Most of this chapter is set in the present – New Year's Eve 2015 and then January 2016. The flashbacks take place in January 2015, immediately following their trip to Edinburgh.
This chapter sets up the third story arc.
Late December 2015
"Charles!" Elsie yelled as she raced down the stairs, clutching her phone in her hand. "Charles?!"
He hummed his reply, "Yes?" from the kitchen, never shifting his position. He was bent forward, leaning over the table, or – more importantly – leaning over the wine he was decanting. On the table before him lay an open book, 'Wine, all you need to know', a Christmas gift from Elsie.
"Honey," she complained as she searched the rooms for him. She stopped by the kitchen door, shaking her head as she watched him. "Goodness Charles, you could at least answer me."
"I did," he said lowly, "but I didn't want to raise my voice."
"Surely the book doesn't tell you shouting is bad for the wine."
He raised his eyebrows at her.
"How many bottles have you been through now?"
"I want to get it right." He gently tilted the bottle upright, catching the drop that circled the rim in a piece of kitchen towel. "So, what are you yelling about?"
"They just called," she said waving her phone. "They would have called earlier but, well what with it being Christmas and being busy and away from home and all –,"
"–what are you rabbiting on about?"
"The Johnsons from the next farm along."
She sighed at his furrowed brow.
"The cat?" She prompted.
"Ahh, the pregnant cat. Yes, what of it?"
"It had kittens."
"I told you it was pregnant." He said, marking the page in his book and gently closing it.
"I think you'll find I told you it was pregnant but that's by the by. It's had it's kittens, five of them."
"So?"
"So…" she smiled, sauntering towards the table.
"Oh no Els, I thought we were over that."
"Just because I haven't mentioned it doesn't mean I'm 'over it.' Let's go see them."
"We're going to the cinema, you said you were desperate to see The Lady in the Van." He stated as he took a seat.
"I am and we will, but we have time to do both. We can call at the farm on our way into town. Barbara said that's fine."
"Who's Barbara?"
"Goodness Charles, Barbara Johnson, the farm, the cat, the kittens." She pouted. "I want to go see them."
"They're a week old at best, they'll look like mice."
"Please." She rested both hands on the table across from him. "Please, please, please."
He huffed, "You're like a child."
"I'll do anything you like - get you the biggest popcorn, take you out for dinner afterward to your favourite place," she reached to stroke his hand that lay on the table. "Even do that thing you like tonight…"
"Now that's unfair."
"I'm just saying."
"It's bribery and you're far too sneaky." He sighed heavily, "You have four seconds to convince me to have these kittens."
"Four seconds! I can't even get your belt buckle unhooked in that time!"
He shook his head, "Disgraceful. Time's up."
"Wait no, start the four seconds again."
He glanced at his watch, "Okay, go…"
"Abstinence!" She shot back.
His eyes widened, "Sorry?"
"No kittens, no sex."
"Elsie…" He rolled his eyes.
"Your choice." She folded her arms.
"Okay I can do that. I went years without remember."
"Fair enough, we'll see who gives in first." She deliberately leant forward across the table reaching for his tea cup, allowing him a good glimpse of her cleavage.
"That's cheating."
"Is it?" She got up, taking their cups to the sink, knowing his eyes were on her backside as she swayed her hips.
"Blackmail."
"You said convince you," she turned to lean against the sink. "And I really, really want those kittens."
"Lord above, I'm destined to live my life ruled by women."
She clapped her hands together, moving quickly to slide her fingers over his broad shoulders and slip onto his knee. "You wouldn't have it any other way." She went to kiss him, looping her hands at the back of his neck.
He held his hand up, "Wait, I'm saying we can go look, not get."
"Alright." But she knew she'd won this particular battle as she pressed her lips against his and kissed him deeply.
He moaned in frustration into her mouth, pulling back only fractionally to whisper, "And no, I wouldn't have it any other way."
Less than fifteen minutes later Charles was pulling the car into a rather muddy back yard whilst an excitable Elsie practically jumped out and slipped around the front of the bonnet.
"Come here," he said, reaching for her arm, "it's icy and muddy."
"They're going to be so cute. Little babies." She squealed.
"Don't get over excited and gush over them."
"I shall try to suppress my joy," she deadpanned at him, then turned to kiss his cheek, "Be nice."
"I'm always nice…."
"They are our closest neighbours."
"I'm gonna have to dig the hosepipe out of the garage and clean the car when we get home tonight, it's caked in mud underneath now." He said, eyeing it as she rang the bell.
"Oh Charles…"
The door opened to reveal a ruddy faced yet slight woman, she wore an apron, upon which she was wiping her hands, and had that well-worn look of somebody who spent a great deal of time outdoors in all weathers.
"Mrs Johnson?" Elsie enquired.
"Mrs Carson?"
Charles smiled proudly.
"Well, not quite yet but in a few months." She held out her hand. "Elsie Hughes. And this is my fiancé Charles Carson."
"A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." He said shaking her hand and Elsie rolled her eyes at his formality.
"Come in, it's bloody freezing out here." Barbara said, beckoning them in. "So you're settling in here okay?"
"Oh yes, it's lovely." Charles said glancing about the farmhouse.
"It's taking some getting used," Elsie commented. "Being so remote."
"I know, it can be odd. You're more than welcome to pop down anytime you know," Barbara pushed open the lounge door. "Luckily my husband's taken the children out for a while, out from under my feet. So you can look in peace. There's five of them, you're thinking of getting two?"
"Well we…" Charles blustered.
"We are." Elsie said, squeezing his elbow as she passed him and looking imploringly at him.
He sighed, her eyes were deep blue and inviting and he realised she had him completely wrapped around her little finger.
"We are." He repeated, standing inside the lounge door. He stood back and watched as Elsie's voice turned soft and embracing. She knelt by the basket, the cat lifted its head and sniffed the air and, once content, settled back down, her babies snuggled along her stomach.
"They're so tiny." She cooed. "Look how tiny they are Charles."
"I can see."
"You could fit two in the palm of your hand. In fact no, you could fit all five."
He chuckled despite himself, watching as she lifted a hand, she couldn't help but touch, and she gently ran one finger down the tiny leg of one of the sleeping kittens.
"As soft as cotton wool." She smiled.
"You want some tea?" Barbara asked.
"We're going to the cinema." Charles whispered, almost afraid of waking the kittens.
"Yes of course." Elsie said, pushing herself to her feet.
She turned to Charles as Barbara left them alone and twisted her hands together.
"Darling, they're so beautiful."
He could swear her face was actually shining.
"They are cute." He admitted.
Her mouth twisted into a smile, "Not like mice?"
"No. Not like mice." He pointed at them, "But I draw the line at two, we can't have five!"
She giggled, "Alright. I think we should get the grey and white one and the ginger and white one."
"Ruthless."
"You said I had to choose," she implored, reaching to grip his arms. "Is that okay with you?"
He dipped his head down to hers, "Whatever makes you happy, you know that." And placed a kiss to her forehead.
"We might be able to take them home come Valentine's Day."
"Quite the gift!" He smirked, aware of Barbara returning with their tea he mentally prepared himself to make small talk.
New Year's Eve 2015
Charles watched mesmerised as Elsie stood before their bedroom mirror in just her underwear, holding up one dress after the other in front of herself.
"What do you think?"
"I told you I like the red one."
She picked up the red dress from the bed and hung it in front of her again.
"You don't think it's a bit flashy for the cricket club's party?"
"Erm, have you met these women?"
"Unfortunately yes." She sighed, "It's not something I'd usually wear, Anna talked me into buying it." She put it down again, turning to face him, "Maybe I should just take it back."
"Don't do that, you look gorgeous in it."
She smiled, tilting her head to one side as she regarded his slumped and relaxed position in their bed. "You'd say that if I wore jeans and a shapeless jumper."
"I know what's underneath." He smiled, grateful of the lacy black underwear. He held his arms up, "come here for a minute or two."
"A minute or two…" She drawled knowingly, crawling up the bed to him and settling in his arms. With her head on his chest she eyed the dresses hung on the wardrobe door. "Maybe I should just wear the black one and blend in."
"Never," he kissed her shoulder. "You're not a woman who's meant to just blend in."
"You're biased."
She felt him lift one of her arms, one of his hands folding with hers, his other trailing down her arm.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking at your freckles."
"Charles…" she twisted her head to look at him.
"I intend to do a close study of Ms Elsie Hughes, every inch of her."
"Starting with my arms?"
"Indeed."
She chuckled, "It's finally happened then, you've finally fallen off the edge and lost it."
Smiling he lifted her hand to his face and kissed the back of it before turning it over, studying the lines in her palm, the shapes they formed – how much joy these hands had brought him – his thumb rubbed over the pulse point at her wrist and he kissed there too.
"You do realise that this time last year I was I falling in love with you in Edinburgh, if I hadn't already and just not admitted it to myself." He said softly.
"This time last year I was telling myself not to fall for you and failing miserably."
"So cutting me off instead?"
"Hmm…" She rolled over until she was nestled between his legs, her chest on his. "And look how well that turned out."
"I feel entirely cut off and poorly treated."
"As well you might."
"And soon I'll be relegated to second place in line for your attention in this house, overtaken by two feline fur balls."
"Don't be mean about my babies. I promise to pay you attention every other week." She teased, trailing kisses over his chest, feeling his hand curl into her hair, the other on her back, his fingers fiddling with her bra clasp. "Not sure if we have time for this." She said against his neck.
"Well, look at it this way, when we get home we might be too drunk to manage it."
She chuckled, her kisses moving up his neck, "Do you remember our drunken fumble against the hotel wall last year?"
"I remember it as often as twice a week. And it was more than a fumble."
She nipped his chin with her teeth, "I'm shocked. And you such a good boy."
"I keep telling you you've changed me. Wicked woman." She was going to protest but he quickly rolled her onto her back, leaning over her, she was giggling at his touch.
"Definitely wear the red dress," he smiled, feeling her warm thighs press tightly against his legs.
The fireworks at the cricket club were right enough but as Charles stood watching them he could only reflect on how small they seemed in comparison to the previous year's celebration. He felt that, if he closed his eyes, he could take himself back to that exact moment – how it felt to have her in his arms, his chin on her head, the fragrance of her hair, her gloved hands covering his against her stomach. Kissing her to the New Year chimes.
They must go back there next year as a married couple.
He felt her touch his arm, sliding her hand under the crook of his elbow and leaning against him. She tilted her chin up to him as if to speak and he lowered his head to hear her over the din.
"Promise me we'll spend every New Year together." She smiled, her eyes bright in the darkness.
He felt his heart sweep with joy, still, like this was still new and fresh and exciting. How could she do that to him?
Placing a kiss on her forehead he smiled, "I think I can promise that."
"Where's my glow stick to wave?" She laughed.
"Those bloody glowy things."
In a wave of emotion and tenderness for this wonderful man she turned to face him, lifting her head up, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. His arms curled around her, one hand still clutching his champagne.
"You're missing the fireworks." He said against her lips.
"Oh but we're giving your wonderful cricket club members a different kind of show, aren't we?!"
He chuckled, pressing her even tighter against him. It was slightly warmer in Yorkshire than Edinburgh but still bloody freezing. "I do love you Elspeth Hughes."
"I should damn well hope so," she stood even higher to whisper by his ear. "Because the things I'm going to do to you later…"
He swallowed, feeling his trousers tighten almost immediately around his groin.
She laughed, lowering her feet to the slightly muddy ground – she was glad Charles had suggested to bring spare boots for the outdoor section of the night – her Uggs may look a state beneath her fancy dress but they were a whole lot more comfortable than heels.
"Remember that first time you invited me to the cricket and we had that awkward kiss in the car park?" She giggled watching his face.
He nodded, "I was just so happy you were there I wouldn't have cared."
"It's 2016 Mr Carson."
"Who would have thought I'd live this long!"
"Charles," she squeezed his upper arm. "Don't say that." But they were both laughing. "I'm rather looking forward to this year."
"You know I can't think why…" He kissed her head again, "Grandma Elsie hey."
"Oh goodness don't say that, I can't be a grandma, can't the child call me something else?"
"When the child does indeed start to talk maybe I'll consider letting it use Els… But only if it's nice to me."
"You know it's going to adore you, great big Grandad who can swing him or her around at high speed and hoist them onto his shoulders."
"That's quite some vantage point they'd have."
"A view of the entire world!"
"You know, I honestly don't mind being called grandad, I rather like the idea."
Smiling she kissed him again, "How late do we have to stay?"
"Another half an hour, another drink then sneak away?"
She nodded, turning from his arms as the fireworks came to an end. Time to mingle again.
Of course Laura was holding court – of course – it was at times like this Elsie wished she still smoked, then she could at least escape outside for five minutes instead of having to listen to that woman's stories.
She'd worn the red dress. Only to find Laura had worn red too, only hers was racier, and tighter and sexier and Elsie felt decidedly low-key in comparison. Almost dowdy. Especially as wearing such a tight dress meant she'd opted for the scarily large stomach-holding-in pants which did very little for her sexual confidence right at that moment.
She glanced down to her breasts and mentally compared them to Laura's – which were of course fake – but they were sturdy and large and didn't bob about during her animated chat. Men were so easily swayed. She'd proven that particular fact the other day when convincing Charles about the kittens.
Her attention was drawn to the right as she noticed a suave young man walking towards her smiling and brandishing two rather large cocktails.
"Now, now Mrs Hughes. You look far too deep in thought for New Year's Eve."
"Hello Thomas," she smiled, leaning to kiss his cheek.
"Here. Have a cheeky screw."
"God I hope that's the name of the cocktail otherwise Charles will be heartbroken when we run off together."
"You're looking fabulous tonight, you might just turn me."
"You mean you're not mesemerised by the glorious Laura like every other man here?"
"You know I thought I noticed a look of the daggers about you as you stared at her."
"Hmm…" she mumbled into her drink.
Thomas laughed, "Come on, I love a good bitch."
"Oh really! You must love her then!"
Thomas gasped, covering his mouth in mock shock and shaking his head. "Mrs Hughes!"
She grasped his arm giggling, "God don't tell anyone I said that. I'm sure most of them here already see me as low class."
He rolled his eyes, "They have different views on what makes class. All about the money honey."
"Exactly. And the connections. So whilst I can talk properly…" she exaggerated her upper class accent, "…when required, the truth is I was born into a working class family. I may just about pass for low middle class now but I'm sure many of these think Charles is settling below his station."
"I think your class is the last thing on his mind."
"That's because he's a sweetheart." She turnd her back on Laura, facing Thomas instead.
"And because he can't get enough of you." Thomas added before sucking on the straw in his cocktail.
"Well yes, there's that too." She touched his arm. "Wouldn't they find that even more working class – 'sex'?" She mouthed.
"You're kidding me! These lot are at it like rabbits, trust me. Unlike you I was born into this."
She recalled Charles telling her that Thomas' father was a top lawyer, his great, great grandfather a judge. She'd wondered how he'd escaped the family business.
"The amount of sex parties, wife swapping, husband swapping, having it away with the nanny – the stories I could tell would make your hair curl."
"Of that I have no doubt."
"Problem is Els…" she smiled at his use of Charles' nickname. "Not many of them are happy. Most drink too much."
"Present company excluded." She smiled, waggling the cocktail at him.
"But of course. So, you looking forward to the delights of married life?"
"I am rather… though I must admit we haven't really had the time to think about it. What with Anna and the baby, and Charles leaving the shop now… another thing I'm sure this lot are adding onto my list of 'golddigger qualities.'" She rolled her eyes. "I haven't even started looking at dresses."
"Oh fabulous," he grabbed her hand. "Let's go together, we'll be like those two in Sex and the City – you'll be Charlotte and I'll be her gay best friend advising her on wedding dresses."
"You know I remember that episode – her husband sees her in the dress."
"I knew you'd be a fan. We should have a 'City' marathon."
"Charles would detest the show, they talk about things he'd die listening to."
"Like…" he leant in whispering by her ear, "bad tasting come."
They sniggered together like naughty school children.
"That was a disgusting moment." She giggled.
"A brutally honest moment, you and I both know that's truth babe. Samantha Jones is a star." He finished his drink and took her glass from her. "Come on, let's liven this place up. We're going to dance, I'll request a song from the DJ."
She took his hand following him to the dance floor. "What are you going to request?"
"Kanye West, Golddigger, of course, you sassy bitch!"
"So, you and Thomas looked like you were having fun." Charles smiled as he looked over to the their bed, Elsie was curled on her side already half asleep.
She didn't even open her eyes, "He's a bad influence on me, I had three cheeky screws with him."
Charles rolled his eyes, "Dear Lord I hope that's one of those disgusting coloured drinks I saw people with."
"A-ha."
He peeled back the bed sheets and climbed in beside her, "Good. Otherwise Thomas and I might have fallen out."
"I like him. He makes me feel like I might fit in there."
Curling up behind her he kissed her shoulder, "You do fit in there."
"Marginally. They're such snobs."
He rested his hand on her stomach, hoping that this was partly the alcohol talking.
"Am I?"
Breathing deeply Elsie opened her eyes a little, realising what she'd said. "No I…" she turned in his arms, her head beside his on the pillow. "Sorry, I'm venting."
"I know you don't like Laura, I know she can be loud and likes attention."
"Maybe I'm a little jealous of her. She seems to have my personality but she's lived her life enjoying that extrovert side and I've surpressed it."
He smiled tenderly, stroking his finger down her nose, "She doesn't have your personality. Not even a hundredth of it." He sighed, "We'll go somewhere else next year."
"No. It's what you do, I'm happy to go. I'll get used to them I'm sure and if Thomas is there I'll be fine."
"The way he was grinding against you on that dancefloor I thought he'd swapped sides."
"We were having a Sex and the City moment." She smiled.
"This is one of those things I don't understand, isn't it." He shook his head. "Besides I thought we could go back to Edinburgh as husband and wife."
"Oh now that would be nice, very sweet." She kissed his mouth before resting her head on his chest, how easily he fell onto his back to accommodate her movements and curled his arms around her.
"And your birthday coming up… anything in particular you'd like to do?"
She huffed against his skin, "Forget I'm 52."
Wednesday 6thJanuary 2016 – present day
January meant Elsie's birthday. An event not usually steeped in much excitement and celebration because one – she was back at work, and two – the rest of the world was miserable following the fun of Christmas.
The previous year she'd been in a state of confusion over what to do about Charles; the year before that she felt decidedly alone – her first birthday as a divorced woman and her fiftieth to boot. Before that she'd been living life in a bubble of day-to-day tasks to take her mind off of her bloody awful situation.
This year she wanted a simple celebration, dinner somewhere nice so nobody had to cook or clean up or worry about the state of their house. Charles booked the Thai place she liked and Anna, John, Beryl and Bill would be there and that was fine with her. Her birthday was Wednesday and they'd go out Friday to really celebrate.
That meant Charles had the wonderful honour of spoiling her on the actual day. When she got in from work he'd run a bubble bath and poured her a chilled glass of champagne which he greeted her at the door with.
"You're not singing!" She laughed as she walked in, swinging her school bag to the floor.
He rolled his eyes but launched into song, she took the glass from him sipping it as she listened to him.
"Yay!" She clapped, "that was wonderful.."
"I best get the same treatment come my day."
"It's my birthday, only I can make demands."
He drew her into a hug, "You have a good day?"
"It's work," she shrugged, "better being at home."
"Your bath's getting cold."
"I have a bath?"
"You do. Thought you can submerge in that and relax as I prepare dinner."
"Oh?" She pouted. "You're not joining me in the tub?"
He smirked, "Well, I suppose I could force myself. You know if I have to."
She drained her champagne, handing the glass to him, "Race you up there."
He shook his head as he watched her run up, "I'm not sure grandmas are meant to behave in this way."
"Don't call me that!" She called back.
By the time he'd refilled their champagne glasses, checked on the casserole in the slow cooker and made his way upstairs she was already soaking in the bath, her hair pinned on top of her head and her eyes closed.
"Happy there are you?"
"A-ha," she smiled, "Happy Birthday to me…" She sang, cracking open an eye and splashing him as he undressed.
"Minx!"
"Ah, you can't be mean to me on my birthday." She said, wagging her finger at him.
"Wouldn't dream of it dear."
Giggling she slid forward in the bath, "Front or back?" She asked.
"Now that's not a question I get everyday, unfortunately. Quite a risqué question too." He said, kicking his pants off the end of his foot.
She had her chin resting on her knees as she watched him, "Mmm, but what's your answer?"
"Back, of course, so I can worship you with care and attention, love."
"Come on then, because I'm growing older by the second."
He gingerly stepped in behind her, lowering himself into the water with a grateful groan. Once settled she scooted back up against him, settling back against his chest.
"And you don't look any older," he whispered kissing her shoulder and up her neck.
She closed her eyes, relaxing, "Yes. You keep telling me things like that."
He smiled, lifting her head forward and shifting to kiss her other shoulder. He reached for the sponge on the side of the tub and submerged it in the water, squeezing out its contents over her breasts.
"You know, times like these it's good I'm so much shorter than you," she reflected, "we fit just perfectly here."
"With our extra large tub that cost a fortune and we've used what – three times since we moved in?"
"Worth every penny," she replied, wiggling against him.
"God yes." He reflected as a tingle of pleasure ran through him. "Remind me of that next time I complain about money."
They lay in silence for a long time, the only sounds of their breathing and Charles continually bathing her in the warm, soapy water.
He watched as she lifted a foot out, resting her heel on the edge of the tub.
"You're quite beautiful," he whispered by her ear, his open adoration a joy to hear. "And quite wonderful." He kissed the shell of her ear. "And I'm very deeply in love with you."
Sighing she stretched against him, "Can you say this every year?"
"Without fail."
Twisting her neck she reached a hand up to his chin, tugging him down for a kiss.
"You think the water's getting cold?" She asked, eyes twinkling.
"Seems okay, you getting cold?"
She nodded, pouting, "I think I need to go to bed for a while…"
His eyes widened, "Oh, I can see quite obviously that you do now."
Giggling she sat forward, sliding against the surface of the bath as she moved. Charles hoisted himself out, draped a towel around his middle and reached his hand down to help her up.
For the next two hours Charles questioned whether it was actually his birthday. Their bedroom appeared to have become a place of worship and pleasure and his ears were filled with delighted sighs and wanting pleas.
"Do you think at some point you should open your presents?" He asked gently, his head on her stomach, mouth kissing her skin.
He could feel her hands in his hair toying with the thick, short strands of grey. He worried he was turning white – he didn't want that, made him look (and feel) old.
"I suppose I should, shouldn't I, and call Anna."
"I did hear the phone ring twice."
"Did you? I didn't."
"You were rather otherwise engaged with your own delightful moans."
She chuckled, pulling a little too hard on one strand of hair as she blushed, "Well, I happen to rather like how you make me moan."
"Oh believe me, I have a certain fondness for it too." He peppered her stomach with kisses before folding his arms on it and looking up at her. "That bloody casserole is going to be overdone."
"It's a slow cooker, what's the worse that can happen?"
"I guess. Do you want to get up, go eat, open gifts. I do have gifts for you, you know."
"Plural?"
He nodded, "And do you know how difficult it is to buy for a woman's birthday this close to Christmas?"
"You said that last year. You haven't bought me any more walking socks have you?" She teased.
He rolled his eyes, "I'm learning from that mistake, give me time, couple of years you'll get everything you've ever wanted."
He pushed himself up off of the bed and she watched as he put on loose jogging bottoms and a t-shirt.
"I think I already have it."
"Have what?"
"All I ever wanted."
January 2015 – One year earlier
They were laughing as they pulled up outside of her apartment, Elsie fiddling with the present on her knee.
"I'm sorry," he chuckled, "I'm mortified. It's a terrible gift."
"Oh I don't know, someone bought me tea towels one birthday."
"Well, at least I'm in good company."
He pulled the car up to the kerb and turned off the engine.
"So," she said, slipping off her seatbelt and turning to look at him.
"So."
"I thoroughly enjoyed my evening Charles, thank you for taking me out."
"You're welcome. And your socks?"
"And my socks. Of course." She laughed again, waggling the package and easing open the car door. Charles got out, coming round to walk with her.
"You didn't have to do that." She assured him.
"No but I'm a gent and I'd like to walk you to your door."
She bit down on her lip, turning to face him by the porch, if she stood on it she was tall enough to look him directly in his eyes.
"I'm sorry I can't invite you in…"
He shrugged, "I know, it's a work night, it's already late… I know."
She leant forward and kissed his cheek, "Perhaps at the weekend…"
He nodded, "Oh and er the socks were a joke by the way." He reached into his pocket taking out an envelope. "Happy Birthday Elsie."
Open mouthed she tucked the socks under one arm and slid her thumb under the opening of the envelope, "Theatre tickets?"
"You said you'd wanted to see that for a while, I thought we could go, but don't feel you have to take me… Take Beryl, Anna, whoever…"
She was smiling as she looked up at him, "Of course I'll take you." She shuffled through the tickets. "There's hotel vouchers in here too."
"The show's in London, you can't see it then travel back, not for an evening performance. So, I figured hotel vouchers and there's train vouchers in there too."
She gasped, "Charles. That's far too generous."
"I wanted to get you a good gift. I looked up this iPad thing you got me for Christmas, I know how much they are."
"Yes but Christmas deals and such…" She shook her head. "I'm very grateful for these. Thank you." She tucked the tickets into her handbag. "We'll pick a date, go together for a weekend perhaps."
"I'd like that."
She tilted her head to regard him, this kind, kind man.
"So would I." Truth be told she'd missed him over the past couple of weeks, missed how they'd been in Edinburgh.
Leaning forward she rested her hands heavily on his shoulders and instantly his hands were on her waist, pulling her body flush against his as their mouths met.
Before he knew what was happening he'd joined her on the porch and she was pressed back against the wall, their tongues meeting in a rush of heat so abstract in the freezing January air.
Breathing deeply he reluctantly broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. "I best go." He whispered.
"Alright."
"Can I see you Saturday night? Are you free?"
She sighed, her nose nudging his, "Beryl and Bill are taking me out for my birthday. I'm not sure what time we'll be back." She saw the disappointment in his eyes. "If it's not too late should I call, or would you rather wait until next weekend?"
It was Tuesday night, he could barely imagine waiting until Saturday let alone another week without her.
"Come over, whatever time, wake me if you need to."
"Charles." She laughed.
"I mean it."
"That's a booty call."
His brow furrowed, "I have no idea what that is."
She thought as much. "It's when…" She smiled, "I'll explain on Saturday shall I…?"
Nodding he kissed her once more then dragged his body from hers and quickly got into his car before he lost the will and went back for more – he felt like a teenage boy dropping his girlfriend off home, hormones raging after making out.
As she watched Charles drive off, smiling to herself at how nice the evening had been, at the generous gift he'd given her – still chuckling over the walking socks – she felt incredibly guilty for sending him on his way. But it was almost eleven and she did have work.
And besides that she was still trying to keep some distance between them. To give herself some breathing space to work through things in her own mind.
When she turned to type the code in for her apartment building she heard a car door open behind her, for some reason her stomach lurched at that fact – how had she not noticed someone was there?
She pushed hard on the door and almost fell inside. Standing in the dimly lit foyer she glanced around and felt like a fool for panicking as a young man crossed over the street to another apartment building.
"Idiot." She muttered under her breath and turned to check her mail box. A few cards, a leaflet and a small box wrapped in gold paper. Smiling she carried the clutch of items up to her flat.
Pouring herself a large whisky she sank onto her sofa, emptying out the contents of her handbag and sorting through them. Phone. Purse. Perfume. Presents. The envelope from Charles, the jokey socks that made her smile over dinner, and the gift in gold paper. There was no tag and she was intrigued.
Draining the whisky she tore open the wrapper of the small, flat box, eased off the lid and inside lay a silver key ring encrusted with diamantées – a pair of handcuffs.
Frowning she lifted the tiny card from out of the lid, "Happy Birthday Ellie x."
Throwing the box across the room she yelled in frustration, trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. How had he gotten into her building?
Charles was making himself a pot of tea and talking with Richard on the phone when Elsie's call came in – he put Richard on hold to answer her.
"Hi, are you okay?"
"Did I interrupt a call? I'm sorry I didn't mean to…"
"I was talking with Richard, are you okay?" He asked again, it was very late now, he thought she'd be asleep.
"I was just…" She was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. "I scared myself," she lied, "I heard a noise in the apartment and scared myself." She tried to laugh, "I'm sorry I disturbed you."
"Don't be. Don't be. Do you want me to come over?"
"No, don't be silly, it's fine, I was foolish to call so late."
"You're sure it's just a noise?"
"Yes. Just a noise. I'm fine."
"Okay. Well I'll see you Saturday then."
"A-ha." She closed her eyes, visualising him. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight Elsie, you call if you need me…for anything."
She breathed deeply, surprising herself with the sudden threat of tears. "Thank you Charles."
The line momentarily went dead before Charles heard Richard again.
"Everything alright?"
"It was Elsie."
"The elusive Elsie." Richard chuckled. "I thought you'd been out with her tonight."
"Yeah we had dinner for her birthday."
"Is she okay?"
"Seems to be," he sank into his chair, cradling a cup of tea in one hand and the receiver in the other. "Said she heard a noise in the apartment. But she seems okay, just shook up."
"Can I ask something?"
Charles closed his eyes, he knew exactly what his friend was going to say. "If you must."
"You've been seeing her for a while now…"
"Hmm…"
"And you spent New Year together, skipped the cricket club thing, said you had a great time so I don't blame you for giving it a miss and all. But why aren't you with her on her birthday? Why drop her off home?"
"She has work tomorrow."
Richard ground his teeth together, "And I know Izzy keeps asking and I've told her not to but seriously Charles, will we ever get to meet her?"
"I don't want to rush her." He said defensively. "She was married a long time, it was a rough break up and we're just taking it slowly."
"Haven't you been seeing her since August?"
"Don't interfere Richard…"
"I know, I know…"
"I'm fine, I'm happy. She's great and I…"
Richard smiled, "You…?"
"I really like her. That's all. And I don't want to rush her. So, leave it be and let's talk about what you called for…the clubhouse and fundraising."
"Alright, but I'm guessing our usual money maker of having an auction for a date with you is off the table."
Charles shook his head, "Definitely!"
Same week – Saturday night/Sunday morning
It was after one when Charles opened his back door and let Elsie in. She was smiling broadly and carrying a little package wrapped in tin foil.
"Too late?" She asked cautiously.
"I said whenever." He shuffled back from the door in his slippers, tugging his dressing gown tighter around him. "Is it snowing?"
"A little." She stepped past him, making her way up the stairs to his flat.
"You have a good time?"
"Wonderful. And I brought you some cheesecake, it's gorgeous, I knew you'd like it so I asked the waiter to add another slice to the bill and wrap it up for my boyfriend."
"Boyfriend?" He repeated – was she tipsy?
"I could hardly call you man friend could I? Book provider." She laughed as she reached the top of the stairs and turned to face him, noting his appearance for the first time in the light of the hall. "Oh goodness you were asleep weren't you," she said, casting a glance at his ruffled hair. "And now I feel bad."
"Don't, I told you to come over, didn't I. Would you like me to make you some tea?"
"No, obviously not," she squeezed his arm. "You go back to bed, I'll put this in the fridge, use your bathroom, I can find my way around."
Fifteen minutes later she crawled into bed beside him in just her panties, he was warm and cuddly and she spooned against him, delighted when he lifted his arm up around her.
"Mm, you feel nice," she mumbled. "Like a teddy bear."
"You saying I'm fat?" He said sleepily. "And hairy!?"
She chuckled, "No, just nice to sleep with. Lovely." She placed a kiss on his chest, her leg curling over his. "Make love to me." She said, pressing more kisses to his skin, "Make love to me like you did in Edinburgh. Make me forget things."
His eyes slowly opened, glancing down to where her head lay. "What do you need to forget?" He whispered.
She sighed, her voice heavy with sleep and alcohol, "Who I am. What I've done."
He stroked her back, felt a deep pang of sadness and regret – did he actually even know this woman at all? And yet he felt desperately sad for her, desperately wanted to make it all better for her. Make her happy.
She was asleep within minutes but it took him considerably longer to quieten his busy mind.
When Elsie woke Charles was already up and she lay in silence for a while on her back staring at the ceiling. She could hear him fussing in the other room, perhaps the kitchen, the kettle boiled, there was the sound of a teaspoon against china and then the pop of the toaster.
He kicked open the bedroom door with his foot and carried in a tray.
"Morning," she said, shifting up a little in the bed.
"You're awake. Good morning."
"Hi." She ran a hand through her hair. "I feel bad."
"Why?" He placed the tray on the bed. "You mean hungover bad? Do you not want this?"
"No, not that, I'm not sick – certainly not like January 1st."
He chuckled, "Good. Because I have done my best with what I had."
She glanced to the tray – toast, bacon, scrambled eggs.
"That's so sweet Charles."
She couldn't help but think he'd received nothing in return for any of this.
"So, why do you feel bad?" He asked, sitting beside her on the bed and reaching for a slice of toast. "Thomas prides me on my scrambled eggs you know."
She smiled, "They do look good."
He handed her a fork, waggling it at her. "Maybe have a try?"
Nodding, she took it and started to eat. "I feel bad for turning up here at that time in the morning, slightly drunk, and getting in your bed."
"Why? Elsie I have no issue at all with that. Turn up every night to crawl into my bed if you want to."
She knew he meant it as a joke – he laughed after all – but still, it was a bit too close to her concerns.
"I had no right to do it, I'm a fifty-one year old woman, not a student making the most of being young."
"Don't feel bad. I told you to come. I wanted to see you, spend some time with you." He nudged her arm with his. "Unless you're going to eat my food and disappear – are you?"
"Not unless you have plans. Isn't it church?"
"Willing to skip it…"
"Charles –,"
"Let's go walking in the freshly fallen snow," he interrupted, "test out those damn fine new socks you got."
She chuckled, "They're at home. And besides I have no clothes, no make-up, no toothbrush." She covered her face again. "God I'm so embarrassed, turning up here in my party dress for what…?"
He sat back laughing, raising his eyebrows at her. "For what indeed Ms Hughes. Is this what this 'booty call' business is?"
"Oh stop it." She shoved his arm as she put her fork down. "Thank you for breakfast Charles."
"You're welcome… Elsie."
She shook her head at him, "I should go home…"
He pouted, "Please don't. I thought we were going walking."
"We are. We can. But I need to shower and perhaps wear something suitable. Maybe you can pick me up later."
"So, you're going to sneak out of here, get a taxi in last night's dress…?" He teased.
"Stop it! Stop it!" She threw herself against him, gripping his arm as he laughed. "Oh god… I'll be seen as a total old slapper."
"Never." He said seriously, lifting her chin to look at her. "Never."
"You're always so nice to me."
"I waited a long time to be nice to you."
She smiled, "Hmm." Her lips tentatively touched his, taking her time, taking their time, as they kissed.
Charles shifted his arm up to touch her, wanting her body drawn against his, and the tray wobbled precariously on the bed, a tea cup tipping over.
"Oh shit," he cursed, quickly picking it up and placing it on the floor. When he turned back to Elsie she was half lying back on the pillows, chewing the end of her thumb nail. Irresistible.
He threw his dressing gown aside and climbed into bed with her – intent on spending a good couple of hours worshipping her.
In many ways it would be easier to go back, to return to the life she knew.
Thirty years with Joe and she knew him as well as she knew herself – his likes and dislikes, how he'd react to things, what she could say, what she shouldn't say. With Charles it was all so new, so much unknown, and did she really want that at her age? To have to start all over again? There was still awkwardness between them at times, they were on completely different plains when it came to politics and they moved in different social circles and had wildly different experiences of life.
It would be easier to go back to the life she was living. Surely being part of something – a marriage, a family – was better than the nothing existence of loneliness and reclusiveness she'd been slipping into before Charles. Oh but Charles, and what possibilities that held.
She felt like she was being torn apart. Her mind ached from it all. What did Joe even want with her? A quick fumble in her kitchen and she was doubting who she was again, where she was going. Why did she still allow him that power? What right did he have to come back and snap his fingers and what – she'd just fall back into role? Housewife Elsie. Ellie Burns.
Who was she anyway?
She didn't realise she was was crying until she opened her mouth to suck in air and tasted salt on her top lip. Reaching one hand up she covered the right side of her face, pressing the left into the pillow to absorb the fallen tears. She wanted to hide away, disappear, forget.
But what did it all matter when his head was between her legs and making her forget her own name? What did it matter anyway who she was?
She gasped tightly, a strangled noise in the back of her throat as she reached down to grab his head. "Stop, stop!"
When he looked up at her he was shocked, concerned.
"Just too much." She swallowed, panting, eyes half closed, desperately trying not to cry. "Too sensitive." She tried to explain and he nodded.
Once again guilt consumed her as she watched him move back up the bed and scoot under the sheets next to her. She was aware of how difficult that would have been, keenly aware that she was leading him on – back and forth – like some game he didn't even know he was in.
She had to let go of this. Walk away from him until she got her own head straight, not keep trying to balance the two.
He tugged her to him though, buried her face against his neck and kissed her head. She was emotional and he didn't know why. Maybe because it was her birthday? Maybe because she was a little hungover? He'd never fully understood women.
"Elsie…" He whispered, taking a chance, he needed to say something. "You said last night that I made you forget who you were."
She squeezed her eyes tight shut, she didn't want to have this conversation.
"I'm not claiming to understand what you meant. I wouldn't presume to. But I just want you to know," he closed his eyes, searching for the right words. "That I am willing to wait, to take our time. I know you were married a long time and I can only imagine how it feels to have to move on. But I will wait. I won't push."
She bit her lip so hard to keep herself from crying that it bled.
"Our trip was wonderful, and I think for both of us it showed what we could have, maybe, in time…" He'd never been so nervous, not even when he told Violet he would be moving to Italy for a year! "But I also know that in many ways you're keeping me at arm's length."
"Oh, don't say that." She mumbled against him.
"I'm not stupid. I haven't met your friends, your daughter…"
She pulled back, enough to breathe.
"I know you need space, and I accept that, and I'll wait, I'm willing to wait, until you're ready for me to meet them. But I'm not going anywhere. I just want you to give us a chance."
She nodded, bleary eyed as she stole a glance to his face. "I don't mean to hurt you."
"You haven't." He assured her, squeezing her hands. He brushed her fringe back from her face and kissed her forehead. "Turned me on quite a bit though."
"I'm sorry about that too." She said shakily.
He lowered his thumb to her lip, "You do worry this so," he wiped the tiny smear of blood away, "you don't need to worry."
He tucked her against him and she felt something like a child being cared for, safe and warm and knowing that whatever happened this man wouldn't hurt her or force her into anything.
She closed her eyes again and slept.
By the time they'd organised themselves enough to head out it was after three and the sky was already darkening. So they left the car at Elsie's apartment, she changed, and they walked from there just so they could get some fresh air.
For a long time she was silent, listening to Charles talking about a book he'd just read and his desire to head to Australia at least once in his life to watch the cricket.
As they crossed from one field to the next, clambering over a stile, she stopped and waited for him, looking back from where they'd just walked.
"Goodness, we've only been going twenty odd minutes and it seems a different world."
"That's the joy of living near the country," he said, swinging his feet to the floor. "It's on our doorstep, we need to make the most of it."
"True."
Her nose was rosy and her cheeks flushed, she looked endearing.
"What?" She asked, catching him staring.
"Nothing. How are the socks?"
"Warm."
"Good. Then they're doing their job." He walked past her, "And it means I choose great presents." He stopped when he felt a snowball hit him in the back and turned very slowly to face her. "Did you really just do that?"
She nodded sheepishly.
"Want a battle then, do you?" He reached down to ball snow in his hand.
"Now Charles, you're stronger than I am." She said, throwing a flurry of snow as she ran past him.
"And you're faster." He threw the snow at her legs.
"Ah! You're cheating."
"How is that cheating? I never cheat." He threw another at her legs, "Nothing in the rules about hindrance though, wasn't that what you said in Edinburgh?"
"You sod!" She tried to bend to collect more snow but a third ball hit her square at the back of the knee and she fell forward, squealing.
As he moved closer, armed and ready to finish the attack, he couldn't help but pause to look down at her – and that had been a mistake.
Whilst distracted she lifted her leg, catching him off guard and hitting him square in the back of the shin until he crumpled beside her.
"That was a dirty move," he laughed, rolling over.
"More so than bringing a woman to her knees with a well-placed snowball?" She slapped her hand against his upper arm, "Goodness, it feels good to laugh."
"Nice to hear you laugh."
Her hand still rested on his arm and she squeezed it tenderly this time. "Let's go back, get out of our wet clothes, have a glass of wine, light the fire maybe…"
"Sounds good." He smiled, happiness flourishing in his chest.
"It's the warmest room in the apartment," she said, bending by the fire to stoke it up again. "You just need to get it going."
He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece behind her, it was already nearing seven and at any point he rather expected to be sent on his way. He dug his hands into his trouser pockets.
When she turned back to him she had an impish smile upon her face, "You're dripping on my carpet."
"Oh god, sorry." He moved quickly back through the room towards the hall.
"No Charles, I rather meant…" She tilted her head to one side to regard him, letting out a long breath. "I rather meant you ought to undress."
Sighing he stopped, turned back to face her and glanced down at himself self deprecatingly.
"Unless, you don't want to."
He felt like he'd been waiting to do this all day, all week. Sometimes he wanted her so badly his very bones ached at the thought of it.
Shedding his jacket and jumper he watched as she did the same, undressing and moving to the sofa. Often he felt like she was so delicate he might break her, she disappeared in his arms; the first few times they'd made love he'd worried he'd hurt her, engulf her.
Lying with her in the dim light of the fire he could imagine he was erasing whatever doubts she had, whatever fears. As she moved beneath him, soft and warm and welcoming, his own fears could easily be pushed aside. Her mouth claimed his, his hands tight on his shoulders and her legs curved up, wrapping around him, holding him to her.
He was moaning her name when the telephone rang, disturbing the rhythm, breaking his focus and she grasped tightly at his arm, scrambling from beneath him to reach across to take the receiver from its cradle.
"Hello…" she breathed, holding the mouthpiece away from her as she panted. Charles' face was buried against his shoulder, his breathing shallow, his body slick with sweat against hers.
"Mother dearest, it is I."
"Anna, honey," she tugged at the blanket from the back of the sofa, pulling it over them, somehow concerned her daughter could sense their nakedness over the phone. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing, I'm on my way over. Felt bad for missing your birthday and I'm free until Wednesday afternoon now so I thought I'd come and spend a few days at home."
"Oh…Oh, okay…" She tried to sit up, knocking Charles towards the back of the sofa. He pushed himself up, his desire tempered.
"That okay?"
"Of course it is. When will you be here?"
"I'm going for Chinese food, I'll get your favourite. Say half an hour?"
"That'll be lovely."
"Great. Get some wine out hey and set up the sofa so we can watch a movie."
Elsie glanced down to where her naked body still lay sprawled on that very sofa, Charles knelt between her legs. She swallowed, licked her lips, "I'll do it now. Seeya soon."
Running a hand through her hair she glanced nervously to his face "Sorry."
"It's alright."
She smiled sheepishly, "There's little further from the truth I feel," she nudged his leg with her toes. "And we'd only just got going."
"I'm guessing you want me to go…" He looked helplessly at her, his eyes dark. When she didn't speak he shook his head, "Of course you do," and extracted himself from her.
Frustrated she watched as he pulled on his underwear.
"This isn't how I'd want you to meet her."
He almost laughed, "You don't want me to meet her."
"Charles, we only had this very conversation this morning…"
"I know," he sat on the chair to pull on his socks. "That's why I'm fine with it."
"Clearly you're not." She sat up, reaching for her bra which lay upon the coffee table. "You have a choice Charles…"
His head snapped up, "What?"
"I told you this morning I'm not ready for more." She stood, pulling on her damp sweater. "You claimed to accept that."
"I do. I didn't expect to be turfed out like some kind of…"
"What?" she was angry now, she didn't like being backed into a corner and that's exactly how he was making her feel. "If you don't want to do this then fine. I never forced you into anything."
His mouth hung open for a second, he didn't want that, of course he didn't.
Pursing his lips he shook his head at her, "Sometimes Elsie… sometimes…"
She followed him to the door, her body still hot, slick, all for him. Her heart pounding in her chest at the thought he was going to walk out that door and be done with her.
As he pushed his feet into his boots he stood back, looking up at her, "Have coffee with me?" He said suddenly.
"What?"
"This week. Don't make me wait all week to see you. Meet me for coffee one afternoon, you pick the day, I'll close the shop."
"Charles." He was ever a surprise to her. When he didn't speak, just held her gaze, tested her resolve, she relented. "Thursday. I'll meet you Thursday."
Smiling gently he leant forward and kissed her cheek, "Coffee and cake, Thursday afternoon."
She looked up at him, her mouth curling into a slight smile, "5:00?"
"Perfect."
Present Day – Friday, 8th January
Charles was pacing their bedroom, his hands stuffed in his pockets picking at the inside lining of his trousers just to give him something to do rather than smash a fist into a wall.
"Why didn't you tell me you'd seen him?"
"I am telling you."
"A day after the event."
She sighed, flicking through dresses in her wardrobe, "I needed time to just work through it myself."
"Work through it. What the hell happened?"
She didn't like the tone in his voice, he was angry, she knew that, but she didn't particularly welcome or accept that anger.
"I told you, I was in the supermarket. And there he was."
He waved a hand at her, "No Els, don't cut it short." He was sitting on the bed watching her, "I want to know how it played out."
"Played out…?" She laid a dress on the bed. "It wasn't a game."
"Stop!" He said, his voice rising. "Stop, and talk to me properly."
She wasn't used to him demanding anything and it surprised her. She crossed her arms and leant back against the wardrobe door defensively.
"You can't just stand there and say 'I saw Joe yesterday' Elsie and expect me to shrug it off."
"I didn't want to talk about it today, now, when we're meeting friends in an hour for my birthday."
"Then maybe you shouldn't have said anything at all! Hide it from me completely. Like I don't matter."
"Don't say that," she sagged back against the wardrobe. "You know I don't feel that. I share everything with you now."
"Then talk to me."
Sighing at the softness in his voice she started to speak, "I told you I went to the supermarket on the way home yesterday, my turn to do the shopping remember, and I was reaching for something high and a hand came up and took it down for me and it was him."
"And?"
"And he gave me the bottle, that bloody fancy olive oil you wanted, and smiled and said it was good to see me again." She watched his face, expectant, nervous. "I'm not going to lie Charles I was shaking inside, but I wasn't terrified, I didn't fear him. And surely that's a sign all this money I've spent on bloody therapy is working. He wished me happy birthday and kissed my cheek and walked away."
"He did what?!"
"Walked –,"
"NO!" he was on his feet again, his voice almost a roar, "he kissed you?!"
"Charles."
"He kissed you. He touched you. I'll fucking kill him!"
"Charles!" He never swore like that, never, she was the one with the mouth, not him.
"What's his address?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Ridiculous?! That man put you through years of violent abuse and then the bastard thinks he can kiss you. I'll rip his head off!"
"Charles calm down."
"I warned him if he ever came near you I'd kill him…"
"Because that will fix things, won't it!"
"What do you want me to say? Good for him, Els, why don't we invite him out tonight?"
"Now you're being childish."
"Am I. Why didn't you tell me when it happened?"
"I told you why," she untied her robe, reaching for the stockings she'd already laid out on the bed. "I don't want to do this."
"Right, because it's easier to shut me out than to talk it through."
"Don't do that. I share everything with you. Everything."
"But you tell me a day later."
"For fuck's sake Charles!" She finally shouted, "Because I needed to deal with it, process it, myself. Do you understand that? I don't want to run to you to spill my guts every five minutes, I needed to deal with it myself." She sighed, exhausted. "And now I'm telling you, and I won't tell anybody else because it isn't important, he isn't important."
She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself, "And the last thing I need or want is for you to get upset and angry and threaten violence. I told you before that isn't you, it isn't who you are and I wouldn't want it to be."
"Seems you don't really need me anymore." He shrugged, sitting back on the bed.
"Oh for goodness sake," She stood before him, reaching a hand up to stroke his face, "Believe me Charles, there is nothing, nothing in my heart for him, there hasn't been for many, many years. You know how I love you."
He nodded, "I know that. I didn't mean that."
"Then please let it go, please. It was bound to happen at some point, we live in the same town."
"He should move."
She was sure he was almost pouting. "Honey…"
"I know," he shrugged. "I want to protect you."
She didn't have the heart to tell him that actually now she felt like she could protect herself. "And I love you for that, but trust me, hmm, when I say I'm okay. It was unnerving at the time and last night yes it bothered me but now I'm fine. And I did tell you Charles, I wasn't going to hide it, I really did just need some time to myself to think it through."
He nodded, accepting if still a little annoyed.
She let go of him, sitting on the edge of the bed to roll her stockings up her leg. She felt him lean over her and tilted her head up to receive his kiss.
"I just love you, you know." He said lightly as he took his trousers off the hanger.
"I'd never have guessed. You hardly ever tell me." She teased, the harshness of the moment slowly passing.
Present Day – Monday 11th January, 2016
"I'm just saying I don't like the thought of you going out on your bike in frosty weather."
"I went yesterday, I was fine, and I need to get this festive weight off." He patted his belly. "Don't want to look like Santa in a tux on our wedding day."
"Alright, but be careful." She swallowed the remains of her cup of tea. "Okay, I need to get going. I'll see you later." She leant over where he sat reading his paper and kissed his cheek. "Have a good day, ring the caterers again won't you, we need sample menus."
"I've got my list." He pointed to where he'd stuck it to the fridge door, not taking his eyes from the paper.
"Bye." She called from the door.
"Have a good day." He responded, refilling his tea cup. "And don't be late it's Roast Lamb for dinner."
"I'll be there. House husband." She teased, before closing the door.
He shook his head at the sound of her laughter.
It was the start of period five when Elsie's classroom door opened and she was about to bark at whichever child had entered without permission when she looked up to see Phyllis there.
"There's a call for you Elsie, in the workroom. I'll get your class in. Get them reading."
For some reason she made her way quickly down the corridor, fearful it was Anna, praying there wasn't anything wrong with her, anything but that. Later, she'd come to regret making such a wish.
She picked up the receiver; in the corridor it was the frenetic change of lesson and she had to cover one ear to hear correctly.
"Hello?"
"Oh hello there, I've been given your name by a Mr Charles Carson."
"Yes?"
"I'm calling from Harrogate District Hospital."
She felt her stomach drop, throat tighten. "Is he okay?"
After seating Elsie's class and getting them started on their ten minutes reading time Phyllis headed back down the corridor. Pushing open the work room door she immediately stopped, concern seeping out of the room and into her.
Elsie was standing by the work bench holding the phone receiver in her hand, or rather letting it dangle from her hand, as she stared into space.
"Elsie. What's wrong? You've gone awfully pale."
"It's Charles. He's been in an accident."
Ohhh... dramatic pause! Well, once again thank you for all your support for the previous chapter. There were so many things I loved about this one but I think Thomas & Elsie (sassy bitch) was my favourite bit to write! Let me know what you think about how it's going. Much love xx R