen a lot of her since then.

Even though I'd been flapping my hand about and flashing my rings right left and centre, a bit like Amber with her bleeding trashy engagement ring, work quite simply didn't believe me when I said I was married. I mean, they believed I was pregnant, but not that I had a husband to go with the baby. Well, no-one actually came right out and called me a liar, not in so many words, but Kelli with a fucking 'i' kept pulling this 'oh yeah' face and raising her eyebrows and then rolling her eyes when she thought I wasn't watching. In the end I got tired of keep telling them and trying to get them to believe me and got Charles to come and meet me one afternoon which shut them all up I can tell you. Lots of eyes out on stalks when he came in and smiled that smile of his at them and then kissed my cheek, and after that every bugger wanted to know where he'd popped out from and had he got any brothers or even any mates.

I'm sure she meant well, but Kelli was a bloody great pain in the arse Diet Nazi. Not that I asked for her help, in fact I wanted to batter her every time she opened her trap and started lecturing me, but she made such a fucking fuss that it felt easier to sneak round and eat my Sour cream Pringles when she wasn't watching. She kept telling me they were so fucking bad for me they were almost poison, but the more she said it the more I craved them which I don't think was quite what she had in mind. Still, I suppose it was just lucky I'd gone off chocolate or she'd have been having a sodding field day.

I hadn't decided on the best way to tell my lot, although I wasn't ashamed of it or anything, it just felt awkward somehow. I had thought of telling Bella first because not in a million years would she be able to keep her trap shut, and would do the telling for me. But Bella might be my sister and I might love her to bits but got to say she isn't the most sensitive person in the world, you know, if you told her you were feeling a bit low she'd agree you should jump off of a fucking cliff or chuck yourself under a bus if that was easier and I wasn't sure I was ready for her considered opinion any more than I was for my dad's. In the end I didn't have to say anything to anyone. Nan took one look at me and guessed straight off, I'd bloody forgotten how she's always reckoned she's got this special 6th sense tells her when someone's fallen, that she always knows just by looking at their eyes, which I think is obviously total bollocks. But couldn't tell her she was wrong, could I? I just think it was more likely she guessed because of me keep putting my hand on my non-existent bump and looking shifty, but she was wrong what she said about me lying when I denied it on the phone before Ted's party. I didn't lie, I just didn't know then, did I? Was getting a bit concerned maybe, but I didn't know. Mum reckoned she was pleased for us, not sure whether she meant it or not, but that's what she said, but it was Nan launched into saying stuff that made me feel dead awkward. I really hadn't wanted Charles to come with me, but he'd bloody well insisted so I suppose it was his own fault that Nan gave him a bit of a hard time. No surprises there then. But he's the bloody nuts at staying all calm and not showing any hurt feelings when it suits him, I suppose as a Rupert he's had a lot of practice, anyway, he stayed dead polite to her no matter how hard she tried to rattle his cage. She accused him of doing it on purpose trying to make sure I didn't come to my senses and kick him to the kerb. Bloody hell, it seemed like I was shouting "NAN! For fuck sake" every few seconds, but didn't matter what I said to try and shut her up, she just carried on. And then she started saying that as family they deserved to know if he'd left me for someone else last time round, and then narrowed her eyes all menacing and asked him what was to stop him doing it again. Fuck. It was a bloody good job she didn't know about Amber or his time doing his community service, wasn't it? She'd have frogmarched him down the clap clinic before he knew what was happening. I mean, I know she loves me, she loves all of us, well, except for dad of course, and because of that she means well but there are times when she can be a dead embarrassment. And you know what? It's actually none of her business is it? Eventually of course, she gave up and I could feel the relief in him where he had hold of my hand in a death grip, although he didn't say anything, and we all know that underneath all that hard as nails stuff, she's got this really soft spot for him. She used to say I was lucky she wasn't thirty years younger or she'd give me a run for my money, although she hasn't said that recently, but actually I think she was nearly as hurt when he left as I was.

Epilogue '1'

Charlie Edward James was born exactly on the right date, which hadn't been hard to work out, had it? Apparently first boys in the family are always called Charlie, or Charles, it's a tradition. First boy? Nah, try only boy. Except for Sam of course, but Rebecca had dug her heels in and refused to call him Charles, so he was Samuel Charles instead. Being pregnant through one of the hottest summers anyone could remember had shown what piss poor timing we'd had, not that we'd actually planned anything that I remember, just got a bit caught out. By the time he was born I'd really had it with feeling like a sweaty lump who couldn't even see her own bloody feet. Which was probably just as well, they were horribly swollen. And I was pissed off with only wearing dungarees that made me look like a cross between Bob the Builder and a bloody Weeble, but they were the loosest things I'd got and I was buggered if I was going to go and buy new when it wouldn't be long before I'd be back in my own clobber. Why anyone would do the baby thing more than once was bloody beyond me.

"Push … go on push … PUSH … come on … count to 10 with me … 1…2 …"

What the fuck did they think I was doing? There seemed to be dozens of people I didn't know all looking at bits of me I usually keep private and all yelling at me as if they don't think I was trying. The yeller-in-chief was my bloody husband who I knew meant really well and who loves me to bits, but I did just wish he would shut the fuck up. And never mind anything else, what the fuck did he think I was doing? Trying to keep it in there forever? But it bloody hurt. If anyone ever tells you it doesn't then they're fucking lying and I'd tried to be clever so I'd got there far too late to have the epidural, everyone had said to hang on for as long as I could before I went to hospital because of first babies taking bleeding hours so there'd be a lot of hanging about and being bored. Trust me to be the exception.

And then there he was, out, one last bit of agony and one last bloody great heave and this slippery little baby with loads of dark curly hair stuck to his head, was there and screaming blue bloody murder. Only had to look at the expression on his daddy's face to know he was the most gorgeous baby anyone has ever seen.

Epilogue '2'

Today is the 23rd November, our first anniversary of being back together and it's also our moving day. We're all packed up and ready to go just as soon as the van gets here, we've got all our two ton of plastic baby tat in boxes and it's not even 9.00 yet. Tell you what though, I'm bleeding knackered. And just for once I can't blame Charlie because he actually slept for more than an hour at a time last night which was a bit of a breakthrough in itself. But now instead of being able to lie back and relax and take my time about getting up out of bed and having a cuppa before Charlie starts wanting feeding, I've been up for bleeding hours. You know, all those years of feeling like the living dead from having to get up at the crack of dawn on exercise, or doing a 10k run, or being in some shit-hole of a FOB where it was almost bloody impossible to sleep because of being scared there might be spiders, I can tell you now that I hadn't got a scoobie what being tired actually was. And as for being a bit tired from a hangover after a night out on the piss, you can forget that and all. Just try having a baby that doesn't know his days from his nights. It's been so long since I went out for a drink I can't remember what it was like to get dressed up to go out, never mind about the drinking bit. Not that I can do that, not unless I want to feed my child pure booze which might help him sleep but isn't exactly going to win me any prizes as mother of the year is it? As things stand, if I sit down in the evening, five minutes and I'm out for the count. Charles keeps saying it will all be better once we're settled, but I don't know whether that's our sex life he's talking about, I mean, I can hear him now saying "What bloody sex life?"

Charles not only had to pass the third-degree grilling from Nan but he also had to tell Etta and Ted, and I got to admit I was a bloody coward and refused to go to Bath with him. Yeah, I know he came with me but that was his decision, I did try to warn him, did try to talk him out of it, but he insisted like I insisted my decision of claiming pregnant woman's privilege of avoiding unnecessary stress was final. Not sure he believed me exactly, and okay it was a bit of an excuse, but it also meant I missed Etta having what Charles called her epiphany. Apparently soon as she found out her precious son had got me pregnant, she had this massive acute attack of amnesia and totally bleeding forgot all the stuff she'd ever said about me. I morphed into the best daughter-in-law on the bleeding planet which Charles thought was fucking hilarious. Well he would. I must admit I did let her get away with it because well, I simply couldn't be arsed to keep the feud going. It really takes it out of you always having to come out on top, and I love Ted to bits so thought I'd be a bit grown up about it. I hope you're impressed. Look, I'm not going to lie and say I love her exactly, but she's okay these days, well, not too bad and she loves Charlie to distraction as well as his dad and I suppose his granddad, although can't say I've ever really noticed that. Best of all I think she'd deny even remembering Amber if I asked. Or she'd pretend she'd forgotten which is the next best thing.

It took a fair bit of persuading to get me to agree to shift to Royal Crescent, almost had to be bribed, well I did have to be so that in the end had got him to promise that we'd have a party and even though he did the eyebrow thing, that we'd invite the lads and Jacs. He kept saying he'd keep his fingers crossed the house would survive. Look, I know the house is well nice, you don't have to tell me, I got eyes, and I know it's his home but can't help it, it's not mine, is it? And I'm worried it will take a bit of time for it to feel like home to me, still I know it's the sensible thing for us as far as money is concerned. The flat is not only a bit small with all the baby clutter all over so we'd probably have to move before long anyway, but selling it has really helped with me not earning at the moment. Still not sure that all the furniture and the expensive bits of stuff, you know the china knick knacks that are all over everywhere are exactly little boy friendly, I know it's not a problem now, but what about later on? Charles just keeps telling me I really don't have to worry, that the place is bloody cluttered up so anything he breaks will be an improvement. Not sure Etta would agree. But I've told him in words of one syllable so there can't be any mistake, I am NOT doing the cleaning. I am not swapping my 2 bed, 2 bath flat for all them bloody rooms and bathrooms and a kitchen the size of a fucking football pitch, and all the posh bits of the house full of silver bits and bobs that need cleaning and ornaments that need dusting. And then there are those sodding stairs. Nope. No way. Not this girl. He'd thrown his head back and laughed and then said his mum has a lady that does and that she had been doing for years, poor cow has all my sympathy, and that nothing will change, she'll carry on just like she always has. Tell you something, he's right, it bloody well won't change and if anyone thinks anything different, I got news for them.

-OG-

It wasn't as bad as I'd been imagining, although I still wasn't sure it was the right thing, was I? But it was done now so time to put my big girl pants on and make the best of it, well mainly because it was too late now to do anything else. The actual moving hadn't been quite as shit as I thought it was going to be, maybe with four of us shifting stuff and the men off the van as well, alright with me mainly looking after Charlie and keeping out the way, it hadn't been that bad. I was still absolutely bloody dead tired and almost ready to hit my pit and it wasn't even 8.00. Maybe Charles has got a point and it will be a bit easier with Etta to help, although not even sure about that.

He's standing in that kitchen that's big enough to fit Nan's whole flat in and probably mum's as well, and is rinsing off the plates to get them ready to put in the dishwasher. I've got a nasty little niggling suspicion that they're her best china ones and not dishwasher proof, still he must know, they're his mum's plates not mine. He's got his back to me and is swinging his hips in time to the music he's listening to through his ear buds and is singing along happily. And you know watching him moving himself and singing when he doesn't even know I'm there I can see he's happy, and that he's still got the best bum in the world. He's still as slim as he always was with these really long legs and wide shoulders, and alright he doesn't do quite as many 10k runs as he did once upon a time, but he's still bloody fit looking. Has still got all the muscles I lusted after when I first used to watch him, nothing has changed. I still fancy the bloody pants off him.

"When I wake up, well I know I'm gonna be,
I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you
When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you

But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door … "

"Shit … Christ you made me bloody jump … I didn't hear you come in."

I didn't mean to make him jump but had gone up behind him and put my arms round his waist which had made him jump out his bloody skin.

"Sorry … but you wouldn't hear would you … not with them things in your ears? But don't stop singing it was … nice"

He turned round to face me and made sure my arms were still round his waist before he smiled.

"You okay? Has he gone down … gone off to sleep?"

"Yeah … think he's probably bleeding knackered with all the passing backwards and forwards been going on"

"Well … tell them to stop if you don't want them to …"

"Nah you're alright … the novelty'll wear off soon … bloody 'ope anyway… your mum's stopped up there now watching him kip" I had a little giggle "Just hope she doesn't prod him to make sure he's still breathing … or to see if he fancies a bit of a cuddle"

"Fuck she'd better not … if she does then she can damn well spend the night trying to get him off again … do you want me to go and tell her ….?" He pretended to have a little think and then bit his lip "Actually on second thoughts, now I come to think of it, that's not a bad idea …"

"He won't be too happy with her tits though, will he?"

"No, I suppose there is that …"

He was laughing but I had to say it, had to ask, even though I don't know why exactly, he's already told me tons of times but I still can't help worrying a little bit.

"We are gonna be alright, aren't we?"

"Yup … of course we are …" He stopped laughing and rested his forehead on mine "I am never going to let anything bad happen to you … so, if you hate it, if anything at all upsets you, all you have to do is say the word … okay?"

"Okay"

"Now, how about … you and I take advantage of the babysitting and have an early night? Celebrate our anniversary… "

"Tell me something … do you ever think about anything 'cept sex?"

"Who said anything about sex? But now you come to mention it …"