So, this is a mixed chapter - the joy of their holiday and flourishing love and Elsie facing up to the horrors of her past. Warning for discussion of partner rape.

There's a song by Mariah (Camouflage) that I think is great for understanding her feelings when she was married to the man who we shan't name (!) if you fancy a listen.

Weary sometimes when I try to discern our reality
Wish that I just could be somebody else if you talked to me
Kept praying inside let him love me for who I am – please my Lord.
But you were just somewhere the sun couldn't reach, couldn't understand
(All that I needed was you to really see me)
I camouflage my tears and you wear your disguise
(You wear your disguise)
And round I go
To know if you still love me

watch?v=M-aeWJfn-44

Chapter 25

Italy – Day 9

Elsie woke in the early hours of the morning, breathing heavily, her chest damp with sweat. For minutes she lay perfectly still, afraid to move, her entire body felt leaden and fixed. Gradually the horrors of her nightmare dissipated and she moved her hand above the sheet, pushing it down around her waist.

Her hearing, muted by a dull buzzing in her brain, returned and she could hear Charles snoring beside her. Lying flat on his back never helped with his breathing, and she tried to pretend it was that which had woken her.

It was still fairly dark in the room but there was no way she'd sleep now. She slid out of bed, careful not to wake him, picked up clothes and took them with her, closing the bedroom door behind her to leave him to sleep.

After making a pot of tea she sat outside by the pool, a blanket from the sofa wrapped around her as she watched the sun rise, its rays gradually warming the early morning air. Restless and annoyed at her mind for taking her back to a place she'd rather forget she decided to do something physical. Tying up her hair and finding her sandals and handbag she set off taking a slow walk down to the town.

Turning over and reaching for Elsie Charles was surprised to instead find an empty space. He rolled onto his back, stretched his arms above his head and listened for sounds of her.

"Els?" he called, pushing himself to sit. When there was no response he got out of bed, pulled on his pyjama bottoms (sleeping naked was something of a revelation) and headed into the kitchen.

It was only early, just after eight, and he was surprised to find the villa empty. Clearly she'd been up very early, there was a lukewarm teapot on the side, he emptied it and put water on to boil intending to make a fresh brew.

He was rinsing his face when he heard her come in, "Where've you been?" He shouted from the bathroom, drying his face on a towel.

"To get breakfast, are you coming outside?"

"Just a second."

With a t-shirt on he returned to the kitchen, finding her filling the fridge, two bottles of red wine standing on the side.

"What's all this?"

"Thought I'd cook tonight, we can stay home for a change, save some money for our property venture. And I got something wonderful for dessert."

"Ooh what?"

"Surprise."

She flinched slightly as he came up behind her, sliding his hands around her waist.

"Hey, you alright?"

"Fine just ticklish." She twisted her head to kiss him. "I got this fresh bread with chocolate chips in for breakfast, just for you."

He squeezed her waist, kissing her neck, "Wonderfully kind of you. You smell good enough to eat."

"I'm sweaty from walking up that hill with bags of food." She chuckled. "Go carry the tea out." She pushed her bottom into him, "Go."

When she goes out to join him he's standing staring at the pool and she smirks to herself, biting her lip. "Whatever's the matter?" She asks innocently.

"You bought a bloody ball."

"Told you I would."

"We haven't got kids staying!"

"I have you, you're like an overgrown kid at times. Are you going to sit down, that tea will be too strong?"

Shaking his head and grumbling he did as she asked.

"Charles…"

"It takes up half the pool."

"Oh it does not. Besides, I'm going to kick your arse at volleyball later."

"Pleasant turn of phrase."

"Don't be moody," she said gently, passing him a plate across.

He screwed his face up, took the plate from her and sat back in his chair. "Sorry. Volleyball will be fun," he bit into his bread.

"Maybe we can make it a competition. Loser has to do whatever the winner wants."

His eyebrows rose, "Interesting."

"Warming up to the idea?"

"I might be." He polished off his first piece of bread and put his plate down, picking up his teacup instead. "What made you get up so early anyhow?"

She swallowed, a shiver running down her arms. "Just couldn't sleep."

He noted her expression, "That's all?"

"A-ha…" She slid open the cover on her iPad, "I'll check my emails, the solicitor did say he'd send those forms out, you'll need to fill your own you know."

"Will do. Weeks of all this waiting now," he said. He recalled the initial joy when they received the call – the house was off the market, it was theirs. And they'd celebrated with champagne and a sail on the lake. Now came the boring part, the legal side, searches and checks, at least they didn't have to suffer the feet-dragging of a mortgage lender; the solicitor assured them being cash buyers should speed it up.

"I might have another slice of that bread." He said cutting himself one.

"I thought you might. Anything you'd like to do today?" she said tapping away on her screen, "Or just be lazy, we have had a few days out."

"That sounds fine, hey do we have dimensions for the kitchen? Thought I might sketch how I want it to look."

"Sketch? You never told me you could draw."

He nodded, "Do a bit of painting too, or rather I did. Not been out for a long time, always busy in the shop or with cricket – which reminds me, there's a charity match coming up in August, will you come?"

"Of course." She slid her glasses off, "Done mine. Do you want to fill yours in now?"

"May as well." He got to his feet, "I'll go get my glasses."

She sat back in her chair, stretching her legs out, letting her dress slip to one side and the sun warm her skin. She'd need to put sun cream on soon, especially if they were going to lie in it for the day. In the warmth and beauty of the morning it was easy to push the last vestiges of her dream to the furthest recesses of her mind.

"Elspeth Hughes," he chided, "sitting there with your thighs on display."

She snapped her legs together and pulled her dress back over.

"I was only joking," he said as he sat down. "Only you and I can see, and I have no complaints."

"I know." She sat up, gathering today their breakfast dishes.

"Are you sure you're okay? You would tell me, if anything was wrong, you're not changing your mind about the house?"

"Of course not." She breathed deeply, noting his expression. "It was just a dream, nothing really, the counsellor said I'd probably have more as we discuss things."

He searched for words of comfort, battling his desire to know more.

She shrugged, "It doesn't matter." She took his teacup, "I'll go wash up, then we could go for a walk, before it gets too hot."

Elsie took his hand as they walked, swinging his arm – the trees provided seclusion and the sunlight dappled through them in streams of warmth.

"You're sure we can swim in the lake?" She asked.

"Of course, what you got on under there?"

"My bikini, nosey."

"Just checking, we can swim from the clearing we visited that first night… you know, when you proclaimed your undying love for me."

"Did I say undying? I don't recall that part…" She teased.

"Mm, I definitely remember hearing those specific words."

"Specific? Those actual, specific words that I uttered?"

"From your own sweet mouth."

They both laughed as they reached the end of the path and Charles jumped down over the rocks, turning around and holding his arms up for her; she rested her hands firmly on his shoulders, his hands on her waist as he lifted her down.

"Let me get a picture of you here," he said, his camera bag slung over his shoulder, "to remember."

"You old softy," but she went and stood beneath the overhanging tree limb, "Am I alright here?"

"Perfect." He took a couple of snaps.

"I should take a picture of you too."

He groaned, "I always look awful on them." But he handed the camera across.

"Oh, don't be silly, you look lovely in that one of us on the beach in Dubai."

"That's because you're in it, the focus is shifted."

She was giggling as she took a picture of him, then went to him beneath the shade of tree and kissed him affectionately. "Well, you have my entire focus."

He enfolded her in his arms, "That's what I've loved most about being away, just the two of us, no distractions."

"That's the thing you've loved the most!" She teased. "Not the rich food or great weather or fantastic sex." She was pressed against him, tickling his waist.

"Well, maybe some of those things have struck a chord."

"Maybe…" She stepped back from him, slipping her sandals off, "Come on then, let's swim." And she pulled her dress up over her head and dropped it into her bag.

"God I love how you just go for these things," he said, toeing off his shoes and unbuckling the belt on his trousers.

She was already wading into the water, gasping at the coolness of it lapping up her thighs, "Bloody hell it's freezing!" She said as she flopped forward and it whipped up around her breasts, she let out a sound caught half between a scream and a yelp.

He was chuckling as he dipped a toe in, "Wimp!"

"You just bloody wait til you get in and your bits shrink."

"Elsie!" But he was laughing at her as he swam forward, "Lord above!" He shouted.

"Who's a wimp now?"

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," he said, teeth chattering.

"Its because we're in the shade," she said swimming further out, "might be better in the sunshine."

He swam behind her, his legs slowly waking up again after the initial shock of the water. He lifted one arm up and over and then the other until he'd caught her up and swam alongside her.

"It's quite refreshing now I suppose," he said.

"Let's hope we don't get run over by a passing boat."

"Nice thought!"

She giggled, "I aim to please. We should call Anna later, haven't heard from her in days."

"I don't want her to think I'm checking up on her with the shop."

"Of course we are," she paused in her strokes, floating and paddling her hands beside her to maintain her position, he did the same. "Better here?"

"Much."

She twirled in the water, "And look at the gorgeous view."

"Oh, I am, believe me."

She felt one of his fingers slide down her back and she smirked over her shoulder at him, "Flirt."

"Only with you."

She turned to face him, moving into his space, "I should hope so."

He drew his arms around her, bending his head to kiss her. She slid her hands up his arms, resting her hands on his shoulders as she returned the kiss.

"Don't let go of me, I'll sink," she whispered against his lips.

"It's my number one aim."

She chuckled, "To let me sink…?"

"To not let you go!" He emphasised the words by pressing her closer against him.

"Mm," she murmured flirtatiously, "You're absolutely, positively sure about that?"

"Most decidedly." He nudged her nose with his, "I kinda like spending time with you."

"You kinda like it?"

"Yeah. You know, sometimes."

"That's good to know. Because I kinda like spending time with you too. In fact, I might even go as far as to say that you are now my favourite person to spend time with."

"Really? That's nice to know, you do realise this is just a bit of a casual thing for me though, don't you?"

She splashed water into his face, "It bloody well better not be."

"Dangerous to do that, I might drop you."

She screamed as he momentarily let go, gripping his shoulders, "Charles, you idiot!"

"I'm a what…?" He asked, loosening his grip again.

"A very, very nice man."

"I'm a very cold man," he smiled, "shall we swim back? There's a nice spot in the sun we can dry out in. Then we can walk down to the town and I'll buy you lunch."

"Lovely, I really want to share some antipasti."

"Share?!"

"Yes," she squeezed his arm, "there's a lot on the plate, and besides I don't want you so full you don't enjoy dinner."

"Are you going to tell me what we're having yet?"

"There was fresh seafood this morning, so I thought I'd make fish stew, cacciucco!" She said in an elaborate Italian accent.

"Ooh nice, and this special dessert?"

She chuckled, "Is very much American, not Italian! But you'll like it." She kissed him again, "You think there's others splashing about looking at us and thinking silly old fools, that's disgusting!"

"Well, bugger them if they are."

Smiling she slipped out of his arms and started to swim back to shore.

They sat on the rocks in the sunshine letting their swimwear dry out. Elsie had rubbed cream into Charles' shoulders and he was returning the favour.

"You're not cold?" He asked as she shivered.

"No, not really."

He kissed the back of her neck, "You know sun cream protects against UVA, anti-ageing rays."

"We should be wearing it every day, how do you know these things?"

"I read a lot."

She smirked, "But of course you do. You know, you'd be great on a quiz show, all this information packed away up there."

He moved to sit beside her, laying back and resting his head on her rolled up towel. "I do retain a lot of useless facts – did you know a group of hares is called a Husk?"

"That can't be true."

He nodded, "Might not be such a useless fact when we're living in our country abode and see a group of them. Though the terms drove or down are also acceptable."

"That's going to be my goal now, searching out a group of them so I can use it." She rested her head against his chest, curling against him.

"You know," he said, stroking her back. "When we were in Dubai I was so blissfully happy, just to be with you, our first real time alone. So amazed by it, how my feelings were growing every day. But a lot of the time I had this niggling worry that you didn't want it, that you'd realise what a mistake you'd made."

She stroked his skin, chasing away the last remnants of water with her fingertips, "You don't feel like that anymore I hope."

"Not at all."

"Good," she kissed his chest. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

"Neither am I, especially now we're tied in to house ownership."

"How romantic…" She smiled, "I'm just going to rest my eyes for a second."

"Me too."

They ate around one and then meandered around the local shops, Elsie's arm hooked through his. She bought him a few books he'd spotted, eager to treat him to at least something after his generous Tiffany gift.

Charles suggested they visit the church and Elsie was glad of the coolness in there. Outdoors was bustling and hazy in the early afternoon heat, it was August after all, and inside all was still and calm. They split up for a while; Charles had seen the interior many times before and was eager to take photos of the newly renovated exterior, Elsie indulged the historian in her and wandered from plaque to plague, reading the dedications, her glasses perched on her nose.

When Charles came back inside he found her sitting in the front pew, a melancholy expression on her face as she gazed to the altar.

He slipped in beside her, his arm squashed against the side. "Hi," he whispered. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, reaching up to wipe her eyes. Was she crying?

"Elsie," he said, his tone hushed. "What's wrong?"

His hand was on her leg and she covered his hand with hers, shaking her head. "Nothing. Just having a female moment, that's all."

"You're sure?"

She nodded again, leaning against his arm and closing her eyes for a second. Content to just sit in the silent reverence and let her tears fall.

They walked home in silence, holding hands as they climbed the hill back to the villa.

"It's so hot," she complained when they got in, emptying her bag of purchases and damp towels.

"Why don't you go in the pool to cool off?" He said, moving behind her, his hands on her hips, "Or we could always have a siesta…"

She stepped forward, out of his embrace. "I think I will take a swim. Maybe read my book for a while."

"Alright," he watched as she folded her towel over her arm, located her book from the coffee table. "I'll make us some drinks, something cold and refreshing."

"Thank you honey, I'll save you a seat."

She was doing laps down the pool when he got out, front crawl, slow as she practised each move he'd taught her.

"Looking good," he said, as she reached the end and came up for breath. "It's improving."

"Can't quite time my breathing yet."

"Getting there though."

"Are you coming in?"

"I will." He put their drinks at the side of the pool and dived in, swimming clear from one end of the pool to the other in just a few strokes.

"Show off," she said, as he stopped at the opposite end to her. She threw the ball at him before he had chance to react and it smashed into the water covering his face in splash.

"You little…" He threw it back and she pounded it with her hands, sending it back.

For a while they played about, carefree, almost excitable, Charles started to keep score until he realised Elsie was seven points in front.

"Told you I'd kick your arse!"

"Just lucky."

"Whatever! I was in the netball team you know."

"I can tell."

"I can't help being the winner, and you the loser!"

"Right that's it," he threw the ball aside, striding across the pool, hands held aloft. "You're gonna pay for that."

"Don't you dare!" She backed up to the wall. "Charles! I'm warning you!"

"Whatcha gonna do?!"

She screamed playfully as he reached her, grabbing her waist and hoisting her up into the air.

"That's not fair, you're stronger."

He waded through the water, swinging her body as if preparing to throw her across the pool.

"Don't you dare Charles," she warned, pressing hard in his shoulders. He tipped her back, causing her to grip tighter, "Ah! Charles!" She pushed on him again, making him wobble, his foot slipped beneath him and he lost his balance, collapsing back in the water with a heavy splash and Elsie on top of him.

They spluttered, laughing and splashing the other.

"Like a child." She managed to say, "Just because you lost."

"The game isn't over yet."

"Isn't it!"

"Rematch tomorrow when I have more energy." He flopped onto his back, raising his arms up by his head and floating.

She copied him, "Yes. That is a good idea."

"That was fun though."

"And you didn't want a ball…" She tutted.

Later they lay side by side on the loungers, hidden beneath the shade of the umbrella, Elsie dosing after her interrupted night's sleep and Charles reading one of the books she'd purchased for him.

He was already over a third of the way through it when she turned onto her side, groggy and disorientated.

"Hi," he said softly watching her wake. "Feel better for the nap?"

"A little. I hope I sleep well tonight."

"You want to tell me what it was about…?"

"Sorry?" she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"The dream. The church."

Breathing deeply she reached for the drink on the table between them, taking a sip and screwing up her mouth. "This is warm. What time is it?"

"Erm, a little after six I think. I heard the church bells. But Elsie…"

She was already getting up, searching for her flip-flops. "I'll go start dinner."

He let her go. Pushing her into discussing things wasn't the way and they'd come so far, she'd shared so much and she was so strong – that's how she seemed to him, the strongest person he'd ever met. But still, there were times that tender side came to the fore, the raw memories, the things she'd had to face up to. He only hoped he could be there to support her through them, that she'd let him.

Elsie busied herself with preparing dinner, putting on a sarong over her bikini and pouring herself a small glass of wine to begin with. She salted the fish and then started with the base of the stew – olive oil, garlic, chilli, parsley and red wine. Then tomatoes. She left it to simmer, taking the time to tidy around the villa, putting their towels in the wash; packing away the gifts they'd bought.

She was making the bed when Charles came in to change.

"Smells divine in the kitchen," he said. "Do I have time for a shower before we eat? I'm a mixture of lake water, sun cream and chlorine from the pool."

She smiled, lifting the sheets from the bed and shaking them out before she tucked them in. "You have time."

"Unless you want me to help."

"No, you cooked last time. I'm fine, go have your shower."

"Thank you darling," he kissed her cheek, squeezed her arm, then disappeared into the bathroom.

For a moment she stood still staring after him, biting down on her lip; a part of her wanted to tell him, longed to empty her head of it, the truth was she'd never spoken of it to anyone, not even her counsellor. They'd skirted around the issue so far, treading gently – she knew that was the plan; she wasn't dumb – until Elsie would be the one to bring it up, to face it.

But maybe Charles was the one to talk it over with. She trusted no one more – it was quite a surprise to her when she'd realised that fact.

Shaking herself free of the thoughts she returned to the kitchen and set about preparing the fish. Charles was singing in the shower and the sound cheered her, and she put on the radio to accompany her cooking.

Charles found her singing along to classic Madonna, slicing bread for dinner and dropping slices of it into a pan to warm.

"You must be my lucky star…" she sang, and he leant against the door frame watching her, "…cos you shine on me wherever you are…"

She was turning to the sink to rinse her hands when she spotted him, her cheeks flushed momentarily. "Hello handsome." She smiled.

"That's a nice greeting."

"Dinner's ready, you want to set the table, pour the wine?"

"Sure. Anything for you."

"That was so, so good Els." He said, mopping up the last of his sauce with a piece of bread.

"Well, I reckon I've made enough for the rest of the week so I'm glad you enjoyed it."

He grinned at her, "Oops."

"Slight miscalculation with how many people were eating here tonight."

"Slight?" He smiled warmly, kindly. "I like it when you cook for me."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, "Is this some sort of throwback to the days of yore?"

"Not at all, just an observation."

She softened, "Sorry, didn't mean to snap."

"I didn't take it that way." He reached across to where her hand lay upon the table, "Els, you can tell me to leave it and I will but as wonderful as today has been, there's something I feel you want to tell me, something bothering you that I can help with. And I want you to know I'm here, that I'll listen, just to talk and listen, if that's what you want."

She stared at his fingers stroking hers, turning her response over in her mouth, her tongue feeling thick and dry. There were brown spots on the back of his hand, age spots probably but she found them endearing, and she thought how tanned his skin was looking from all the sun.

When she looked up his eyes were so kind and sympathetic and she jerked her chair back, getting to her feet. "I think I'll take a bath." She said. "We can have dessert later, if you're hungry."

He nodded, patient, "Sure. If that's what you want."

She left him sitting at the kitchen table, hiding herself away in the bathroom and quickly filling the tub, covering her mouth to stop herself from crying.

She floated down in the bath, letting the water come up over her shoulders, enveloping her neck and tickling her mouth. The steady rhythm of her own heartbeat filled her ears and she let her mind drift away, clear and focus.

For long minutes it was tranquil, she could escape – she'd always loved the water, as a child she could hide away in the tub for a couple of hours, until she was cold and her skin wrinkled. In some ways she could understand why people chose drowning as a way to go – floating away to oblivion.

She screamed and jumped up, splashing and gasping for her as something grabbed her arm.

"It's me, sweetheart, it's me!" Charles gasped and she flopped back in the water, leaning against the back of the bath.

"God, you scared me."

"You didn't hear me when I walked in; I bought you some wine."

"Oh… thank you."

She watched him place it on the side, brushed her damp hair back from her face.

"Are you alright?"

She smiled lopsided at him.

"Silly question." He gazed down at her.

"I feel exposed," she said covering her chest.

"Sorry, I'll go."

"No," she reached up for his hand, "Stay. I'm sorry I walked out on you before, I just needed to be alone for a while."

"That's fine, I understand… well, I don't, I can't. But I'm trying."

"I know. You want to get in here?"

"It's not as big as at home…"

"You'll have to sit."

She sipped her wine as he undressed then scooted to one end of the bath as he got in behind her, somehow, awkwardly at first, they moved and rearranged limbs until she was on her side, her face pressed against his chest, his arms around her.

He watched the droplets of water slide down her arm, followed their journey from shoulder to elbow, until they disappeared into the bathtub.

"There are things I want to tell you." She said softly, "I think of it, and then… I don't know where to start. Or if I can even find the words, if I want to find them."

He kissed her head, "You don't have to tell me anything. But I am here to listen, to support, and never judge."

She closed her eyes, letting the gentle movement of the water and the feel of Charles' hands on her back soothe her.

"Sometimes, in the early days…" she said, finding her voice, surprising herself when she did. "I'd be asleep and he'd come home – from the pub or something, I don't know, and he'd wake me up and have sex with me."

Charles did his best not to move, not to even breathe, for fear of her closing up again, shutting herself off from it. As difficult as it was for her to share, as difficult as it was for him to hear, there was something vital about her sharing these things with him, working through them together.

"That's what woke me this morning, dreaming of that. I never saw it as anything bad, as an attack. Not back then, we were newlyweds…" She shrugged, "I was young, he was my first relationship, the first real one. And what did I know? I'd never lived with anyone; I'd only witnessed my parents' relationship, hardly an advertisement for a healthy partnership. I thought that was just… just how it was…"

He swallowed, closing his eyes, images of this young girl fresh into marriage, twenty and clueless. He thought of where he was aged twenty, travelling around Europe with Richard. Enjoying himself.

"I loved him." She said simply, "Or what I thought was love. And when Anna was born, years later, things started to change. I didn't want that for my daughter, I didn't want her to ever feel uncomfortable or awkward if someone tried to touch her – it made realise that I didn't in fact like it."

She was quiet again, remembering, sniffling back tears. She felt Charles' hand rest on her hip, his thumb brushing in small circles upon her skin.

"In my thirties, that's when it was worse. When I got my degree and I started teaching and finding myself, my independence…" she breathed deeply, feeling his chest beneath her cheek, the gentle thrum of his heart. "He hurt me." She said simply.

His arm curled around her, instinctively wanting to protect.

"And now, god now I don't know why I stayed. Why I let it happen. But then, when I was in it, it seemed like this was just how life was, how all relationships were… I just wanted him to love me," she shook her head, "I can't believe who I was. How angry I am with myself for letting it go on."

"You mustn't feel that," he said gently.

She turned in the water and he did too, until she was facing him. She avoided his eyes at first but when she finally did look up at him his face was red and she reached to touch his cheek, finding it damp with tears. She rested her head forward until it touched his chin and he kissed her forehead.

Breathing deeply she closed her eyes again, playing through her memories, "I started paying for Anna to go to dance classes, when she was seven, she'd begged for months before her birthday. I paid for it myself and didn't tell Joe – I made some story up about it being a big surprise for Daddy for Christmas, I had no idea what I'd say when we actually got to Christmas. We managed it for four months and then she won some prize, and she blurted it out over dinner… and of course he was proud, the doting father congratulating her… …but God, did I pay that night." Her voice caught, tight and raw, "Anna was asleep in the next room…" She whispered and then she was crying and falling against him.

To hear her sob, really sob with the agony of remembering, breaks his heart. He thinks he should have battered him that night, that he should have killed him. But she doesn't need to hear that, she needs him to support.

When her tears started to subside and her body was no longer shuddering against him he spoke softly, "What else did Anna like to do, hmm…" he asked, bringing her out of the dark memories, kissing her head. "What else did you do together?"

She appreciated him refocusing her, filling her mind with other memories, better memories. "She liked the zoo," she finally said.

"Which animal best?"

She pulled her head back from the crook of his neck, snuffling and wiping her face with damp hands, "Penguins, we always stood half-an-hour at the penguins. And she had that pink stuff…, candyfloss all over her face."

He smiled, "What else?"

"Erm, she liked butterfly buns with vanilla cream, and those…" she turned slightly, the water splashing as she moved onto her back, still fighting back her tears, still wiping her face of them. "…sprinkles on top, she made me fill her palm with them and she'd lick them out, but not the green ones – she always picked them all out. And she liked to go ice-skating too, every Birthday."

Charles' hand was on her stomach beneath the water, listening to her recount these things was a bit like watching a black and white film, watching images you don't want to see but know you have to if its going to make any sense in the end.

"I didn't want to fall in love with you," she suddenly gasps, "because love meant humiliation and manipulation and being made to feel small and owned, I didn't know it could be like this… and I'm so ashamed for how I treated you, so ashamed."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does. I can't believe I allowed it to go on so very long… and that night, that night in my flat on the sofa – he could have raped me then, he could have…so easily. But you know why he didn't – because that wasn't the point. He'd done that for years, wrapped it up in the pretence of married life and love. The point was then that we were no longer married and he needed me to break and let him do it, to give consent because then he'd have broken me in another way."

She was crying again, covering her face with her hands. "Only now the haze has completely lifted, being with you, talking it through with my counsellor, it's the first time I've ever faced things, but I've never told her this, only touched upon it… you're the only person I've ever shared it with."

He circled his arms around her, pulling her to him and she turned, letting him fall onto his back so she could lean on top of him. For a long time they lay like that, silent.

The water was lukewarm at best and Elsie could feel her limbs setting; she lifted her face up from his chest, "I think we ought to move."

He reached up to brush her hair back, and she twisted her head to kiss his palm, "I really do feel exposed now." She said, self-consciously.

"No. Not in a bad way." He bit his tongue, he didn't want to ask, but felt he had to, not that it would make that much of a difference in the scheme of things. "Did he ever… I mean did he ever…hit you?"

"God no, he was far too clever for that. In some ways I wonder who was worse – him or my father – my experience of men is hardly a ringing endorsement for your sex is it?"

He pulled a face, one that told her it was understandable, considering.

"Tell me abut you," she said softly, still holding his hand. "Tell me something about you."

"Something like…"

"Anything, something to take my mind off him, I don't want to think about it anymore. Something funny."

"Erm, I once ate four packs of Jaffa Cakes one after the other. And I mean boxes, not those mini packs."

She laughed, "Easily done I suppose."

"I woke up with the guilt of the wrappers around me."

"Like The Vicar of Dibley and her Crunchies."

He chuckled, "I remember that, I like that show."

"So do I."

"I always wanted children," he said more seriously. "I know in Dubai I said I never found the right person, but I wanted them. At one point in my early forties I actually thought of looking into adopting as a single man, but I figured they'd never let me have a child."

"Oh Charles, you would have been a wonderful father, you're so kind and patient." She leant forward to kiss him, feeling his hand low on her back, his mouth soft and pliant against hers.

"We do need to get out." He said, his toes were freezing.

"Yes. Let's find that Port out and get drunk."

"If that's what you want."

"So, what are we doing?" Charles asked, sat on the sofa watching Elsie knelt by the fire. She wore a thick cardigan and his pyjama bottoms – her damp hair coming loose from the clip she'd put in.

"We're warming up the marshmallows."

"For what purpose?"

"You'll see."

She'd set out chocolate biscuits on the coffee table and napkins – he let her, it seemed to help, to busy herself with doing this rather than curling up with him on the sofa and continuing their earlier chat.

That she was raped was no real shock to him, he'd pieced together a rough idea from bits and pieces she'd said over the past year. But to hear that it went on repeatedly for so very long filled him with horror and hate, and he'd never actually physically hated anyone.

"Now," she said, her voice light, "slip this off here…"

He watched as she squashed the sticky marshmallow onto the biscuit and handed it to him on a napkin.

"And there you go."

She did one for herself before going to sit beside him, curling her legs beneath her and watching expectantly as he bit into his.

His eyes slipped closed and a slow smile filled his face, "Oh wow, that's a revelation."

"I thought you might like it."

"You know, this might be the thing, you chose that ice cream but for me this might be the thing that beats sex."

She smiled, licking her lips, "Charles," she said softly, "I know we've been naked in the bath together, but would you mind if we… didn't… tonight?"

"God of course not, of course, I never presumed." He leant forward, kissing her forehead before considering the marshmallow on his lips.

"Thanks." She grinned, rubbing it off.

"My apologies." He polished off his biscuit and wiped his sticky fingers. "Now that was very, very good Mrs Hughes. A banquet of a meal tonight."

"I'm glad you liked it."

She put her empty napkin back on the table.

"Now," he said, stretching his legs out behind her on the sofa, "Why don't you come cuddle up here and let me hold you."

She did just that, feeling temperamental and delicate, as soon as they lay down and he cradled her against him she felt the tears come again and was surprised when he simply held her and let her cry – years of repressed anger and hurt and upset finally coming out.

He covered their bodies with the blanket from the back of the sofa and they lay side-by-side, her back to his chest, staring at the dwindling fire.

"I was scared you'd think less of me." She whispered. "I couldn't bear that."

"Never. It wasn't your fault."

"I should have left. I'm angry with myself for putting up with it for as long as I did. For leaving Anna in that house." Deep, shuddering breaths ran through her. "But then by the time she was a teenager it had stopped, he didn't need me, he was going elsewhere for it and it became easy to just stay, to maintain the façade of that solid family unit. To forget what had gone before. When he told me he wanted a divorce, that he'd met someone else, I didn't know how I felt – upset or glad. Maybe ashamed, that he'd been the one to end it, the one always in charge. And now he was done with me and that was it. I'd always been so weak."

"But you aren't." He pressed his palm against her stomach. "You're the strongest, most resilient person I know." He kissed her head. "It could never change my feelings for you Elsie. You must realise that. I am so very deeply in love with you, so much the word doesn't seem to cover it – it's unending."

She snuffled again, turning onto her back. "I don't know what I've done to deserve it."

"You don't have to earn it; just by being you, this wonderful, kind, warm woman. I'd never let anything hurt you, never." He stroked her face.

She took his hand, kissed his palm, his wrist. "I think you're the only person I've ever really trusted. And I love you for that. For so many things."

He kissed her head again, careful to avoid anything too much, too sexual.

"Trust me enough to let me carry you to bed? If we sleep here we'll end up with bad backs for the last days of our holiday."

"Oh, don't say that. I don't want to go home." She slid her hands up around his neck, pulling him into a hug. "I want to stay here forever, with you."

He smiled, "That sounds blissful."

She closed her eyes, breathing him in, "I want to be with you forever."

So, I hope this odd mix of angst and loving worked! And I'm SOOOOO happy about passing 500 reviews, I had a little party (only me invited). So please continue to let me know what you think - your time is very much appreciated.