So, first of all I need to apologise for how long this chapter has taken me to post! The last couple of weeks at work have been frantic and then I finally break up and can write but can't seem to post the chapter! I've literally had to put it on here 1 paragraph at a time. Perhaps I should start writing shorter chapters...
Anyhow, I want to thank all of you who have not only stuck with the story but continue to leave me such lovely feedback - it really keeps me going.
Chapter 38
December
"Pass me your bowl of pistachios." Charles asked, from where he lay on the sofa, a blanket over his legs, a glass of port in one hand, his other hand beckoning across to Elsie.
"No way, you've eaten yours, tough."
"Oh Els…" he whined.
"Don't you dare," she waved her pen at him, glaring at him over the top of her glasses. "You shouldn't have stuffed yours down."
"They're so small, they just disappeared."
"How much of that port have you had?"
"Just a tot."
"Hmm, you sound a bit tipsy." She deliberately snapped open one of her pistachio shells, "Mmm, it tastes so nice," she said, licking the outside of the nut.
He shook his head, his lips pursed, "That's really cruel." He threw one of the shells from his bowl at her.
"Hey, watch my new chair. And the carpet."
He wobbled his head about pompously, "Na na na, boss, boss, boss."
"Child." She switched her attention back to her marking, a smirk on her face.
For a while Charles was silent, sipping his port and flicking through the television channels, "Bloody festive television is rubbish."
"It's not even Christmas yet." She said lowly, turning the page of the essay she was reading.
"Two weeks to go, I've not even done my shopping."
"Who have you got to buy for? Me?"
"Yes. And I may get little extra gifts for Anna and John…" he turned to face her again, "…and what does that mean, I helped you get Isobel and Richard's presents."
"Yes, you followed me around York dear."
He laughed, "I carried bags too, and I paid for lunch."
"Oh well then," she glanced up at him again. "Cup of tea?"
"I'll make it, have you done?"
"One to go."
"Finish that whilst I make the tea, then come cuddle on here with me."
She smiled, "Alright."
Five minutes later he was back, carrying a tray with two mugs of tea on and a plate with a slice of cake.
"What's that?"
He ignored her question, "Kitchen's looking good, don't you think." He said, placing the tray on the coffee table.
"It is, but you're avoiding my question, it's 9:25…"
"And I'm going to have a piece of this delicious cake that my beautiful girlfriend made at the weekend for me." He popped a piece into his mouth, "Strawberries and cream, delightful."
"Charles," she warned, sitting beside him on the sofa.
"Don't fuss, come on," he patted the pillow beside him and she settled back, tucking her legs beneath the blanket.
"And yes, the kitchen is looking good. I'm guessing the tiling should be finished by next weekend."
"Indeed. Friday is the deadline or we don't pay top dollar."
"What a businessman you are."
"Though I haven't seen my business in a while."
"You're turning into a house husband."
He leant over her, placing his plate on the table and draping his arm over her waist.
"Els, what do you think about that?"
"About you being a house husband?" She reached her hand up, her fingertips tickling the soft skin of his neck, "I was only joking you know, you've been keeping an eye on the builders, chivvying them along."
"And now we're done I should go back to work." He was twisted onto his side, one arm bent, elbow digging into the pillow and his hand supporting his head so he could look at her.
"And, do you not want to?"
He raised his eyebrows, "I'm not sure. Which is odd in itself."
"I'm listening."
"I rather like the idea of having some freedom, enjoying this, what we have here now. And added to that, if I semi-retire, Anna and John could have the shop…"
"What?"
"They could have it, run it, manage it. I'd still be the owner but they…" he shrugged, "it's been on my mind for a while."
"You never said."
"I was mulling it over, then she got pregnant…"
She interrupted, her tone surprised, "You'd thought of this before she was pregnant?"
"When we were in Italy."
"Goodness Charles, you should have said."
"It was just an idea. I mean, now Anna is pregnant, her dream – and yours – of her working in some fancy gallery might be on hold for a couple of years. So what if she still got to display art, local artwork, in the shop? That second floor could be turned into a mini gallery, she's smart enough to make it work, to buy them in and sell them on and make a profit."
Elsie's face broke into a slow smile, "You really have been thinking about this."
"Starting up a small business, or developing a small business, they might even be able to get a loan for that."
She reached up to place both of her hands either side of his face, "You're so wonderful, do you know that?"
"Does that mean I'm forgiven for the cake?"
"And throwing pistachios in my living room!"
He laughed, "Oh yes, that too. So, you think I ask them what they think?"
"I think you do. We have our dinner on Friday, remember?"
"Haven't forgotten, our first time entertaining here, I intend to impress…I could make my stew."
"And Yorkshire puddings too perhaps."
"Comfort food."
"Hmm," she slid her hand on his chest, ruffling the material of his pyjama shirt, "Want to comfort me?"
"Anytime." He smiled, kissing her head before huffing, "You've got to stop feeding that cat though."
She bit her lip, smirking, "What cat?"
"That cat that keeps turning up on the back doorstep. Stop feeding it or it will never leave."
"Oh Charles."
"Don't 'Oh Charles' me, it's fat as it is."
"It's pregnant."
"How can you tell that?"
"It's nipples stick out."
He huffed again, patting her back, "Don't talk about nipples so casually."
She giggled, "Casually? It's a cat."
"I don't want it having kittens on our doorstep."
"There were always cats around the farm when I was a girl, for the mice you know, and I always hated the fact that the female ones were pergnant whilst still kittens themselves. Seems unfair."
"We aren't having the kittens…"
"Charles."
"Elsie…"
She rolled over, tracing a hand up his chest, "A kitten or two would be nice around the house."
"Two?!"
She laughed again, taking in his wide-eyed expression, "They're cute and loving."
"And furry and fussy and expensive and smelly..."
"We live near a farm, in the middle of a field, cats would be good. Practical. And I'd rather like a pet."
He smiled at her pout, "Or two…"
"Or two." Her index finger ran up his neck, tickling under his chin, "So?"
"We don't know whose cat it is. They may want to sell the kittens, they may already be spoken for."
"I'll find out. I'll ask around."
"Bloody hell. Well, in the meantime stop giving it my ham from the fridge, that's good stuff from the deli, buy some cheap cat food or something."
"Honey, you know you do the shopping now."
"I knew I'd get roped in."
She leant forward, kissing him, "Love you for it."
"Hmm…"
Christmas Eve - Twenty-six Years Ago
Standing in the small bathroom beneath the meagre yellow light Elsie glared at herself in the mirror. She looked pale and there were dark patches beneath her eyes. Wincing, she placed a hand over her cramping stomach, another month, another period, another failure.
It seemed that those around her were blooming in pregnancy, carrying the weight of bringing new life into the world. She carried a very different weight. That of loneliness, uselessness.
Joe didn't seem to mind. If she got pregnant fair enough, if she didn't then also, fair enough. But to her – stuck on her own day-after-day in the small flat with nothing and nobody to talk to – having a child had become her sole focus. Something she could achieve, a child who she could pour her love and energy into.
The harsh knock on the bathroom door shook her from her musings and she quickly turned on the tap, rinsing the drops of blood from her fingertips.
"Come on Elly, we'll be late."
"I'm coming, won't be a sec."
"And do something nice with your hair, it's my boss' Christmas party after all."
His 'boss' was the owner of three farms in the area, and Joe was quickly becoming his favoured employee – in fact already that year Joe had been sent on five nights away, trips to farmer's markets to pick up the latest tips and suggestions. Elsie wasn't too fond of him, he was constantly winking at her, smirking in a way which implied he knew something she didn't. It made her feel uneasy. Plus, and most annoyingly, he spoke to her as if she were dumb, as if she were nothing more than the little lady wife with nothing to offer beyond housecleaning and baby making – both of which she didn't seem that good at.
Elsie was smart. She knew that. She knew that if pushed she could run rings around most of those who would be in attendance tonight. When she'd left school and run away from Scotland with Joe she couldn't wait to be free. Now, with the more time she spent away from education, the more she missed learning.
She pouted at herself, scooping her hair back from her face and twisting it into a tight coil. Joe was forever telling her that her hair looked messy – too curly, too unruly – perhaps she'd cut it short, maybe make the colour darker; a change for the new year.
Pinning her hair up she tidied back the errant curls, spraying them to remain in place for the duration of the night. She'd been saving her money for eight weeks in order to buy a decent dress for the party, she didn't want to let him down, he worked so hard all year. And then the one she'd chosen, the one she'd had her eye on in a small boutique in town for weeks, he had disregarded with a shake of his head and picked her something else entirely.
She stepped back from the mirror eyeing herself in it; it was strapless and she wasn't quite used to showing her flesh. She hoisted the top up again, having an awkward feeling that she'd probably be carrying out the very same move all night. Still, it was long and thankfully that covered the fact her only pair of black heels were scuffed and she'd coloured in the white patch with a felt tip pen.
Sighing, she pulled the cord and turned off the light. Christmas Eve and a party.
In the car she drove nervously – having only officially passed her test a few weeks earlier and certainly not confident on icy roads – her seat pulled forward, her knees almost under her chin.
"What are you driving like that for?" Joe slurred, one hand waving up in front of him. "It's a 40 road."
"It's poorly lit, and it's icy and it's the early hours of the morning. I want to be safe."
"And blah de blah de blah de blah… you know everything."
She bit her lip, straightened her back. He was drunk and hopefully would be asleep within ten minutes of getting home.
"You know it's Christmas Day." She said lightly, starting to smile. "I've never been up in the early hours of Christmas morning, well, I mean coming home. I feel rather naughty."
Joe remained quiet, turning to glance out of the car window.
"Can we open presents when we get in, before bed?" She said playfully.
"It's not how we do it."
She twisted her mouth, turning the wheel slowly as she pulled into their street and found a spot as close to the flat as she could.
Once inside she turned on the lights on the tree, put the kettle on in the kitchen and shouted through to her husband in the lounge.
"Light the fire Joe, it's freezing in here."
"You do it."
She stepped back; eyeing him slumped back on the couch with his feet on the coffee table.
"Joe, baby, I've asked you before about the feet on the table thing…"
"Don't start."
Huffing she carried two mugs through, setting them down on the table.
"Will you do the fire?"
"Oh god, yes." He grunted, throwing his feet to the floor. "Because it needs to be done now."
"It's cold in here. I can't sleep when it's cold. I'm going to get out of this dress."
"I don't want to see you wearing it again."
She laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "You picked it."
"And you can't be trusted in it."
"Excuse me."
"I saw you flirting with my boss, giggling like a schoolgirl, all coy and…" he waved his arms around exaggeratedly.
"You're drunk, I'm not talking to you whilst you're drunk. I'm going to get changed and go to bed. For heaven's sake, I don't even like the man." She picked up her mug and carried it down the short corridor to the bedroom.
Behind her she heard Joe growl in anger, and then the quick, hot slap of his mug hitting the lounge wall. She dropped hers in shock and stood watching the tea soak into the carpet around her feet.
She jumped at the sound of his feet thundering down the corridor.
She yelped at the smash of the bedroom door as it closed.
Looking back now, she marked that as the first time she could recall it happening.
Present Day
Standing in front of their bedroom mirror Elsie pulled the clip from her hair, shaking it out and feeling the stress of the past few weeks instantly drain away.
Beside her, on her dressing table, stood two small poinsettias – one red, one white – she'd noticed, as she'd rushed in and moved through the warm house, that there were poinsettias of various sizes in all of the rooms now. Charles had thrown himself into the decorations and true to form he'd done it spectacularly.
There was a wonderful tree at the end of the hallway, so when you came through the front door it greeted you, which was particularly delightful when you came home and it was dark and the diamond lights were twinkling to guide you in. She liked the fact there were no other decorations on it, just lights, it was simple and elegant and she hadn't thought Charles capable of making such a stylistic choice – clearly she was wrong.
The main tree occupied the space in the lounge beside the doors to the conservatory and Charles had taken great delight in placing their presents beneath it as they'd built up. They'd picked it together, a Saturday late in November, and spent the afternoon decorating it with a combination of both of their old trinkets.
She sensed him come into the bedroom behind her, and smiled at him in the mirror. "Dinner smells gorgeous."
"Thank you, I went to the good Butcher's for the stewing meat." He sat back on the bed, watching as she unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it loose from her skirt. "There are some things I don't think I'll ever fully get used to."
"Such as?"
"Watching you undress."
She smirked, "Charles. Really." Slipping her blouse off she hung it over the chair at the dressing table before going to kiss him, resting her hands on his shoulders. "Thank god it's the end of term."
"You glad to be done?"
"Tremendously so. December is a stressful time don't you think, never-ending parties and shopping and trying to fit in visits with family and friends… When the day finally arrives quite often you just want to sleep."
"I agree." His hands rested on her hips, thumbs drawing circles on her bare flesh just above the band of her skirt. "But now we can just enjoy our time together, I intend to spoil you."
"Oh?" She leant forward, her knees against his. "You do?"
"But of course. Our first real Christmas together, in our house."
"Our home." She nuzzled his nose with hers, easing her mouth down to kiss him languidly, pressing her body forward until his arms circled her.
They parted at the sound of a car outside and Elsie smiled, "Guests. I better change quickly."
"I'll go greet them and pour wine."
"Ooh," she smiled, clapping her hands together, "this is our first real chance to entertain too. Did you manage to get those speakers working?"
"I think so, still a mystery to me though. You best check them when you come down."
"Will do. We need festive tunes to dance to after dinner."
"Dance?" He smirked, "You'll be asleep by ten. Like you have been every night this week."
She blobbed her tongue out at him, listening to his laugh as he made his way to the front door and the first of their guests.
"So, there's something I wanted to talk through with you both." Charles said, setting down his knife and fork and indicating Anna and John across from him.
Elsie reached for her wine glass, smiling over the top of it at him. To the others he seemed perfectly at ease, but she knew him well now, the fold of his hands, the slight dip of his chin – he was nervous.
"Sounds ominous," John said, pushing his chair back and stretching out his legs. "We haven't damaged anything in the flat, I'm sure of it."
"Be a different matter when the wee bairn comes along." Elsie said, getting up to refill their glasses.
"Wee bairn, look at you with the accent." Beryl teased.
"Shut up and have some more wine you old torment."
"Yes well, it's to do with the flat actually." Charles continued, feeling Elsie's hand squeeze his shoulder as she went by him. "More to the point, the shop."
"I think we're doing okay," Anna said, pushing her empty plate aside. "Profits are up very slightly on last year. The Christmas wrapping has been a real incentive."
Charles waved his hand, "I'm not worried about the profits…"
"What he means is you're doing a great job." Richard butted in, lifting his glass for Elsie to fill. "He's told me so several times of late."
Anna blushed at the compliment and John sat straighter at it.
He nodded, "I do mean that." Flustered he reached up to loosen the buttons on his shirt. "You see, I'd always worried about what would happen to the shop, when I er… well, when I'm too old to run it." He huffed, finding the tablecloth suddenly very interesting. "I've never liked the idea of leaving the shop to a stranger, and well, I've surprisingly rather enjoyed my time spent here pottering about over the autumn months and I…"
"Good lord Charles, you'll make us all jealous, living the life of luxury whilst the rest of us plebs work." Bill ribbed.
"Leave him alone a minute will you," Beryl interrupted, her leg catching her husband's beneath the table.
"Maybe you should just ask them dear." Elsie said, patting the back of Charles' hand as she sat down again. "Before the crumble burns."
"Yes, maybe I ought to. You see, I was wondering how you feel about taking over the shop on a permanent basis."
"You mean manage it?" Anna said eagerly.
"Do you mean that Charles?" Isobel asked gently.
"He does." Elsie replied, her eyes never leaving her daughter's face. "He has this sweet little idea of you turning the second floor into a gallery for local artwork."
Anna almost squealed, covering her mouth and reaching for John's hand.
"Of course I'll do it all proper like, get the legal papers drawn up."
"Good for you old man." Richard said, raising his glass.
"I think that's a wonderful idea," Isobel smiled broadly.
"It is," Beryl agreed. "A great idea."
Elsie watched as Anna's eyes filled with tears, her daughter had never been an emotional girl – the hormones must be playing havoc.
"I thought that I could try my hand at being the silent owner, I'd pay you both a wage of course, a decent one too, I wouldn't try to fiddle you – I've saved well over the years and…" He felt Elsie's hand squeeze his. "Well, happen that's enough for now. We can discuss properly come January."
"Credit to you Charles, nicely played." Bill said, tipping his glass towards him and nodding. "Thought you were a decent kind when Elsie first brought you to that pub."
"Of course you did," Elsie smiled, pushing her chair back "Shall we have dessert?" she tapped Charles' shoulder, indicating for him to follow.
"I can't tell you how grateful I am," John suddenly said, the first thing he'd said, as he stood awkwardly. "I promise I won't let you down with this Charles." He held out his hand across the table and Charles took his brother's hand and shook it.
"I always regretted the fact the shop wouldn't stay in the family. And now of course, it can."
In the kitchen Elsie put the dishes by the sink and turned to hug Charles.
"What's this for?" He whispered into her hair, returning her hold.
"Just because… …because you put poinsettias in every room."
He laughed, "I thought it was festive."
"It is. You are. You're wonderful and I feel lucky."
"Funny," he said, stroking her hair and gazing down at her, "I think I am too."
Christmas Eve
Maybe it was all in the mind, the belief that things were different on that particular night. That somehow the bitter bite of the December chill was eased. The darkness that fell early in winter was lightened by the brightness of the Christmas stars.
Excitement and anticipation filled the air; it seeped from the very pores of children, shone out of their faces in wonder. Charles wasn't a fanciful type – he prided himself on practicality and order and routine. But that particular night he felt a degree of magic abounding.
They'd spent the morning preparing food together, in their newly renovated kitchen, singing to the festive tunes on the radio. Elsie made mince pies, Charles prepared his mother's trifle, and they shared stories of childhood Christmases spent pestering parents and taking part in nativities.
For the first time in many years they'd be hosting Christmas Day. Anna and John were staying over and come Boxing Day they'd all spend time at Beryl and Bill's house, joining their brood for lunch.
They'd taken a taxi to Richard and Isobel's late morning; swapping gifts and having a long lunch together. It was the first time Elsie had met their children, and grandchildren, and it was rather nice to see Charles with them. To Isobel and Richard's three children he was godfather and he clearly took his duties seriously, taking the time to catch up with each one of them individually.
By afternoon he was on his back on the lounge floor with several little ones clambering over him and for the first time Elsie began to picture what it would be like to have a child in their house; a toddler following Charles from room to room, clinging to his legs, dragging behind his feet.
The image stayed with her all day.
The four of them took a slow walk to Church for the seven o'clock service. Usually Charles would attend midnight mass but as they had Anna and John staying over he rearranged his routine.
Now, as he stared at the backs of Isobel and Richard walking in front of him, and felt Elsie's leather-gloved hand wrapped tightly in his, that element of magic curled around him and he wanted to hold onto it.
He tugged on Elsie's hand as they joined the stream of churchgoers marking their way inside, and she stopped, turned her face to his.
"What?" she mouthed, and he watched the word escape her lips in a whisper of air in the cool night.
Her face was pale, eyes bright, lips coated in a sheen of red.
He bent his head down, kissed her cheek, "You look beautiful."
He heard her smile as they resumed their place in the moving queue, "Thank you. I made an effort for you."
"I'm going to marry you here," he whispered as they stepped over the threshold and her hand tightened in his.
"Lord knows what I'll wear." She replied, gazing around.
Elsie had never been a particularly religious person. As a child she'd given up on God when she watched a calf die within hours of being born. Her fears that He could do little to prevent bad things happening was only further strengthened when by the age of nine she'd worked out her father beat her mother. That someone with unfathomable power – presumably enough to design a universe – would allow horrors to occur baffled her and she'd spent years turning that particular quandary over in her mind.
When she was older her rationale had altered. She learnt of free will, she learnt that man would do whatever, whenever to whomever it wished and damn the consequences – whether that be heaven or hell.
During her pregnancy she'd started to pray again, something she hadn't consciously done since her days in Sunday school. She asked for her child to be carried to term, to be born healthy and fit, for her husband to fall back in love with her, with the both of them. And despite the years of turmoil that followed she'd kept God close, perhaps not praying but certainly chatting with him regularly.
It was a surprise to her then, that when they'd stood around the nativity scene and sang Silent Night, she'd cried. She'd felt Charles looking at her, heard the baritone of his voice swelling in her chest, and he'd reached carefully for her hand. Gratefully she'd folded her fingers with his, skin to skin, and done her best to breathe normally and mouth along to the words, there was no way she could sing with her chest as tight as it was.
She felt foolish afterwards, as she readjusted her coat outside and Charles silently handed her scarf across.
"You okay?"
She nodded, smiling as she felt Isobel's hand slide over her back and pull her into a hug.
"Merry Christmas!" She'd said excitedly. "Be sure to call us tomorrow, won't you Charles." She moved to hug him, kissing his cheek, "It will be odd not spending the day with you."
"No chance to berate for the choice in jumper if you don't call old boy." Richard laughed, shaking his hand.
"We'll see you in a few days at the club." Charles said, "And I hope to see you wearing said jumper."
"But of course. Have a lovely day, and you Elsie."
"Thank you. And thank you for today, it's been really lovely to meet your family and spend time with you all."
"You're very welcome," Isobel squeezed her upper arm, "I hope you realise that. Now, let's find a taxi before we freeze."
Elsie caught hold of Charles' wrist, "Would you mind if we walked for a while, just into town, to get some air?"
"Of course not."
Her arm was hooked through his, her body pressed close in a bid to keep off the cold. Around them the town was alive with revellers, youths moving from pub to pub, decorated in tinsel and cheap Elf outfits.
"How many strangers do you think will hook up tonight?" She asked, her cheeks bitten by the cold.
"Hook up?" He shook his head. "Since when do we say 'hook up'?"
She chuckled, "Oh I am sorry Mr Carson, a lazy choice of words."
"You're forgiven and in answer to your question, I'd say quite a few."
"I do hope they use protection."
"Elsie."
"I'm just saying." She shrugged.
"You want to go somewhere for a drink?"
"No it's too noisy, we'll need to get a taxi, before it gets too late and too busy to track one down."
"Did you give Anna a key?"
"Yes, and the code. She texted me earlier, they were raiding our fridge."
"Good lord, it'll be empty by the time we get back. John can eat for three men."
"Must run in the family." She tugged on his arm, "Now, I know this street."
He followed behind her, caught up in her sudden giddiness.
"Doesn't a certain book shop owner live around here?" She'd let go of his arm and was walking backwards, facing him as she moved, a teasing smile upon her face. "I think he was rather a handsome man."
"Was he indeed? Why didn't you tell him years ago?"
"I never knew he cared." She stopped by the entrance to the shop, shut up for the break. "You remember months ago, when I came here with Anna after our trip, and you hadn't spoken to me in days and days and you had builders in…"
He finally reached her, "And I was overjoyed to see you but afraid to show it."
She reached her hand forward to rest on his chest, "I was so desperately sad you didn't want me anymore."
"I wanted you from the moment you stumbled through that door in the rain and almost strangled yourself on your scarf."
She laughed, "Oh yes, and what an entrance I made into your life."
He took her gloved hand, kissing the back of it and pulling her to him. "Christmas always makes me sad." He whispered against her hair as he held her.
"It does?" She held him tight. "Why?"
"Because it's a time for families and children…"
"Oh honey, surely the very essence of Christmas is that it's a time for everyone." She pulled back to look at him. "Isn't that the point – to bring people together, like we did in that Church tonight?"
"Is that why you cried?"
She shrugged, "I'm not sure. I felt… moved. God and I haven't always had an easy relationship."
"I challenge anyone to say their relationship with God is easy."
"No relationship is, I suppose. But worth it, ultimately."
He brushed the hair back that had come loose from her hat. "That's why I want this place to stay in the family, that's very important to me. I want my will to reflect that."
"Charles," she shivered, "don't talk of such things on Christmas Eve."
"I told you, it makes me melancholy."
"Well don't be." She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a long, deep kiss to his mouth. "You have me, and I love you very much. Now, I'm freezing, so let's go home and have some Champagne and those wonderful canapés you prepared earlier."
"Deal."
Unable to sleep Anna crept out of bed just before three, tiptoeing to the bathroom and then down the stairs. She eased open the kitchen door and poured herself a glass of milk, standing in the dark room with just the light of the fridge to illuminate her movements.
Resting her open hand on her blossoming belly she closed her eyes, around five months now and everything she knew about her body was being undone by this wondrous occurrence. Hard to believe that in a year's time she'd have a baby, a first Christmas as a mother and experiencing it all in a very different way.
She jumped as she heard a noise in the next room; logic told her it was another family member and she shut the fridge door as she made her way down the hallway and into the lounge.
Elsie knelt by the fire, poking at the dying embers before throwing on another log. She sat back, knees bent, hands on the floor behind her as she sat staring into the flames.
Anna watched her mother, for a moment seeing her as much younger than her years. The orange glow of the fire upon her face illuminated her features and the red in her hair, and her body cast a long, dark shadow across the floor.
Stepping forward gently she made her way to sit with her.
"Darling, did I wake you?"
"I was already up. Can't sleep at the moment."
Elsie held up her hands, helping her daughter to sit.
"Clearly you're having the same issue."
"Needed to pee then couldn't get back off, Charles' snoring didn't help."
Anna smiled, "He snores?"
"Loudly when he's had too much to drink. Dead to the world."
"I see he's played Santa Claus." Anna indicated the presents piled beneath the tree.
"He's loved it you know, all this, getting the house decorated and planning for tomorrow. Goodness knows what he'll be like when we have a child in the house, he probably will don the red suit."
"That'd be a sight to see. He was awful melancholy tonight, talking about the shop and leaving it in the family."
"I know. Maybe you being pregnant has made him think about his own mortality, or what he wants to do with his life. He's made his mind up about not working though, I suppose he wants to enjoy the rest of his life. He keeps talking about me doing the same… but I'm not quite ready to retire yet."
Anna sucked in a tight breath, "Pretty sad though, starting to think about how much time you have left."
Elsie shrugged, "One day I will die. And so will he. And all of us under this roof." She reached forward and placed a hand on Anna's belly, "But now we're celebrating new life, it is Christmas after all. Charles has had so many years…" she paused, sitting back again. "He says that he used to just exist, not really live, and I so want him to feel like he's living life now."
"I'm pretty sure he's doing that. What a year it's going to be – your marriage, my baby."
"I can hardly wait for it to begin."
Elsie left Anna at the top of the stairs, pressing a kiss to her head and watching her head down the corridor and up the small flight of stairs to the third floor and the room she was sharing with John. Turning in the other direction Elsie crept back into her bedroom, shed her dressing gown and, shivering, slid beneath the sheets next to Charles.
He was lying on his side facing away from her and she pressed herself up against his back, sliding her arm around his waist.
"Your feet are like bloody ice." He mumbled into his pillow.
"Sorry," she whispered back, kissing his shoulder blade. "And I woke you."
"Mmm. Where've you been?"
"Talking to Anna."
"She alright?"
"Fine. Couldn't sleep neither."
"Childish excitement or strange bed?"
"But of both maybe." She smiled.
"You didn't sneak a look at what Santa's brought." His voice was clear now, sleep easing away.
"Of course not, I'm a good girl."
"Always…?"
She giggled, patting his chest with her hand, "Turn over and cuddle me."
Groaning he slowly turned over, one arm spreading open on the pillow behind her, she shifted slightly until he was lying on his back and she could press her face against his chest and relax in the warmth of his embrace.
"Any time."
"You know, it's Christmas morning." She whispered. "Our first one together."
"Merry Christmas Ms Hughes." He said gently, slipping back to sleep.
My last one as 'Ms Hughes,' she thought as she closed her eyes and let the steady beat of his heart lull her back to sleep.
Christmas Day – One Year Earlier
Lying on his back Charles stared up at the ceiling, his eyes followed the curves of the artex, the circular pattern as it worked its way around and around until forming a circle around the elaborate light fitting.
Isobel had never been one to do things by halves and this room was one more example of her exquisite, if not extravagant, taste.
It was still early, not even six, and even the children were still asleep. He pondered that once again he was the only non-family member (strictly speaking) joining them for their festive celebrations.
He reached to the side table for his phone, flipping his thumb over the pass code and immediately going to his pictures. It was five days since he'd seen Elsie, they were both busy with the Christmas rush, and he missed her. He found a shot he'd taken of her over dinner, leaning on the table with her hand tucked under her chin supporting her head. She wore a lopsided smile, as if irritated by having to pose for a picture.
Absently he stroked her face, then instinctively flicked to her number and called.
A few moments later her voice sleepily answered, "Hi."
"Hello." He smiled, leaning back into his pillows.
"It's early."
"Oh damn it is, I'm sorry, I woke you."
He heard her bed sheets rustling as she sat up. "I was already awake."
"Oh, good. So, Merry Christmas." He smiled again, taking delight in the fact he could say those words to her on Christmas morning."
"Merry Christmas Mr Carson. And where are you?"
"In a rather large bed, a bed that has gold sheets on it."
"Wow, they must be heavy."
He chuckled, "I guess so…" he breathed deeply, one hand scrunching the quilt covering his chest. "Kinda wish you were here."
"I'll see you next week, all ready for Edinburgh. I'm getting excited, I've always wanted to do Hogmanay."
"I'm excited too." He didn't add that his excitement stemmed from always wanting to spend New Year as part of a couple, and years of wanting to spend time with her. After almost five months of dating he very much felt they were that – a couple.
She smiled at his sudden silence, "So, did you just call to say Merry Christmas?"
"I suppose so. And because I was thinking of you."
"That's sweet."
"I hope you like your presents."
"I'm sure I will. I hope you like yours too. I feel bad you gave me four and I gave you one."
"Yours came in a big box."
"I hope you've not been peeking."
"Wouldn't dream of it." He smiled. "So, you're going to your friend's for the day?"
"I am, with my daughter."
"Could I maybe… I mean, can we talk… later?"
"Of course. I'll probably end up sleeping over there and it's a noisy house what with all the kids and everything so if I don't answer its because I won't have heard it, not that I'm ignoring your call."
"Okay."
"Text me…"
"You know I struggle with that."
She smiled, "Then I'll text you."
"Thanks."
She bit her lip, listened to his breathing on the other end of the line. "I'm going to have to go…" her voice was gentle, almost regretful. "I have to shower and…"
"I know. You need to go get a cup of tea."
She smiled again; he had a way of making her smile, she wasn't used to it. "No better way to start the day." She breathed, her fingers sliding down the side of her phone. "Have a lovely day Charles."
"And you, Elsie."
Christmas Day – Present
As a child Charles had learned that being alone was the norm. He'd learned how to be quiet and remain in his room. He'd learned to wait to be called upon and how to impress and how to meet standards. He'd convinced himself that he really only needed himself.
As with every child the world over he woke early on Christmas Day, he lay reading in his bed waiting for the slightest sound which signalled he could rise and race downstairs.
The years of practice had served him well, and now, despite his excitement to get up and start the day, he remained still and silent. The bedroom in which he slept was a far cry from the one he'd once occupied as a lad – Elsie's touch meant it was bright and calm, the bed linen luxurious and warming.
He stroked his hand down her back, felt her soft body press against his.
"Good morning," she whispered against his chest.
"Thought you were asleep."
"Too excited." She lifted her head slightly, licked her lips. "Merry Christmas darling."
He smiled slowly, cradling her even closer, "Merry Christmas. Can we get up now?"
"Hmm, give me a few minutes to wake up."
He paused, kissed her head, glanced to the ticking clock on the bedside table, "Is that long enough?"
"Charles. You're worse than a child."
"I can't wait for you to open your presents." He tickled her waist. "The one morning of the year you're not dashing out of bed for the loo."
"If I wasn't half asleep I'd slap you for your cheek."
"Come on, I never got to do this as a kid, mother was always quite proper."
She breathed deeply, the warm exhale of her breath landing on his chest. "Which explains why you find it hard to be spontaneous."
"It does." He kissed her head. "Though let's not forget my most brilliant, romantic way of asking you out for dinner."
She moved her head slightly, opening her eyes. "You mean your bumbling statement that going out for dinner might be nice."
"Yes," he chuckled, "as I said, 'most brilliant.' Now come on darling, get up."
Groaning she rolled from him, onto her back, pushing the sheets down to her waist. "I need a cup of tea before I can function."
"I know." He leant up on his elbow to look down at her, "And I'm making a proper breakfast too."
"I can't eat a huge breakfast and then a huge roast dinner, I'll either burst or be asleep by four."
"That's what Christmas is about." He traced his fingers up her stomach, "We'll have breakfast, open presents, go to church, put the turkey in, go for a walk, and have a late lunch – more like an afternoon lunch. Then play games and fall asleep watching television."
"You've got it all planned out." She said, a wry smile on her face.
"I have. Ooh, I almost forgot the Queen's speech."
"Well, of course we couldn't miss that." She rolled onto her side to face him, "You know, I'm rather looking forward to the church bit – doing a bit of singing. I enjoyed it last night."
"Not going to cry again?"
She smiled, "I shall try not to, can't guarantee."
"I'm looking forward to having you on my arm, crying over Silent Night or not."
"I may cry to Away in a Manger too if I look at Anna during it."
"Fair enough. I can understand that."
"That's because secretly you're a real softie too." She leant forward to kiss him, "And I want to see you in a dashing suit and show off my handsome fiancé."
"If we were alone in the house…" he said lowly, tiptoeing his fingers over her shoulder. "…I'd add something else to my list."
"I'm sure you would." She caught his fingers in hers and kissed them. "Do I have time for a shower before breakfast? Unless you want me to help, I don't mind."
"No. You shower. I've been looking forward to spoiling you – I see how hard you've worked over the past two months, you deserve a break."
"You've done all the prep for today – food shopping and sorting out this damned thermostat I can't figure out how to work."
He chuckled, "It should be fine now, it's on a timer." His stomach rumbled as if on cue. "As is my belly, it seems."
She smiled as she watched him get out of bed and reach for his robe. "Toasty in here you see, because the heating came on at 4a.m."
"All in the preparation." She acknowledged. "And of all the people I've known in my life you have the preparation thing down."
"What can I say…." He leant over the bed and kissed her, "I like to be prepared for any eventuality. Shall we say half-an-hour?"
"I'll be there honey."
Christmas Day – Eight Years Earlier
Pushing his chair back from the dining table Charles collected his plate and turned to follow the maid into the kitchen.
"Really darling," Violet said, sitting regal at the head of the table. "They are paid to do that."
"I needed a breath of air mother," Charles said, "Won't run away."
He closed the door behind him and set his plate down beside the other dishes, "Sorry about my mother," he said gently, watching as the two women stacked the dishwasher.
"No bother sir."
"It can't be much fun, working Christmas Day."
"You get used to it. Have done for years. It's not so bad; we'll be on our way for three. Nice to have my daughter help out this year."
"Oh I see," he noted the younger girl properly for the first time. "And she looks like you."
The girl rolled her eyes at him and he covered a chuckle with his hand.
"Off somewhere nice for dinner I hope."
"Family," the older one, said. "We'll all be there. My parents, siblings, cousins… you know."
"You have a big family?"
"I've got three brothers at home, unfortunately." The younger girl smiled as she shut the door on the dishwasher and moved past Charles to get to the sink.
"Excuse me, I'm in your way." He said, stepping towards the back door. "Holding you up."
"It's no bother sir."
He watched them work, realising their chatter with him was part and parcel of being polite. Staff paid to do a job. That particular maid had been present at almost every one of Isobel's fancy dos; she was friendly, efficient, but goodness knows how she saw him – a stuffy old man who hung around the kitchen at parties.
Realising his foolishness he turned and stepped out into the crisp December air. There was frost on the ground and he hugged his jacket around him as he walked the perimeter of the building.
The trees were bare now, dust covered, their limbs laden with melting snow from the early fall. The gravel was sharp underfoot and he kicked lazily at it as he made his way around for a second time.
When he passed the back garden again the French doors opened and Richard came out, Charles' coat hung over his arm and two glasses of amber liquid in his hand.
"Fancy a drink old man, keep you warm? If you don't mind the company."
"Not at all, and thank you." He took the drink from him, "Brandy?"
"The Scottish stuff."
"Even better. And maybe a couple of cigars?"
"You know I don't smoke."
"It's Christmas Day and you can treat yourself. Come on." He led him toward the bench and they sat side-by-side, close enough for warmth. "You're melancholy today."
"Sorry. I take it mother is lamenting my bad behaviour."
"Not really," Richard blew out a long line of smoke, and they watched it curl into the cold air. "But I believe she'd like you back in time for the Christmas Pud."
Charles laughed, "Priorities. Thanks for inviting us, again, I should add."
"You know you're always welcome."
"Getting rather full though now, a grandchild on the way."
Richard chuckled, setting his legs out in front of him. "Izzy's beside herself with excitement, as you can guess."
"As one would expect. You know you have it all, don't you?" Charles said, his voice a mix of amusement, sarcasm and perhaps tinged with envy.
"Ha. Do I indeed?"
"Of course. Practice continues to do well. Family is thriving. And most of all, love, you have that." He knocked his glass against Richard's.
"Good lord, you are melancholy today."
Charles shrugged, "Maybe it's turning fifty, I don't know. Maybe it's another Christmas spent with my mother. Same routines."
"That woman you were seeing, nothing come of it?"
"We had three dates, I'd hardly call it anything. She wasn't interested." He downed his drink.
"Sorry."
"It is what it is."
"Not like you to mope."
"No. And I mustn't." He laughed coldly, "I've just been talking to your maid about her huge family and for a brief second I considered if she'd be interested in dating me. Then I realised I'd reached stalker like territory."
Richard shrugged, "She's a pretty lady."
"Who has nothing at all in common with me."
"You know Charles, there's nothing wrong with admitting you're lonely."
"Perhaps not." He glanced back inside, saw Violet holding the floor. "But then one doesn't have time for such trivialities." He slapped his legs, getting to his feet. "Come on, mother will be complaining and I'm supposing charades will begin soon."
"Which you'll win again."
"Let's put money on it, I could do with a healthy dose of optimism."
Richard watched his friend head back to the house, head down, a slight slump to his shoulders. It wasn't the Charles he knew. For years, too many years to count, he'd assured him he'd find love – at sometime, in some place – how elusive it was proving to be. Happiness.
Christmas Day - present
"This is uncanny," Anna said, scribbling on the small pad in her hand and chewing on the end of the pencil.
"What?" Elsie turned again, switching her curled legs from facing east to west.
"You two. The exact same score, for the second time running."
"Oh honey, we're so in sync," Elsie laughed, patting Charles' knee.
"You know too many bloody words," Anna grumbled, glancing at her own useless letters. "Remind me never to play Scrabble with you again, in fact is it even safe for you two to play this alone together – it might come to blows if one loses."
"She'll win." Charles stretched his legs out beneath the coffee table and reached for his wine glass. "She always has the last word."
"Oh ha bloody ha, have you been holding onto that one for a while?"
"Ever since I opened the gift and found a Scrabble board."
She squeezed his leg again, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "You like it though?"
"You kidding? Look at how fancy it is, a deluxe Scrabble board with an extravagant turning-table and a red velvet bag to hold the wood-carved letters. It's a dream."
Anna and Elsie laughed together.
"I think 'yes' would have done," Anna teased.
"Says the girl who flipped out over getting books." Elsie smiled.
"Erm, the complete Beatrix Potter library for my child's nursery bookshelf is a big deal."
"And well worth 'flipping out' over." Charles agreed, having been the one to choose them.
"You think lightweight here will make it to bed?" Elsie asked, indicating John asleep on the couch behind them.
"Some children can't handle the excitement." Anna said, kneeling up to look at him.
"And the ring…?" Charles said as nonchalantly as he could manage, shaking the bag and picking his letters.
Elsie watched the emotions play out over Anna's face, she'd wanted to ask the same question all day but had somehow resisted.
"We aren't getting married." Anna said lowly. "It's just a promise… or something…"
"A promise ring?" Elsie said sceptically.
"Mum." Anna warned. "There's enough to think about with this," she rolled her palm over her growing belly. "I don't want to think of anything else. Other than making a good job of this shop."
"If it's too much," Charles said, sliding his glasses off. "I didn't mean to add on more pressure, I wanted to help."
"God I don't think that. You have helped. It's just… John will have to manage on his own when this one arrives."
"I'll be there. I'll help. Either with the baby or the shop."
"I know which he'd be safer with," Elsie smiled, leaning against his arm and yawning.
"I've got to learn how to change a nappy at some point." He slid his arm around her back. "And don't think I don't know what you're trying to do, sneak a look at my letters."
"As if I would cheat."
"As if…" Anna laughed.
"Now don't you start that, remember Monopoly? You and your father must have cheated me out of hundreds over the years…" The awkward silence that followed the mention of 'her father' seemed to stretch on and Elsie mentally berated herself for altering the tone.
She was actually glad when John's loud snore broke the silence and Charles laughed as he got to his feet.
"Shall I make cocoa?"
"I can't possibly fit anything else in my body." Anna leant against the edge of the coffee table to hoist herself up.
"Let me help." Charles caught her arms, his sturdy frame easily supporting her slight one as she stood.
"I'll have a glass of water though, if that's okay."
"Of course."
"If I can get John awake I might suggest we watch a movie. What do you think mum?"
"I'm so tired darling," Elsie said, glancing up at Charles. "It's been a long, busy day."
"Bed then?" He asked, holding his hand out to help her up.
"Mmm. Though I don't mind if you want to watch the movie."
"I'm absolutely knackered." He admitted with a grin, "Cooking Christmas dinner is hefty work."
"Oh but you did it so well."
"Loved the festive apron especially." A sleepy voice came from the couch.
"Oh, so you're awake are you Mr Bates?!" Anna threw a cushion at his head.
"Nothing wrong with an afternoon snooze after a great festive meal."
"Especially when you do it still wearing your paper crown." Elsie swiped it from his head. "Very fetching. Okay, I can barely keep my eyes open, bed for me." She leant over to kiss Anna, "Night sweetheart."
"Night mum. Thanks for a lovely day."
"You're welcome. Thank you for my lovely gifts, and you John."
"Welcome." He pushed himself to sit up, waving his arm at her; clearly he was still a little inebriated. "Come give us a hug Els."
"Err… really…" Charles frowned.
"You're drunk young man," she resisted a hug but patted his back as she passed by the couch, mostly to leave the day with a pleasant afterglow rather than an awkward one.
"And you?" She pressed her hand against Charles' arm, "Are you coming up?"
"I'll make myself some tea and get Anna's water and I'm right behind you."
"Okay." She yawned, heading up to bed.
She was half asleep when he joined her, and she watched in the darkness as he undressed and slid into bed beside her.
"Hello."
"Hello," she smiled, lying on her back and waiting until he was settled, his head on her chest. "Comfortable?"
"Very."
She stroked her hand through his hair, "You enjoyed the day?"
"Very much."
"Everything you hoped for?"
"Its what family is all about isn't it. Eating and board games."
"Your turkey was outstanding."
"As were your mince pies."
"Why thank you." She kissed the top of his head, her fingers trailing down over his bare shoulder.
"Mmm, you smell good." He buried his face against her chest, breathing her in.
"Now don't start that."
"I don't know what you mean," he grinned, his fingers sliding down her legs until he reached the hem of her nightgown.
"Charles…" She warned, her tone low.
"Hmm? I'm just testing something."
"I'm sure you are."
She wiggled against him as he pushed up the material of her nightgown.
"Charles."
"I just want to be against your skin."
She shook her head as he pushed it up her chest and she pulled it over her head and threw it aside. They settled down again, this time his cheek against her breast.
"Happy now?"
"Happier. Though I am looking forward to being alone with you again."
"They've only been here two days."
"Still…"
"Still." She stroked her palm over his back beneath the sheets. "I'm sorry I ruined the atmosphere."
"You didn't."
"I think I did." She sighed.
"Nobody expects for neither of you to mention him – he is her father, you shared many Christmases together. I'm a grown up Els, I can deal with that."
"I thank God every day for you." She admitted in a whisper, brushing his hair back with her fingertips. "I may not thank you enough."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I feel incredibly lucky, to find this at all is some kind of miracle. To find it at my age…"
"We're both incredibly lucky." He lifted his head to look at her, smiling lopsidedly. "At our age."
"Love you."
"...Very, very much." He bent to kiss her, finding her lips soft, her mouth warm. She hummed beneath him and he easily rolled on top of her, her legs parting around him.
"Elspeth…" he breathed against her lips. "My love."
"Mmm," her nails slightly dug into the soft skin of his shoulders. "We can't." She slowly broke the kiss, moving her mouth over his cheek, to his forehead, hands either side of his face.
"Tempting though." He smiled down at her. "Though I'm not sure it would be much of a performance, I'm so tired. Maybe a four at best."
She giggled, tapping his shoulders now, "Oh how romantic."
"You just wait til I'm 100%, I'll thank you properly for my presents."
"I'm glad you liked them all." She stretched beneath him, trailing her fingers up the back of his neck. "And I can't thank you enough for that gorgeous heart."
"Bling, did Anna call it? I've never heard that term in my life."
"Bling indeed." She stretched her back, pushing her chest forward.
"Tease." He smiled, admiring her body.
"My shoulders ache from sitting on the floor."
"I'll move." But he bent his head down and kissed her again before he did so.
Flopping onto her side she pulled the quilt over her arm and Charles snuggled behind her.
"Better than last year." He whispered by her ear. "A rushed conversation in the evening with the sounds of mayhem behind you."
"That's how tomorrow will be," she said smiling, eyes closed, her hand stroking the top of his where it lay on her stomach. "Boxing Day at Beryl's."
"I'll be saturated with human contact." He said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I used to crave it, now you've filled my life with it…"
"And?" She asked lowly.
"And it's wonderful." He squeezed her stomach, kissing the back of her neck, his face buried in her hair. "Best Christmas Day ever."
And if you're so inclined - some Stevie Wonder to finish, 'You and I', go take a listen.
Here we are on earth together,
It's you and I,
God has made us fall in love, it's true,
I've really found someone like you.
Will it stay the love you feel for me? Will it stay?
That you will be by my side,
To see me through,
Until my life is through
Well, in my mind, we can conquer the world,
In love you and I, you and I, you and I.
I am glad at least in my life I found someone
That may not be here forever to see me through,
But I found strength in you.
I only pray that I have shown you a brighter day,
Because that's all that I am living for, you see,
Don't worry what happens to me.
Cause' in my mind, you will stay here always,
In love, you and I, you and I, you and I, you and I
In my mind we can conquer the world
In love, you and I, you and I, you and I.
Please leave me a review - they're my incentive! And next time, New Year celebrations.