HUGE thank you and hugs for the overwhelming response to the last chapter (not sure I'll ever live up to it!) I'm so glad you enjoyed her proposal. Shall we see what Charles' response is...

Chapter 27

Coming Home

He's shaking as he takes the cases from the carousel, the last two on there, going round and round as their owners stand in a dazed hug.

They don't speak as he lifts them down, tips them over so they're upright on their wheels and drags them behind him – a lopsided grin on his face. She picks up their travel bags from the floor and follows him out of the airport.

Somehow he makes it to their car without bursting into either tears of joy or uncontrollable laughter or bombarding her with a thousand questions.

"Car's still here," she says as he gets into the driver's side – his worry when they'd left it two weeks ago was that it would be sold on for scrap metal.

"So it seems."

She reaches to touch his hand, to steady him before he turns the key in the ignition. "Let's not go straight home, let's go have a drink or lunch somewhere. Anna's at the shop and I think…"

"…We might need to talk." He finishes.

She nods and he starts the engine – still lost for words.

They find a pub just off the M1 and sit outside far from others so they can talk.

"English air," he says as he sits on the bench beside her, "Nothing like it."

"No, there isn't." She breathes deeply, circles the rim of her wine glass with her small finger. "And the sun is shining."

"And the grass has been cut and it smells divine."

She smiles at him, tilting her head to one side to regard him as he takes a gulp of his beer – to steady his nerves perhaps. "Should we talk about the weather some more…or…?"

"Or…"

"Or maybe you can give me an answer, perhaps." She's careful not to touch him, to make sure it's clear in his own mind – she thinks she's never been clearer about anything before.

"Did you mean it?" He asks gently, hesitantly, and she watches his fingers drum against his half empty glass.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

He grins then, a wide uncontrollable grin, shaking his head, roughing his hand through his hair. "You know it's all wrong. All back to front."

"Why?!"

"Well because I should be the one…"

"Oh, what century are we in Charles!"

"I have a ring," he said softly and looks up, registering her surprise. "My mother's, found it when I cleaned out the attic before you moved in, had it polished, just in case you ever showed signs you were ready…" he swallowed, an awkward lump in his throat, "You didn't show signs." He said, "And I take it that this wasn't planned."

"Yes, I'd often dreamed of proposing to you at Birmingham airport."

He shook his head, "So, spur of the moment?"

Now she touches him, her heart constricting at the thought he thinks her proposal a mistake, an off-hand reaction. She squeezes his hand, "It doesn't mean I didn't mean it."

He opens his mouth to speak but finds he can't think what to say.

"Of course I meant it." She says, her voice clouded with emotion, her accent thick as her feelings take over. She slides along the bench until she's touching his leg with hers. "I do mean it. I'm not saying let's rush and get married next week but yes, yes I do want to marry you."

He glances away, glad his back is to anyone else in the beer garden as hot tears slip down his cheeks and then she's pushing a tissue into his hand and somehow holding herself together.

"Are you going to accept?" She says longingly, a sweet expression as she watches him.

He nods, holding her gaze as much as he can with watery eyes, "Without doubt yes. Without a doubt."

She moves to hold him and they hug for a long time, Charles sniffling into her shoulder, Elsie not particularly caring if anyone sees her crying now as the tears find paths down her cheeks.

"We're engaged," he finally says, leaning back to look at her. "I'm engaged, at my age. I can still get proposed to!"

"Don't get big-headed."

"Do we get to have a party? I mean, an engagement party?"

"I suppose so."

He smiles, his excitement beginning to mount, the hand that rests on her shoulder is still shaking, in fact his entire body seems to be trembling. "And – to marry," he swallows, "I'd never have thought..."

"Let's buy the house first hey, make that our priority this year. Then plan the wedding."

He's shaking his head, tears starting afresh, "I can't believe this, you don't just want to get married you want a wedding! A real wedding?"

"Of course I do, we should marry in church – in the sight of God." It was a registry office first time round and she wants this one done right, because the way she feels for him should be done right, should be celebrated in the sight of God.

"Oh darling," he reaches to stroke her face, kisses her hand, "I never dreamed… not for years… I thought you'd need years of this, of us, and the counselling – that was if you ever would consider marriage again,"

"Some things are obvious even to me."

"Why? When?"

She shrugged, "I'm not sure. I suppose the idea had been there, we've both thought of it," she said pointedly. "And then at the airport I just thought I can't bear to be without you, so why am I not married to you? Why am I waiting? What's there to wait for?"

He hugged her again, pulling her tight to him and kissing her face, her head, her shoulder… wherever he could reach.

"People will stare," she giggled. She pushed her hands against his shoulders, held him still. "Shall we see if they're still serving food, it's after two and I'm starving."

He nodded, snuffling again. "Sorry, I'm not usually an emotional man."

"I think it's rather sweet." She stroked the tears from his cheeks, brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. "Kinda sexy too."

His fingers curled into the material of her cardigan, "I want to take you to bed…" he whispered, kissing her hair.

"To seal the deal?" She gave him a watery smile.

"I suppose so."

"I'll go order food – should I take it you want what ever type of pie they have on the menu?"

"Steak would be best and potatoes or mash or chips – not those ghastly fries." He said, how quickly he reverted back to the Charles she knew and loved.

"Yes, I know." She was digging her purse from her bag. "Hope they have a card machine, I've got no cash."

"Get champagne, let's celebrate." He said as she hooked her legs over the bench and turned around.

He held her arm as she stood, supporting her.

"You're driving." She bent close to kiss his cheek, "Let's get champagne when we get home and celebrate with Anna."

"You want to tell her?"

"Don't you?"

"I'm bursting to tell the world. I just didn't want to rush you."

She smiled, "We'll tell Anna when we get home, we can tell Beryl on Tuesday at dinner, I'd rather that than over the phone."

"And I'll arrange something with Richard and Isobel," he grinned, chuckling as he thought on it. "Izzy thought I'd never marry."

"Hmm…" Well, how wrong people can be, Elsie thought as she headed into the pub.

"You've missed the turn off," Elsie said, pointing at the sign they'd just passed, "You're not still daydreaming about somehow booking York cathedral for our nuptials."

"Perfectly logical question."

"As to whether we should get married there?"

"Yes…" He drawled. "But you're right; it should be my local church. And I haven't missed the turn off, we're not going into Harrogate yet."

"And where are we going?"

"To pay a visit to our house."

She shook her head, "Charles…"

"What? It's empty, we can mosey outside."

"Oh can we now?"

The early evening sky was decorated with pink and orange clouds and as they pulled into the driveway, the crack of gravel beneath the tyres, the house seemed bathed in colour.

"Garden's getting overgrown," she said, slipping off her seatbelt.

"I can't wait to get my hands on it," he said and she turned to look at him, the joyous expression on his face making her smile.

"I love it so much," he said, putting on the handbrake and turning off the engine.

"You old fool," she rubbed his arm, "Come on – let's mosey."

They trudged up the driveway, Elsie reaching to hold his hand and he swung hers as they walked.

"I'm going to give Frank a call tomorrow, get him out here to price things up."

"Don't you think that's a bit premature, we've only just started the process?"

"Better to be ahead of the game I always think."

They wandered around the back of the building, pushing open gates and into the back yard. Charles pressed his face against the kitchen window as Elsie stood on the patio and looked over the garden.

"We can knock down that wall, open it right up, then have all the counter space along here," he said pointing out his plans.

"Have you sketched all this?"

"I have, Frank will get it drawn up properly of course when he has measurements. Then we can get prices."

He turned back to her, her silhouette perfectly outlined as the evening light began to darken. "We'll have a table out here." He said moving behind, sliding his hands around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. The sun was setting over the fields in the distance.

"I'd like one of those swing things, maybe over there," she pointed out a spot beneath the trees. "So I can laze in the summer and read."

He smiled, kissing her cheek, "That's the first time you've said something you'd like here."

She turned in his arms, "I don't want to get too carried away until the keys are in my hands. Then I'll go DIY galore."

"I can hardly wait. But I'm still calling Frank tomorrow. I'll get carried away for the both of us."

She regarded his gleeful expression, eyes sparkling in mischief. "Oh dear, my future husband."

He almost choked on her words, "Wow, wasn't quite prepared for how that sounded."

"Want me to try it again for you?"

"Yes. Slowly."

"My. Future. Husband…"

"Yeah. I kinda like the sound of it."

"I'm 'kinda' glad." She lifted herself onto her tiptoes to kiss him, "our first kiss here."

"Make it good one then."

"Come on, let's go get our champagne and tell my daughter she's gaining a stepfather."

He swallowed; his grip on her arms tightening.

"What? Charles you look terrified."

"I'd never thought of it."

She bit her bottom lip, "Well, you don't have to be, if you don't want to." She slid her palms over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the strength of his heartbeat. "I mean she'd never ask…"

"Of course I want to be. I'd just never," he licked his lips, his mouth dry. "I never thought I'd get to be a father."

"Well, you'll be wonderful at it."

They decided to get Chinese food on the way home, and Charles was pestering for prawn crackers in the car.

"How can you be hungry? You had that huge pie at lunch."

"I'm a growing man. Please…" he said, opening his mouth.

She slid her hand into the bag and took one out, feeding it to him.

"Thank you," he said between crunches. "My favourite bit." He reached to turn up the dial on the radio, "Let's sing Els!" he said enthusiastically as the presenter started talking over the end of a track.

"Okay, whatever's on next we'll sing." She giggled, "You're not usually so free and easy with your singing."

"I've never been engaged before." He smiled, turning the volume up even more.

"Ooh classic," she said as the first dramatic notes started and Charles wrinkled his nose as he tried to work out what it was. She turned in her seat to face him, placing her hand over her heart and melodramatically sang, "When I said I needed you…"

"Dusty Springfield!" He laughed.

"…You said you would always stay… Come on then, put the effort in."

When they reached the chorus he finally joined in and they sang exuberantly together, "You don't have to say you love me, just be close at hand. You don't have to stay forever, I will understand. Believe me, believe me, I can't help but love you, but believe I'll never tie you down…"

"Only I will tie you down," she said loudly over the music, "Or rather I am going to tie you down."

"Oh I'll let you, both literally and metaphorically."

He pulled into the parking space reserved for him behind the shop and came around to help her, holding the box of food as she got out. He took the bags from the back seat and hooked them over his arm.

"I'll fetch the cases as you dish up," he said as she unlocked the door.

"I'm not your wife yet, bossy."

"Bossy hey," he patted her bottom with the champagne.

"Hey…" she chided.

As they pushed open the entrance to the flat Elsie was giggling and pushing away his hand that rested on her bum, "Stop." She said, the box of Chinese food balancing on one hand, "I'll drop this. Put that in the fridge until we've told her."

But when they got into the hallway and Charles shut the door with his foot there was a decidedly familiar sound coming from the lounge. A sound that initially caused a tightening in Charles' groin – then his brain kicked in, it wasn't Elsie making the sound.

Clearly Elsie hadn't registered it as she put the box down on the phone table, and hung her door keys on the hook, still smiling at him. But then it was louder and Charles rolled his eyes closed. This wasn't going to go well.

"What the…" Elsie fumed, marching towards the closed door. He followed after her, red-faced and embarrassed at what was happening on his couch.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" She said standing over the two semi-naked figures on the sofa.

"Mum!" Anna yelped, reaching for her top from the floor, the man on top of her kneeling back and dragging his shirt across his lower body. "I thought I must have got the date wrong when you didn't come home. Thought it was tomorrow."

"We went for lunch. What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, on Charles' couch? And who the fuck are you?!" She roared, her ire increasing with every second.

"Oh shit…" Charles groaned behind her.

"What?" She glanced back at him, ashamed by her daughter's actions.

"Elsie, meet my brother John."

Sitting across from each other either side of the coffee table Charles and John both stared at their knees, hands looped together between them.

They could hear a muffled argument coming from the kitchen; Elsie shouting, Anna shouting back.

Sighing Charles reached forward to the prawn crackers on the table, taking out two and snacking on them.

"Didn't mean for it to happen," John said.

"Just fell on her did you."

"You know what I mean."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, to ask if you'd mind if I stay," Charles looked up at him, noted the slightly dark expression. "Having a bad time of it back home, I needed to get away, find a job over here."

"You're not going back to Ireland?"

"Not yet no."

"And Anna…?"

"I got here – two weeks ago I think. We just hit it off." He shrugged.

"Hit. It. Off. Grow up, she's 25, you're…"

"38, I'm 38."

"Bloody hell John."

"I know, I know. But she's… we just clicked, I just feel… she's great, and we just had this instant connection. Intellectual. Physical. Emotional."

Charles leant back in his chair, Elsie would not react well to this kind of spiritual nonsense, Anna may well have fallen for it.

"Don't mess with her," Charles said. "I'm warning you on that. You've been married and divorced, got no end of women behind you, don't hurt her."

John shook his head, "Look, don't get heavy with me, I'm not here to cause trouble."

"Don't ruin this for me," Charles said strongly, behind him a door slammed and Anna stomped into the room.

"We're leaving," she said to John. "Get your stuff."

Charles got to his feet, watching as she shoved things into her bag.

"Where are you going?" He said softly, digging his hands into his pocket – he really wasn't comfortable with all this domestic stuff.

"I don't know, a hotel, or sleep in John's car."

"Don't be ridiculous," Charles implored. "Stay and calm down and we'll talk this through."

"She's not calm." Anna shouted, pointing at the kitchen. "Treats me like a fucking child!" And then she was heading down the hallway, pulling on her coat.

Charles grabbed John's arm, stuffed a handful of notes into it, "You take her to a hotel, no car, and you look after her. I mean it."

John nodded, "My number's on the table in the hall, I wrote it down for you the other day."

The flat seemed oddly quiet when the door closed after them. Some homecoming.

Exhausted and with a headache forming he found his way to the kitchen, Elsie was leaning against the sink, staring out of the window at the town lights.

"I can't believe she's done that," she said, staring at him in the window's reflection. "I mean she's always so sensible, so level headed. Why would she do that – jump into bed with a man she hardly knows, an older man, somebody so close to you?"

He shrugged and she turned to face him, arms folded over her chest.

"Don't do that, tell me, explain it to me."

"I don't know Els, I don't know the whole story, I don't know what's gone on between them."

"Oh I think we know very well what's been going on between them – screwing about in our flat, we'll have to change our bed sheets!"

"She wouldn't have been there."

"Wouldn't she? I didn't think she'd sleep with a stranger but I was wrong about that too." She ran a hand through her hair groaning. "God, what a way to come home. So much for celebrating hey."

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant but he felt dejected, he was so looking forward to popping the champagne and toasting with the two of them.

"I'm going to check the shop, set the alarm down there, then I think we should go to bed. Deal with things tomorrow."

"Sure, what else is there to do?"

When Charles woke the following morning his head felt like it had been hit with a hammer. Elsie was already up; he could hear her banging about in the kitchen and the whirring of the washing machine.

Wearily he got out of bed, pulled on jogging bottoms and a t-shirt and went to face up to things.

"Morning." He said, opening the fridge and taking out juice.

"Hi. We need to go shopping. Or I do. There's not much in there. She was obviously too distracted to get in some food."

He filled a glass, opened a drawer searching for tablets.

"Do you feel unwell?" She asked as she filled the teapot.

"Headache."

She rested her hand on his forehead, "Probably all the travel yesterday. It's easy to pick up bugs on the plane. Do you want some toast?"

"Not just yet." He sank into a chair and rested his arms on the table, "How long have you been up?"

"Hours it seems."

"And have you spoken with Anna?"

She shook her head, her back to him, "Why should I?"

He bit his tongue – because you're upset – he wants to say, but doesn't.

Sighing he finishes his juice. "You want to do anything today?"

"You mean despite washing all of our holiday clothes and cleaning the flat."

He rolled his eyes as she added milk to their tea, this certainly wasn't the mood he wanted to find her in, he'd always known she could have a foul mood when provoked.

"Think I'm going to go to church, I haven't been in a while after all."

"Alright."

He got up and rested his hands on her shoulders, "Thought I might make enquiries – how long in the future we need to plan for."

"Okay."

"Am I only going to get one word answers this morning?"

"I'm not really in the mood for chatting."

He slid his hands from her shoulders, "I get that. You want to come with me? You've still not seen the inside of the church."

"Not today, I can't be bothered to shower and get changed."

"You do realise this isn't my fault don't you?" He asked as he watched her sort their washing.

"Sorry?"

"This, with Anna and John, it isn't my fault."

"I never said it was did I?"

"No, but you're not acting like it isn't neither."

She stopped what she was doing, stood up to face him, "I don't meant to be snappy with you. I'm just upset, annoyed. Of course I don't blame you, you didn't know he was going to turn up, or that my daughter would end up sleeping with him. How long has it been since you've seen him anyhow?"

"God years. Years and years. I told you we exchange letters, that's it, and I haven't had one for about eight months." He shrugged, "I don't know what to say."

"Neither do I."

He took a sip of his tea, "I better go change, or I'll be late. Do you want me to get anything whilst I'm out?"

"No its fine, I'll go to the supermarket and stock up. I'll make something for dinner, maybe a roast, it is Sunday."

"That sounds nice," he forced her to pause, his hands tight on her hips "Stop for a second hey," and he pulled her into a tight hug. "It's almost twenty-four hours since you proposed. Let's just enjoy that fact for a moment."

A small smile slowly emerged, "I'm sorry last night was ruined," she mumbled against his shoulder, returning his hug. She knew how excited he was; he couldn't wait to tell people, to share their news.

"I suspect Richard and Isobel will be there this morning, do you mind if I arrange an evening for dinner?"

"Of course not." She said softly. "Invite them here."

He's grateful of the offer. "I will. Our first guests. We can tell them about the house too."

She pulled back, smiling, "We can."

"And I'll do the ironing this afternoon."

"Deal."

After dinner they stand side-by-side at the kitchen sink doing the dishes.

"So Richard wasn't there?"

"Had to work apparently." Charles said, reaching for a dish to dry. "Had a good chat with Izzy though, she said Thursday, if you're okay with that."

"Suits me, I don't have other plans."

"Great. I'll cook."

"You don't trust me?"

She was prickly today, "Of course I do. I just don't want you to feel you have to."

"Let's share it."

"Better idea."

They were silent for a while as she refilled the sink, Charles stared out of the window to the view of the town, a light summer drizzle just starting.

"I miss Italy." He said.

She chuckled, "Yes, things seemed simpler there."

"Why don't you call her?" He suddenly asked, wishing he hadn't when she snapped round to look at him.

"Why should I? Do you think I'm in the wrong, last night, did you think I was in the wrong?"

He swallowed, searching for words, "No, I didn't say that."

"Then why should I be the one to call and apologise?"

"I didn't say apologise, I said call…" This was quickly getting out of hand. "Just call and talk, you clearly feel bad, upset, so talk to her."

She dropped pans into the sink, sending splash onto the counter; he mopped it up with a cloth.

"She can't seriously date this man, it's ridiculous. I said as much last night, but she insisted it 'wasn't just sex', fancy, as if it's some sort of huge romance that's taken over her life in the fourteen days I've been away."

"These things happen."

"Not with Anna. She's sensible, always has been, never even a boyfriend at school, not until University did she even date." She glanced at him, "And don't try telling me that teenagers don't share things because she did, she always did."

"I wouldn't dream of doing that, as if I know anything about parenting. All I'm saying is there's nothing we can do about it though, just wait and see what happens."

"The hell with that."

"Well we can hardly storm round and demand that she comes home from the hotel, she is twenty-five."

"What hotel? Do you know where they are?"

"No, but I gave him money to –,"

"You gave your brother money to take my daughter to a hotel?"

"It's not how it sounds, she said they'd sleep in his car so I gave him money for a hotel, I knew he wouldn't have any…"

"This man gets better by the second. This situation gets better by the second – you gave your brother money so he could take my daughter to some sleazy hotel in order to screw her!?"

"Elsie!"

"Well, that's true isn't it."

"You know very well it isn't, and I'd prefer it if you calmed down."

"Calmed down!" She huffed then turned back to the sink, plunging her hands into the hot water.

"I didn't want her sleeping on the streets, I care about her too."

"She's meant to be applying for jobs, going places, finding some top gallery to employ her. Not messing about with some idiot."

"She will find a gallery, she's very bright…"

She cut him off, "All those years paying for her education, degree, post-graduate, masters,

"She won't waste it." He tried to interject.

"I don't want her to work here forever," she said, slamming a plate into the sink

"Thanks very much." He picked up a handful of cutlery to dry.

"Oh you know what I mean, I want more for her, more than that – marrying an older man and working in a book shop."

"No, because that's your life, isn't it."

"Stop being bloody difficult."

"Me! Bloody hell Elsie, you're the one being difficult, judgemental."

"She's my daughter!"

"And she's nothing to me?"

"No, that's not what I mean, of course that's not what I mean, but it's different…"

He nodded, "Yes, because as much as you might like to say I'm going to be her step-father I'm really nothing more than the guy dating her mother."

She sighed, suddenly feeling very sad, her hands stilling in the bowl of hot water. "You know that's not true."

He threw the towel down onto the side, "Isn't it?"

"Of course it isn't." She reached for his discarded cloth, drying her hands. "Charles, I don't want to argue with you over this."

"Neither do I. But you asked for my opinion and this is it."

"That she should enter into a relationship with a 38 year old divorcee?"

"That she should be allowed to make her own decisions…"

"Her own mistakes!"

He shrugged, "If it is a mistake then yes."

"I don't want her to end up like me!" She suddenly shouted. "Things have to be different for her."

"But she isn't you." He finally said, "She isn't you. And he isn't Joe. Or your father. For all his faults John wouldn't hurt her."

"Well, I don't know him do I." She said sadly, hurt that he would mention her two greatest weaknesses at a moment like this.

"But you don't want to take the time to get to neither."

"Not particularly no."

He shook his head, "This is going in circles. I'm going out."

"Where?"

"For a bike ride. Something. Anything."

"In the middle of a discussion like this, you're going out?!"

"What the hell does that matter? You're hardly listening to me."

"Say something worthwhile and I would."

"This is why I'm going out." He stomped out of the kitchen and she shouted after him.

"Is this how you deal with all of life's difficult problems, walk out on it?"

When he came home, many hours later, Elsie was curled up in a chair in the lounge, a blanket wrapped around her, her legs tucked beneath and her glasses sliding down her nose. He watched her for a moment by the door; years of a lightly-sleeping mother had taught him how to tiptoe.

"What are you reading?" He finally said, his voice low.

She looked up quickly, a slow smile coming across her face. "Far From the Madding Crowd. It's a re-read." She marked the page as she closed the book. "I first read it when I was seventeen, I noticed there's a new film version out and it made me remember how much I loved it." She slid her glasses off. "There's a moment I remember, I've never forgotten it," she smiled, covering her mouth almost bashfully. "It made me fall in love with Gabriel Oak."

He sat on the footrest in front of her, resting his hand on her foot, feeling her toes wiggle through the blanket, "I thought you loved me."

She nodded her head, "I do. And in some ways you remind me of Farmer Oak. There's a moment quite early on where he falls in love with Bathsheba and Hardy describes him loving the sound of her name and he's walking around in the frosty morning air saying her name repeatedly because of how it feels on his tongue and watching the air spiral out from his mouth, it thrills him, and I fell in love with him then. Seventeen and naïve."

He smiled, cast a glance to the floor and shook his head.

"You're laughing at me." She lightly tapped his arm. "Don't laugh."

"I'm not laughing at it like that," He squeezed her foot. "I'm smiling because when I found out your name I kept repeating it in my head – Elspeth. Then I looked it up, for the meaning, that thrilled me, that somehow handling your name in my mind was bringing me closer to you."

"Oh Charles." She leant forward, sighing. "I don't like arguing with you. And I certainly don't want to argue with you over my daughter's poor choice of sexual partner."

"We weren't arguing, we were just disagreeing." He said, quoting her own words from months ago. "And I understand you're upset over Anna and I do agree, but I also think she's an adult and she makes her own decisions regardless…" He breathed deeply, sliding his hand up her leg. "And I'd also rather like to celebrate the fact we're engaged, tell people, enjoy it. If indeed you do still want to be engaged."

When he looked up at her again her eyes were filled with unshed tears, her head tilted to one side as she nodded ever so slightly.

"Good." He reached into his pocket and took out the ring box – old now, almost battered, he couldn't quite get the dust from the velvet exterior – but none of that seemed to really matter. "So. I get to do it now. Elspeth Hughes, there has never been, and will never be, anyone that I love as much as I love you. And I know I'm not so young anymore but there is nothing I want more than to marry you, to call you my wife, to love you until the end of my days."

She was crying openly now, smiling, wiping at her face.

"So, will you marry me?"

She was nodding before he even said the words, leaning forward to hold him, slipping down from the chair into his arms. "Yes, yes. I want that too. So very much." She kissed him, their lips damp with salty tears. "I love you so much. I always will."

He leaned back, bringing the ring box to place in her palm. "This is for you." He grinned, unable to stop it.

She found words wouldn't come; she eased the lid open on the box.

"I know it's kind of old-fashioned now, and if you don't like it I wont take offence."

"Charles, you know it's beautiful, and it means even more because I know where it came from."

"It's been in the family for four generations now, five with us." He took it from the box, "A diamond of course in the middle, and these are amethysts…meant to give the wearer sweet dreams."

She gasped, "It must be worth a fortune, I'll be scared to lose it."

"Nonsense," he tried to slide it on to her ring finger, and they both laughed as it got stuck less than a third of the way down. "My mother did have very skinny fingers." He said.

"And mine are decidedly curvier," she quipped.

"We can get it re-sized, can't we?"

"Yes. We can."

"That's sort of ruined the moment."

"No, it hasn't. It was perfect." She was half-perched on the edge of the chair, half-kneeling on his lap, and she drew her arms up and around his shoulders, stroking his neck. "I do love you Charles Carson."

"I love you too, Elspeth Hughes. Soon to be Carson." He leant forward to kiss her, then abruptly stopped. "That is, if you choose to change your name, you are under no obligation."

"Of course I will be, it never occurred to me not to. I can think of nothing nicer than being called 'Mrs Carson.'"

He smiled, overjoyed, overwhelmed, "My wife."

"Yes. And all the fun that comes with that!" She sniggered, "I'm sorry I've been snappy today, I'm not used to arguing with Anna, we never argue."

"I know."

"I'm scared I'm losing her."

"Sweetheart, she's an adult, she'll make her own choices and we just have to be there."

"She won't talk to me." She sulked. "I texted her this afternoon and she didn't reply."

"Give her time. Let's focus on us for the moment hey and just give her time."

She nodded, resting her forehead against his. "Want to get drunk and watch a movie?"

He smiled, "Sure, any leftover dinner?"

"I already plated it up for you."

He laughed, "I totally love you."

"I totally love you too."

So, let me know what you think about Bates turning up! He had to really, didn't he...? xx