Author's notes: I am glad so many of you are enjoying this and are intrigued about what she's done. We're almost at the point when she comes clean, but not quite!

Charity Begins at Home

He'd told his father that she'd lied to them about who she was, that her real name wasn't Maggie Dawkins but was Molly something or other and he'd wanted to admit that he'd behaved like a complete fuck-knuckle and had virtually accused her of doing it on purpose to hurt him, that they'd slept together and that he'd been really hurt when he'd found out that she'd lied to him when they were in bed. It had all seemed so reminiscent of his crappy relationship with Rebecca, the lies, the deceit and that he'd done the one thing he swore he'd never to do again and got himself emotionally involved. He'd lost his temper and then sulked which meant that she'd done exactly what he'd told her to do and buggered off and now he'd got absolutely no idea how to find her, or even where to start looking. He thought she was probably in Weston, but Weston was a big place and there were fucking shed-loads of people living there.

"Bloody hell"

Following his dad's suggestion of going through army records on the internet he had been looking for girls of about the right age, he couldn't be 100% sure that she hadn't lied to him about how old she was because she looked so much younger than 24, and he'd looked for girls who had been in the RAMC up until maybe the beginning of the year and who were called Molly. His research had paid off with surprising ease. He hadn't looked for Dawkins, he'd looked for M. Dawkins before and drawn a blank, so he'd known that that wasn't her real surname, but his dad had suggested that he looked for surnames that started with a 'D' and were maybe a bit similar, and it turned out that there was just one possibility, a CMT called Molly Dawes. She'd been discharged from Headley late last year, but he really couldn't believe that this was the same Molly, this couldn't be right, this one had been awarded the Military Cross for Bravery above and beyond in Afghanistan and the Molly he knew had said that she didn't know anything about serving in Afghan, he couldn't remember whether she'd said she hadn't been there but he'd assumed not because she'd asked him what it was like, or was that just another one of her lies? And she'd never mentioned that she'd been at Headley, even when they'd been speculating about what it was going to be like.

Trawling the newspaper archives looking for photographs of Military Awards Ceremonies had paid off with the same surprising ease; those sorts of awards to female soldiers were still rare enough to make all the nationals. There were photographs with every article, mainly because the girl standing outside Buckingham Palace holding up her medal in its display box for the photographers had the widest possible grin on her face and looked incredibly tiny and feminine in her dress uniform. A pretty girl who was a photographer's dream. It was also, without the smallest shadow of a doubt, Maggie, or Molly as he'd have to get used to calling her.

He'd checked all the papers and some of the articles had small inset photographs as well as the main one, the inset photographs showing her both in combats with her dark hair in some sort of braid and laughing for the camera, and one in civvies, long dark brown curls blowing in the wind, tiny and pretty with those unmistakeable green eyes and the same beautiful smile on her face. He didn't know whether to smile at the way she looked without the horrible dyed bright red hair, or at how happy she seemed to be in the photos or to get even more furious with her because she really was the most consummate liar he'd ever come across.

The articles detailed what she'd done to get her medal, how she'd risked her own life by crossing a minefield under fire to rescue a colleague who'd been shot and badly injured by a sniper, an action that the soldier in him thought was fucking awesome, and one which gave him a much better understanding of why she'd harangued him the way she had in hospital, but it wasn't the soldier in him that wanted to hug her and then give her hell for lying to him. Most of all, he wanted to ask her 'why?'

Being happy that he'd traced who she was turned out to be a very transient feeling, he might know her name and he might know a bit more about her, a very tiny little bit, but despite all the hours they'd spent talking and laughing and the night they'd spent together, he didn't feel like he knew her at all now and he was no closer to knowing where the hell she was. She was still missing.

-OG-

Loneliness was a bitch that Molly was learning to live with. This was the first time in her entire life that she'd been almost completely on her own, the first time that, apart from Norm and some of the customers, she didn't know a soul. Growing up in the noisy crowded chaos of her home in east Ham she used to crave the luxury of solitude, used to think that people who were only children or who were grown up enough or well off enough to live on their own were bleeding lucky. Five brothers and sisters, her parents, her grandmother, a host of mates, followed by a good long spell in the army, well, over four years anyway, had meant that she'd never had to rely on her own company for too long before. It wasn't only that she had no friends in Weston, that there was no-one to talk to or go out with and that she had no money to spare to go out anyway, or that her horrible little room totally lacked anything that made it a cosy or a comfortable place to be on her own, it didn't even have a tele and she didn't have access to a lap-top to get anything to watch, it was that she missed the James family and the life she'd found in Bath really badly, almost as much as she missed her life in the army.

For the first time since she'd jacked it in, she craved the friendships she'd had, the lads she'd served with even if she had sometimes felt like a primary school teacher taking her class for an outing. She wished so much that she hadn't got that sodding medal for saving that twat's life in Afghanistan because that had been the start of what had turned into her nightmare, even though the twat had become one of her best mates. Despite what had happened the last time she'd seen him, she would have contacted him when she'd left the army, but she couldn't because he'd upped and died on her.

It was a waste of time sitting there feeling sorry for herself, she knew that, but she couldn't help wishing more than anything that she'd told Charles the truth when he'd first asked her what was going on or that he'd stopped being angry with her long enough to let her try and explain why she'd lied to them all the way she had.

-OG-

Three months on.

"Listen you prat, it's a posh do innit and I ain't got nothing to wear to something like that, have you?" Molly laughed at her friend Matt who was trying to persuade her to go with him to a Charity Auction at the Civic Centre the following evening "And not only that, I ain't got no money to give to any charities, not even to buy a bloody raffle ticket, they get most of mine already" She'd giggled again "Oxfam, Save the Children, where do you think I buy me clothes?"

"Oh, ha ha, very funny, come on, Molls, it'll be fun, and we'll get a free feed and I think there might be free booze with the dinner"

Matt was the tenant who had moved into the other bed-sitter above the bookies and initially Molly had been horrified at the thought of sharing the facilities with someone else, especially a very young bloke who had ornate blue tattoos like sleeves up each arm and who played heavy metal music at full volume half the night but Matt had turned out to be even more fastidious than she was, the kitchenette and the bathroom positively gleamed when it was his turn to clean them, and even better, he was a 100% committed gay, so that she never felt the need to lock her door at night. He also had a tele which he was happy to share, and was generous with coins for the electric meter when she ran out, so that she considered him to be the ideal house mate. She had no idea of what he did for a job, she was pretty convinced that it was most likely something a bit dodgy, but he'd turned up in the café with two tickets for this event, apparently given to him by someone for some reason, 'best not to ask' was Norm's take on that, and had started badgering her into going with him.

"Okay, if I can find something to wear and as long as you promise we won't get thrown out for eating someone else's dinner"

Out of season Weston was a very different place to the one Molly had moved to in the summer, the customer base at the café had stayed pretty much the same, but there was more of a relaxed feeling, everyone seemed to have more time and most of the customers were now known to her by name and they, in turn, treated her like a kid sister or a pet, taking the piss out of her attempts to get them to eat salad, saying that they went to the café to get away from bloody nagging women. The times when she longed to be back in Bath were now getting very few and far between, the memories were fading fast and her army memories were fading even faster. She still rang Belinda every week and there still hadn't been any further activity, no-one seemed to be looking for her now, so that she was beginning to think it would be safe to go home and see the family for Christmas. She'd gone back to her natural hair colour and now the only thing stopping her was her fear that she might be wrong and that her nightmare would start all over again.

The dress she'd found in the Heart thingy charity shop smelt okay and didn't actually look too bad, one of the advantages of being very small was that she fitted into stuff that most people ignored and left on the racks, although she'd had big doubts when they'd arrived at the Civic Centre, thinking that their appearance screamed 'poor'. Matt was wearing a dinner jacket which was at least two sizes too big, she'd got no idea where he'd got it from, most likely Oxfam, and a pair of jeans, but at least his white shirt and jeans were ironed which made a change for him, but she now thought that the sort of pinkish purple coloured dress she'd bought looked more like a sodding bridesmaid's dress than anything else. She'd whispered to Matt that she felt bad because it didn't seem like the sort of do that would be having tombola or selling raffle tickets and she very much doubted if someone would come round with a bucket looking for donations later and they had no money to join in any sort of auction. Matt had said that he was bloody glad to hear that they wouldn't want him to buy raffle tickets because he hadn't got any spare money but he thought that it was brilliant that there were all these waiters walking around with free booze, and the best bit was that no-one was counting, which made Molly laugh.

Dinner was standard mass catering turkey and Brussel sprouts and rock hard roast potatoes with stuffing, dry, somewhat tasteless but free as Molly kept reminding Matt, who was moaning, followed by a heavy, stodgy lump of Christmas pudding with a lump of cold custard, which judging from the bowls at their table, no-one actually ate. Still, as Matt had promised, there was wine. The auction started straight after dinner and it dawned on them both very quickly that it was absolutely vital that they sat on their hands as Molly mouthed 'Fuck me, how much?' so that they'd ended up with the serious giggles and had attracted a lot of unwanted attention from the other punters on their table. She was beginning to have her doubts as to whether they should actually be there at all, tickets or no tickets, and as she had no idea where he'd got the tickets from she was almost expecting to get thrown out at any second, but definitely before the dancing started.

-OG-

"New boyfriend?"

She'd gone in search of the loos and was on her way back to their table when she'd quite literally bumped into him. For some reason she'd caught his eye and he had been watching her ever since they'd sat down for the truly horrible dinner they'd just been served. He wasn't sure to start with, the girl was sitting way on the other side of the room with her back to him and he didn't have a clear view because there were a lot of people in the way, and the trademark scarlet hair had disappeared, but he'd found his eyes getting drawn back to her over and over as she laughed and joked with the young bloke sitting next to her, increasing his certainty that it was Molly. It was when she'd got up and walked towards the cloakrooms that he was 100% sure and decided to walk over and lay in wait to see whether he could talk to her.

"Nah, he's my housemate and anyway, I think he'd most likely prefer you"

He jerked his head for her to follow him as he started to climb the stairs onto the balcony that overlooked the floor where people were still bidding stupid amounts of money for stuff they didn't want and would probably take to the nearest charity shop or car boot sale when they stopped showing off or sobered up.

"You found somewhere nice to live in Weston then? Like the hair by the way"

"Thanks" she giggled "but I dunno about it being nice, we got a place over the bookies in Shore road"

He shook his head as they got to the top of the stairs and then stopped and looked over the balcony to the floor below where people were bidding stupid amounts of money for all sorts of stuff, mostly useless tat as far as Molly could tell.

"And you're okay? found a job?"

"Yeah, you?

"Yep"

"So you was wrong then, they didn't chuck you on the scrapheap"

"No, not yet" He looked at her for the first time since they'd got to the top of the staircase and chewed at his bottom lip "Didn't think this would be your sort of thing"

"What me? I give to charities all the time, mate"

"Really?"

"Yeah, but not the way you think, look just forget it, it was a joke, okay?"

He smiled and turned back to look down from the dark balcony where there were no lights on, it was just lit by the light from the room below and it struck decidedly chilly.

"Are we allowed up here? I mean, it don't feel like anyone put the bloody heating on, it's freezing"

He took off his dinner jacket and draped it round her shoulders "Better?" and then snorted a slight laugh as he looked down, his jacket buried her. She slipped her arms through the sleeves so that just the very tips of her fingers showed, loving the feeling of the warmth of his body on it as she breathed in the still familiar smell of him from the smooth expanse of black flannel. He stood next to her and leaned on the balcony railings, resting his white shirt sleeves on the top rail and watching without speaking or looking at her as the auction came to a close and the floor was cleared for dancing.

"You here on your own?"

"Nope, mum and dad are down there somewhere"

"They okay?"

"You should go and find them, say hello, show them that you're okay, they were very worried about you when you disappeared like that"

"When you told me to piss off you mean?"

He turned his head to look at her as she continued, turning away from him and putting her hands on the rail as she leaned over to look at the people below "Didn't you tell them that we'd had a one night stand and that you told me to do one?"

"It wasn't like that, you know it wasn't, you were never a one night stand and I didn't tell you to do one"

"What would you call it then?"

"You lied to me, Molly; you shouldn't have lied to me"

"Whatever" She took off his jacket and gave it back to him "Here" then turned and started walking back down the stairs, determined not to look back at him as she scanned the crowd below for Mr. or Mrs. J. She was almost at the bottom when she turned her head slightly and glanced back to where he stood, motionless on the balcony, watching her walk away. She hoped that Matt hadn't been thrown out and was still at their table, because she wanted nothing more than to leave and go and buy a cheap bottle of wine and a giant bar of Cadbury's Dairy Milk and then go home, it had taken her three months to get her life back and three minutes for it all to go to shit again and the worst of it was, she knew he was right.

When he was a kid his mum used to call his sulky stubborn obstinacy 'cutting off his nose to spite his face' and if he was now talking to one of his squaddies, he would call it 'having shit for brains' but the end result was just about the same and now, at nearly 32 he'd watched her walk away without any outward show of emotion as he stood there and kicked himself for behaving like a petulant schoolboy.

-OG-

He had been sitting on a cold concrete step for more than an hour hoping that it would eventually pay off and had smiled as he remembered his grandmother repeatedly warning him that he'd get piles if he sat on something cold. He knew that she wasn't at home because he'd spent the first ten minutes ringing periodically on the door bell and he knew it was the right place, or at least he hoped it was, he'd walked the length of Shore Road and it was the only bookie. Just as he was about to give up and go home, he watched as she turned the corner and walked down the road from the seafront hanging onto her housemate's arm, the pair of them shrieking with laughter. He got to his feet and waited for her.eart