And so we reach arc 4 / book 4 – however you want to see it. The final bit!

Couple of things in here – a treat for theoofoof (I have tried my best to meet your request). Brownies for Chelsiesouloftheabbey for being my unofficial/official beta. Love you both x

For the final part of this chapter try listening to Beyonce's 'Rocket' to set the tone.

Chapter 46

Mid-March 2016

He's woken by her crawling back into bed, her feet cold as she slips one of her legs between his and her toes curl against the top of his foot.

He grunts his disapproval and she smiles as she buries her face against his chest and snakes an arm around his waist.

"Like ice," he mumbles.

"Warm me up." The tips of her fingers dig gently into his back and he kisses the top of her head.

His arms encircle her slight frame and press her against him as he cracks open an eye and glances to the clock, 6:45 on a Sunday morning and now he's awake.

Rolling onto his back he brings her with him, for a moment she mumbles and then her head settles against his chest. He can feel her breasts against him through the thin material of her nightgown. The heat of her thigh as her leg curls around his. That distinct smell that is purely Elsie.

Eyes closed he trails his fingertips down her back, slow and steady along her spine, and then back up again until he reaches her neck. The pad of his thumb works its way to her hairline, and then back down, back and forth until she squirms against him. He allows himself a smile then tenderly strokes to the left, behind her ear, down until his nail catches the lobe and then back up along the shell of her ear, her hair covering his fingers.

He steps up his actions, easing his fingers deeper into her hair. With the heavy warmth against his palm he kisses her head again.

Moaning sleepily she twists onto her side, one leg still curled over the top of his still, her arm draped over his chest, the new position pushing her right breast forward. With his eyes closed he smiles, one hand confidently trails down to cup her breast, his palm hovering over her nipple, increasing the pressure until she moans her pleasure.

Easing his arm out from beneath her he gently rolls her onto her back and lies beside her, watching her for a moment – her eyes are closed, she's feigning sleep, but there's a light smile playing across her face. He reaches to where her nightgown is tangled around her thighs and pushes it up, keeping his eyes on her face, watching the smile spread, her cheekbones rise.

She lifts her arms willingly as he undresses her and then for a long time he lies beside her, his fingers reverently stroking her skin. Beneath her chin, down her neck, between the valley of her breasts. Creamy, pale skin dusted with freckles. His palm on the curved plane of her belly, the contrast between his hand and her abdomen.

He watches as her chest rises and falls as she breathes deeply, feels the urge to cover her body with his. Instead he takes his time, it's been so very long since they made love, the desire is there, the want and need, but his body is still reluctant to catch up.

Elsie hums her pleasure as his mouth meets her belly, his lips warm and soft as they travel lower. His hand between her thighs easing her legs apart – he hears the slight giggle, she's extra sensitive there, right at the very top of her thighs.

She's moaning as he trails his hand higher, shifting beneath him, her knees bending, the bed sheets falling. He keeps his hand there, finds himself a position where he can watch her face. How she alternates between soft groans of pleasure, deep down at the back of her throat, and open-mouthed sighs, heavenly smiles.

One hand curls into the pillow by her head as he lifts her body higher, making her fly; he knows her so well now, senses exactly what she needs. Not too hard, she doesn't like that, soft, gentle fingers. Be careful when slipping inside her, her silken skin is sensitive – stroke delicately, find that exact spot and then she's groaning out his name and pledging him her love and then withdraw, let her come down slightly before replacing hand with mouth. And then he relies on his hearing and the way her body curls beneath him, her pelvis pushed forward, her breath coming in pants. And then perfection. Sweet, glorious perfection.

Her hand is in his hair, tugging at the strands, impatient with lust and his mouth moves over her stomach, up higher, his hips between her thighs.

"I want you," she whispers repeatedly, clutching at his shoulders, finding his mouth with hers. She kisses him deeply, passionately, still coming down from her climax, desperate for him to do it all over again.

And he wants to so badly, wants to love her over and over again. This beautiful woman who smells so good and feels so good and is all he ever wanted in life.

And yet he can't. He just can't. His body won't comply.

"Christ," he breathes painfully, pressing his face into the pillow beside her head. "I'm sorry." His words are muffled.

She strokes her hand down his back, intending to soothe, "Charles…"

"No. Don't…"

She slides her hand into his hair, "Honey, look at me."

Reluctantly he does so, but the sight of her bright eyes and swollen lips from kissing only make it all seem so much worse. "I'm sorry." He says again.

"Don't apologise." She strokes her fingers down the side of his face. "There are other ways to make love Charles."

"Yeah…" he agrees non-committedly, but then he's closing his eyes and shaking his head and pulling away from her. His body moving from hers, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and getting to his feet.

"Charles."

Her tone is almost pleading, sad perhaps, though he only hears disappointment.

He reaches back and pats her leg, "Go back to sleep, it's Sunday and early. I'm gonna take a shower and fetch the papers."

They've had this for weeks and she's learnt when to keep her mouth shut and leave him be.

When he gets back from the shop she's in the kitchen, dressed and preparing breakfast and there's the smell of pancakes and a pot of tea on the table.

"Hello," she smiles, and he's glad the radio is on and she's there and wonderful.

He drops the papers, slips his scarf off, "Hi. Smells good."

"Mmm," she kisses his cheek as she carries blueberries to the table. "Well I do like to spoil you every now and then. Better than porridge, for a change."

His hands rest on her hips and she pauses for a moment by the table as he presses his face against her hair and kisses her head. "Love you."

"I know." She twists her head round to kiss him. "Now feed the babies will you, whilst I finish this."

He groaned, "Oh god, where are they?"

"Back yard."

He opened the kitchen door, the wind bracing as it raced up off the fields and into the warmth of their kitchen. There was still frost on the ground but he sensed a slight change in the weather. The softening of the air, the sharpness ebbing away.

"Be able to get into the garden soon, get some planting done."

"Bring your sketches to life."

"Exactly. Give me something to do. In, now." He dug his hands into his pockets when met with no response. "Come on you two, it's freezing." He watched the two kittens trail from plant pot to plant pot sniffing and scratching. They'd only been allowed outdoors for the past week – a Sunday ago, and Elsie had spent the entire time sitting outside watching them in a state of nervous tension, afraid that at any second they'd make a run for it, never to be seen again.

"I've told you to shake those biscuits, they'll come then."

"They need to learn instructions."

"Charles, they're kittens not employees. I'm not sure even your grandchild will immediately know how to follow instructions."

He watched as William – the ginger kitten – ran at Mary – they grey one – and rolled her to the floor. The two throwing paws back and forth as they swiped at each other.

"My grandchild." He said gently.

"Mmm, your grandchild. And I bet he or she will have you wrapped around their tiny little finger within a couple of days." She teased, waving the bag of biscuits at him as she passed and shook them.

"Come on, you two."

As if sensing the importance in their mother's voice they ceased their activities and raced past her and into the kitchen.

"See?" She smiled, closing the door.

"They only do it to mock me."

"Ha, sit down and pour the tea, would you, darling? Before it gets too strong."

He did as she asked, watching as she fed the two fur balls and scratched behind their ears as they settled down to eat. "Yes, that's good isn't it, my little babies?"

He shook his head at her; she was far too soft with them.

"Did you say you were seeing Anna later?"

"A-ha, I promised her I'd buy the pram, and we're getting a bit close now. So, today she'll choose one if it takes all bloody day." She sat down across from him. "So be prepared for me coming home poor."

"How much do these things cost?" He said, spooning blueberries onto his pancakes. "Hundred pounds or something?"

"Are you kidding me? Try a few hundred and more."

"What? For a damned pram?"

"I know. But I promised and I want to."

"I'm not saying don't," he dug into his breakfast. "But pick a good one, a safe one I mean. Don't want he or she being uncomfortable. Whatever it costs."

She smiled as she watched him eat, "Of course, sir. I'll be sure to check it has a full service history and excellent safety records."

"Taking the piss…"

She giggled, "You can come along if you like?"

"Will John be there?"

"No, he's got the shop open, just a girly day."

"Then I'll stay at home, I thought I might ask Richard over for a while. If you don't mind."

"Of course not. You can ask Izzy too you know, I won't mind."

"I know," he glanced to the side as Mary pawed at his leg and sat back, watching as she jumped onto his lap, circled and plonked herself down. He looked across as Elsie giggled. "I'm eating my breakfast."

"These are things you'll have to get used to."

"Can't I just push her off?"

She frowned.

"I guess not."

Pushing her chair out Elsie got up, wiping her hands on her napkin. "Look, she's so tiny, she just wants to cuddle." She scooped her hand under the kitten. "Come on darling, you know you sleep in your basket."

Charles watched as she nuzzled the kitten's face and placed her down in her basket in the corner of the kitchen.

"I don't think they like me."

"Nonsense. What's not to like? Besides you spend more time with them than I do." She sat back down. "So, dinner? Should I pick something up while I'm out?"

"Can I call you later, when I've spoken to them?"

"Of course."

Richard laughed as two tiny felines skidded across the kitchen floor, one tripping over its front legs and going headfirst into the skirting board.

"Ouch! Felt that for him."

"That's a her," Charles pointed out, "and she's always doing it. These two have become the bane of my life. Scratching and pulling and… have you ever tried to get dried cat food off floor tiles?"

"I can't say I have. But I have spent a considerable amount of time chasing dogs round parks and cleaning up after them."

Charles laughed as he spooned coffee into the pot, "Alright, at least cats walk themselves I guess. And Elsie's completely in love."

"But of course she is. Where is she today?"

"Pram shopping."

"Ahh, another big event. You're looking forward to the impending birth?"

"Try terrified about it, but don't tell anyone that. I'm trying to play the calm and collected role."

Richard chuckled, "Don't let them see the fear in your eyes. These two allowed out?" He asked as the kittens pawed the bottom of the door.

"Yeah, let 'em go…"

Richard opened the door and William and Mary dashed out before him.

"Watch them though!" Charles added quickly, hearing Elsie's voice in his head.

The early afternoon sunshine was just clearing the top of the house and the kittens raced around chasing floating leaves. It was still fairly chilly mid-March but with the afternoon sun it lessened the impact of the breeze. The world around them was thawing and spring was very much staking its claim.

"Tremendous view," Richard said as he stood at the edge of the patio and looked down from their garden to the Yorkshire countryside. "Going to be quite wonderful in the summer."

"You want to sit out there?" Charles shouted from the kitchen, "I'll bring the coffee out."

"Sure."

They dried off the chairs and turned them to take in the view.

"So, the reason I got you here," Charles said, sipping his coffee, "is for a very awkward conversation."

"Oh?"

"To do with…well, my recovery I guess."

"I thought everything had healed fine."

"It has, for the most part."

Richard dug around in the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out two cigars, holding one out to Charles but he shook his head.

"I'm only talking to you because I don't fancy having this discussion with my GP."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Charles sat back in his chair and Richard smiled knowingly as Mary jumped up onto his lap, circled in her usual fashion and then sat herself down.

"So, what do you want to ask me? Strictly confidential of course."

Draining his coffee Charles tentatively continued, "I've had a problem, since the accident, in the… well, you know… in the bedroom department." He kept his eyes away from Richard's, stroking the kitten's back, his large hand covering the tiny body completely. "I don't mean to embarrass you."

"I'm not embarrassed," Richard said gently, blowing out cigar smoke into the air. "Well, there are things you can do, things to take to help."

"I know that," he breathed deeply, "The things is, well, I don't want to feel like I have to take a pill every time I want to make love to my wife."

Richard smiled, "Your wife?"

"She will be."

"But you cancelled April…?"

Charles refilled their coffee cups, careful not to shift too far in his seat and disturb Mary asleep on his lap.

"We have. It was too much you know, the accident and Anna due to give birth. And moving house…" he sighed, turning the spoon over in his saucer. "I'm not saying I don't regret it, I do, but it's just all too much at once." He shrugged. "We could disappear, marry simply and quietly."

"I can't see you as the kind of guy who'd be happy with Elvis blessing your ceremony."

Charles chuckled, grateful of Richard's easy-going nature.

"No, I don't mean Vegas. But a registry office is easy enough. We don't have to spend a huge amount of money or have a big celebration."

Richard sucked on his cigar, slowly exhaling the smoke. "But… you see the thing is Charles, you do want a big celebration. You do want to get married in church. And damn it, you deserve that, all these years sitting on the side lines, now don't pull that face, I was there remember. You deserve a real wedding."

"I want a real marriage."

"Oh I think you already have that." He gestured back towards the house. "Owning a home is far more challenging than signing on the dotted line. And now kittens. And you're going to be a grandfather, yes, that's how you see it?"

Charles nodded, his thumb tickling beneath Mary's chin. He glanced down feeling William nuzzle his ankle and dropped a hand down to scoop him up and onto his lap beside the other one.

"Yes, that's how I see it. Hard to believe, never thought I'd be a father let alone a grandfather."

"See. You're already in a marriage, ring on your finger or not. Not many women would have left you alone for two weeks to work through whatever issues you had and then still come running after you. There's no reason for you to doubt whether you can make a marriage work, Charles, because you're already in it."

Charles tilted his head back, surveying the view.

"As for the other thing," Richard added gently, "if you don't want to take anything then I'd suggest relaxing. If you stress over it then it will be worse. Go walking, a couple of miles a day, you've got all this here, Charles – spend time walking in it. Clear your head. Get rid of the worries."

Charles nodded, one kitten settled in each hand.

"Some people try acupuncture."

Charles rolled his eyes, "New age stuff."

"Make sure your diet's good, watermelon, apparently that's good, eat watermelon."

"I'll give it a try," Charles chuckled.

They both glanced up as they heard a car pull up around the other side of the house.

"That's either Izzy or Elsie." Richard said, stubbing his cigar out. "Don't tell either of them I smoked this in front of you."

Charles laughed, "You think you can hide anything from either of them?"

There were heels on the gravel and Charles glanced over his shoulder as Elsie came up behind him, swinging bags in her hands.

"Hello Richard, very nice to see you." She said as she bent to kiss his cheek.

"And you, darling. Had fun shopping?"

"I've bought no end of baby things, we'll need to re-mortgage." She turned her attention to Charles, "Ahh, look at you," she smiled down at the kittens asleep in his lap. "And you think you don't get on. My three favourite people."

"They're kittens."

"Don't be picky." She kissed his forehead.

"You get a pram?"

"A-ha, I took a picture too," she put her bags down and dug around in her handbag for her phone. "I'm sorry to bore you with this Richard."

"It's fine, carry on."

"Have you been smoking?"

"Whilst I was inside making the coffee," Charles interjected, Richard winking at him behind Elsie's back.

"Mmm," she flicked through the pictures on her phone. "Okay, here, see…"

"It's bright purple!"

"Pretty cool, right?"

"I'll look an idiot pushing that about."

"Oh, honey," she ruffled his hair, "I like how you've already pictured yourself pushing it."

"Oh, he's going to be quite the doting grandpa, I feel." Richard laughed.

"Apparently I need to walk a couple of miles a day, so pushing the baby round here seems the logical thing to do."

She squeezed his shoulder. "Is Izzy joining us?"

"She is." Richard said, sitting forward.

"I guess I better get started on dinner then."

"I said I'd cook." Charles moved to get up, the kittens protesting at his movement.

"No, it's fine. You chat with Richard." She watched as Mary rolled over onto her back, stretching her paw into the air and yawning. Charles ran his index finger down her stomach and she swiped at it; he let her drag the tip of his finger up to her mouth and nibbled on it.

"Ow, that hurts." He said, ruffling her neck.

"And he says I'm soft with them." Elsie smiled at Richard.

Elsie took another bottle of wine from the fridge along with the cheesecake she'd purchased in town, she hoped nobody would mind that she hadn't had time to make it from scratch.

Carrying both through to the dining room, she arrived just as the rest of them burst into laughter.

"What's funny?" she asked, placing the cheesecake on the table.

"Izzy was just regaling me with nappy stories." Charles said, stretching for the wine and refilling their glasses.

"You do realise I drove here, don't you Charles?" Isobel smiled, placing her hand on top of her glass.

"Well, leave the car and get a taxi home, or better still, stay over, we have room."

If she were shocked by his proposal Elsie didn't show it, she served up the cheesecake and passed the plates around, discreetly glancing at the clock – she'd have to do a bit of work before bed.

"Have you asked him yet, anyway?" Isobel asked.

"Not yet, but I will."

"Asked me what?" Charles said, slicing his fork into his dessert. He pushed his chair suddenly when he heard one of the kittens scratching in the corner of the room. "Ah, no you don't, you little sod."

"Charles…" Elsie said, watching as he scooped William up and carried him through the kitchen and into the utility room; by the time he made it to the litter tray he had a palm full of cat pee.

"Charming," he complained as the tiny bundle jumped out of the tray, sending stones scattering over the floor.

"Alright in there?" Elsie called behind barely veiled laughter.

"Bloody wonderful," he stuck his hand under the hot tap and covered it in hand wash. "They need to learn rules, I keep saying that."

The other three were sniggering by the time he made it back to them.

"Oh its very funny isn't it, as usual I have to be the one instilling discipline."

Elsie laughed, "Oh, but you do it so well."

He rolled his eyes as he sat down again. "I keep finding little pools of cat pee dotted about the place."

"I told you to spray some of that stuff, I bought it for you, they don't like the scent."

"I don't like the scent," he complained, "smells like citrus all round the house. And you can stop laughing," he chuckled, pointing his fork at Richard.

"Sorry old man, you just wait, if Anna has a boy you'll have pee in more places than your hand."

"Don't scare him," Isobel smiled. "Now, go on, ask him."

Elsie leant back in her chair, cradling her wine glass as she watched the scene.

"Yes, what is it I'm being asked to do now? Go on."

"Do you remember last year we raised the idea of starting a bowls club?"

"I do indeed, revitalising that patch of land we don't use."

"Well, the thing is…" Richard said.

"You could run it, chair it!" Isobel interrupted, excitement in her voice.

Charles swallowed his wine, "Chair it? There's nothing to chair."

Elsie leant forward, resting her elbows on the table, she didn't want to interfere but she silently willed him to take it up.

"But there could be, you know how it works, you know the people, you're respected at the club." Isobel said.

"There's fundraising to do," Richard added. "And you could manage all that, you know the community."

"I feel like you two are trying to sell me something."

"We just thought it would be good for you," Isobel said gently, reaching to pat his hand.

"Bowls," he shook his head. "It's an old man's sport isn't it?"

"I think you'd be surprised how popular it is." Richard added.

Charles glanced across the table to Elsie, "You're awfully quiet."

"I know as much about bowls as I do cricket," she shrugged, "but if it'd make you happy then of course I'm all for it."

He leant back in his chair turning the idea over in his mind, startled when once again Mary jumped up to his lap. "Oh god, this bloody cat."

"She loves you," Elsie smiled. "Now, shall I get some coffee, brandy?" She pushed her chair back. "Are you two staying?"

"Well, we could do, I suppose, if you don't mind."

"It's fine, I'll just make sure the room's made up. I will have to abandon you lot soon though, I'm afraid."

"Oh, darling, I forgot. Sunday night, she always ends up working Sunday night." Charles explained.

"Haven't got much to do luckily, plan a couple of lessons, check my emails and such."

"We don't want to impose," Isobel said getting to her feet and helping to clear the table. She followed Elsie through to the kitchen carrying their empty dishes.

"You aren't, really." Elsie briefly touched Isobel's arm. "It's nice, for Charles to have you here I mean. He's brighter every day. And thank you for that, the bowls thing, it'll be good for him to take charge of something."

Isobel nodded, her eyes warm and friendly. "He seems much brighter. No doubt down to your support. I am sorry, you know, that you've postponed the wedding."

Elsie bit her lip. "Thanks for saying that; it isn't forever, once the baby's born I think we can start to make plans again."

"Anna's well though?"

"Yes, very, a smooth pregnancy. But she's still my baby and I worry."

She had her back to Isobel but she turned when she felt her touch her arm. "I'm glad you brought him home. I've known Charles almost all my life and he's never been happier, you know, so thank you for that, for what you've given him."

Elsie opened her mouth to speak but found there was nothing to say, so instead she nodded, her throat tight.

It was late when Charles crept to bed. Elsie had been asleep for a couple of hours and he felt guilty as he lifted the sheets and slipped in beside her warm body. But she turned as he lay back and nestled against his side.

"Everything ok?" She mumbled.

"Fine, bit tipsy. Izzy fell to sleep on the couch." He heard her smile and kissed her head. "Sorry I woke you."

"It's fine," she lifted her head up to kiss him, her mouth soft and pliant in her sleepy state.

He felt something press against the top of his head and almost shot out of bed when a paw landed on his nose.

"What the… Els, they can't sleep in here."

"They've a basket on the floor but they don't seem to want it."

"Well, of course not when there's a nice warm bed here." He watched as William trampled over the pillows and settled himself down at the other side of Elsie's head. "They need to sleep in the kitchen."

"Oh, honey," she rubbed her hand across his chest, "it's cold down there and lonely. They're only tiny."

"They're taking over this house."

"Mmm," she kissed him again, deeper this time until he forgot about where kittens should and shouldn't sleep.

A week later – Friday night

When she got home from work – her briefcase in one hand, fish and chips in the other – the house was dark and silent. Panicking, she put her things on the hall floor and dashed around searching for him.

He was asleep. On top of their bed, fully dressed, both of the kittens curled on his chest, sleeping too.

For a moment she leant against the doorframe watching the rise and fall of his chest, the way the kittens would move in time with his breathing, their tails curled around one another.

Slipping her coat off and hanging it across the bottom of the bed she smiled as William noticed her, stretching out his paw and yawning. When she knelt on the bed and crawled up towards him she reached her hand forward and felt his tiny claws swipe at her skin. She kissed both of their heads before continuing up to Charles, kissing his forehead, down his nose and then capturing his mouth in a sleepy kiss.

"Hi, gorgeous," he said, breathless, happy. "Nice way to be woken up."

"Hi, darling, sleeping in the afternoon?"

"Just a nap."

She reached a hand down to stroke Mary's back, "A good day?"

"Not bad," he yawned, covering his mouth. "Got everything ready for tomorrow, I'm hoping for a good turn out."

"There will be. Oh bugger," she groaned, brushing her hair back, "I've got to bake haven't I?"

"Well, you don't have to."

"Yes, I bloody do," she got up from the bed, pulling her blouse from her trousers. "Can't go to the chairman's fundraising shindig and his wife not have prepared anything." She paused in her undressing, smiling coyly at him. "Fiancée."

"I like wife." He folded his arms beneath his head. "You're getting changed…?"

"I can't bake naked."

"I'd find it entertaining."

"Of course you would." She threw her blouse at him. "Come on, I got fish and chips for dinner, they'll need warming up now."

He warmed dinner whilst she measured the ingredients for her lemon cake; it was in the oven by the time she sat down to eat.

"I was going to do a cake, some brownies – because they always sell well – and buns, fairy cakes, Anna used to love them when she was a kid. Sound okay?"

"Perfect." He put his fork down, "Oh, look at these," he pulled a pile of posters from beneath his newspaper. "Took me ages messing about on your laptop thingy."

"They look good," she flicked through them, "you've used all my coloured ink no doubt. An auction? What's being auctioned?"

"I've got a few things, maybe me."

"You?" Her eyes widened. "I didn't agree to that. What do they get?"

"Dinner, perhaps. In fact, I'd get more if I auctioned a night with you," he reached for her hand. "What d'ya say?"

"So you'd auction me off, would you? For the sake of your bowls club? A night with a stranger, an indecent proposal, just for a few pound coins…"

He brought her hand to his mouth, never taking his eyes from her sparkling eyes and teasing smile. He kissed her knuckles, "Never. Did I tell you the mayor is coming?"

"No. That's wonderful. How did you manage that?"

"You won't like it, but Laura knows him, she made a few calls for me."

"Hmm, I wonder what played a part in forging that acquaintance." She said, as she cut into her fish.

"Now, now, Elsie…" He smirked.

"Just an observation. What's she auctioning tomorrow?"

"I have no idea."

"Maybe a cake in the shape of her breasts."

"Don't raise my hopes."

She slapped his arm, laughing at his expression.

"You did ask for that," he smiled.

Later he set up the ironing board in the lounge and watched television as he worked his way through the pile of clothes, a job he'd meant to do that afternoon - if he hadn't fallen asleep, that is. He was often tired in the afternoon these days, age.

He'd left Elsie baking in the kitchen but soon she draped herself across the sofa, her bare feet resting on its arm, as she chatted with him.

"Every time the phone rings now my heart jumps," he said, turning his shirt to press the collar.

"Oh?" She bit down on her lip, twirled her hair around her finger. That worried her, she knew what he meant but it still worried her.

"I'm a nervous wreck."

"She's fine, Charles, I spoke to her at lunchtime and she's fine. Her back aches and she's frustrated, but fine. Healthy."

He slipped his shirt onto a hanger as he watched her dig her heels into the arm of the sofa. "What were you like, you know, when you were pregnant?"

"Ha! Fat!"

He chuckled, "And?"

"Swollen. And grouchy, towards the end." She shrugged. "Happy, I liked being pregnant. Some hate it, I liked it. Feeling my body grow and change, creating this bond." She smiled at him, "There's nothing like it you know, the first time you see your baby's face, first time you hold that tiny being in your arms."

She swung her legs off of the sofa, getting up and moving to him, "I can't wait to share that with you." He watched as her hand slid down his forearm, her fingers tickling his palm, "Slightly different as grandparents but still…" She leant in to kiss him, then paused. "Oh shit!" She suddenly exclaimed, dashing out of the lounge and into the kitchen. "Shit, shit, shit!"

"What's wrong?" He asked, putting the pair of trousers down he was going to iron and following her.

He watched as she opened the oven door and pulled out a tray of slightly brown fairy cakes.

"Oh bugger it!" She said, slamming the door shut. "That's talking to you."

"They don't look too bad."

"Nobody's going to pay for these, I'd be lucky to give them away." She lifted the lid on the bin. "Sod it, I'll start again."

"Sweetheart…"

"It's fine, it's fine." She dropped the tray into the sink and turned on the tap, feeling his hands slide around her waist as his lips kissed her cheek. "Your fault for dating someone who can't bake." She said.

"Oh I think I'm doing more than dating her."

"Mmm," she twisted her head to kiss him. "Now bugger off so I can get on with this and make you proud." She yelped as he pinched her bottom and swatted at him with the dishcloth.

"Very sexy, you know," he said as he backed away from her, "the apron and stuff, very sexy."

"Well, it's my Friday night look."

Saturday

They woke late. Spooned up together and enjoying a lazy morning. And then when Elsie turned over and glanced at the clock she almost fell out of bed.

"What's wrong?"

"It's quarter to ten, we're meant to be there at half past."

"Oh god, I need to shave."

"I need to slice up that brownie. God, I hope the icing's set on the lemon cake."

They rushed about the bedroom, bumping into each other as they tried to share the bathroom and get dressed at the same time.

Charles made a pot of tea as she boxed up the cakes.

"Warm the knife," he said as she set about slicing the brownies.

She held it beneath the warm tap. "Fairy cakes look okay though, right?" She bit her lip and he chuckled.

"You're really worried about this."

"Not worried, per say. Just, you know, want it to be okay."

"Do you think me very ridiculous, Elsie?"

She paused, turning to look at him, reaching for a towel. "Ridiculous? Why would I?"

"All this bowls stuff. All this fuss over fundraising."

"Of course it isn't ridiculous. I think it's wonderful you've thrown yourself into it." She squeezed his arm briefly before slicing the brownie clean in half.

"I know why they're doing it," he said softly, sipping his tea. "I'm not stupid."

"Nobody thinks you are dear."

He watched her concentrated face as she wiped the knife and cut the blocks into small squares.

"But it is nice, to feel useful again."

She looked up to his face now, standing so close to her she could smell his aftershave. "You're useful to me."

He smiled, "Somebody has to clean up the cat pee."

"Well, exactly. Seriously though, you miss the shop?"

"Sometimes." He shrugged. "But I like this, being here, time to myself. I think it was time I slowed down. And you don't get much slower than bowls I suppose."

He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, "Right, best feed the rascals before we go. That looks good. Smells good too."

"Thank you. I am rather pleased with it."

He was bending to spoon food into the cat bowls when he heard Elsie gasp behind him. Turning his head he saw the plastic tub full of brownies resting on the kitchen floor, lid side down.

She looked up slowly at him, eyes wide, her hands still held aloft in mid-air where the tub had slipped from them.

"Oh… shit…!" She slowly exhaled.

He seemed frozen to the floor as she bent and lifted the tub, turning it over, the brownies falling haphazardly inside. Placing it on the side again she tentatively lifted the lid and inspected the contents.

"Oh." She groaned looking at the crumbled tops. "Oh, no…" Huffing she decisively pressed the lid back on to the tub. "Fuck it! They're going as they are."

And Charles sat back on the floor laughing.

At the event Charles was in demand, moving around like a pro, chatting, taking photographs, answering questions. Elsie found herself side-lined, losing sight of him and, having very little knowledge of cricket, bowls or the club, she found herself at the bar sipping a spritzer.

A younger woman sat beside her, a glass of something clear in her hand – perhaps lemonade, perhaps water.

"Not drinking?" Elsie asked, turning her head slightly to watch her.

"Just needed to freshen up. I think I ate too much cake."

"There is a lot of good stuff here. Not mine you understand." She chuckled. "Though it did all sell. Thank goodness."

"You're with him aren't you, Mr. Carson, I mean? You're the woman he spoke of in his speech."

Elsie rolled her eyes, feeling her face flush, "Goodness wasn't that embarrassing – sending you all to buy my wares. But yes, I am indeed," she held her hand across. "Elsie Hughes, soon to be Carson. Hopefully."

The girl shook her hand, "Ruth."

"Very nice to meet you."

"I just got recently got engaged myself, actually."

"Oh, how wonderful. When are you planning to marry?"

Ruth shrugged, "I'm not sure. Next year perhaps, in the midst of enjoying telling our friends and families at the moment."

Elsie smiled indulgently, remembering that wondrous feeling. "So, what are you doing here, Ruth? No offence but I often think…" She leant a little closer whispering, "Don't tell them, but I see cricket as a bit of an older person's thing. And bowls too."

The girl giggled, "Our secret. I work for the local press; I'm covering the story, nice little local interest thing. Revitalising the old bowling green, expanding the cricket club."

"I can see that." Elsie sipped her drink. "You're not going to print a picture of me are you? Or my terrible cakes?"

The girl smiled, "Not if you don't want me to." She twirled her glass in her palm, "I don't mind covering this; in fact, between you and I, well, I asked to."

"Oh. Why?" As much as she was glad for Charles to have something to really get into and excel at she wasn't exactly sure this was a really exciting news story – but then who knew with local papers.

"I'm not a bowls enthusiast." The girl smiled, pushing her glasses up her nose. "It's my family really, I've been doing some research for a while now, over two years, putting together my family tree and I found that my great, great grandfather was chairman here too. At the cricket club I mean."

"Oh, but that's wonderful," Elsie smiled, glad to talk history. "Do you have pictures of him?"

"Well I'm trying to get into the club's archives, that's really the reason I'm here, to dig. Difficult to get someone's time though, not that I blame them, everyone's so busy."

Elsie took a long drink of her spritzer and touched the girl's arm. "Come on."

They moved back into the main hall and Elsie scanned the room for tall men, for a familiar stature and thick sweep of greying hair.

When she spotted Charles she waved and he smiled and waved back. The girl looked on amused as Elsie rolled her eyes and sighed, this time her hand opening out towards him, two fingers beckoning him over. Within two seconds he'd crossed the busy room and was with her, one hand snaking across her shoulders turning her body into his as he kissed her forehead, "Sweetheart. What can I do for you?"

"Hi," she tapped his chest, turning his attention to the young woman. "Charles, this is Ruth."

"Glad to meet you." He held his hand out and Ruth gratefully shook it. She was a tall girl but even she looked up to his face, was caught off guard by the deep swell of his voice and kind eyes. She didn't think him attractive, not conventionally, but there was something about him, something she'd heard termed 'suave' and he had it in abundance it seemed, well he certainly did when he was with this woman whom he so obviously adored.

"Her great, great-grandfather was once chairman here and she's interested in looking through the archive photos, but finding it difficult to get anyone to show her around."

"Okay."

He felt Elsie's small hand press into his, insistent.

"Okay, alright of course, well, I can. I mean I could show you around, try to help. If you want to meet here one day."

Elsie smiled, sliding her arm around his back.

"That would be so wonderful, thank you. You're sure you can spare the time?" Ruth asked.

"Yes of course." He felt Elsie's hand squeeze him thankfully; she had him wrapped around her little finger, never mind the coming baby. "Is there a particular day you'd prefer?"

"Erm, maybe Thursday, should I give you my number?"

He felt somebody touch his shoulder as he was about to answer, "Charles, the mayor's ready to have some photos taken."

"Oh right, erm…" He glanced to the young woman.

"It's alright, you go. I'll get her number." Elsie said.

"I want you in the photos," he said gently, turning to face her and Ruth watched as she smiled at him, at how her hand smoothed over his back soothingly, his expression as he looked at her with absolute adoration.

"I'll be there, just a minute, you go do the hand shaking bit." She kissed his cheek and sent him on his way. "Now, let me get my phone and you can just put it in there, I'll remind him to contact you on Monday." She handed her phone across, "Just type it in there for me."

"Thank you so much for that, so grateful." She said hastily typing in her number and checking it twice.

"It's really no bother, anything in the name of history." Elsie took her phone back. "Okay, there we go. I best go smile for the camera, remember, no horrid pictures of me in the article."

Ruth grinned nodding, "I'll remember."

"Lovely to meet you, Ruth, and good luck with the research."

"Thank you Mrs. Carson."

Elsie smiled to herself; today she actually did feel like Mrs. Carson and it was both exhilarating and, actually, completely normal.

Charles had napped since they got home, but she didn't mind. She left him on the sofa whilst she sat in the kitchen and worked. If she got it out of the way at least she'd have Sunday free.

It was the kittens that woke him, having been curled up beside him for the past two hours; they'd started to fight on his stomach once sleep had worn off. He woke to their baby growls and watched, amused, as they'd pounced back and forth at each other, their string-like tails puffed up as they tried – and failed – to intimidate the other.

"Now, come on you two." He finally said, reaching down to part them.

They dived onto the floor, tripping over each other as they rolled about on the rug in front of the fire. He turned onto his side, stretching his legs as he watched them in the dim light.

"What's going on in here?" Elsie whispered from the doorway.

"Kitty wars. At what age do they reach the stage where they just sleep all day and cause me no issues?"

"Oh, I think you're rather enjoying the issues."

He glanced up at her, "Come here for a bit."

"A bit?" But she was already moving towards him. "What ever for Mr Carson?"

"A cuddle." He shifted over; moving the pillows so there was room enough for her.

For a moment she looked down at him, soft and warm from sleep, his cheeks flushed, hair mussed.

"What?" He said gently, smiling up at her. "I look a state?"

"You look nice."

"You look comfortable. You're in your dressing gown."

"It's after nine. I figured we weren't going anywhere tonight so I might as well be comfortable."

"You er… naked under there?"

She smiled enigmatically, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He licked his lips, "Actually, yes." He opened his arms, "Come here."

Again she stepped forward, then paused, an idea taking hold. Moving quickly to the cabinet she found her iPad and scanned through the tracks – some album Anna had sent her ages ago, right before they went to Dubai. She remembered listening to the tracks whilst Charles was asleep on the coach.

"You putting some music on?"

"A-ha."

"Then you'll come for a cuddle?"

"Absolutely."

She did as promised and curled up beside him, her body half on top of his. Charles pulled the blanket over them and kissed her forehead.

"You're nice and warm." She mumbled against his chest.

"Mmm," he kissed her again, happy when she shifted her face up and her mouth met his, slowly, sensually. He was more than content to let that go on – endless kissing. His arms around her, her body pressed into his. The warmth and glow of the fire. The gentle beat of the music. A perfect Saturday night after a pretty good day.

She moaned something in the back of her throat and he felt his heart quicken. Nerves? Excitement? He wasn't sure which.

Pushing on her shoulder he eased back from the kiss, feeling her leg curl around one of his, her heel dig into his shin.

"Hello," she whispered, her eyes clouded with desire.

"Hi."

She nudged his nose with hers, kissing him again.

"I'm not sure," he murmured, embarrassed to speak the words.

"What aren't you sure of, hmm?" Her fingers curled under his chin, nails tickling along his jawline. "Tell me what I can do."

He sucked in a tight breath, his blood pumping in his ears.

"Tell me what you want me to do." She kissed the underside of his jaw and his eyes closed of their own volition.

"You already do everything right."

"Do I?" She smiled; he thought how teasing she sounded. "So, I'm still sexy enough for you?"

His eyes shot open again, "Why would that have changed?"

"You know, we've been together over a year and a half now." She gave a slight shrug, "Things change. Relationships change."

"Believe me, Els, there is nothing I don't find sexy about you."

She allowed herself to momentarily enjoy the jolt of pride.

"Mmm," she lifted her leg, her thigh felt hot against his groin. "So, what can I do?"

He felt his cheeks redden as he shook his head, "What do you mean?"

"You know. People do things. Dress up." There was a playful tone to her voice now and she rolled over, crossing her arms on his chest so she could lean on them and look down at him.

"Are you suggesting we dress up?" His eyebrows rose as he said the words, his voice incredulous.

"No, you don't have to dress up." She giggled. "But I could. I mean, I would, if that's what you wanted."

"As what?" He was chuckling now, joining in with her mirth. "The nurse?"

She pulled a face, "I'd forgotten about that request. Too cliché. Besides I can't even swallow pills myself let alone administer care."

He let his hand trail heavily down her back, resting on her bottom. "I don't think that's the kind of care you administer."

She bit her lip, her mouth stretching into a smile. "Naughty school girl is off the table, okay, before you even think it. Too close to home. And I'd rather not become Suzy Quatro neither, despite your teenage crush, too much leather."

"I lusted after that woman." He said.

"Mmm, well, she can go on the list should things not work…" She looked sharply at him as she said it, regretful of the words. But when their eyes met they both laughed. "Okay, what else? What do men lust after? Breasts? Short skirts? Long hair?"

He shrugged.

"Don't shrug, you're a man. You should know."

"I have a fond memory of seeing you against my bedroom wall in nothing but stockings, heels and a bra."

"Ah, I know that memory. So, you want me to do that?"

He smiled at her earnest expression, "You don't have to do anything Els." He brushed her fringe back from her face, "There's nothing more beautiful to me."

"Beauty and sexiness are two different things."

"You have both." He said warmly.

She kissed his mouth again before smiling and sliding off the sofa, getting to her feet.

"Okay, now, I'm going to try this – for gods sake, don't bloody laugh!" She warned, pointing at him.

"Try what?" He folded his arms behind his head, shifting a little on the sofa to watch her better. "You're going to dance?" He was grinning.

"You have a look that says you can't believe your luck!"

He just grinned even more.

"Do I need to fetch some heels?"

He shook his head, twisting his tongue over in his mouth as she pulled the clip from her hair and let it tumble to her shoulders. Her hips moved so easily, left, right, left, right. Then as she closed her eyes, settled into the rhythm of the music her body, her movements, became fluid.

She giggled. Once. Twice. Awkward at first and then she looked at him and he was smiling – a mixture of deep affection and lust, right there in his eyes, shining in his eyes. She watched as his chest rose and fell. How his gaze travelled down her body as she moved, how it lingered where her hands slid against the robe she wore.

She twisted round; let the material swing around her. Just gently. Just enough. A flash of her legs. 'I can't help it, love. The way we make love.'

She let her fingers travel up over her breasts, heard his sharp intake of breath and she pushed the material aside; a glimpse of creamy breasts swathed in caramel coloured lace.

She watched through hooded eyes as he shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Alright, so she had him now. He was transfixed as her fingers moved tantalisingly close to the tie on her robe, sliding the length of it across her palm. Finally pulling the knot apart and letting the material slide against her, flashes of skin, the curve of her belly, the cut of her panties. She let her head fall back, the robe slipping agonisingly slowly from her shoulders and to the floor.

He held his hand up, forward, to her, beckoning.

"Come here," he said huskily.

A coy smile upon her face she lowered herself back to the sofa, on top of him, his hands everywhere at once. Their kiss was deep and passionate, tongues meeting, tasting, licking. If he could consume her he would have.

Tenderly she let her hand wander down to the fastening of his trousers, he hadn't let her touch him there for weeks but he didn't seem to want her to stop. He pushed his pelvis up to his and she smiled so wonderfully against his mouth at the feel of his erection. Oh god, thank you.

His fingers made short work of the fastening on her bra and it was sliding down her arms as she worked on his shirt buttons. He seemed to want to be on top and she moved with him, clumsily, both chuckling at the lack of space to manoeuvre. But then he was above her, between her thighs, and all seemed right with the world.

When their bodies slowly – oh so slowly – joined, both groaned in unison, her body arching up to his, welcoming pleasure; his tingling with delight, with thanks. It had been so long. He'd missed her so much. She gasped his name, her hand in his hair. And he moved, long, slow strokes – every second committed to memory.

And that little word – yes – breathed out into the air, into his ear, against his shoulder. Legs lifting, thighs tighter around his hips, driving him deeper inside.

"Yes, Charles." She kissed his cheek, suckled on his ear lobe, "love me."

And then… oh god, and then… he paused; her breathing hitched as she felt it and the moment was gone. Lost. And disappointment swelled as quickly as passion had.

"Oh fuck." He breathed, eyes tight. He slipped out of her, shame creeping into his chest, burrowing inside.

Her fingers flexed on his shoulders as she pushed down her desire. "Charles," she whispered tenderly.

"Don't say anything. I'm so embarrassed." He shook his head by the side of her face; his hands still braced on the pillow either side of her head. What a fool he felt. How useless.

"Hey, don't be embarrassed," she reached to cup his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "Never. Not with me."

"What a let down."

She allowed a small smile, "Well, yes. But it's a start, isn't it." She bit her lip nervously – was he ready to be light hearted about this? "At least we know it still works." She tilted her head to the side to look at him, a glint in her eyes.

"Yeah." He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head again. "I guess there is that."

"It was nice," she said gently, her thumbs stroking his cheeks.

"While it lasted you mean. Give me another four months I may be able to manage an entire fifteen minutes."

She laughed, "Oh goodness." She kissed him lightly, rubbing his nose with hers, "I love you. You know that, right?"

"I do. You know it's not you."

She squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. She didn't want to apportion blame here. She knew that whatever was causing this was down to Charles' own fears following that accident – realisations over mortality? The frailty of his body after so many years of being able to do whatever, whenever, he wanted? She was no therapist and he didn't need her to be. Just to be there. Supportive. Carrying him through the difficult times.

He moved, and she twisted onto her side, squished up against the back of the sofa as he lay beside her.

"You want a drink?" He asked.

"Not yet, let's just cuddle for a while." She nestled against him, kissed his chest. "Hold me."

He pulled the blanket up over them and held her tight against him.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

"Don't ever apologise to me over this." She said, bringing her face up to his. "If you break one of my good dishes or forget my birthday or some other disaster then yes, apologise, but not this."

He smiled, "So breaking your good dishes is considered a disaster?"

"That and folding the corners on the bed sheet in the wrong way."

"You're wonderful you know."

"And so are you. All you did today, you made that happen in a week and raised what – almost two thousand pounds through cakes, games and auctions."

"Years of being a spectator have taught me well. That's all."

"It's not all. It's a skill. There's a reason the club want you to be the one who runs this thing – because you'll do it well."

He listened to her, enjoyed the feel of her in his arms, her face so close to his. Her support was everything and she'd been there today, by his side, even though it wasn't really her thing. Just as she had been since January, since the heart attack and that awful accident.

"I'm scared." He admitted.

"What of?" He felt her hands tighten on his back. "Not running this thing?"

He gave a slight shake of his head, "No. The baby. All this talk of being a grandpa, what if I don't know what to do? Never been near kids really. Only Richard's."

"Oh honey. Everybody feels like that. Nobody knows what to do. You just do your best. Don't you think Anna and John feel the same?"

"Well, yes but…"

"But what?"

"But they're the parents, they'll always be the parents."

Her brow furrowed, "And you won't always be the grandpa?"

"There's…him…isn't there. There's…Joe."