Summary: Grief, comfort, catharsis and midnight feasts.
I apologise for a) the long wait and b) the rather sombre tone of this cupcake but after tackling Belle's grief in Chocolate Heartache Cake, I wanted to reverse the situation. I had to deal with a family crisis (thankfully now recovered) over the Christmas period and writing this was good for catharsis. I promise the next one will be lighter!
Eleven O' Clock Chocolate Cake
Belle was walking through a jungle. It was warm and dark, and the air was heavy with strange, exotic noises. Something was digging into her shoulder, and she turned a little to find that she had a little parrot with a brightly coloured plumage perched there.
"Bae," the parrot squawked. "Bae." It dug its claws in again and Belle's brow furrowed because it didn't feel like claws. It felt like the point of her fiancé's nose. The bird spread its wings and the tips touched her neck. They were cold and clammy, and felt more like human skin than feathers.
"Bae!" the parrot called again, louder, and then it vanished, taking to the sky, still cawing. Belle turned around, unnerved and determined to retrace her steps. The jungle seemed darker now without the parrot's colourful wings. She peered up to the treetops to see if she could see it, but it was gone. She began to hurry now, eager to catch up to the bird, but still looking at the sky and not her feet, she tripped and fell, and jerked awake suddenly from her rather odd dream.
She blinked and turned over to find herself alone in bed, the only evidence that she had at one point had company being Gold's pyjama shirt discarded in the tangle of sheets, soaked with sweat. His cane was missing from the foot of the bed, so wherever he had gone, it was further than simply limping into the bathroom.
Belle ran a hand through her hair and wondered whether to go after him or let him be. His dreaming about Bae was not entirely incomprehensible, in fact, Belle had been expecting it. It was – or had been – the eleventh anniversary of Bae's death and they had made the journey to visit his grave together. It had been a sombre trip; the grief from her father's passing was still too fresh in Belle's heart, but in some ways it had given her hope, of moving on and coping with her loss as Gold had done, without forgetting.
She got out of bed and padded across to the wardrobe to put on her dressing gown and retrieve Gold's. The middle of a November night was not the most sensible time to be wandering around the house semi-naked. She ran him to ground in the kitchen in the end, staring out of the half-closed blinds at the garden beyond. Belle's attempts to cultivate a fresh herb garden that summer had not proved very fruitful so she had transplanted her efforts to the kitchen windowsill, where they seemed to be thriving a lot better. Belle draped Gold's dressing gown over his shoulders and put her arms around him, resting her head against his back between his shoulder blades and breathing in his scent: soap, jasmine fabric conditioner and something indefinable but undeniably him. The calm stillness reigned and Belle was in no hurry to break the silence.
Eventually Gold's hands closed over her own, clasped around his middle as they were.
"Sorry I woke you."
"I was having a very odd dream about a parrot," Belle replied, her voice slightly muffled by the fabric of his dressing gown. "It doesn't matter."
Gold made a noise that Belle couldn't tell if it was one of laughter or despair. "It matters to me."
"We all have nightmares sometimes," Belle said. "We're only human."
She felt him shift in her arms and released her hold on him so that he could turn to face her.
"This is what it's all about," Belle said. "For better or worse, that's how it goes. I'm always here, no matter what time of the night."
"And I love you for it." He kissed her forehead. "Nightcap?"
Belle could tell that he didn't want to come back to bed, and she couldn't say she blamed him. They'd both taken the next day off work, perhaps anticipating the need for emotional, if not physical, recovery from their excursion. She nodded her assent and stepped away to fetch the brandy glasses. Gold shivered and slipped his arms into the sleeves of his dressing gown.
Belle watched him move around the darkened kitchen and thought about putting the lights on, but decided against it. There was a bright full moon and the silvery light illuminated the room just enough through the blind slats. She held out the glasses for Gold to fill and sat down at the kitchen table, cupping the goblet in both hands to warm the liquor. It had been a crisp, cold day, and the night was equally chill. Belle was glad of her fluffy slippers against the tiled floor. Gold reached across and closed one hand over her wrist.
"Thank you," he said. "I know it can't have been easy for you, with your dad…"
"I wanted to come today," Belle affirmed. "I wouldn't have come if I didn't want to, if I didn't think it would be a good idea. It isn't easy, you're right. I do miss Dad and it is still raw. But we've got each other and we'll see it through."
Gold was quiet for a long time, staring down into the depths of his glass.
"I miss him," he said eventually. "Not all the time. Just sometimes it hits me and I wonder what it would be like if he was here. And then I dream and it… shakes me."
They fell into silence once more. Belle could tell that there was something still left unsaid, some uneasiness still remaining that her partner had yet to voice.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, the question forthright but her tone gentle. Gold leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, and for a moment Belle thought that he was going to say no.
"Normally I just relive the crash," he said presently. "But sometimes the memory's warped, twisted. This was one of those." He put the brandy goblet down on the table and traced around the rim. "Bae died in the impact, I know that. But tonight… he wasn't. He was hurting and begging me to make it stop. And I couldn't. I couldn't do anything. Then I woke up."
Belle reached across and squeezed his hand. "It was just a dream. Just a nightmare."
Gold didn't reply, but he returned her grip, and they remained like that for a while, before Belle concluded that it was time to change the mood and try to pull her fiancé out of the spiralling train of thought she knew he was embarking upon, a whirlpool of what-ifs and buts and unrealised terrifying scenarios. Melancholy herself, she wasn't sure if her words would come out right, so she decided on action instead. She went over to the fridge and took out the remains of the chocolate gateau that they had begun the evening before, bringing it over to the table and getting out two forks.
"Well, if we're staying up, we may as well have a midnight feast, and everyone knows that there's no better comfort food than chocolate cake."
Gold gave her a wan smile.
"You remind me of Ma," he said. "When I was staying with her after the accident, when I couldn't – or wouldn't – sleep, she'd stay up with me, baking. All the best chocolate cakes are baked at night, she used to say."
Belle smiled and popped a forkful of cake into her mouth, savouring it before she responded. It wasn't often that Gold spoke about his mother, and she was eager to hear more, if she could persuade him to talk, but she didn't want to push him in his emotional state.
"What was she like? I mean, I've seen pictures, but I've never known her."
"She was tiny," Gold replied. "You can tell that from the pictures, I know. But she had a big heart to make up for her small stature. A lot like you. Take the opposite of all my bad points, multiply the intensity and you've got my mother. Kind. Sociable. Non-judgmental. When I turned up on her doorstep after the funeral and said I couldn't face going back to work yet, she just gave me a hug and a cup of tea. And after the accident itself, I don't remember much as I was unconscious or out of it on morphine most of the time, but I vaguely remember telling the paramedics I wanted my ma and thinking I was hallucinating when she and Elvira arrived in the hospital next day." He paused and reached out to swipe a morsel of chocolate ganache from the corner of her mouth. "She'd have loved you."
"You and Elvira keep saying that. I thought it was a prerogative for all mothers to terrorise their potential daughters-in-law."
Gold snorted. "Not my ma. She wouldn't say boo to a goose. What about yours?"
Belle sighed.
"To be honest… I don't know. I was only seven when she died; it was over twenty years ago. I haven't forgotten her, of course not, but there aren't as many fixed memories as there were… More just impressions and odd pictures."
"There's no need to be ashamed of that," Gold said, gently turning her face back toward him when she looked away guiltily.
"I know. Doesn't stop me, though."
"Join the club."
Belle inched her chair closer to Gold's, the cake forgotten for the moment, and nestled into his side. His arm came round her automatically and he looked down at her.
"Maybe we ought to move to living room. This might be easier on a sofa."
Belle shook her head. "No, I like it like this. It feels more… clandestine. Sneaking around in the middle of the night. The moonlight on the fridge looks all mysterious."
Gold laughed, the first proper mirth she'd heard from him since they woke, since the previous evening in fact.
"You're ridiculous."
"You were the one who wanted me to marry you," Belle pointed out.
"True," he conceded, before adding, "I love you."
"I love you too."
They stayed in a companionable silence, drawing comfort and strength from each other and knowing they could talk if they wanted, until the moonlight was beginning to make way to the beginnings of a grey dawn. Belle couldn't stifle her yawn. Gold squeezed her shoulders.
"Maybe it's time to go back to bed." He paused. "Light chases nightmares away."
He got up and stretched the cricks out of his back, and Belle followed him up the stairs. The night was over; they had survived, and they could face the day together, stronger.