Lizard

Chapter 6

"What you're gonna do it for another year Mol?" Her mother asked.

"Yeah. I like it out there." She defended herself. "It's good for me."

"I know love. It's just I thought...?" Belinda stalled her words.

"What?" Molly asked.

"Well we hardly get to see you." She attempted. "We miss you."

"And...?" Moly knew there was more.

"Well….just thought, you know. Now everyone knows where you are and that... well you don't have to run anymore." Her voice dipped quietly at the end, frightened at her admission.

"I ain't running Mum. Not anymore. I love it out there. It's my life I guess." She explained. "Well for now anyway."

All through the conversation Bella had stayed quiet, picking at her nails, but now she let out a loud snort.

"What? You got summit to say then Bells?" Molly snapped turning to her. Their sisterly relationship hadn't fully recovered since their last mis-understanding.

"Oh yeah I have." Bella relished the attention on her. "You telling us you're staying on another year like, and it hasn't got anything to do with this fella you've been calling since you got back?" Bella finished with a flourish.

Molly was furious. She'd wanted to keep him quiet; it was early days. Hadn't mentioned him at all. Besides she didn't think at her age she needed to explain anything.

"What's that?" Belinda asked instantly. "You got a new fella Mols?" She smiled at her daughter encouragingly.

"No...Well yeah...Well it's early days and that." She explained.

Saddened by the happiness and eagerness on her Mum's face for more information. Information she was not willing to give. "We're just kind of friends." She mumbled out. "That's all."

Belinda let the subject drop. She didn't want to make Molly's time home uncomfortable. All too aware of how far she ran last time. Instead she made a pact with herself to watch her daughter more closely for any clues about the mysterious fella.

Molly hoped that was the end of the subject, and was surprised and pleased her mother didn't pursue it any further. She wouldn't have known what to say about him, about them. They were unconventional. Putting what they had into words was hard.

Over that past few months she'd been taking things really slow with George. They remained close, and the attraction was obviously there, but they took it one step at a time. She blushed though, as she remembered, although that was strictly true for the emotional side of things, it wasn't true where the physical side was concerned. Where their feelings here were involved things had accelerated faster than she had expected.

They both had been hurt in the past. They both had trust issues, and were slow and cautious about getting into anything too deep, too soon. They were sensible with their hearts, but the physical side of their attraction was something they couldn't stop. Embarrassingly they found once they started, they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Molly had found a release for three years of pent up emotion, as apparently George had too! Plus she was having fun, something that had been missing from her life for such a long time!

Her months holiday however sadly interrupted their sexual discovery of each other, and she found it interesting to learn that she missed him. She missed the closeness they shared in bed. She missed the stuff they got up to when alone, and that very satisfied feeling he gave her time and time again. She was in no doubt that she was his booty call, and he was very much hers. She wasn't ashamed of it, or upset by it, for now it was all about the sex. Maybe later, she imagined it would turn into something deeper, but for now it was just fun. And so because of that she hadn't mentioned him to her family, or even suggested he came home with her. She'd kept quiet and had intended her relationship to remain a secret, but Bella had apparently other ideas.

"I hear you." Bella went on taunting her. "Talking to him in the middle of the night." Bella said smugly. "When you think we're all asleep."

"Oh come on Mols. Tell us." Belinda gave in and asked. Her hand tucked under her chin in anticipation as she sat opposite her daughter, waiting.

She was to be disappointed though.

"Honestly Mum." Molly squirmed and threw daggers at Bella.

She'd expected some intrusion to her privacy now her younger sister had moved back home again, but she hadn't expected no privacy at all.

She looked at their hopeful faces, and knew she was going to disappoint.

"Just leave it Mum. Yeah?" Molly asked and flew up the stairs to pull on her running gear. Her way of escaping it all... running always had been.

"He's doing ok then?" Molly asked as she helped carry the dirty dishes into the kitchen.

Rebeca placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Taking in her worried face.

"He's fine. Molly...absolutely fine."

It had been a cosy evening meal in. Just Rebecca, Rob and Sam. The first time they had all been together in a long while, and the first time since the accident.

"Back on track with his studies. Physio for his leg is going well. He'll be playing sport again soon. All back to normal." Rebecca paused with her report. "We never blamed you. You do know that don't you?"

Molly smiled. Grateful to hear it.

"Thanks. I know." Molly said. "But Charles did. Didn't he? Thought it was all my fault." She darkly added.

Even after all these months it still hurt her to know he thought so little of her, that he'd believe she would ever put his son in any danger.

Rebecca was initially shocked at Molly mentioning his name first. Openly talking about him, she saw how hard that was for her. She took in Molly's worried face and broke the tension with a laugh, and it did the trick and was infectious. Molly soon laughed too.

"You know what he's like!" Rebecca joked. "Loves a good shout. You know he lives his life to have a good shout every now and then."

Molly's laughing instantly stopped.

"I used to know him. I thought I did... then he became a stranger to me." She looked down sadly as Rebecca's words settled in. "Don't think I must have ever really known him. Not like you did. Not like you still do."

Rebecca moved over to her sad friend.

"Of course you did Molly You loved him. He loved you." Then she took a chance. "I know you don't want to, or need to hear this, but he went through hell after you left. To get better."

Molly's eyes shot up and she pulled away, feeling betrayed, that Rebecca was championing him. Rebecca held on to her arm gently stopping her.

"Listen Molly someone has to say it. He messed up. He hurt you. We all know that." She sighed. "You can't forgive him ... I get that... we all do... but maybe you should listen to him? Let him explain."

Those tears that always fell just for Charles, and what he had done to them, threatened to fall again.

"What good will that do?" Molly defiantly replied. "Why should I? He hurt me."

Rebecca shrugged her shoulders and looked squarely at her.

"Hell Molly. I don't know!" Rebecca started to list the reasons too easily on her fingers. "Maybe to let you move on? It may help to hear what he has to say about it all. It may help to hear him say sorry to you." Then her final and most compelling reason was. "Then maybe you both can start to let someone else in." She simply said. "You can't be alone forever."

The night ended soon after that. It had become strained and false, and Molly regretted that. The long lonely drive home was silent. No music, no talk radio, just Molly and her thoughts. She mulled over it all.

Maybe Rebecca was right she argued with herself. Maybe everyone all these years were right, she considered. Maybe she did just need to hear him out. Not to forgive, but to close the door once and for all. To start working on a new future. The one she deserved, the one without him.

Thinking about him recently didn't hurt like it used to, and she found she did it more and more often these days. He'd started to seep into her consciousness again.

Recently she discovered new bits about his life, even that very evening with Sam and Rebecca they'd allowed small tit bits of information to leak out to her ears, watching her reaction all the time. Not wanting to scare her away. Knowing where Molly and Charles were concerned they had no right to interfere, but, as both were part of their lives the topics of each other's couldn't be ignored for ever.

It was Margaret though who filled her in with the most details about his life. Delighted in seeing Molly again, her happiness and rose tinted glasses of the past made her tongue run away from her. And so his mother talked once again of how proud she was of her son. He now had new job, a new direction, and as she happily put it, a return of the old Charles that had once been. He was even moving house, closer to his job, and closer to having some type of life again. The sadness in her voice just evident as she knew that Charles was still lonely after Molly.

"He's better." Margaret simply said. "Whatever was wrong. Whatever he went through, he's come out the other side."

Molly just smiled and answered a simple reply, but it wasn't enough for Margaret. She went one.

"I don't think we had any idea how broken he was!"

This startled her, because out of all of them she had. She did know how broken he was. Out of all of them she'd been the one to try, and out of all of them she was the one he'd hurt the most, and the only one who still couldn't forgive him.

She thought she'd cut him out of her life, but she was wrong. She now realised that over the past year Charles had slowly started to make his way back into her life, however minutely, and she believed finally she honestly didn't mind.

She'd kept in touch with Gerard from the charity, and due to the monthly newsletters he sent her, she had heard of his retirement and Charles' new position. Mulling over his welcoming letter, and the picture that accompanied it, she'd read with interest about the new schemes he was introducing, the ability to help more, and she was impressed. Magnanimously remembering he always did have drive, passion and a kind heart. Sensing again, through his words, a fire inside of him that had sadly once been lost.

She was unsure though if he knew about her in his life. That the generic wide e-mail list, that he had taken over after Gerard's retirement, actually went to her in box too. It made her smile that for years she'd tried to stay hidden from him, and even without the Sam situation, her contact details were right under his nose for the last year, most probably without him ever realising.

Charles had started running again. Seriously running. Something else he loved, that he had given up on. The boar trap on top of another significant leg injury, alongside his mental health, had taken away the fun of it, but now he was ready to start again. Running in the beginning though had brought back many sad memories. It had been something him and Molly used to love doing, together. It was their thing, the thing they did to let all their worries go, their way of dealing with the stress of it all. It was another thing, during his therapy, he discovered made them special as a couple, their enjoyment in just being them. Their ability to help one another through anything, or so he thought. Never before, and never since had he found anyone else who he had enjoyed running with. They had matched each other perfectly. He speeded her up, she slowed him down, meaning they both got the maximin effort and the maximin fun out of it all.

Yet now, finally he felt good enough, strong enough about his life to start running again. Things were now starting to feel right again in Charles' life. His new job was challenging him, his new home was keeping him busy, and physically and emotionally he started to feel strong again.

Things were changing. He found he often woke up on mornings now with a smile, with an enthusiasm that he thought he'd lost forever. The charity work and the people he helped meant so much to him, spurred him on. Made him want to try harder once more, and today was to be a test of that new found enthusiasm, as well as a test on other fronts too.

He'd arranged an open day at the charity. An idea he had about inviting all the volunteers, investors, and donors to the centre, as well as those who worked and lived in the area. To throw open the doors, to show the benefit they gave, and to showcase the work they were doing for this group of vulnerable people.

Hours later he stepped into the hall. His day had been spent talking and meeting various different types of visitors and people. Enjoying himself. Taking on a challenge once more. However, throughout the day there was one person he had looked out for more than anyone. Someone important. Someone he hoped would visit, someone he hadn't known was involved with the charity until late last night when he did one final scan over the invitee list.

It startled him at first and then he let out a knowing chuckle. Guessing somehow, in some way, his dearly missed father had something to do with it. For there, hiding amongst all the other names involved with the charity, there was her name... Molly Dawes... his Molly's name hiding there in the vast email address list. He'd of course checked and double checked once his amazement had quelled, but he knew it was her. And so from the moment he'd convinced himself that it was his Molly Dawes, he'd waited hopefully, nervously and excitedly to see if she turned up.

Her time home was running out. It usually went too fast for her, but this time she felt her four weeks at home went just about fast enough. She found she was looking forward to going back this time a little more than in previous years. She wasn't a fool; she totally understood the reason why. Simply George was that reason why. Uncomplicated, good looking and great in bed George.

They'd kept in touch with each other almost daily during her leave. He'd stayed out there, he still had work and family commitments to attend to, plus neither of them had considered he come with her, that wasn't the stage they were at. And so they would wait until she came back, and instead spoke every day. Friendly, happy, chatter, and she noted she missed his company, but she was also very honest with herself knowing she missed the sex too.

So as the days ticked by she started to plan her return back to her job, and to George. It was more than once noted by her family that she often had a smile on her face more frequently than previously known. At this she just increased her smiled, but offered no reply, no fuel for their fires of speculation.

So as she readied herself to return, she ticked off the tasks she still had to do.

This final task though strangely was the most important one. It was something she had done very frequently in her old life, and now it was something she found she did out of tradition in her new life, rather than because of need that had once existed.

The first time she'd entered the shop, all those years ago she had been scared and amazed. Eventually she had, and still did, loved the shop. The colours of the pods, the sleekness of the displays, the gentle quietness of it all compared to the hustle of the busy street outside. It had once been a place she had felt out of place in, and had wanted to run as soon as she had entered. However she didn't, as it was somewhere she had once visited out of utter love and devotion. Realising that his request to her was his first step at showing her a new world, his world, and that he wanted her to be part of it, and so she had bravely continued on.

She still hated coffee. Knew she always would, but this shop with it various flavours, styles and varieties drew her in each and every time. Just being here reminded her of him, of them, and she didn't mind. No matter what life had thrown at them she'd always made sure his Rosabya supply was plentiful, whether he was home or abroad. It was just one of the many special things that had made Charles...Charles, and she didn't want that ever taken away.

Sometimes, since she left him, she'd come and been lucky, the assistant not catching her eye, and not skilfully forcing Molly to buy a certain pack of the capsules. Just allowing her instead to browse. Yet other times she was not so lucky, and today was one of those days. As soon as she entered the shop the assistant homed in on her, and quickly Molly found she had bought 6 of his beloved coffee pods.

The assistant was efficient and smiled nicely as she placed them into a bag, thinking they were a treat for her. Yet Molly just smiled back and never let on their true destination. That these pods, just like all those other times she had left the shop with the unusable purchase, the local food bank was to be the lucky recipient of the treat.

"That our last packet of those. Enjoy." The smiling assistant told Molly. "We've discontinued that line now. Won't be getting any more in."

"What the Rosabya?" Molly asked. "What they doing that for?" She questioned.

"Don't know Madam. Guess it's to make way for a new line." As she finished off the transaction she turned effectively dismissing Molly.

She stood still for a few minutes longer holding the tube of capsules in her hand. Touching them with a degree of reverence. Knowing that this time, just this once, for old times' sake she wouldn't give them away. Then she turned without thinking, without any planned direction, out of the shop.

Everyone praised him. The day had been a success, and Charles couldn't have been anything but pleased with how it all had gone. Still the success was tinged with disappointment. Molly hadn't shown up. He'd hoped, he'd half prayed, but she hadn't shown. Logically he knew why.

He ran up the steps of the tube station, and quickly pushed open the shop door. This place was still his guilty pleasure, and it felt reverend almost to be in it. Something of his old life he had still held onto. He smiled as he remembered that this was the place where his Molly had bought him his first ever gift. Throughout it all, his moves, his life changes, he'd still kept that worn frayed piece of red ribbon in the side pocket of his wallet. It had been there since day one and he'd never ever let it go. It reminded him of their beginning, happier times, and not their end.

"I'm sorry Sir. That line has been discontinued." The assistant politely replied to his query.

"Yeah. I know." He smiled his perfect smile back at her. "Just hoped you'd still have some stock left." He dipped his voice as though he was conspiring with her.

"I'm sorry Sir. No." She answered, not totally immune to his good looks, she went on. "As a matter of fact we just sold the last packet of capsules."

Charles raised his eyebrows and turned his head in the direction of the door, where the assistant was bidding her head towards.

His gut gave a strange lurch as he watch a female figure walk away. A figure and a stance he knew well. She was wrapped up against the autumnal weather, a woolly hat placed on her head, but her long hair still flowed down her back and shone in the sunshine.

She kept on walking, oblivious to him. Oblivious he'd left the shop and was following her.

Charles was on automatic pilot. He'd waited so long to see her again, to be close to her, and here she was, his Molly yards ahead of him on a busy London street.

This time he wasn't going to let her go. He increased his pace to catch up with her. This was finally his chance to speak to Molly.

She heard her name and instantly knew. The voice, one she hadn't heard for such a long time, but would never forget. She wasn't imagining it; she knew instantly that the moment she had avoided for nearly three years was here.

She turned and immediately saw him and felt him. That ability she had, they once had, to know each other no matter what, still ever present. Years ago, so secure in their love, they confessed that even in a crowded room they knew of each other's presence.

She bit her lip, stopping her words coming out. Yet she bravely turned her head up towards him. Pleased that the old habit held in a gasp as she looked into his chocolate brown eyes once more. His face was older, as she knew hers was, but it was still no less perfect than it had always been. It was how it always had been. The one exception being that the last time she had really seen him so close he'd been expressionless, with dead dull eyes. Now as she looked on him, she noticed they glistened.

"Hello." Was all he said and let out a very nervous half laugh. He stood straight and full of anxiety.

"Hello." She only offered back.

Over the years scenarios had floated around her head as to what to say to him if she ever saw him again. Time must have healed her, because all she had in her was that one simple greeting to give him.

"You..." He stuttered. Then faltered, almost hoping she would fill in his gaps.

She knew that was what he was expecting. Yet she didn't. She wasn't that woman anymore. She wasn't his woman any more. No more would she save him, she had tried to do so once, but he had turned his back on her, and betrayed her. He didn't deserve a second chance. So instead she just stood there.

He began again.

"You look..." He nodded his head at her as he took her in.

His heart ached to reach out and touch her. His body managed a slight move to do so, and he sadly watched her minutely step back.

"What I mean...well how are you Molly?" He eventually asked. "It's good to see you."

"Good. Thank you and you?" She replied, devoid of emotion.

Her answers stopped any flights of fancy he had that they would ever be anything to each other again. She was cold and polite. A million miles away from the woman who used to be his wife, from the woman he still loved.

"Erm... good." He managed to reply. Then his courage returned. "Look Molly. I'm sorry. So very sorry."

She knew it was coming. She recognised the signs. When he had something to say, something hard his face at times took on a look like someone had just kicked his puppy, and here he was standing in front of her with just that look.

She could have accepted it and left. She could have just walked away, but some sadistic part of her finally wanted to pick at the scab that had hardened over her wounded heart.

"What exactly you sorry for Charles?" She asked too loudly for the busy London street. "For shutting me out? For shagging her? Or maybe for tearing me a new arse hole over Sam's accident?" She squared herself in front of him.

He felt like he'd been punched. He'd hadn't expected the calm anger that he heard. His mind raced as he felt as though he didn't know this woman standing in front of him anymore. He'd expected the Molly from old, expected some hot anger, some portion of the blame, and foolishly maybe even some small amount of forgiveness, but he hadn't expected her cold directness.

"I..." He attempted. Confused by who she now was. Unable to see how he could improve the situation.

She held up her hand to stop him.

"Don't. I don't need to hear it. I was there for you. Tried to help you." She drew in a breath. "You didn't want my help. You didn't want me." She had more to say but couldn't say it.

She knew she had to leave and before he could say any more she said;

"Good bye Charles." And went to march herself away from him.

He had no excuse. No explanations. He'd wronged her and that was that, but still he reached out. His fingers only just making contact with hers.

She felt the slightest of brush, the minimalist of contact ever, but it still was enough to stop her. The thrill in those few seconds lighted her up in a way she had forgotten, and so she stopped. Stopped herself from feeling anymore, and stopped herself from walking away.

He'd never cried. Not once in all their year's together, not even when Elvis had died. Not even when she told him she was leaving him. He used to say that he couldn't cry, never had, never would. Yet as she turned she saw the tears on his face. The wetness he hastily tried to remove, fearing it was a sign of weakness still.

His head held straight and tight on his body. He anticipated her to leave, expected her to run, and when she hadn't it had confused him even more.

"Molly." He tried to say but the words didn't come out right. Sobs, small and gentle came instead.

She saw how close he was to emotionally falling apart. She took pity on him, internally laughing that he'd been right all those years ago, she really was 'Queen of the lost Cause'. She couldn't watch him suffer, she had to offer him some form of succour.

She stepped forward to him and as her arm gently touched his, he drew in a huge breath.

"I'm sorry Molly. Sorry for everything. Us, Elvis, Georgie, Sam. For everything. Sorrier than you'll ever know."

She worked now on automatic pilot. The years of loving him, of still loving him, played out between them without a conscious thought. Her arms encircled him; her body pressed into his as she held him. He responded in kind and for a moment, minutes, hours they both knew not for how long, they stayed like that.

All they knew that at last they finally held each other once again.