Like children they dashed through the night, John taking Margaret's hand when they approached their new factory.
"What are you doing?" Margaret giggled as he took out his keys at the gate.
"Shh," he grinned, "come here." John led Margaret inside, and up to the top floor where the new machines stood gleaming in gas-lit newness. They were all assembled, save for a few at the end, and smelled of steel, machine oil and unprocessed cotton.
"Oh John!" Margaret snuck a kiss, "this is amazing!"
"I am glad you like it," John moved to the window and propped it open, "come out here."
Confused, Margaret wandered over, and saw that there was an embossed metal balcony just outside. John climbed out onto it and offered his hand. Margaret took it and he gestured to a ladder going up to the roof.
"Go up, I'll help you," he said. Margaret was still unsure, but carefully began climbing. When she finally reached the top and assured John she was alright, she looked about and found lit Gaslamp, a bouquet of roses and a carefully laid out rug in the middle of the roof by the air intake. Taken by the romantic gesture, she cried out in delight, and when John reached her she kissed him like an impassioned schoolgirl.
"Oh John!" she exclaimed, "What is the occasion?"
"I came up here a couple of weeks ago on an inspection, and noticed the view of the city. Curious, I waited til nightfall and when it was dark enough went back. Sit down and look at the stars."
John led Margaret to the rug, and noticed there were blankets and pillows strewn about. Getting into a comfortable position was easy, and when she was thoroughly ensconced in blankets and her husband's arms, he flicked off the light and they gazed upwards.
Indeed it was beautiful, and Margaret marvelled at how the stars twinkled and shimmered in the inky blue night. It was a moonless night, and not even the dim light from the town could dull their brilliance. A shooting star blazed across the night sky and Margaret made a wish. It was all so perfect that she could hardly believe her eyes, and she imagined the quiet Helston nights as a child where she was led outside by her father to watch the meteor showers. This just happened to be one of those nights, John informed her, and soon the sky was filled with falling stars, shooting like fireworks across the sky.
Margaret lay in awe, but would flinch every so often when one appeared to be approaching them, and John laughed quietly, commenting on her fear.
"It's alright Maggie, they won't hit us. The last one that ever hit earth was long ago."
"I know," Margaret nodded, feeling sheepish, "but I still cannot help myself."
"I love you Maggie," John whispered, eyes dewy and clear in the starlight.
"I love you too, John." Margaret kissed him again, and the two drew closer.
"I hope you liked the roses, they were the last ones of the season," John remarked mildly, playing with a loose strand of her hair.
"They're lovely," Margaret smiled back, "though I wonder, do you think anyone saw us come up here? You are just in your tunic and me in my petticoat."
"I think not," John shrugged, "they probably thought we were two sweethearts out for a midnight tryst. I would not worry."
"Mm," Margaret gave up her concern, and instead turned her thoughts to outer space.
"Do you think we'll ever go to the stars?" she asked, "or visit the moon?"
"I hope so," John replied, "There is so much to discover. Who knows, we might meet spacemen."
"Spacemen!" Margaret exclaimed, "Now you are just speaking nonsense! Is this a fever-dream John, do I need to commit you?" she teased, putting the back of her hand against his forehead. He took her hand away and kissed her palm, saying,
"I really think it's possible. Does anyone really know how big space is, or where it ends?"
"I don't know," Margaret admitted, "but sometimes I wonder what earth looks like from the outside, looking in. I think that if I could but see that I would be very happy."
"We'll know someday," John said confidently, "perhaps not in our lives, but in our children's or their children's. Once we master flight we can go further."
"Flight would be nice," Margaret mused, "but I don't think I could ever imagine doing it myself. Personally, I am far too terrestrial."
John chuckled and took her other hand kissed her wrists.
"I don't know about that," he murmured, "I have always thought there was something of the other world about you."
"Oh am I Jane?" Margaret smiled. She had just read the hit novel Jane Eyre, a gift from Fanny who gushed over its complexity and secretly claimed was written by a woman. "Am I some sprite in the woods?"
"Jane?" John asked, confused. Margaret explained, and John shook his head.
"No, not Jane. For you say Jane was plain, and you are the absolute opposite."
"You are a poet and didn't know it," Margaret giggled, but then grew serious. "Even after two children?" She cast her eyes to the sky, still unsure about her new, more motherly shape.
"Especially since the children," John moved his hands to her waist and pulled her closer so that their noses were almost touching. "You, my love, do not age. Today you are as beautiful as the day I laid eyes on you. I admired you then and I admire you now." The two spent a long while in a heated embrace, and Margaret pulled away at last, breathless.
"You are the same," she breathed, "I hope our sons look like you some day—," she paused, "—do you think we should go back and check on them? Dixon says Robbie is stronger, but I still worry about him."
"He's fine," John stroked her hair, "he was born a strong lad, and he'll grow, no matter how much you fret. Now come, let us see the stars."
They did not simply end up admiring the stars, and did happen to break several rules of conduct in polite society, but since they "got away with it," so to speak, their actions were viewed as secret, finally coming home just before sun-up into their warm and lovely bed. No sooner had they fallen asleep, however, then Owen awoke. Full of life and eager to see his parents, he found his way to their room and John picked him up, putting him between them in the bed.
They spoke quietly for a time, and then John rose for the day. Margaret pulled Owen to her like a doll, and the little boy clung to his mother.
"I'm hungie," he said. Margaret ruffled his hair and swung out of bed.
And so their day began again.
AN: Sorry for the delay, exams are treacherous! Hope you liked this chapter, and I do have the other in the works, which should be a bit longer. Either way, an announcement: we have broken 60 reviews! I am so amazed and delighted that you guys continue to support me and my little story, thank you all so much! R &R as always!