This was surprisingly difficult to write. I've been working on bits of it for weeks now but trying to bring it all together following the previous two chapters has been tough. There's a lot of back and forth here as the characters both have these wildly fluctuating emotions towards one another and I've tried to handle that and balance it as well as I could whilst maintaining the 'real relationship' that I've aimed for throughout. I know not all of the questions have been answered but they still have a way to go.

Come on people – if you know me, you know that I HAD to have a Mariah moment didn't I... So the theme of this chapter is summed up in the track Whenever You Call (1997) if you'd like to listen.

Love wandered inside

Stronger than you

Stronger than I

And now that it has begun

We cannot turn back

We can only turn into one

Chapter 44

Friday 12th February 2016

Theoretically, from her vantage point Elsie could see down the hill and towards the path below, meaning she'd spot Charles before he did her, giving her time to prepare. But the rain – casual and light for the past hour of her journey – was now blinding, streaming down her windscreen and distorting her view.

She'd set off as soon as work finished, packing the evening before and leaving her travel bag in the boot of her car. Once she'd resolved to go down and visit him that was it. There were things that they needed to discuss face-to-face, Isobel was right about that. She was surprised to find the beach house empty, though there were signs it had been lived in, in fact when she peered through the patio windows it looked downright messy – not like him at all.

She had the key Isobel had given her but somehow it felt odd to be invading his space, so she sat in her car and waited.

She was typing a text to Beryl on her phone before she realised he was there. And then the background noise faded away and she was staring at him.

Sometimes, it annoyed her that Charles remembered so many little details of their relationship which she didn't – their first meeting, what they'd done for their first ten dates – but this moment she knew she'd always remember. Just as she had that moment she'd walked into his hospital room and saw him looking so small, so fragile, it had shocked her, she could admit that. But now he looked whole and complete and she ached with how much she'd missed him.

He seemed to stare at her for an eternity, the rain pouring down his face, and then he walked directly past the car and unlocked the door to the house, disappearing inside.

She gripped the car door handle, bracing herself, 'get out of the car Elsie, get out of the bloody car.'

Then he was there, by the driver's door, holding a coat above his head and waiting for her to get out. She joined him beneath the coat and they dashed inside shaking off the excess water in the hallway.

"You came here…" he stated, at a loss, sopping wet and in shock.

"Izzy gave me a key but I felt…" she swallowed, looking up to meet his gaze, "I felt awkward just letting myself in."

He nodded, limbs suddenly gangly and unresponsive. "It's a long drive to do after work."

"It was fine, not too busy."

He nodded again, wondering how to continue this stunted conversation. "Tea?" He finally offered, the answer to all questions.

"Yes."

"Alright, I'll… look, just…" he led her through to the lounge, making as if to touch her arm but carefully avoiding doing so. He bent to reinvigorate the dwindling fire and she stood feeling like a spare part as she watched him. "It's warmer in here, dry off, I'll go make the tea."

She thought it ridiculous that he was telling her to dry off when he was soaked from head-to-toe, but she let him go, he clearly needed a moment, maybe she did too – the space to breathe.

The sound of the rain seemed amplified by the daintiness of the cottage, the thin roof, the closeness to the sea. She watched through the patio doors as it bounced up from the floor, almost knee height, and behind that the sea raging into shore, high tide and high winds and lightning cracking over in the distance.

When he came back in with a tray she was sitting on the edge of the couch watching the storm outside and he reflected on how glad he was she'd made it off the motorway before this kicked in.

"Here," he said, setting the tray down on the coffee table. "I didn't have any decaff I'm afraid."

"That's fine."

He went to pour but it was still weak so he put the teapot down and stood feeling uncomfortable as he waited for it to brew, his hands deep in his pockets.

"Charles." She said, turning her face up to look at him. "Do you think we might pretend we're not strangers?"

He looked to the carpet, shook his head and smiled, "This feels strange."

"Very." She sat back a little, realising she was still in her coat, still in her work clothes. "Look I didn't come here to make you feel uncomfortable or put pressure on you. I'm not about to get on my knees and embarrass either of us by begging for anything."

He was holding his breath, watching how the wet curls of hair dripped down her face, following the track of the rain along her neck.

"But I felt that we need to do this face-to-face…" She paused, breathing deeply, "And we do need to do this."

"Yes." His voice sounded odd, detached, like it wasn't really his.

"Is that it?"

"The tea will be done." He set to pouring again.

"Bugger the tea Charles," she whispered and he looked up sharply at her.

"I don't know what to say to you." He finally mumbled.

She glanced away, tilted her chin to where a giant teddy bear sat in the corner of the room eyeing them, a huge yellow bow around its neck. "What's this about? Doesn't strike me as a decorative feature Richard and Isobel would choose."

He smiled, digging his hands in his pockets again, "No. I bought a present for the baby."

"Oh goodness Charles," she breathed, tears filling her eyes. "Why do you…?"

He frowned, a dark feeling in his gut. "Shouldn't I have?"

She got to her feet, moving cautiously around the coffee table and gripping his upper arms as she pulled him into a hug.

"Of course you should." She whispered, biting her lip to stop herself from crying.

He stood rigid, afraid to touch her, afraid he'd crumple if he did and never find himself again.

"Are you staying?' He asked, kicking himself as soon as the words had left his lips, he felt her push back from his body, her hands still resting lightly on his forearms. "What I mean is… there's only one bedroom…I suppose this sofa might be one of those things that opens out…I prefer it here than the house, it's cosy and the view is great but its small and…"

"Charles," she said, the hint of a smile on her face, he was still so endearing at times, despite everything. "I would think we were more than capable of sharing a bed. I'm hardly going to jump you, I can control myself."

There'd be no point anyhow, he reflected bitterly.

"Ah, yes, we're… I didn't know if you'd be comfortable is all."

She folded her arms defensively, "I am if you are."

"I haven't been sleeping well, I don't want to disturb you."

"Do you want me to go find a hotel?"

"What? No, of course not. I mean I take these long walks everyday to tire myself out, and I'm getting better, my endurance, the pain in my ribs is subsiding but I still lie awake at night staring at the ceiling." He tapped the side of his head. "Can't turn this off."

She wanted to hold him and take it all away but she kept a slight distance between them as she searched his face. "It won't bother me." She finally said.

"Good," he nodded. "Good, so I'll er, take your bag in. Is it in the car?"

"In the boot. I'll go."

"No, I'm already soaking anyhow."

"Alright," she dug her car keys out of her handbag and handed them across to him, listening as he returned out into the storm to fetch her travel bag – how odd it was, feeling like they were back at the beginning.

Nevertheless, now that she was here the nerves were dissipating and Elsie's famed practicality was taking over. She wasn't about to let this all just disappear in a few harsh words and difficult moments. They'd been through worse – she had – and if there was a glimmer of hope she was going to draw it out.

He was in her heart now, in her blood, she couldn't just let that go.

She drank her tea.

I won't ever be too far away to feel you

And I won't hesitate at all

Whenever you call

And I'll always remember

The part of you so tender

I'll be the one to catch your fall

Whenever you call

Standing in the bedroom Elsie reflected on how well she knew Charles – in her eyes he was a bit of a neat freak. Yes, alright, his book shop had been clumsy and old fashioned, but his flat had been organised, everything had its place, and at their house he was the same. In the days when he would sleep over at her apartment she'd lie in bed watching as he folded his trousers just so before jumping in with her. It had always amused her.

So to be standing in a bedroom that he'd inhabited for two weeks and finding it untidy was something of a shock. The bed was unmade, crumpled, pillows stacked together at the side facing the window. There were clothes piled up on a chair in the corner, open drawers, signs of him living there. She'd never expected him to be untidy, especially not when a guest in someone else's home. It was so very unlike him – just as days spent unshaven and watching daytime television were unlike him.

She emptied her bag out on the bed and hung the few dresses she'd brought with her, it wasn't until she was shoving her underwear into a drawer that she realised in her haste to pack she'd actually forgotten to include any kind of bed wear or something comfortable to wear in an evening around the cottage. Though she had no idea how long she'd be there – one night, two?

Embarrassed she made her way back down the hall into the kitchen, Charles was changed and looked much more comfortable in thick socks and loose trousers, his damp hair slicked back but drying.

"Can I help?" She asked, standing by the door watching him chop vegetables and then kicking herself for saying it – she'd promised herself she'd go down there and not try to interfere or smother him. Though he looked considerably better than the last time she'd seen him, standing in their kitchen telling her he was leaving – the memory of it made her catch her breath.

"No it's alright. We're having fish, I got it from just down the road this morning so it's fresh as can be."

"Sounds good." She shifted from one foot to the other and he glanced over his shoulder at her.

"You've not changed. Wasn't your shirt damp?"

"Well I er… I kinda forgot to pack something comfortable," she felt her cheeks reddening. "I was wondering if perhaps you had a jumper or something. I could put my jeans on I guess."

He opened his mouth, stared at her for a moment dumbfounded, then he brushed his hands on the towel as logic kicked in. "Of course, I'll find you something."

She stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom staring at herself in Charles' oversized winter jumper – if it was "a bit big" on him then on her it resembled something of a giant's shirt. She tugged it down, it rested a few inches over her knees and despite the fact he'd not only seen her naked but in all manner of positions naked she still felt self-conscious. The arms looped about her and she rolled the material up out of the way.

At least she'd remembered socks. The walking socks he'd bought for her birthday only a year earlier. She pulled them to her knees, thought she looked ridiculous, so pushed them back down to her ankles.

"Elsie, dinner's ready." He called – no more hiding.

Timidly she made her way back to the kitchen, finding he was pouring her a glass of white wine and a tiny taste of it for himself.

"This looks very good…" she said, taking a seat – very healthy is what she wanted to add but bit her tongue.

"Had to make it stretch a bit."

"Oh, you can have some of my vegetables if you haven't enough," she offered.

He smiled, picking up his cutlery, "It's fine, thanks for asking."

"This is silly isn't it," she said as she ground pepper onto her fish. "Feeling like we can't talk to one another, after everything."

"Yeah." He chewed on his fish and reached for his wine. "You got my messages?"

"Every one," she said softly, "I wasn't sure if you wanted me to respond."

"I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk to me."

She breathed deeply, "You hardly gave me a chance, ringing when you knew me to be at work."

"Yeah well… coward's way."

"You're far from a coward Charles."

They ate in silence for the next few minutes, until Elsie had finished and sat back watching him, sipping her wine and feeling very tired.

"I am sorry though," she said, needing to say the words, "That you felt I was smothering you. I didn't mean to make things so difficult."

His brain seemed to lose functionality and he struggled to find anything of suitable response in his vocabulary, "Thank you for that." Was all he mumbled.

She frowned, biting the inside of her cheek as she watched him eat, how had they grown so far apart? "I wanted to come here to give you this…" she said gently, easing the engagement ring off of her finger and placing it down in front of him.

His mind screamed. Voice froze.

"It didn't seem right to just… leave it somewhere or post it… it's too valuable."

"I wanted you to have it." What did this mean? That she didn't want to marry him after all?

"Yes but that was before…"

"Before what?" He interrupted, mind racing.

"You left me Charles."

His brow furrowed, like a child lost in the mistakes of their own causing.

She shrugged, "You walked out. You walked away."

"Yes but…"

Her eyes were wide, "But?"

"That doesn't mean. Does it?"

She shook her head, "I had to cancel the church."

"What? Why?!"

"Because the vicar kept calling, we'd missed our sessions, and it got too hard to lie."

"So you cancelled it?"

"What choice did I have? For all I knew you were gone and we were over."

"I never said that."

"You never said we weren't."

"I said I needed space."

"We're not bloody seventeen year olds having a domestic in the park – I need my space. We're meant to be adults in an adult relationship. And you walked out on it. On me."

He threw his napkin to the table.

"I want to get married in that church."

"What right have we got to get married – we can't even communicate without arguing. I've only been here an hour and we're shouting at each other."

He puffed his chest out; his face set in a grimace, and leant back in his chair.

"Well, I guess that's the end of that conversation then." She stated, getting to her feet. "I'll do the dishes."

He caught hold of her wrist as she passed him, "Put the ring back on."

"Why Charles?"

He looked up at her, so close, so much everything he'd ever wanted. "Because…" his face softened, his heart leapt from one beat to the next. "Because I love you."

She felt her face crumple, tears ease down her cheeks, "You have a bloody funny way of showing it."

Easing her wrist from his grasp she filled the sink, happy to have the water scolding as she washed up.

Charles must have left the kitchen at some point because when she turned back to get his plate from the table he'd gone. The ring still sat there and shakily she picked it up, there was no pocket to hide it in, and the symbolism of putting it back on without him was too much – so she stood on her tiptoes and placed it on the shelf above the table, high up. Out of direct sight.

She refilled her wine glass, then noting his on the table and realising he wouldn't have anymore, she tipped it away and made more tea, taking it through to the lounge.

It was still raining out, thunder rolling above them, and she had a vague silly idea of waking to find they'd floated away – this little house bobbing about on the ocean. She smiled at her own ridiculousness as she sat beside him on the sofa and handed him his tea.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

He sipped the hot liquid, and she knew he'd burnt his tongue as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, resting it on the cushions behind him.

"Can I ask you something?" She asked gently, her feet tucked beneath her, consciously tugging the jumper over her knees.

"Why not." His eyes were still closed and she thought how weary he sounded, how tired he looked, she saw it now, these days of interrupted and unsettled sleep were showing in his face.

"Why did you let me think Isobel had organised this? Brought you here? Was it to hurt me?"

His head shot up, eyes wide, "What? No!" He shook his head, "I hadn't realised I had done that."

"You said you'd spoken to Isobel… called her…"

"I called her earlier that week to tell her not to come over trying to look after me." He licked his lips, rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I may have told her… I may have ranted a bit about not needing a nurse."

"Did you think that's what I was doing?"

He shrugged, "I understand why. And I knew I was being difficult and ugly… I just didn't want it. I don't. I've never been useless Elsie, always fended for myself, something of a revelation to find I can't."

Her fingers itched to touch him, "I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I only wanted to take care of you."

"I know."

"You would have done the same, wouldn't you, if it were me."

And this time he did touch her, his hand eagerly leaving his cup to grasp her knee, his thick jumper closing over her skin beneath his palm. "I don't ever want to think of you being hurt. Never."

She allowed herself a small smile, "That doesn't answer my question."

He nodded, swallowed, rubbed the spot of exposed skin of her leg with his thumb, "I wouldn't have left you alone for a second."

For a moment or two they sat like that, holding the other's gaze and then he groaned painfully, let go of her leg, his head rolling back on the sofa again. "God, why is this so hard?"

She wasn't sure they should do this on their first night together, in her mind she'd planned to give it a while before they got into the mess of pulling this apart, untangling all the misunderstandings and painful words. But then things had never gone the way Elsie had planned, never.

"You need to talk to me." She said shakily. "I can't understand if you don't talk to me."

He closed his eyes tightly at her words, searching his brain – where to start, what to say?

"There's a lovely café on a great spot on this stretch of beach," he finally said. "Great views. Nice coffee. I'll take you tomorrow."

Breathing deeply she briefly closed her eyes, letting the moment wash over her and ebb away.

"Alright."

And I'm truly inspired

Finding my soul

There in your eyes

And you

Have opened my heart

And lifted me inside

By showing me yourself

Undisguised

Charles was polite enough to give Elsie time to prepare for bed first. She removed her makeup, tied up her hair and stood in the jumper wondering what the bloody hell she was going to do – she feared if she slept in the thing she'd strangle herself.

So, she found the vest top she'd worn under her shirt for work and put that on with her knickers. Surely it would do right enough.

The pillows he'd been using were piled up and she shared them equally between their spots, pulling the quilt and the extra two blankets he'd put on top over her as she lay down. Twisting onto her side she faced the window and looked out to the sea, calm now it seemed following the passing of the storm.

Her eyes were closed when Charles came in, and he crept as silently as he could and slipped in beside her, keeping a discreet distance between them. He stared at her back, at the spot where her vest finished and her skin was a slightly different shade, vague memories of tan lines still evident.

He knew she was still awake, could tell by her breathing, they'd slept together long enough for him to know each and every move she'd make.

"I've been thinking about the kitten names." He said softly, his voice deep and thick in the darkness.

She opened her eyes, blinking at the light offered by the window, surprised by the topic, "Oh?"

"I rather liked Shake and Speare. What do you think?"

Her laugh was muffled against her pillow. "I like the sentiment. But imagine standing on the doorstep shouting 'Shake, Shake.'" She chuckled again and heard him do the same behind her.

"Who'd hear?"

"True." She tucked a hand beneath her cheek tilting her face up a bit more so she could speak easier. "I like William though, for the boy."

He felt like they were choosing baby names, not something as simple as names for their – their? – cats. "William's good. And the girl – Mary maybe? Indulge your historian."

She smiled, "Elizabeth."

"Tudor."

"Old house?"

"Are we playing word association?"

"Are we?" She smiled, "Mary's okay. William and Mary. Could be Mary Shelley you see too, fits both of us."

"Better than something as inane as Twinkle or Glitter."

"I was rather hoping you'd choose Starburst or something equally as wonderful. Thomas suggested Diva and Sass."

"Ha!" He flexed his fingers on the pillow behind her head, touching the ends of her hair. "You've seen him?" He said more seriously.

"I have."

He swallowed, feeling uncomfortable again, how were they all judging his behaviour now? Probably thought the old guy had lost it. "And did he have anything to say?"

"He had plenty to say, as you can very well imagine. Though most of it is unrepeatable, littered with four letter words." Her head felt heavy, fatigue creeping in.

Charles was silent for a while, taking her words on board. He twirled his little finger into her hair, she didn't seem to notice, didn't seem to feel it. "Do they all hate me?"

She twisted her head over and he snatched his hand back, "What? No, of course not."

He blinked in the dark, etching out the edges of her profile in the dimness, "Does Anna?"

"No." She turned onto her back so she could see him better. "You mustn't worry about that, I told Anna you were recuperating, I didn't want to worry her." She bit her lip, if they were going to get anywhere they needed to be honest with each other. "I told Beryl though."

He nodded, pursing his lips, "I'd expect that."

"She didn't. I rather shocked her."

"In what way?"

She moved her head on the pillow, aware of his gaze never leaving her face, "It's embarrassing – I've never cried so much before…" She looked up at him, "You know I don't reveal my emotions so easily, I learnt not to when I was very young." She shrugged, "Not even with Joe. But then that's part of the problem, isn't it?"

"I'd never judge you for that, your childhood, Joe… You know that."

"No, but that's not what I meant. I mean that perhaps you left because you were tired of having to deal with my mess, my emotional issues. I feel…" she closed her eyes, turning the words over in her mouth as she tried to find a way to empty her head of them. "I fear, not feel. I fear maybe it got too much, got too hard, always waiting for me to catch up with you. My moods. The counselling. I've not been an easy person to deal with."

He tentatively rested a hand on her hip above the sheets, "None of that mattered. It doesn't matter. It doesn't change my feelings for you."

"But something did."

He drew back a little, she was too close and he was too tired.

"It's alright. I've pretty much accepted that…"

"Accepted what?"

"That you don't want this anymore, us, me."

"Elspeth…" He breathed, pressing his hand heavily on her hip now. "That's so far from the truth it's painful. I want you more than anything in this world."

"Then why…?" Her voice faded as she felt herself moving close to tears again. "God what a mess." She covered her face with her hand. "What a mess."

Charles drew his hand from her hip and up her back, until she leant forward and pressed her face into his chest. He fell naturally onto his back and she curled up against him, her arm tight around his waist.

"Is this okay?" She whispered against his skin.

"Yes." He breathed, closing his eyes.

He lay there still and silent, almost afraid of breaking the moment, listening to her breathing, the weight of her body against his, the scent of her hair. All so familiar. All so wonderful.

"I've missed you," he finally said, but she was already asleep.

Saturday, 13th February 2016

When Elsie awoke she'd forgotten where she was. Gasping and blinking at the ceiling as her mind tried to search for recognition. And then slowly the sound of sea crashing to shore and the steady breathing of Charles by her ear reminded her.

She was lying on her back, Charles' arm heavy as it rested on her stomach and his chin tucked by her shoulder, breath light on her skin.

For a long time she watched him, brushed his hair back – curled and fluffy after sleep – and wondered once again what the hell was going on between them.

Part of her could gladly throttle him for putting her through the past few weeks. Yet there was another part of her that longed to have him back, for things to be as they were, his open love and adoration for her, although once overwhelming, was now her biggest source of strength. Perhaps that was the issue; she feared that she'd kept him at arm's length for so long that now it was just a little too late.

Maybe he was bored – the bitter side of her brain argued that for men it was all about the chase, well he had her now, maybe the thrill had gone. In the beginning they'd do anything to have you, then once they did things were never the same.

But then she looked at him and she remembered that quiet, timid man. In so many ways old-fashioned, stuck in his ways, like some immovable object that everyone else walked around, the world turned around. And he remained. And then he was so very different. So kind. So patient. So eager to travel and explore new things and share it all with her. To share their thoughts and feelings and bodies and lives. To change his shop, after years of it remaining the same, because she'd suggested it. So open to loving her and Anna no matter how long he'd known them or what had happened in their lives. And she didn't want to lose him. Whatever his doubts were, whatever fears he had, they'd simply have to get to the bottom of them and then start climbing their way back up together.

When her neck ached too much to remain in that position she edged out of the bed, taking her jeans with her and changing in the bathroom down the hall. She made tea and was standing in the lounge sipping it when it started to rain again, instant heavy drops coming in without warning.

The room around her was in need of a good clean and with nothing else to do until Charles woke up that's exactly what she set about doing.

She tidied away old papers, put Charles' clothes in the washing machine, mopped the floors, cleaned the sides, cleared out the fridge. Somehow she even managed to tiptoe around the bedroom and put away his piles of clothes without waking him.

When he finally emerged, head heavy from sleep, and stumbled into the kitchen she was ironing and for a moment or two he watched her, puzzled.

"You hate to iron," he finally said, disturbing her daydreams.

"Well, good morning sleepy, thought you'd be in there all day."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm glad you slept, you look better for it."

"First proper sleep I've had in forever." He eased himself into a chair. "So, ironing?" He said, then glanced about. "Have you cleaned?"

"I have indeed."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know I didn't. But I've done it now." She stood the iron up, watching as the steam spread out across the room. "Would you like me to make you some breakfast," she glanced at the clock, "early lunch?"

He rubbed his face, "I know it may be surprising Elsie but I have in fact managed to look after myself for the past two weeks. Even with one arm for most of it."

Her face fell and he watched as her body sagged, hands still folding the shirt she'd just pressed.

"Sorry," he said, guilt like a hot poker in his chest. "I don't mean to snap."

"Seems you can't help but snap." She switched off the iron. "Remember in Dubai Charles, how awful I was to you, how cruel, you know I did that to push you away because it was easier than dealing with how deeply I cared for you. How scary it was to fall in love for the first time at my age."

He stared at the floor, avoiding her gaze.

"Are you doing the same? Is this some sort of ironic circle of events? Give me a taste of my own medicine?"

"Don't be silly." He looked at her again; standing close to him now, so close he could curl his arms around her legs and pull her into his lap. "I don't know what this is. But I don't seek to intentionally hurt you. And I'm sorry that I do."

"Okay."

He reached a hand forward, brushing his knuckles across her stomach, unable to feel her through the thick jumper.

"I mean it Els…I don't know what's wrong with me, what's going on."

She nodded, briefly resting her hand on top of his. "That's the first time you've called me Els in weeks."

He looked up at her, a weak smile on his face.

She snuffled, "So, do you want breakfast or not? Because I'm starving."

"Sure."

"Good." She lifted the pile of ironing into her arms. "I'll just pop these away then see what we have, and don't think you're off the hook Mr Carson. You and I have got some serious emotional baggage to claw our way through."

"You seem different this morning."

"I'm not going anywhere Charles if that's what you think. So don't even think of behaving like a man and hoping this will all just disappear. You're going to have to talk to me at some point. Sooner rather than later if I have anything to do with it."

The rain lifted long enough for them to get out early afternoon and for Charles it couldn't come soon enough. He needed the harshness of the bracing wind and the dampness of the earth around him, the smell of it, to shake the heavy feeling that had settled in him that morning.

It wasn't that he wanted to be apart from her, he wanted her with him, he just didn't want to be trapped staring at the same four walls going round in circles having the same conversation.

"This spot," he said, stopping and waiting for her to catch up behind him. "Look at the view from here."

Elsie shivered inside her coat, pulling her scarf higher up beneath her chin as she joined him overlooking the rolling sea.

"Something different isn't there, being here this time of year."

"Mmm…" She watched him as he leant his head back, eyes closed, letting the icy wind wash over him. "Have you been anywhere else Charles, over the past two weeks?"

"Just walking. Here. The cliffs."

She turned and looked up the cliffs towering over them, "So you haven't spent time with any human beings then?"

He opened his eyes, twisting his neck to look at her. "What's that mean?"

She shrugged, "Just an observation."

"You know me. Rather be alone than mingle."

"I thought that was the old you."

"As opposed to the Charles that was with you, right? Maybe he was just pretend, just playing a role for a while."

"So, what, we've been a lie? You have?"

He shook his head, "That's not what I meant. God, you're making me say things I don't mean."

"How am I making you do anything Charles? I'm not some fucking magician…"

"I didn't mean that," he brushed his hand through his hair, "Lord, we only just got here and we're arguing again. Can we have a moment of peace?"

"Sure." She walked away from him, digging her hands in her pockets, "sure, why the hell not." She danced from foot-to-foot.

"What's wrong now?" He asked, noting her pained expression.

"I really need to pee." She said squirming. "Like embarrassingly badly need to pee."

"We're in the middle of the beach." He stated, looking around.

"A-ha, and the sea isn't helping."

"For goodness sake."

"I can hardly help it, you don't have to be like this with me…"

"I'm not!" He breathed deeply, when had it all become so damned hard? "Sorry. I'm sorry."

She bit her lip, crossed her legs, wrapped her arms around herself, and he thought how beautiful she looked, her scarf framing her face, escaped locks of hair blowing in the breeze.

"You're laughing!" She exclaimed.

"I'm sorry," he chuckled, holding his hands up, unable to stop. "Sometimes I feel like I've dated your bladder."

She tried to suppress her smile as she slapped his arm, "Stop it."

"Alright, alright. Okay, look…" He gripped her shoulder, looking around them. "Look there's a cave there, nip inside, there's nobody about, should be okay."

"Oh god, like a child." But she was too desperate to really care how she appeared, and it was only Charles, as if he'd judge her on that. She ran the short distance from the shore to the cave and disappeared inside.

Charles meandered around waiting for her, glad the rain had held off at least. It was damp and cold and they were wrapped up like Christmas decorations but at least they'd got out for a bit, it didn't seem at all healthy for the pair of them to just sit and stew in that house.

He smiled when he spotted the Springer Spaniel dashing towards him, jumping in and out of the water as it ran and splashing the bottom of his trousers.

"Hey missy," he said, bending to ruffle its ears. "Hello, how are you then? Are you excited to be out?" He glanced up as Maisie's owner joined them. "Hello. Caroline, right?"

"Right. And Charles."

"Yeah."

"Not paddling today?"

"Think I've had my fair share of frozen toes for the moment."

She laughed, "Are you heading up to the café again? We were just going to get a scone and have a warm before we head back."

Stuffing her hands into her pockets Elsie hurried from the cave and back down the beach towards where she'd left Charles, feeling slightly better than when she'd embarrassingly ran off from him.

She spotted him laughing with a woman, blonde, petite, and for a second she felt how she had all that time ago at the cricket club when greeted with the knowledge that Charles had quite the fan club.

They turned to face her before she reached them, the younger woman smiling warmly, Charles blushing furiously.

"Oh, you must be Charles' wife, I wondered if you'd join him for half term, he mentioned you were a teacher."

His wife?

"Did he." She dug her hand out of her pocket and accepted Caroline's to shake. "He hasn't mentioned you I'm afraid." She said pointedly.

"Well, nothing to mention. I introduced him to the café up the beach."

"Ahh, well that he did mention, good coffee there so he said."

"Great scones." Caroline smiled. "We're heading up there now, aren't we Maisie girl." She slapped her leg and the dog chased after her, "Nice to meet you though, and good to see you again Charles."

"Yes. And you."

He knew the expression on her face before she even looked at him.

"What?" He asked innocently.

"Doesn't like to mingle." She said bitterly. "No. But clearly flirting is okay."

"Oh its hardly that, we've spoken once."

"Funny that little bit of information never came up on your fucking messages, did it?"

"You're being hysterical. I've spoken to her once before."

"Am I?" She folded her arms, "Tell me Charles, if I'd left you, gone to stay somewhere five hours drive away, and then conveniently met a gorgeous young man and told you nothing about it would you be hunky fucking dory about it?"

He glanced to floor, feeling shame fill his stomach.

"Talk to me." She demanded. "Tell me what's going on with you. This isn't you. It's not the man I know, or thought I did, though apparently he's been a mask…"

He turned his back to hear, breathing deeply the cold air.

"Charles! Damn it!" She realised that if anyone passed by they would take her for a child throwing a tantrum and that wasn't her, she didn't lose control like this. "Oh forget it, forget it. I'm going home."

"Home?"

"Yorkshire Charles," she said marching past him. "Apparently to find a new place to live."

"Don't be so bloody stupid." He said, hurrying after her.

"Stupid? I think I'm being perfectly logical."

"To move out of our new home. That's stupid. Over nothing."

She swung round to face him, "Nothing? How can all this be nothing? I don't know where I am with you."

"I'm right here Elsie."

"Are you?" She shook her head, snuffling as she stared across the beach at him. When he didn't respond she turned on her heel and headed back to the beach house.

Charles followed at a slower pace. Exhausted.

"You shouldn't have raced off," he said weakly, watching her throw her clothes into a bag. "You should have stayed and let me take you for tea."

"Sod your tea, go have it with the blonde. Wait – the young blonde – do what every other man does, trade in. Calling me your wife to her, what's that about?" She muttered.

"You're being ridiculous, nothing's happened, I don't know her. We had an hour together maximum and…"

She stopped. "And?"

"Nothing."

"Don't do that!" She threw a shoe onto the bed. "Talk to me! Tell me, whatever it is. Because I can't keep doing this Charles – I hate how you're making me feel."

"How am I making you feel?"

"Like this is all my fault, like I did something wrong. Messed us up. It's all my insecurities causing this and it can't be, it can't be because you're the one bottling things away and I don't know why."

"No, no," he shook his head, "I agree. This is purely me."

"Why?" She yelled in frustration when he looked away. "WHY?! Charles! What happened with that woman?"

"I dreamt of her, okay, I dreamt of her being here and doing… well… oral… and it's bloody ridiculous because only one woman has ever done that for me and that's you, of course, you're the only one I've ever been close enough to feel comfortable enough with and… and what does it matter because I can't even, you know?"

She wasn't quite sure how to respond to getting so much information in one go, or what to focus on. "Okay." She sat down on the side of the bed, her back to him. "Okay. Let me get this straight… you dreamt of this woman giving you a blow job, correct?"

"Yes."

"And do you want her to?"

"No. Never."

She almost laughed at his disgusted tone. "Okay. And I'm assuming you mean that you…" she bit her lip, glancing up at him, "…that you're having trouble in that department."

"Nothing since the accident."

"Okay."

"Not even when I woke up from the dream."

She raised her eyebrows, "Well, that's something I guess."

"I feel a failure."

"Because you can't get an erection?"

"Don't mock it, it's a sensitive issue for men."

"It doesn't make you less of a man."

"It does in my eyes."

"That's…" she was about to say foolish then stopped herself, what did she know about man's pride and how their minds worked. She had all on following Charles' train of thought at the moment.

"I wish you'd just told me," she settled on. "You don't have to deal with all this yourself. That's why we're a team isn't it, to be there for one another."

"I didn't know how to…"

"And if you could, you know, would you want that dream to be reality?"

He shook his head fiercely, "Of course not. Never."

She wanted to reach for him, hold him to her and carefully strip away his hurt and confusion. Instead she found her eyes filling with tears again, "You foolish man, you just had to tell me. I'll always listen to you, talk to you."

He smiled remembering a conversation they'd had a long time ago, "You always did." He stepped closer to her, they were right there, right on the cusp of sharing it all. "This woman, the dream left me feeling confused, hating myself. Disgusted."

"It was just a dream. Just attraction."

"But I'm not even attracted to her. There's only you."

She tilted her head to the side watching him, "Why make this so difficult Charles? You've pushed me away. You've hurt me. You keep hurting me. And yet you stand there telling me things like that…"

"I'd do anything to take it all back, you're the most precious thing to me." He swallowed, his body hot, skin clammy. "Its easier."

"What is?"

"To hurt you. To push you away. It's easier than opening up to you."

And I will breathe for you each day

Comfort you through all the pain

Gently kiss your fears away

You can turn to me and cry

Always understand that I

Give you all I am inside

Lying on her side facing him Elsie sniffled tiredly, it wasn't just physical exhaustion, her very being was drained. Charles' hand felt heavy on her back, a familiar comforting weight and she could feel the pound of his heart in his chest beneath her arm that was squashed up against him, her head tucked beneath his chin.

"Sorry," she said, voice clouded with emotion. "I don't mean to keep crying."

"I've caused it. And for that I'm sorry."

"You have to talk to me Charles. I don't understand what's going on. Where you are…" She breathed deeply, afraid, "What it is you want."

"Maybe I don't know myself."

His words stabbed at her chest and it took all of her resolve to hold it in, her breath tight in her throat, lungs burning with the pain of holding back.

"I did feel lost. Sitting at home day after day, too much time to reflect and question. To feel sorry for myself," he allowed his fingers to tangle into the ends of her hair. "I didn't know how to tell you. You see, I've never had to before."

She accepted that, she even understood that – there was something of the irony about this that stung. "If we don't share things, talk about it all, then we'll never be able to build a relationship, a real relationship. More than companions, more than lovers. You taught me that Charles. You were the one patiently waiting for me to open up to you, the one doing the reassuring and the chasing and now I'm here, I'm a hundred percent here and you're not."

"I am."

"You broke my heart."

She watched his face crumple.

"You left me."

"I left the situation. We did nothing but argue."

"You left me. You hurt me, more…" She licked her lips, "…more than Joe ever could because my love for him didn't ever even come close to how I feel about you."

She watched as he closed his eyes, lazy tears finding their way down his face, over the crook of his nose and resting on his lips. She lifted her hand, wiped them away with her thumb. It was the first time he'd cried since she'd proposed.

"You've changed so much," he whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"You're so strong now. And I thought… You know I've always questioned why you're with me."

"Don't do that... that's silly."

"I know it is," he shook his head, laughing at himself, "it's ridiculous, I know that. I'm being ridiculous. But that knowledge doesn't make it go away. And I kept looking at myself thinking why is she with me? Why now – when I'm broken and old and useless…"

"But you aren't!" She gasped, her emotions tumbling over. She forced herself to quiet and listen.

"Remember we saw that couple that time, we were in that coffee shop you like having breakfast one Sunday and I'd finished the paper and you were scanning through it and there was this couple. Older than us but still, he was like a zombie. White and balding and bent and hardly able to walk…and she did everything for him. Sat him down, fetched his drink, his food. Chopped it for him, practically fed him. Took the poor sod to the bathroom when he needed it."

"And you think I wouldn't do the same for you, should the time come?"

"No. I know you would. But I don't want you to have to. I don't want to be a burden to you, you deserve more – no offence Els but you've had some kind of screwed up life and then now, now when you're finally you – vibrant and alive and really living – what? You're some old man's drudge?"

"You're not an old man. And surely that's my choice."

"But that's just the thing isn't it."

"What is?"

"Choice. I fear you may have just settled."

"Sorry?"

"All those years married, thirty years with that man, did you date anybody else when he left you?"

"You know I didn't."

"Just me. And you only agreed to go on a date with me because I was the first to ask. And then date after date and things build and suddenly we're sleeping together and going away and then buying a house and getting married and I suddenly thought God, I've dragged her through this so quickly. She hasn't had time to stop and think about what she really wants. So, I worry that you settled, because I was there, because it was better than being alone."

"Do you think me so shallow?" Her voice had taken on a harder edge now; there was sharpness to her tone.

"Of course not, just…"

"Because if I didn't want you Charles then I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have bothered driving down here. I wouldn't have proposed – because let's remember that, I was the one to propose." She saw the look in his eye, "And what? I did that out of sympathy too, is that what you think? Jeez is that what you've always thought?" She extracted herself from his arms, leaning further back from him. "I can't quite believe…all this time you thought me living a lie?"

"No, no of course not, it wasn't until this. All of this, it gave me time to think, to dwell. And my mind got carried away I suppose."

"And you couldn't tell me? You couldn't just talk to me about it instead of stewing on it? Letting it grow and fester until we're at this point?"

"I'm used to dealing with things on my own, I told you that."

"And so am I Charles! God damn it, I could kill you!" She rolled onto her back, covering her face with her hands. "All this. All of this because of some stupid male pride or misguided beliefs. We have no right getting married because we can't even fucking communicate."

"I am communicating."

"Yes, now, when forced to."

"I needed time. Didn't you tell me the same thing once?"

She couldn't deny that, yes, she had, many times. If she reflected on what she'd put him through she had no right to feel angry, but that didn't stop her feeling exactly that.

"I don't know where we are. Where you are." She rolled over again, against his chest, her face close to his on the pillow, she held his gaze, her eyes flashing with intensity. "Do you even want me Charles?"

He openly cried now, "God yes, so much it kills me. I've been so lonely without you."

"Then stop being so fucking stupid and come home."

He fell against her, his face buried in the crook of her neck as he sobbed. And she felt this strong, broad man break against her and for some odd reason it mended her heart.

I won't ever be too far away to feel you

And I won't hesitate at all

Whenever you call

As I said, still more to come, but let's see what you made of this…

I can't say thank you enough for the many reviews I received last time, having bit of a crisis of confidence at the moment and they certainly helped push me to continue.