A/N: I got three requests for Charlie, so I decided to write his POV first. I have a twenty-month-old at home and I think children, young children, know and see a lot more than we think they do. Still, if you feel this is way off base, please let me know.
So, for the ones asking for little Charlie Parks: voila! (don't forget to review!)
If he isn't here, he must be there.
He is more there anyway, because that is his place. Sometimes I have to make a really loud noise to make them notice me. They sit so close together, I can't get in between and they laugh when I try. Then she settles me against her, she is nice and warm and softer than Mum and calmer too and he reads me stories. I don't always understand them. Maybe he doesn't understand I am still little. But it is better than Thomas pushing me aside when he rushes off with the fire stick in his mouth.
She always knows exactly what I want. When I am hungry or need to be changed or when I get tired. She sings to me and when she does, he stares at her. He looks a bit sad, but he smiles when she reaches for his hand. They hold hands a lot. They are quiet a lot. When I play with my car on the floor, I make a track from his feet to hers and he reads and she pricks a needle in his sock and they hardly talk at all.
He reads bits to her and she laughs or says something and it feels really warm in the room. Sometimes, when I get tired, I climb on his knees and I hear this thunking noise and I fall asleep. Usually I wake up in my cot, but once I woke up on top of him and we were all on the settee. I heard them talk about something they called 'guilt'. I don't know what it means, but it must be something very sad, because she was crying and he held his arm around her and kissed her hair.
He does that a lot, kissing her. She kisses him back all the time too. She kisses me too, but not like him. Their lips touch and their eyes close. I don't think they know I see them. It's a bit strange, I don't see anyone else kiss like that, except sometimes Anna and Mr Bates, but that is not the same. They don't belong with me.
When I go around the rooms to find my Mum, I see her at work. She speaks differently to the maids than she does to me or to him. The maids always do what she says, even Mum. Most of what is said, sounds short, but one time there was this maid who was crying and she put her arms around her, just like she does when I cry. It feels really nice when she does that. She only does it with him normally and he doesn't even have to cry.
The men listen to him, because he is so big. I have to put my head in my neck to look at him when he stands. If he tells me to do something, I do it too. He can be a bit scary, but she doesn't think he is. She lays her arms around his neck and she stands on her toes to put her lips against his. He puts his arms around her waist and they look as if they forget everything around them. I make a noise to let them know I am still there and I pull on his trousers. I don't like to be left alone. He picks me up then and they resume their kissing.
She lets go of his neck and she puts her arm around me and I lean against her. They whisper to each other, words that have little meaning to me, about children and about growing up. She calls him 'Grampa', I think it is his name. He calls her 'Granma'. So I call them that. They call me Charlie, like Mum, because it is my name. If I wouldn't call them by their names, would they still look down to find me?
After we all eat, he sits at the end of the table and she sits next to him, Mum and I usually go home, unless it is a very busy night. I don't really like going home. Our house is cold and there are always things hanging from the line that scare me in the night. Mum cries a lot, but she doesn't have anyone but me to hold her. She puts me in my cot, I can't get out, so I can't reach her. I feel really bad for her, I am glad she helps us out. I think Mum is grateful too. She never says it though.
He talks about Mum when it is late and they think I am asleep. That he will never understand how she could do what she did. She says she can. He pulls a face and she smiles this half smile. He says they will never see eye to eye on it and she agrees and she points at my cot and I quickly close my eyes, pretending to be asleep. She asks if he would want to do without and I think she means me. He always says 'no'. Always. I think he must like me. At least a bit.
She visited us when I was really little and she would bring food with her for Mum. She would get me from my cot and she would cuddle me and hum and when Mum cried, she handed me back and she tidied our rooms. I always feel a lot safer when she is around. I think she was the first someone I ever saw who was not my Mum.
I know she is upstairs now, because there was a bell and he told her it was Her Ladyship who wanted to discuss something. I don't know what 'discussing' is. He uses difficult words a lot. She doesn't. I know she has left me a biscuit, because she told me that if I was a good boy and didn't get in the way, I would get a treat. But I want my treat now. I have been very good all day. I push open the door of her room and he is sitting there. He has something in his hand.
He tells me it is a special day and that he has a gift and that it is not for me, but for her. I like it when he does something nice for her, because it makes her so happy. I find my toys and I play on the carpet, building a tower. He helps me, he is much better at it than I am, but he lets me do most of the work anyway. When she finally comes, I push the tower over and turn around to look at them.
She takes the package from him and carefully removes the ribbon and gives it to me. It is pretty and red and it feels funny. She unwraps the paper and there is a little box that she opens and I can hear her gasp. It must be very nice if she does that. Then she takes it and hands it to him and he put it around her neck. He takes her hands and kisses them and he congratulates her. She wraps herself around him and she kisses him so hard, it looks almost painful.
Someone knocks on the door and they spring apart, she takes the thing he put around her neck and slides it under her dress. She traces her thumb across her lips and looks around the room before she says 'enter'.
It's Mum. I have to go home. I don't want to, I want to stay, I feel safe here and I want to cry, but I don't. I am a big boy. She helps me in my coat and they walk us to the backdoor. Mum puts me in the basket on the bicycle and rides away. I see them standing in the doorway, his arm around her waist and her head on his shoulder. I wave, but it is dark and they don't see me. I am glad I will be back tomorrow. Maybe she will have saved that biscuit for me. I really like biscuits.
A/N: I know it is a bit long, but still - I hope you liked it. Next up: Isobel Crawley - soon.