I had left the dance-a-thon shortly after Steve had decided to play "Like a Virgin" by Madonna. He would swear blind that she is the second coming of Christ but I am far more dubious about her and not about to spend my time gyrating around my living room to any of her songs. It's her face. There's something about it that I just can't like.

I excused myself quickly just before he had started shrieking the lyrics and headed up to my room for a shower. The meeting with the triplets was firmly back on my mind and I'm not sure showing up in my running gear, sweaty from a morning of dancing would impress anybody. Not that I was trying to impress, but still, I was sure George's child bride would be in tow and I didn't want her thinking I had turned into a sweating disaster. I had to project a strong, fierce front. Strong didn't equal sweaty.

I stood under the shower for longer than normal. Besides the idea of coming face to face with my darling brothers, my brain was repeating the image of Charlotte's horrified face. She had looked worried when I had reminded her that today was the day I was meeting with my siblings.

Charlotte was one of those girls who didn't worry about anything. She had no need to. She would breeze through life. Besides the fact that she was a 5ft9 bombshell that made men fall to their knees, she was by far the most intelligent person that I had ever met. She had a photographic memory and soaked up knowledge like a sponge. By the end of our first time she had already memorised the latin names of every single bone in the body and at the end of our first year she had easily breezed to top of the class without so much as breaking a sweat or one of her perfectly manicured nails. But she had definitely looked worried. I had also seen the look that had passed between her and Steve. It had been infinitesimal but it had been there.

I rinsed the last of the conditioner out of my hair and stepped out of the shower. Entering my room, Steve had written a note in eyeliner on my mirror.

Pancakes a la Steve at 10:30. Be there or be a carb-less loser.

I grinned and wiped the note off before sitting on the floor. It was already 10:20 and there was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. I towelled off my hair and quickly blasted it with my hairdryer. I tied it up in a messy top-knot and threw on a pair of denim shorts and a striped t-shirt. A quick slick of mascara and I was downstairs. My belly rumbled appreciatively of the smell. Upon entering the kitchen I was greeted with a breakfast table that would put a 5* hotel to shame. Pancakes piled so high that they resembled the leaning tower of Pisa, a colourful array of fruit fresh from the market at the end of the road, crispy bacon and a jug of syrup that gleamed invitingly. I was in heaven.

"I know I've lost a couple of pounds Steve but this is a bit over the top." I picked up a strawberry and bit into it. "Even for you."

I grinned at him. He was stood behind Charlotte, his hand resting reassuringly on her shoulder. She was pale. My stomach dropped.

"What is it?" I asked, rounding on her. "Char..."

She looked up at me. Her lower lash line was brimming with tears.

"Charlotte has something that she needs to tell you." Steve said. He squeezed her shoulder. "So let's all sit down and -"

"I'm so sorry Lo."

She was crying. My Charlotte. The girl who DIDN'T cry. Seriously. She was as tough as nails. When we had first met she had told me that she didn't cry and I had laughed at her. Everybody cries. She had shook her gorgeous raven haired head and stared at me. "Not me."

I had vowed to break her. I had tried every trick in the book. Sad films, sad songs, sad books... Nothing. She was superhuman. We had also managed to stumble upon an old couple feeding the ducks in the park. "He loves the ducks." the old woman had told us. "He proposed to me here over fifty years ago." He had been diagnosed with early on-set dementia and no longer recognised his loved ones. But she took him to feed the ducks every day. I was inconsolable. I had cried the type of tears that you usually reserved for the times when you were alone. You know the ones. The ones where your face contorts into really horrendous shapes and goes all blotchy and red. Ugly tears, my dad used to call them. I had cried ugly tears in the park and Charlotte had stood there, completely immovable. Better yet, she had started discussing treatment options that the wife could explore. She was unshakable. A rock in my river of ugly tears. But here she was, sat in our beautiful kitchen, ugly tears streaming down her cheeks. Her normally perfect pale complexion, streaked with red, blotchy marks.

"Good job on the plan, Char..." Steve muttered, scooping her up and depositing her in a chair directly in front of his buffet.

"What the hell is going on?"

He pushed me into a chair. "Sit." he ordered. "AND EAT THIS BREAKFAST THAT I HAVE SLAVED OVER."

I stared at him. He was prone to dramatic outbursts. I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Christ, Betty Crocker. Keep your bloomers on."

He glared at me. And then he laughed. Charlotte gave a loud sniff and a small giggle came from her mouth.

"Okay." he bit into a pancake. "Charlotte has something to tell you."

"Uh, no shit Sherlock." I grinned and spooned a large helping of strawberries onto my pancake, which was already covered in bacon. I covered it in syrup. Steve was watching me.

"You know what they say Lo.." He laughed. "A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips."

I scooped up a large mouthful of delicious breakfast goodness and grinned at him. "So worth it."

Charlotte hiccuped.

"You okay?" Steve looked at her.

She nodded. She had already eaten three pancakes. She was a stress eater.

"I have something to tell you." She looked at me and spoke through a mouthful of food. "And I just want you to know that I love you." She swallowed and looked at Steve who nodded at her.

"I didn't want to have to do this today because I know you're meeting with your brothers and this just has to be done today..."

"OH GOD." I shouted. "Did you sleep with one of my brothers?!"

She looked horror stricken. Her big green eyes stared at me wildly.

"NO!"

"Please God at least say that it wasn't George!" I stood up.

Steve was laughing.

"Lo!" Charlotte stood up and stared at me. "I didn't sleep with one of your brothers! Sit down!"

I stared at her, and quietly sat back in my chair. She sat down too. We stared at each other in silence. She started laughing.

"You really think I'd sleep with one of your brothers?!" she laughed.

I started laughing too.

"I mean, I would..." She grinned.

"So would I." Steve said. "Especially Archie." He fanned his face dramatically. "I know he's evil and we hate him but -"

"- Stop." I looked at him. "Stop now."

He shrugged.

"So what's up Char?" I looked at her. "What's so bad that you're crying and stress eating?"

She inhaled deeply and looked to Steve, who took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly. He nodded.

"Somebody tell me what the hell - "

"I'm dropping out of Uni."

I stared at her.

"What?"

She took a mouthful of pancake and chewed it thoughtfully.

"Sometime today, Char..."

"I've been thinking about other options." she said, swallowing the mass of pancakes and fruit that had been in her mouth. "Other options besides this."

I shook my head. "What other options do we have?!" I asked her, incredulously. "This is everything."

She looked at me, her eyes wide.

"Look, I haven't wanted to say anything." she mumbled. "You've been living through your own personal hell and I just wanted to be there for you in the way that a best friend should be."

"You're not just my best friend, Char..." I stood up and walked around to her. I sat down next to her and took her hands in mine. "You two are my family now." My throat burned and my eyes quickly filled with tears. "You and Aunt Bessie over there."

"Oh ha ha." Steve said. "That's hilarious." he glared at me.

"Steve and I went out one night." She swallowed. "You had gotten drunk again and had passed out cold..."

"So we paid Mrs Oates from next door to keep an eye on you." Steve grinned at me. "She was so happy."

Mrs Oates was our elderly neighbour who was simply delighted that she lived next door to a gay man. "All of the ladies think it's very interesting that I have a gay neighbour..." she had told us. "They tell me that the gays are the best people to live next door to." she had linked her arm through Steve's. "Apparently you're all very good at shopping."

I stared at Steve. "When you say pay..."

He smirked. "I took her shopping."

I laughed.

"Okay, so you left me under the watch of Steve's fag hag..." I looked back at Charlotte. "And the two of you went out."

She nodded. "I'm sorry, it's just we had been taking care of you constantly and you were in your smashy phase and I just needed to get out of the house and have a drink -"

"- or twelve." Steve mumbled under his breath.

"Shut it, Martha Stewart." I hissed.

He pouted at me.

"And I got talking to this really nice guy." she took a deep breath. "He had just come back from Iraq where he'd been serving with the military for 12 months..." She looked into my eyes. "And he started telling me all these stories about his friends who had died out there."

"Cheerful." I remarked.

"And it struck me that there's so much more that I could be doing with my life." she squeezed my hands. "So he put me in contact with recruitment for the medical corps."

My mouth fell open.

"I was emailing back and forth with him and eventually he invited me to meet up with him." she stared at me. "I took a couple of tests and passed with flying colours."

"So.."

"I'm enlisting." she gulped. "Today."

I felt sick. I stared at my friend. My wonderful, beautiful friend. My heart ached. I wanted to tell her not to go. I wanted to slap her. I wanted to cuddle her and tell her that I loved her and how my wounds weren't healed yet. I wanted to tell her that I needed her now more than ever. But the words wouldn't come out.

"Men and women are literally volunteering their bodies to this awful, awful war." she was looking at me, her big green eyes shining with determination. "I want to help them." She tightened her grip on my hands. "I want to feel like I'm here for something."

Steve was stood behind me. He draped his arms around my shoulders and bent down to kiss me on the cheek.

"I've tried to tell her not to go, but she's not interested." he whispered into my ear. "You know Charlotte... Once she has an idea in her head it's hard to get rid of it."

"Those people out there are fighting to protect us from the people who killed your parents, Lo." Charlotte sighed, loudly. "I just have this feeling that I was supposed to do this."

I nodded and gulped as a fresh wave of emotion swept over me.

"I love you." I told her. "I love the very bones of you." I reached up and wrapped my arms around her tightly. "If this is your calling then I'm here for you."

She visibly sagged in my arms. "Thank you." I heard a small sob. "I haven't wanted to tell you. You've been doing so well."

"I'm a terrible friend for not being there for you."

She shook her head fiercely. "Don't you dare say that." she pulled away from me and held my face in her hands. "I was waiting for you to get better. I told Steve that I wouldn't enlist unless I knew you were going to be okay. I needed to know that I wasn't leaving while you were still broken."

I thought back to the days I had spent in bed. Those horrible, long days that had all merged together under a blanket of sorrow and confusion.

"I knew you were okay when you went for your first run." she smiled at me. "But watching you dance this morning..." she shook her head and laughed. "That was all I needed."

"I would use the term 'dancing' very loosely." Steve said.

"Oh shut up Judgey McJudgerson." I hissed.

I smiled at him and he kissed me on the cheek.

"Okay, so you have your meeting with the triplets at 3?" Charlotte pulled out her diary. "I have until 9pm to go and enlist so that means you can come with me afterwards?"

I nodded at her. "Where?"

"There's a recruitment event being held at the Royal Air Force Museum."

"I'll be there." I leaned towards her and wrapped her in a hug. "I'm proud of you." I nuzzled my face in her hair. "You maniac."

She wiped at her eyes and I grinned. "I knew I'd see you cry one day."

I looked at the clock on the wall. It was exactly midday. I had to get ready and head across to my Uncle Peter's office which was based in Kensington.

"Is nobody going to mention how great breakfast was?!" Steve looked at us both. "NOBODY?!"

I shrugged.

"I hate you both."

"Oh, you'll miss me when I'm gone." Charlotte said, rushing to him and wrapping her arms around his stomach.

"Hey, Steve..." I called as I left the kitchen to head to my room.

"Yes?"

"Maybe we can get Mrs Oates to move in once Char goes?"

"Don't even joke."

I grinned.

"I'd wake up and she'd be sat by my bed watching me sleep."

"And you're saying that's weird?" I shouted. "I wish you'd told me earlier!"

"HATE YOU."

"You can pick my outfit for today?"

"LOVE YOU."