Trips to the zoo! Lots of cute stuff here but also some scenes of marital abuse too, so you have been warned.
Chapter 30
Fifteen years earlier
Elsie hasn't even taken her coat off, her bag has been thrown on the counter and she's grabbing things from the fridge and turning the oven on high. She takes out the pizza base from the packet (trying to ignore the guilt that comes with feeding her daughter pre-packed food stuffs). At least the tomato sauce is homemade, packed with capers as Anna loves them. She spreads it over the base and is scattering cheese on top when she hears the front door open and her husband come home and she closes her eyes briefly.
"Daddy!" She hears Anna squeal and she shoves the pizza onto a tray, angry at herself for the splattering of tomato sauce up her coat sleeve.
"Why's she eating so late?" He asks as he comes into the kitchen, rolling up his shirtsleeves and rinsing his hands.
"Because we've only just got in."
"Snappy tone." He comments. "Why have just got in?"
"Because I told you," she slams the oven door shut. "I had a parent consultation and had to pick Anna up and sit her in my classroom whilst I met them. If you'd offered to pick her up instead…"
And then his fingers are tangled in her hair, tugging her head back and she gasps in pain, biting her lip to keep the sound inside.
"Don't get smart." He pulls again, just to remind her. "You wanted to work you organise the time. My daughter doesn't eat late."
It's over in the flash of a second and he's in the lounge again, talking to Anna about her homework and what it's like now she's at 'big school.' And Elsie is shaking in the kitchen, her hands flat on the counter, fingers pressing into left-behind cheese and droplets of tomato sauce.
And that's when it really began.
Present Day
Charles sits in the car waiting for Elsie to come out of Beryl's – it's 9:25 on a Sunday morning and he's nervous. Ridiculous really. To be nervous of spending the day with a five-year-old, but there it is.
When Laurel skips out of the front door swinging her hat in her hand he thinks how free she looks. Bright pink dungarees and purple patent boots. Her fair hair is tied tight in pigtails and she's rushing to Elsie's car, clearly already familiar with the procedure.
She's yanked open the back door and is clambering in, her boots banging against the frame, and is plonking her dolly down on the seat beside her before she even notices Charles.
Then she stops. Stares at him for a second. Then screams. So ear-piercingly high he actually covers his ears.
Beryl and Elsie race out of the front door searching for the cause of the trouble.
"What's this noise?" Beryl asks coming to the back door, her hand squeezing Laurel's leg. "Hey, hey. Stop it. What's wrong?"
A trembling tiny finger raises and points at Charles and he feels his cheeks redden at the implication he's done something wrong. Elsie has opened her car door and stands looking at him shaking her head and he shrugs. "I was just sitting here."
"Laurel, apologise to Mr Carson." Beryl demands, fastening the belt on the girl's car seat.
"It's fine." He says, watching Elsie's smirk widen as she gets into the car.
"Honestly, I leave you five minutes."
"Sorry, Mr Carsss…" Laurel giggles.
"You can call me Charles if you like," he offers, glancing back at her.
She shakes her head, stubborn. Her pigtails swishing back and forth.
"How about Charlie?" Elsie asks, twisting to look back at her.
The girl nods, smiling, and Charles rolls his eyes. "Can we have my songs on Aunty Elsie?"
"Not too loud though." Beryl says, rubbing Laurel's stomach. "Now, give me a kiss."
Laurel does.
"Have a good day, be good for Aunty Elsie and Charlie. Love you."
"Love you too."
"Good girl." Beryl closes the door and leans through Elsie's window to kiss her cheek. "Have a good time sweetheart, thank you, and you Charles."
He raises his hand in a wave and they reverse off the gravel drive and turning out into the road.
"How long till we get there?" Laurel asks, kicking the back of Elsie's chair.
"Oh, at least two hours," Elsie says. "I'll put your songs on and you and Alice have a sing and read your books and we'll be there in no time."
"Who's Alice?" Charles whispers.
"The doll." She mouths in response.
"I'm thirsty." Laurel proclaims.
"We've only just set off. We can't stop yet."
"Actually, I'm thirsty too." Charles says quietly.
"I can see I'm going to have to contend with two children today…" she complains, but pulls into the next petrol station to purchase drinks.
It's after eleven when they finally park and Elsie is searching in the bag Beryl packed up for snacks, otherwise Laurel will be grouchy and tired before they even get started.
"Are you getting out madam?" She asks, fussing in the boot of the car.
"It feels cold."
"It's cold in the car because of the air conditioning." Charles says, standing by her open door. "It's actually rather warm out here. You'll need your hat."
The hat flies past him and lands on the dirt.
"Hate that hat!"
He stares at it, confused.
"Laurel Patmore!" Elsie says, adopting her most teacherly tone, "You get out of the car this instant and pick that hat up and apologise to Charles."
Reluctantly she swings her legs out and drops to the floor, picking the hat up and squashing it onto her head.
"And?" Elsie warns.
"Stop being mean." Laurel whines.
"When you do as I asked."
With a huff she finally mumbles, "Sorry."
"For?"
"Throwing my hat."
Charles can't help but feel sorry for the little thing; she's so unbearably cute and so utterly clueless and innocent – well, that's how it seems to him anyhow.
Elsie shakes her head as she watches him stare at her, he's only really known her a few hours and she's already got him wrapped around her finger.
"You want a biscuit or your fruit?"
"Apple please." Laurel asks, holding out her hand. Elsie passes it to her and she takes a tiny bite, Charles thinks it will take her an eternity to finish it. "Thank you very much Aunty Elsie. And Mr Charlie." She starts twirling on the grass and Charles leans against he car watching her, his heart in his throat as she spins and twirls. "Mr Charlie Charlie. Mr Charlie Charl." She sings, her hair spinning.
"Now you see, you're friends." Elsie smiled, closing the boot of the car. "She's even singing your name."
"You don't even do that." He quips, and she leans up to kiss him.
"I'll sing it later. Privately."
"Promises, promises."
She hooks the bag over her arm and kisses him again.
"Urgh!" Laurel gushes, "That's dis-gus-ting!"
"Alright, alright. Let's go. Where to first? As if I even need to ask."
"GIRAFFES!" Laurel squeals and Charles wonders how one little being can make so much noise and move so quickly from one mood to the next.
"Hold my hand then." Elsie instructs and Laurel does. "We'll go pay and then a quick toilet break –,"
"I don't need to go."
"You will so you can come with me. And then giraffes."
"Can I ride on one?"
"Not sure they'd like that."
"Can we ask?"
"Yes I'll ask the Mummy one."
"Giraffes don't talk, silly." Laurel giggles.
"No? Maybe I'll ask the keeper then. We might be able to feed them if we get there for their dinner."
Charles wanders behind him, watching their interaction as he might a documentary. The gentle interplay, the swinging of joined hands, the sniggering and teasing.
He can't help but feel he's getting to see a little of what Elsie was like as a mother.
Twelve years earlier
It's only just after eight and Anna is in bed. Elsie has planning to do and marking to catch up on and she's glad that the birthday celebrations have exhausted her thirteen year old girl – the thought of her already being a teenager is somewhat terrifying to her, it's going so fast.
She thinks she'll change first, shower, then settle herself in the kitchen with a glass of red and her laptop and get stuck in. If she's lucky she'll make it to bed before 11:30 and she needs the sleep. Birthday parties sure take it out of you.
Joe grabs her when she's half undressed, in just her skirt and bra, and slams her forward against the wall. She doesn't know why, she can't think clearly, can't recall what she's done or said that's upset him. He'd been fine all day – happy, smiling, even dancing with her at the party to Anna's choice of Sk8er Boi – her favourite song of the moment.
"What…?" She's about to question, but his hand covers her mouth and she's manoeuvred around, until she's leaning over the rails at the bottom of the bed and being bent forward, her skirt pushed up and his knees between her legs forcing them open.
There's no point in fighting now or arguing, she knows what's coming and in some ways it's easier to accept that and let it happen.
She feels the cool air around her thighs as her underwear is removed and the heavy breathing of him behind her, the hardness of the bar digging into her stomach. Her eyes are closed, senses dulled, almost turned off because if she doesn't feel or think or smell or taste then none of it is real.
He's pushing inside her, rough and fast, and her body isn't ready or willing and as a result it stings. She digs her nails into her own palms as a diversion tactic and then she hears Anna shout for her.
Her senses awaken and she's trying to stand up straight but he won't stop.
"Mummy!"
Her ears focus in on the sounds her daughter's making, clearly she's being sick, and she wants to go to her, is trying to pull free but her determination to move seems to have spurred him on more than her willingness just to take it and he forcefully pushes her forward again, panting and groaning and cursing.
Finally he sags against her and she pushes him back, tripping over his legs as she heads toward the bedroom door, brushing her hair back from her face as she wobbles down the hallway to Anna's room.
"Honey," she says, turning on the light. "Are you alright?"
Anna is crying, her hair plastered to her forehead and her skin clammy. The bed sheets are covered in vomit.
"I felt ill."
"Too much fizzy pop and excitement, never mind." She rolls the stained sheets back. "I'll wash them and it will be fine."
She's wrapped her arms around her exhausted daughter, her limp body leaning into her mother's chest as her tears subside and she begins to drift back to sleep. She rubs her back, her arm, strokes her hair, all the while trying to ignore the burning pain between her legs.
"Come wash your face and have a drink of water and then you'll have to sleep in the spare room."
"Your bed?"
Elsie can't help but smile, she may be thirteen but she's still her baby.
"Come on then," she eases her out of bed, helps her stand and leads her down the hallway to the bathroom.
Anna washes her face, rinses her mouth and uses the toilet and Elsie stands outside, leaning against the wall across from the bathroom door as Joe emerges from their room, fully dressed again – a fresh shirt.
"Going out." He states.
"Your daughter's been sick."
"Too much sugar. See you later."
For a moment she wonders just how on earth she got into this position. How this became what her life is. How easy it would be to pack now and leave whilst he's gone.
"Mum," Anna says weakly, opening the bathroom door. "Where's Daddy?"
She swallows, pauses just momentarily, before resting her hand on Anna's arm and drawing her to her, "He'll be back soon, let's get you into bed. He'll be back before you fall asleep."
Present Day
"Aunty Elsie I can't see, I can't see the show."
Elsie struggled with an ice cream in one hand and a giant giraffe in the other, "Wait a second honey."
Watching the exchange as one not used to children Charles turned the situation over in his mind for a few seconds before he bent, scooped Laurel up and sat her on his shoulders.
"Yay, now I'm the tallest one here." She said, tapping her hands on top of Charles' head.
Elsie smirked, looking up at Charles' face and Laurel's legs swinging against his chest.
"Sweetie, Mr Carson might appreciate it if you didn't kick him," she said, touching her foot to still it. "Watch the seals. They're clever."
"They are. Can I have my ice cream again?"
"Sure." Elsie licked the melting cream from her fingers and wrapped a tissue around the cone as she handed it up to her.
"Why do I feel this will end up in my hair?" Charles whispered.
"Maybe only some of it, if you're lucky."
"Can we do the elephants next? I always loved them as a kid." He said.
She squeezed his arm, "Of course honey. Anything to please you. Me and my two kids." She rolled her eyes at his giddy expression.
"Yay!" Laurel squealed, bouncing on Charles' shoulders. He grimaced and frowned at Elsie. "Look at the small one, it's a baby one. Can I get one Aunty Elsie?"
"Isn't the giraffe enough?"
"They can all sleep in my bed."
"There'll be no room for you," Elsie teases, squeezing the girl's ankle. "Little munchkin."
Later, as they walk to the elephant enclosure, Laurel swings between them, Elsie holding the giraffe under one arm and Laurel's hand in the other.
"You're always 'on' aren't you, with children." He says over the girl's head.
"You're realising that?"
"Exhausting stuff. Especially at my age."
"Keeps you young."
"Come on Mr Charlie, swing better." Laurel pleads, pulling on his arm.
Elsie giggles, "Yes, do come on Mr Charlie, play your part."
"Play my part…!" He reaches down and scoops Laurel up, sweeping her through the air with ease.
The little girl yells and squeals and he quickly lowers her again, concerned.
"Again! Again! Make me go higher." She commands and Elsie is laughing as she watches the simultaneous emotions pass over his face – concern, worry, confusion, delight.
"Wooo!" Laurel yells, "Make it like an elephant, like I'm riding the elephant."
He sees little option but to sit her on his shoulders, wondering how else he could possibly imitate an elephant.
"Do your trunk," she said excitedly, waving her arm in front. "With your arm."
"You're bossier than your aunt."
"Hey!" Elsie complained.
But he's already doing as the girl asks and the pair of them are jogging ahead making silly noises, receiving a few odd glances from passers-by, sympathetic looks from other grandparents – for that's how he appears, a Grandfather entertaining his granddaughter.
Nine Years Earlier
Elsie sat on her own at the bench by the Penguin enclosure, watching as Anna bent by the glass observing them swim and play.
It was late afternoon, the sun setting, the air cooling.
"We should go soon," she said gently, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her. "Head to the restaurant."
Anna got up slowly, turned and came to sit by her mum. "Will Dad come for tea?"
Elsie shrugged, "I don't know. We can ring him, if you like."
"I don't mind." She turned, resting her hand on her mum's arm. "Really mum, I don't mind. It's better just the two of us…"
Elsie reached forward to tuck Anna's hair behind her ear, "My little girl, sixteen years old. You sure you've not minded today, not too babyish for you?"
"You kidding me? You know I love coming to the zoo, and besides we have the party on Saturday, this is great mum, really." She leant against her arm, curled into her warmth and fragrance and watched the penguins play.
"I'm sorry he isn't here." Elsie said, resting her chin on Anna's head.
"I'm not."
For a long time they're silent, mother and daughter watching the penguins at closing time at the zoo, a '16 today' balloon dancing around, trying to escape from where it's tied to Anna's wrist.
"We really have to go now," Elsie said, noticing cleaners locking gates.
"Yes." But still Anna doesn't move, then she whispers, "You should leave him."
Present Day
By four o'clock Laurel is asleep and curled in Charles' arms as they join the Sunday crowds heading into the car park to leave. Elsie trudges behind him loaded down with Laurel's travel bag, a giraffe, an elephant and two take-away coffees to sustain them during their drive home.
"How am I gonna do this?" He asks by the car, Laurel's tiny body draped over his arms.
"One second and I'll help," she popped the boot and dropped their belongings in, resting their coffees on the roof of the car before opening the back door. "She needs to be in her seat, she won't wake don't worry."
She realised she could have taken her from him and put her in herself but it was better for him to do it – he carefully sat her down, delicately laid her head against the side of the seat and fastened the belt.
"Here," she said, handing him a blanket, "Give her that dolly too."
"Alice," he reminded, tucking her in and placing the doll beneath her arm and taking off her sun hat – placing it on the seat beside her.
When he made it to his own seat he groaned, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I am exhausted."
"The joy of children," Elsie said, handing him his coffee.
"Thank you darling. You sure you don't mind driving?"
"Not at all, you've carried her around most of the day."
"I think we're friends now." He said, glancing back at her.
"Only because you give in easily and buy her what she asks for."
"Well, if you can't get spoilt as a kid then when can you hey?"
She reached across to squeeze his hand, "You've enjoyed it though?"
"Very much. But I want to go home and collapse on the sofa with a beer and someone to rub my feet."
"I'll go as far as fetching the beer from the fridge."
"I suppose that's love enough."
Charles hands over a sleepy Laurel to Bill on the doorstep and she slips easily from one pair of arms to the other.
"Daddy?" She asks, eyes still half-closed.
"Hey baby, you have a good day?" Bill smiles down at her.
"Yes. I got a giraffe and an elephant. And Aunty Elsie got ice cream down her top."
"Part of the course?" Bill states as Elsie hands across the stuffed animals and travel bag.
"Something like that," she leans in closer to Laurel, brushing her thumb down the girl's cheek. "See you soon then munchkin." She whispers, kissing her forehead. Laurel holds her arms up and slips them around Elsie's neck, pulling her to her for a hug. "Bye, bye." She says, kissing her again.
She feels Charles' hand on her back and she reaches to hold his hand, "Bye." He says to Bill, watching Laurel nestle into his chest. "Bye Laurel."
They start to walk back to the car when Laurel sticks her arms up again, "Mr Charlie Charl," and Elsie lets go of his hand, smiling as he returns to hug the little girl.
He kisses her hair, "Night, night sweetheart."
As he closes the car door he sighs heavily, watching Bill carry her inside and close the door. He can't help but think there's too much he's missed out of in this life.
He feels Elsie's fingers touch his and he switches his attention to her.
"Fancy getting take-away on the way home?"
"Absolutely."
They eat sitting on the floor in the lounge leaning on the coffee table, relaxed and at ease. Charles makes Gin and Tonics and they listen to the evening news as they eat.
"I like Sundays like this," she says later, after throwing away their discarded take-away trays and packing leftover food into the fridge. "Sundays without work."
"Some of us do have to work tomorrow." He says, sinking into his comfy chair. "And are ill-prepared for that fact."
"Oh dear," she leans against the lounge door watching him as he closes his eyes and settles back. "Ice cream?" She suggests, and he look up at her quickly, "Yes please."
There's Haagan Dazs in the freezer and she takes that and two spoons in with her, taking the blanket from the arm of the sofa and handing it to him to hold as she climbs into his lap, her legs hanging over the side of the armchair.
He pulls the blanket across her legs, marvelling at how easily she fits against him, how comfortable it is.
"Trying to get into my chair." He mumbles as she eases the lid from the tub of ice cream.
"I believe it's my chair now."
"Is it?" He's rubbing her back as she sits forward to put the lid on the coffee table. When she leans back he kisses her head, breathes in her scent.
She holds a spoon out to him, "Surely, you wouldn't begrudge me sharing your chair…?" She teases.
"Perhaps not." He takes the spoon from her and she plonks the ice cream tub on her stomach, leaning back against him. "I enjoyed today. Though I'm exhausted."
She chuckles, "Having children is tiring, and we're hardly young anymore."
"Truly not," he digs his spoon into the softening ice cream. "I am nearing retirement."
She slowly lets a spoonful of ice cream melt on her tongue. "But you're still fit."
"Thanks darling." He smiles, tickling her waist. "You're pretty fit yourself."
"Well, the therapist thinks I should start doing some regular exercise – take up a sport or if not swimming or something. Good to clear my mind."
He swallows, it makes sense, though he sometimes – in all the joy and excitement of buying their house and getting engaged – forgets she's still seeing a counsellor.
"Come cycling with me."
"You must be kidding, I hate bikes, they rub places in a rather uncomfortable manner."
He laughed, "You need a padded seat. Like I have."
"Enough information, I'll try swimming first." She takes another spoonful of ice cream, "Though eating this stuff probably doesn't help."
"Probably not, it's Sunday though, good to have a treat. I can't believe how much food stuffs one little girl puts away."
"Yes but you're a pushover…"
"Oh I am not!"
"You bloody well are," she changed her voice, imitating Laurel, "Oh please Mr Charlie, let me have some more candyfloss and another giant teddy bear at £30 a go and I may as well just have a Jaguar whilst I'm at it.' You're an easy target."
"That's a lie, I was being nice, want her to like me."
"She'll like you anyhow, money or not."
"Why?"
"What do you mean why?"
"Well, I'm an old guy who isn't very good at talking to children, why would she like me?"
"Oh Charles, because you're you silly. A very sweet, kind man." She dug her spoon into the ice cream, leaving it there. "How different things would have been…" she says, leaning her head back against his arm.
For a moment he stares at her before catching on, "If we'd met when we were young?" She nods. "Reckon you would have dated me?"
She shrugs, "If you'd asked, maybe."
"Maybe?" He tickles her waist again, reaching for the sensitive spot on her stomach. "Only maybe."
"Alright yes," she's laughing, pushing his hands away, "Yes I would have dated you."
"And married me?" he says, his voice taking on a warmer tone, pulling her body into his.
"Yes, I'd hope so." Her fingertips trace up his chest, to the bare skin of his neck, "And you're thinking babies…?"
"I was thinking three. Two boys and a girl."
Her eyes widen, "Three! That's a lot of pregnancy and pushing."
He chuckles, "It is. Worth it?"
"You wouldn't have had to do it."
"No. But I would have been by your side."
She sighs, closes her eyes and rests her face against his chest, "How different it might have been, having babies with you."
He doesn't want her mind to wander to darker memories and squeezes her tight, the ice cream tub toppling on her stomach.
"But I wouldn't change anything for what I have now. What we have."
"Me neither," she buried her nose against his shirt, utterly content.
"Comfy there are you Ms Hughes?"
"Mmm, don't bother me."
"This ice cream is melting, it needs to go back in the freezer."
"Don't you dare move."
He tangles his fingers into the ends of her hair, still sun kissed from Italy, "I promise I'll be quick, and fetch us a night cap, then you can snuggle back here and we'll watch a movie. How's that?" He kisses her head.
"Mmm, that sounds nice."
"You remember the first time we snuggled up to watch a movie?"
For a moment she was quiet then she finally smiled as she said, "January."
Late January 2015 – 7 months earlier
For some reason he spends an age in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror and contemplating the fact Elsie – whom he now firmly believes is his 'girlfriend' – is only metres away, in his bedroom, and he feels slightly giddy (and slightly ridiculous about feeling such a way) because she is staying over. For the first time she is staying over at his flat. Of course he's stayed at her apartment several times now, and he doesn't mind that, she clearly feels more comfortable sleeping with him there but there's something rather nice about having her in his home. In sharing it with her.
He finds he's been preoccupied all day about that fact. Worrying over his old bed and the fact it sags in the middle; it doesn't bother him but then he's used to it and the last time he had a woman in his bed it was a different mattress. He's repetitively cursed the snow all day, worried she wouldn't make it over.
As it was she walked part of the way, then caught a slow-moving bus into town and trudged to his shop. He'd had about six customers all day so locked up as soon as she arrived and went upstairs with her.
"Tea?" He asked as he filled the kettle.
"Anything warm, my cheeks feel bitten." She said, unwrapping her scarf from around her neck and head.
He eyes her overnight bag on the floor by the kitchen door and watches as she sinks into a chair. She's wearing purple wellington boots which are dripping onto his floor.
"Do your wellingtons have sparkles on them?" He asks.
"Yes, they do." She wiggles her feet a little, "Pretty snazzy aren't they?"
"Certainly different."
She laughs, "Anna bought them for me for Christmas. Could you help me take them off though, they're very tight?"
"Thank you for making the effort," he says as he bends to help tug them off. "It really was above and beyond, coming all this way in the snow."
"Well, it better be a damn good dinner. It smells wonderful."
He fell back as her boot finally came loose and she gasped and reached for his arm, pulling him forward again as she giggled.
"You okay?"
"Fine. I'm afraid I had to resort to a casserole for dinner, many of the shops were closed."
"That's fine, nothing better on snowy days than comfort food. Please tell me we're having mashed potato with it."
"We can do. If you'd like that."
She nodded, "I'll make it, I'd like to contribute. I've brought wine, it's in my bag."
He thinks of her spending her Saturday tramping through the snow, getting on a bus lugging about her travel bag – all to spend the evening having dinner with him.
At their joint tugging her second boot comes off and he smiles, sagging forward.
"That was hard work."
"Hmm, it might snow again tonight and then you'll be stuck with me." She rests her hands on his shoulders, leaning in to kiss him.
He can think of nothing better than getting stuck with her in his flat.
"We could go for a walk in the morning, make the most of the wintry scene." He says.
"That'd be nice."
She gets to her feet, leaning on his shoulders to support herself and then pulling him up too. "Shall we cook?"
She's been a little different since Christmas. Perhaps slightly distant. He doesn't mind that, he knew from the start she wanted to take it slow – he feels there's probably something of her last marriage influencing her tentativeness now. He's always sensed she was rather sad, for years she's occupied his shop, reading in the quiet corner, and there was always something creeping at the back of his mind about her (not just his obvious attraction to her) but something of the melancholy about her.
He wonders just what her ex-husband did to hurt her so, though their conversations haven't ventured into that rather sensitive area yet.
After the heavy dinner Elsie suggested they watch a film and flicked through the channels until she found one suitable – he sat at one end of the sofa, a glass of wine in his hand, and watched as she took the blanket off of the opposite end, bringing it with her as she curled her legs beneath her on the sofa and snuggled back against his chest, draping the blanket over them.
He almost froze at the move. It was unexpectedly sweet and he felt slightly overwhelmed by the tightness in his stomach at her movement.
His feelings for her – always bubbling away when she was nothing but an acquaintance, nothing but a customer – had flourished and bloomed so very much since August. It hadn't even been six months and already he was thinking of forever with her. It was a surprising revelation to him, to find he actually wanted to be with somebody each and every day. He'd never had that before. And the new feelings sweeping into his heart were both terrifying and invigorating.
"I'm not making it uncomfortable am I?" She mumbled against his chest.
"Far from it," he rested his hand on her shoulder; let his fingers creep up to her neck, tracing light patterns beneath her chin and then up to her hairline. "Far, far from it."
Deciding that hiding in the bathroom worrying about his squeaky bed is not the answer he finally switches out the light and goes into the hallway.
The rich aroma of boeuf bourguignon still fills his flat and it seems to warm the rooms as he checks the doors are locked and turns off lights.
When he gets to his bedroom she is in the dark, standing by the window.
"Something happening out there?"
"Snowing again, it looks beautiful. Come see."
He does as she asks, kneeling beside her on the floor so they can rest their elbows on the windowsill and press their faces against the glass.
"I might never get up again."
"Oh, you will." She pats his arm. "I'll help you. Of course it all looks very nice until you have to get out in it, trying to get your car to work and worrying about getting home."
"And at those times I'm happy to be living where I work."
"Oh yes," she turns to look at him, his profile against the darkness of the room. "This is my first sleepover here."
"It is." He turns to face her, "Have I treated you well so far?"
"Oh very much so, lovely dinner, good movie and a comfortable body to rest against."
He chuckled, "Not sure how I feel about that description."
"I meant it affectionately." She touched his arm again. "Though perhaps we should go to bed now."
"Perhaps we should."
She got up first, leaning against his shoulder to support herself, he let the curtains fall shut and turned on his knees, finding her stood close and his face near her stomach.
Instinctively he slid his hands up her legs, beneath the dressing gown she wore, pulling her against him, his face burying into her stomach, breathing in the sweet, heady scent of her.
He felt one of her hands on his shoulder, firm and strong, the other sliding into his hair. There was so much passion between them that he was almost afraid of what to do with it. They were getting there – slowly – and he hoped that in time that passion would continue to grow and things would be easy between them, no more nerves or worries about what the other liked or if they were enjoying it as much.
His fingers deftly untied the robe and it fell apart around him, she trembled as his hand rested on her belly and he worried she was cold but she sank down into his arms, his hands sliding around the bare skin of her hips and back.
Elsie's mouth met his, instantly deep and overwhelming to his senses. Her legs were straddling his and he leant back, feeling the warmth of her thighs circling him.
She smiled as he moaned, leaning back into his supporting hands, pushing her robe off her shoulders. It felt good, after so many years of feeling alone, to have a man look at her the way he did, as if he worshipped her very flesh. Since Christmas she'd felt uncertain about this, confused over Joe and what his visits meant, but she so wanted to just embrace this, to sink into it and enjoy being with Charles – because what ever other muddled thoughts her brain might have had she knew he was a good man. And she already cared for him so very much.
His lips traced a path down between her breasts, his tongue tasting her, and when he took her nipple into the warmth of his mouth she moaned her pleasure and he smiled. To hear her make such noises, such tempting, delicious sighs of pleasure.
"You're very beautiful," he said, his thumb rubbing her lower lip until she nipped it with her teeth. "Very beautiful."
"I'm not used to being told so."
"You should be." He rolled her backwards until she was lying on the bedroom floor and he could lean over her, his wonderful rich voice vibrating by her ear, "someone should tell you every day."
She pushed his pyjama shirt up his stomach, over his chest, and he moved so she could rid him of it. His trousers felt constraining, restrictive, and he moved between her thighs, feeling her hold him there.
"Here?" She said, her voice seductive, "Not your bed?"
He felt his throat tighten, "My bed, it erm…"
"It erm?" She looped her arms over his shoulders. "It what?"
"It can be rather noisy." He admitted and she laughed, a joyous, raucous laugh.
"Oh dear, I do hope that's not down to all the women you've had in there."
"Indeed not!" He proclaimed, eager for her to believe him.
"I'm joking Charles," she squeezed his shoulders. "Well, I rather like a little noise every now and then. So why don't you take me to bed and let me judge for myself…?"
He did just that, he certainly didn't want her on his bedroom floor, he wanted her in his bed, to make love to her there - because, he'd come to realise, that was exactly what he was doing, making love to her, and he'd never felt he was doing that before neither.
We are getting closer to their engagement party I promise, but then I have another idea and think 'Oooh I'll just do this!' 30chapters later and about 174 thousand words and they're still finding things to work through! Thanks for sticking with it and for all your wonderful messages on her and tumblr. x R