Rapidly approaching the conclusion of this story and I'm already feeling nostalgic!
TW in this chapter for violence and threat
Thanks to theoofoof for helping out with this fanfic website nonsense and writingqueen1979 for general prodding until I got this done...oh yeah, and for the Cromwell heads up ;-) xx
Chapter 48
June 2016
Friday
Charles Carson had always thought himself a patient man. After all he'd had decades of dealing with the great British public in his shop – a feat in itself considering the purple rinse brigade and their ever-increasing list of needs. But these days his patience was in short order.
True, things had come on quite a way since January. His plans for the bowling club were well under way and it felt good to be running something again, to be at the hub of it. Added to that he'd re-booted his book group, or rather two of them, Tuesdays and Thursdays, and it felt especially nice to return to the shop and indulge his passion for discussion and reading.
But that wasn't the real cause of his joy. No. That rested solely on a little bundle that squirmed and cried and wriggled in his arms. The weight that would happily sleep in the crook of his arm for many hours regardless of his discomfort. The tiny face that gazed up at his, squinting, blinking, smiling – well, he told himself it was a smile anyhow.
And so came the reason for his lack of patience. Waiting for the electrician to come and check the wiring at the club, he had to get that done before the decorators could get in. Yet the electrician had been running late, and so he'd been running late and he knew very well that Elsie was heading straight into town after work and going to visit their granddaughter before they all had dinner together. And he should've been there too.
So, his patience was in short supply when they electrician finally turned up and his ire ready for being let loose.
Yet just as he was about to snap at the spotty youth climbing the steps to the old clubhouse his phone bleeped and he looked at the screen to see a picture of Elsie holding Charlotte from the previous weekend. The caption, "Hurry home granddad," caused his ire to dissipate and instead he was smiling by the time the lad reached him.
"Where do you want me?" He'd asked.
Charles shook his head, like it or not Charlotte was never getting involved with any young man – ever! They were all useless and uncouth, "Follow me." He tutted, heading inside.
June meant a reduction in workload for Elsie, and lighter evenings, and so her mood (already brighter than ever thanks to the arrival of one baby girl) was now flying. She parked at the far side of town in order to enjoy the walk and the fine afternoon. She purchased strawberries on the way and the last of the fresh flowers, armfuls of them, reduced because of the time of day. They'd fill the shop with fragrance and colour.
Walking to Carson's Books now was rather odd. In such a relatively short space of time she'd shopped there, dated the owner, lived there, got engaged to the owner and was now visiting her daughter and granddaughter whom lived there. And it was not even quite two years. How strange life was, how odd, how surprising.
She waved to John through the window as she approached the entrance, one hand lifting from clutching the flowers. His face, though, was decidedly frosty and she wondered just which customer had upset him. She thought of evenings spent listening to Charles complaining over one thing or another as they'd had dinner, and was chuckling over their apparent likeness as she pushed open the door.
"Don't tell me, someone spilled coffee on a book again." She said, stopping before the counter. "Don't look at me like that, I know it's a lot of flowers but spread them around in here and it will look stunning." John stared at her, or rather over her head. "What is it?" She asked, instant concern over Charlotte.
"Hello Elly."
Joe.
She snatched her eyes shut, took a second to compose before turning.
He was at the other side of the shop, Charlotte in his arms, seemingly wandering around as he rocked her.
"Hello." She said, feeling clumsy and awkward as she stood there with flowers and her handbag slipping down her arm.
"Just popped in this afternoon, thought I'd get some practise in before my own arrives."
She nodded, "I see."
"Shall I take these from you?" John interjected and came around the counter to relieve her of the bunches. "I'll put them in the kitchen until Anna comes down."
"Where is she?"
Joe answered. "I told her to go take a bath, relax for a bit, you know. She looked tired."
Elsie slid her handbag off her arm, moving to the back of the counter and stowing it on one of the shelves there. "Well, of course she is." She replied, irritated by his presence.
"You look well though, very well."
She bristled at his comment, but maintained her game face.
"Thank you. And how's Sarah?"
"Due any day now and waddling like a duck," he laughed. "Ready for it to be over. You know how it was at the end."
Indeed she did. All too well.
The pink bundle in his arms moved, twitched, and he glanced down as she murmured. "Waking up," he said. And then the baby let out an almighty, guttural cry, and Elsie quickly moved around the counter to them.
Charles took a taxi into town, had it drop him as close to the shop as possible, and practically jogged the distance to it, down familiar streets and oft-visited sites, stores, coffee shops. He felt rather nostalgic as he passed the pub that had been his local for so many years. It was hardly like he couldn't still visit it of an evening, it would just mean a drive and effort. And besides, he went there to escape his own isolation and loneliness. There was nothing to escape now.
As he neared his shop he felt his heart quicken – uncertain whether it was the affection he held for it or the thought that soon he'd get to see his granddaughter. His own little piece of heaven.
When he stopped, hand out, reaching for the handle, his heart stopped too, or so it seemed.
Elsie, leaning over Charlotte, her hand reaching down to tickle her chin as she smiled at her. And… and Joe, holding the baby. Gazing down too. Smiling too. Together, cooing over their grandchild.
He felt something churn his gut, and that faintly acidic taste fill his mouth. Bile. Disgust. For a second he saw them differently, recalled her memories, the things that woke her at night – being held down, being powerless, being hurt.
When she looked up she saw him, and for the briefest of seconds he saw something flash in her eyes. Then she raised her hand, smiled, beckoned him even as she walked towards the door to let him in.
He felt a lump in his throat; kept his eyes from the man who he'd long entertained thoughts of slamming repeatedly into a concrete block.
"Hi honey," she said gently, and he felt her hand grip his arm as she leant in to kiss his cheek. "Weren't delayed too long then?"
"Seems not."
John, thankfully, returned just at that precise moment, seeing Charles he paused by the door, "Oh shit…"
To Elsie's surprise Joe laughed, "Don't worry yourself." He chuckled. "I'd best be going though, best not out stay my welcome. Tell Anna I'll call. Arrange something."
He moved towards Elsie again and Charles instinctively raised his hand, resting it on her shoulder.
"Here you go." He said, handing the baby to her. "Grandma hey." He looked at her face as he said it. "Suits you. You look happy."
Elsie felt Charles' fingers curl into her shoulder.
She took the baby from Joe, turned immediately and placed Charlotte in Charles' arms.
Thank god for John, shepherding Joe out, making small talk, easing the situation somewhat.
Charles crossed to the other side of the shop, putting some distance between them, gently rocking Charlotte how he knew she liked.
"What the hell?!" He whispered.
"I didn't know he'd be here. He wasn't meant to be here."
"That's hardly…" He stopped, when his brother returned, watched as Elsie turned slightly away from him, chewing on her thumbnail.
"Right, yeah so that was weird." John said. "And just to stress that Anna and I didn't know he would turn up like that, otherwise of course we would never have arranged dinner. She just felt uncomfortable, you know, telling him to bugger off." He sighed, digging his hands into his pockets. "We didn't realise he'd be here so long, all afternoon."
"Yeah. Well." Charles looked down at Charlotte, watched as she scrunched her hand around his little finger, squeezing it in her half-sleep. "Your daughter needs changing." He said softly.
"Okay, I'll take her then." Usually Charles would have done it, he seemed to like doing it, doing every task as it turned out. Feeding, changing, bathing, reading to her – but then, that one was a given. But this time he handed her across, stood helplessly behind the counter surveying the shop.
Elsie turned the key in the lock and the sign to 'closed.'
"It's it quite five yet," Charles stated.
"A few minutes to, it hardly matters." She moved back to the counter, her hands laced together in front of her and he thought how nervous she seemed. "Don't be grumpy with me. I didn't know he'd be here." She said.
"You didn't have to play happy bloody families."
"What?"
"Leaning over Charlotte with him like that, acting like nothing's wrong, nothing happened. Years of fucking ab –,"
She held her hand up, "Don't! Don't you dare say that. She was crying, I was comforting her. That's all. Whatever you think you saw. Don't roll your eyes Charles, I'm not a liar."
"I never said you were. I just don't understand how you could bear to be in the same room as that man."
"I can't! He makes my skin crawl. I'm shaking here Charles, do you realise that? But I wasn't about to show him that was I? And I'm angry with myself for caring, for letting him still affect me. The last thing I need is you on the moral high ground judging me."
"Then why didn't you walk out? Or go upstairs or…"
"What's going on?" Anna said, coming into the shop. "You're not arguing over Dad?"
Elsie folded her arms around her stomach, how quickly a potentially lovely evening had soured.
"Don't do that, don't let him…"
"Why didn't you warn me?" Elsie suddenly shouted, her heart pounding in her chest. "Why didn't you call or send him the fuck away? For god's sake Anna. Why did you even have him here? In Charles' shop?"
"Mum!"
"Elsie calm down. It's hardly Anna's fault." Charles said, watching her ire rise with every second.
"No I will not. That man has no right to be anywhere near her."
"Mum, we discussed this. He's changed, he's gonna be a dad again."
"He is a dad and it didn't change him! Believe me." She turned away from them, pacing to the back of the room, hugging her arms around herself, suddenly feeling decidedly alone.
"Mum, I'm sorry." Anna said gently. "I won't let it happen again. I promise. I'll make sure… I'm just tired, you know, I didn't think you'd cross over." She looked towards Charles when Elsie didn't respond and he shook his hand at her, waving her upstairs.
"Els…" He said, moving around the counter and towards her.
"I want to go home." She turned to face him. "I'm going home."
"Let's not. We're here to spend time with them, with Charlotte."
She shook her head at him, pursing her lips. "That you would think I'd even contemplate civility with him…"
"But you were." He said, standing only a metre from her between the bookcases. "You did. Act civil. You did it today in here; you did it after he'd left you. Didn't you?"
She felt hot tears sting her eyes and she blinked furiously, "So what? I'm to blame?" She felt shame fill her, that sickening memory of sleeping with him after he'd left her, of letting him… She swallowed, her throat tight. "I'm to blame because I didn't fight back?"
"I didn't say that."
"You implied it."
"I never would. You're not to blame. But you shouldn't have to feel like you have to be polite to the man."
"Polite!" She shouted, throwing her arms up. "Then why don't you tell me how I should be, Charles? Do you want me to collapse in a heap every time I see him or start ranting and raving at him over what he did?"
"I'd rather we just didn't see him." He said gently. "No bumping into him in the supermarket or –,"
"You say it like I did it on purpose! Well, fuck you Charles!" She marched past him, her elbow bumping his arm as she passed.
"Don't storm off, you're not listening to me."
"No, you're not listening to me!" She spun to face him, "Don't presume you know how I feel about this, and don't you dare try to tell me how to act!"
"Stop shouting, Elsie…"
"I'll shout if I want to bloody shout!"
"Elsie, Charlotte's upstairs."
She stopped, covered her face with her hands. The thought of her grandchild seemed to send her over the edge into floods of tears.
"He'll never leave me, will he? I'll never be rid of it?"
"Oh, my darling…" He pressed his hands on her upper arms.
"I don't want Charlotte to ever know, I don't want her to ever have to know things like that exist let alone that they happened to me." She looked up at him, eyes wide and bright with unshed tears. "It colours everything."
"Not everything." He brushed her hair back from her face, offering her a steady smile.
"We haven't rowed in months and now over him? Of all things." She shrugged her shoulders, feeling defeated. "I thought I was getting through it, you know."
"You are. No nightmares in months and months."
"Then why when he's around or even mentioned, do I still feel so damned well ashamed of myself?"
They stayed for dinner; John cooked, Charles watched him and Anna let Elsie bathe Charlotte.
She was holding the baby in both hands, watching as she wriggled and writhed against her, her feet splashing in the water. Rubbing her thumbs over the silky, delicate skin and smiling down at Charlotte's face.
"You are beautiful baby girl," she whispered. "And Granny loves you so very much, don't ever forget that."
She heard a door open and Anna come in, standing beside her over the baby bath.
"I remember washing you like this," Elsie finally said. "You loved the bath, remember as a toddler you had all those bloody ducks."
"I do. They stacked together, all in primary colours."
"And you'd happily sit in the tub all night playing with them until your skin was wrinkled. I had to force you to get out."
Anna laughed. "You never were much of a rule setter though mum."
"And look what I've ended up with." She teased, glancing at her daughter.
"I am sorry, I just didn't think."
She watched Elsie's shoulders sag, "Honestly, I'm surprised myself. I didn't think I'd react like that. I was more concerned for Charles…" she looked back to Charlotte. "He adores her so, and he worries, you know. We're not married yet, he has no legal rights, I think it worries him."
"I'd never stop him seeing her, even if you and he…"
"Hold your tongue!" Elsie smiled, "He's not getting rid of me." She lifted Charlotte out of the water. "No, he's not, my little blossom. Oh, you're so lovely though," she kissed the baby's cheek and neck, carrying her over to the changing table and laying her on a towel. "Do you want granddad to get you ready for bed, hmm?"
Anna smiled at the sight, brushing her hand over her mum's shoulder as she passed her, "I'll send him in."
Elsie was still drying Charlotte and applying cream when Charles came in carrying her sleep suit.
"I picked the ladybird one," he said, as if Charlotte would understand. "Because you look cute as a button in that."
Elsie held the baby up, "Oh granddad, she looks cute as a button in whatever she wears. Don't you sweetie?"
"Of course she does," he kissed the baby's head and Elsie let him hold her, resting her easily on one arm. "And after we'll go find that Peter Rabbit story you like so much and have a read before we sleep."
"She needs her bottle." Elsie was popping open the ladybird outfit, gathering up the legs to slip onto Charlotte's feet.
"Well, we can do both can't we darling, because we're clever. We can have milk in one arm and the book in the other and Granny can watch."
She moved over to them, one arm sliding around Charles' back as they looked down at the baby resting in his arms. "No cuddle for grandma, though?"
"Oh, always a cuddle for grandma." He kissed her forehead. "Because she's precious to me too."
"Such a sweet talker. Come on then, let's get you dressed shall we?"
He stood by the door watching as she dressed Charlotte, thinking it such a quaint scene, so very normal. And wasn't this what he'd always wanted, to just be with her? All those years when she'd breeze into his shop and he'd snatch a two-minute conversation and be grateful for it and spend the evening replaying her words, the tilt of her head, the freckles on her neck, the brightness in her voice and eyes.
So, what was he arguing with her for? What was he sulking for, really? For something he thought he'd seen but was absolute rubbish? For a man who held no sway what-so-ever over her heart, he knew that, logically. Of course he did. It was just muddled. The emotions Charlotte's birth had stirred up, his fear of suddenly losing his link with the baby, his irrational fears of losing Elsie. A year was a long time, after all, and a marriage would just make things seem real. Solid.
Stepping tentatively forward he rested his hand on her shoulder and she turned her neck, looking up at him.
"I'm sorry," he said. "In your words, I behaved like a dick."
She smiled, reaching up to pat his hand. "You did. But don't use such language in front of my princess."
"I apologise for that too."
He was curling his arms around her waist as she fastened the poppers on the sleep suit, and he couldn't help but feel that this was how it was always meant to be – holding her, part of this family.
"There we go, all done." She pressed her finger to Charlotte's nose and watched as the baby yawned. "Time for that bottle I think, and story time and bed time."
Charles kissed her cheek. "All sound as welcome to me as they do to her."
Tuesday
Early evening and Elsie was marking at the kitchen table listening to the radio when Charles suddenly came in and stood stock still in front of her, a box laying in the palm of his hand.
"What's this?"
"An apology." He stated.
"Oh Charles," she put her pen down. "Don't do that."
"What?" He gripped the box in his hand nervously, his knuckles whitening around it.
"Give me gifts to make things alright."
His mouth suddenly felt dry, his tongue thick, "I thought we were alright."
"We are." She pressed her hand against his wrist. "Of course we are. You don't need to give me gifts."
"No. But I want to. I was pushing Charlotte around town this afternoon and, well, she spotted it really."
Despite her annoyance at him wasting money she chuckled, "Oh she did, did she? So, is it milk flavoured and suckable?"
"Steady on there Mrs Hughes?"
She laughed again, turning in her chair to face him, one ankle crossed over the other.
"So…?" He held the box towards her again, wiggling it in his palm. "I bought you this for the opening of the club, to wear with your fancy dress."
She rolled her eyes, "Which I haven't got yet."
"But you will get a fancy dress, and look stunning and put all the other guests to shame, because you always do."
"Flatterer." She reached forward and took the box from him. Breathing deeply she peeled the bow off, took off the paper and snapped open the lid. Inside shone a diamond bracelet – she'd never been one for baubles but my it was impressive.
"I feel like Julia Roberts."
"I don't get it."
"Pretty Woman…" she looked up at his confused face, "Never mind."
"But, you do like it? Don't you?"
"I…" She licked her lips, looking up at his expectant face. "I can't even begin to imagine how much this cost." She said, her voice shaky.
"Don't think about things like that. Do you like it?"
She wondered how many times she'd seen that worried expression on his face, a handful? The time he asked her out, their first date, that first time in her bed. His wide-eyed puppy-dog expression almost heart breaking.
"How could I not? It's beautiful."
"I thought it would go with the earrings and necklace I got you at Christmas. Before all that mess happened. Before I messed it up." He said pointedly.
"Oh Charles, nothing's messed up." She moved closer to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "We're still learning – as odd as that seems at our age. You couldn't help the accident, just don't shut me out when you're feeling low. And I couldn't help Joe being there, I can't change my past – the therapist tells me I need to accept that, but things aren't always straightforward are they? I keep expecting this 'closure' thing to just happen, but of course it doesn't."
"It will…" He said softly, and she wondered if he truly believed that or merely hoped for it to be true.
She pressed her hand on his shoulder, "Don't go buying me any more jewellery – I adore this, it's possibly the most beautiful thing anyone's ever given me. But I'm not sure we can afford it, and I certainly don't need you to apologise for anything with jewels."
He noted the use of 'we', the simple term touched his heart. "Alright." He kissed her forehead. "You will be at this thing won't you? The bowling club?"
"Goodness, of course I will. Darling, I know how important it is to you. It's like your opening night." She grinned.
"Not quite. And you're the most important thing to me, I want to share it with you."
She closed the bracelet box, placing it back on the table and sliding her hands around his waist and hugging him. "I'll be there, as proud as a wife can be." She really must get a dress though and stop just buying baby clothes.
Now he smiled, "And still too long until that wondrous moment." He kissed her, "The vicar will be at this ceremony you know, Isobel sent him an invite."
"Ah, so we can quiz him on next April then, that's what you're thinking?"
"I was actually thinking I could try and scope him out in regards to the christening."
"Oh, I'd forgotten about that? Cup of tea?"
"Sure," he sat in her vacated seat. "And did I spot some Bakewell tarts in the cupboard?"
"Maybe." She flicked the switch on the kettle. "So, Anna and John are all for it?"
"They said so, it usually takes months to get a spot but I'm hoping that as the Reverend and I have known each other for centuries he'll find us a spot this summer."
"That'd be lovely, wouldn't it?" She placed a plate in front of him with a napkin and the cake on and he began to peel off the silver case.
"I know it's summer Charles but I don't want the kittens out all night," she said as she peered out of the back door.
"I'll get them in before it's too dark." He bit into the cake.
"So, did Anna specify a date for the Christening?"
"No. I'm just gonna see what I can find out, July or August would be great, wouldn't it? We could host something here afterward, in the garden. Food and drink. Do some photographs."
She smiled, leaning back on the counter and waiting for the kettle to boil. "That sounds lovely, you've really been thinking this through."
"Well, I wanted it to be nice." He finished off his dessert. "You think I'm interfering if I do?"
"Of course not." The kettle boiled and she poured water into the pot to warm it before refilling it and adding tealeaves. "I'm sure with a new baby and a shop to run they have no issues what-so-ever with you organising this." She carried the teapot to the table, "Just keep it low-key."
"I'm hardly party planner extraordinaire."
"Yet," she kissed his head, returning to the side to carry across cups and milk.
"Come here."
"What does it look like I'm doing?" She put the cups down.
"No. Come here, here." He said, pushing the chair back and patting his knee.
"A slightly pervy Father Christmas." She giggled.
He waggled his eyebrows at her and she slipped down onto his lap, her arms looped around his neck. "I have work to finish you know."
"How many weeks until I have you to myself?"
"Let's see… about six. Just under six."
His arms were tight around her waist, "And then six blissful weeks of just you and I… and lots of nice walks with Charlotte."
"Sounds lovely. And swimming. I want to take her swimming. I got the cutest little suit on Saturday in town, it's like a sailor swimsuit!"
He chuckled, "That girl's going to be spoilt."
"Don't make me stop. I love it. And you can't talk, Granddad, wanting to spend every minute with her."
"I can't help it. She's perfect and she doesn't judge me."
Elsie laughed, "So young. So innocent. You know she loves your voice, every time she hears you her eyes light up."
"I'm not sure she even recognises my voice at this extremely young age, Els."
"Nonsense, of course she does. You're the voice that reads so very well to her, with the accents and what-not. I'm rubbish at accents."
"You're not half bad at doing a Scottish one."
She squeezed his shoulder, "Aye, an I can take piss outta Yorkshire un too."
He laughed, "That was really poor."
"It was, wasn't it?" She kissed his mouth quickly before jumping up from his lap. "Now bugger off and go drink your tea in the lounge, let me finish up here."
"Yes. Oh Scottish dragon." He bowed dramatically.
"Ah, you cheeky bastard! And after I let you have a Bakewell Tart too!"
Friday
Stepping in front of the full-length mirror Elsie seemed to spend an age staring at herself. She hardly recognised what she saw.
Just where had this woman come from? Where did this aura of confidence and glamour emerge from? There'd been times, during her first marriage, where she'd been afraid to leave the house – that people might know, might stare. Times she'd been afraid of her own reflection, because it meant looking at herself and admitting what was going on.
Now, she looked like some glamorous woman from magazines she used to admire when she was a young wife with little money and nothing to do with her days.
As she stepped back, turning left then right to check the line of the skirt, the light caught the sparkle and it dazzled along with the jewels at her ears, neck and wrist. She looked like somebody she'd admire from afar but never be brave enough to pull the look off herself. Only she was.
The skirt was a little shorter than she usually went for, the dress fitted, it accentuated the curve of her hips and breasts, showed how the increased swimming hadn't made her lose weight but tightened it all up somewhat.
She bit her lip, nerves kicking in. Could she pull this off? Was it too much?
"Els, sweetheart, the taxi's gonna be here in 5 minutes." Charles called up the stairs.
"Okay," too late to back out now. "Just a sec."
She stepped back to the mirror, finishing pinning her hair up, loose tendrils at the side, her fringe swept to one side. For the briefest of seconds she saw her mother – her mother always wore her hair piled high on her head (only fitting for farm work), and by the end of the day there were always loose, flyaway sections blowing in the breeze.
Shaking aside the image, she picked up her clutch from the bed and shoved her lipstick inside, one final spritz of perfume and she made her way through the house, pausing at the top of the stairs to get her footing right in the heels before making her way down.
Hearing their bedroom door close Charles glanced out of the door again looking for the taxi, he was nervous, he hated giving speeches, hated attention. But he needed to do it. Needed to keep pushing the fundraising. And unlike the weekend bake sale the people there tonight were rich, and, hopefully, feeling generous.
Behind him he heard the creak of the floorboards on the upper landing, he still needed to fix that, and turned back towards the stairs, making his way down the short hallway.
"So, we should be there a good twenty minutes before the others…wow!" He stopped, gripping the bottom of the banister rail. "Oh my."
She paused on the top stair, "Too over-the-top? Should I change?"
"Don't you dare! You look stunning, goddess-like stunning."
"Charles…" She admonished, blushing.
"I'm not kidding, I've never seen…" He shook his head. "I'll be the proudest man there."
She took the rest of the stairs down to him, "I should hope so, you're the chairman of this bowling thing. Big deal, apparently, in these circles."
He chuckled at her sarcasm; the bowling club was hardly anything special, yet. "Prestigious, but that's not why I'll be proud." He rested his hands on her hips, feeling the bejewelled lines of her dress under his fingers; the rich swell of her perfume assaulting his senses. "Can I ravish you now?"
"Save it for later, I've just done my makeup." She deadpanned.
"Not even a kiss…"
She twisted her neck, offering him her cheek which he dutifully kissed.
"You're looking very handsome Mr Carson," she said, straightening his collar and necktie. "I shall be proud too. I apologise now if I embarrass you with my dancing."
"I shan't be embarrassed."
Outside there was a flash of headlights and Elsie tapped his shoulders as she took the final step down and passed him, "Taxi." She felt his hand tap her backside as she walked away.
"Did you just pinch my ass Mr Carson?" She asked in a snooty voice.
"I pinched your bottom, if that's the same thing. Couldn't help myself."
"Well do try as the evening draws on, it's a posh event you know." She stumbled slightly on the polished wooden floor as she headed down the hallway. "God knows how I won't trip tonight in these heels. Not used to them."
"Where did you get them from?"
"Anna. I didn't want to look tiny next to you in the photos."
He chuckled, grabbing the door keys. "You fit right under my arm."
"Just hold onto my arm, stop me from tripping in public."
Speeches over and dancing begun, Elsie took a moment to escape to the loo, getting a glass of Champagne on her way back and standing by the open doors that led out to the green.
She glanced around the interior, impressed by what Charles had managed to achieve over the past few months. This run-down, uncared for building was shining now and somehow he'd managed to fund it all through donations – she wondered if perhaps he was missing a calling.
"Elsie," an elderly gentleman said beside her ear and she tilted her head around.
"Reverend Travis, so nice to see you." She squeezed his arm and he leant in to kiss her cheek.
"It's nice to be here, I don't usually get invites to swanky events."
"Ha. Well, I think Charles wanted all the help he could get, including the divine."
The reverend chuckled.
"Oh goodness, I'm sorry, that was a little un-pc of me wasn't it."
"I don't mind. And I'm sure He won't either. Charles spoke to me about the christening."
"Oh yes?"
"I think maybe I could look for early August, find a couple of hours, it may have to be in the afternoon though."
"You don't usually do that, do you? Aren't the services at a set time? Several families at once?"
"They are. But Charles is an old friend, I've known him since he was a boy, hard to believe I know. I've a mind to see him happy."
"Oh well, wait until you see him with her, a different man. Who knew he had such skill in nappy changing?"
They laughed together and Travis stood closer to her in order to speak.
"I was sorry, you know, when the wedding was called off. Regrettable."
Elsie sipped her champagne, letting the liquid rest on her tongue and the bubbles sparkle and burst. "I prefer to think of it as postponed."
"Yes. Next April? He doesn't seem overly enthusiastic about that."
Elsie glanced sharply at him.
"Oh, I mean, the wait. Of course." He chuckled. "I think he'd marry you tomorrow in a bus stop if it could be arranged."
She smiled, "People will marry just about anywhere, won't they, these days?"
"It seems so."
Sighing she finished off her champagne, "I know it's not ideal. But he was so ill after the accident." She shrugged, "I don't want to overwhelm him… he's taken this on, which is wonderful, given him a new lease of life I suppose, a focus. Restored his confidence."
"It has, yes. But that child," he shook his head smiling, "when he came to see me three days after the birth he was full of joy. Palpable joy. It was quite the sight to behold. The joy children bring."
Her eyes found where Charles danced with Isobel and she was smiling as she watched them twirl and laugh together.
"I didn't realise he'd been to see you."
"Yes. Just for a quiet moment in the church, we prayed together, thanked God for baby Charlotte's health. For Anna and the safe delivery."
For some reason she found that knowledge made her throat tighten and her eyes fill with moisture. Blinking rapidly she shook it away. Sometimes she forgot that religion had been part of his life since he was just a boy; she didn't question him over it, and she didn't join him each and every Sunday for the service but on the times she did she rather enjoyed the singing. Her beliefs weren't his and vice versa but the history of Christianity intrigued her. Over the years she'd learnt there were two things where sometimes it was better to keep your opinions to yourself – religion and politics – the latter had been harder to stick by at times!
"Would you like another drink Reverend?"
"You know Elsie, I rather fancy a dance if you don't mind accompanying me?"
She smiled, reaching down to take the older man's hand, "Of course not. I didn't realise vicars could dance."
"You'd be surprised."
Saturday
Sinking into her, he'd reflected numerous times over the past eighteen months, was akin to sinking into heaven. Silken warmth enveloping him. Intoxicating. Enrapturing.
And her hands on his body, her mouth seeking his, knowing that this was out of love as much as desire. That she wanted him. Aphrodisiac piled on aphrodisiac.
He took his time, it was early morning after all, not even seven-thirty on a Saturday and the room still had that peaceful, untouched glow about it. They hadn't gotten home until almost one, drunk and exhausted, but happy – it had gone well and he'd raised a fair amount of funds. They'd slept almost instantly though, her feet aching from dancing in those heels, his throat dry from talking.
Now he was awake. Now she was awake.
Back and forth, his tongue stroking hers, her murmured hums of pleasure encircling him. Her fingers trailing down his back, nails against his skin, a foot pushing up the back of his leg, her heel pressing into him as she gasped.
He commits it all to memory. There are some moments you want to revisit time and time again; he knows this will be one of them.
The sound of his name and a gasped 'Yes,' and the rhythm increases. Tighter now, the languid earlier movements replaced by something surer, seeking that glorious prize. He feels her thighs tighten against him, her body seems everywhere, around him, holding him, rocking him and then…
A sudden cry of pain, agony, and it all stops.
"God what? What Charles?! Is it your heart?" She yells frantically, panicked by his sudden withdrawal from her body, his guttural cry of pain. Her hand is on his chest, she realises, as if seeking out the problem – please God, not that – and he's still between her legs, hovering above her, his eyes closed.
"Charles. Tell me. What?"
The pillow beside her head moves slightly and she watches as William nonchalantly pads his way across it, curls into a ball and settles down.
"That little bastard." Charles seethes. "I've a mind to kill the little bugger."
"What?" she is exasperated, confused, disappointed and frustrated and still so turned on!
"Jumped on my arse, didn't he, jeez," he pushes himself up from her, tentatively reaching around to touch the offended area. "Sank his chuffing nails right in."
"Oh goodness," she tries, unsuccessfully, to cover her smile but it's no use. As soon as he glances at her face she dissolves into fits of hilarity.
"It's not funny, that little sod, it stings like hell."
"Oh honey, come on lie down, let me look."
"I am not going to let you look at my bottom."
"I've looked at it plenty of times, now lie down here." She pats the bed and he slowly lies on his stomach next to her. "Oh dear, yes," her fingers tenderly touch the red area. "He's fetched blood too."
"I know he bloody has."
"I'll go get some cream for it."
"They're out, that's it, they're leaving. Back to the sodding farm with them!"
"Oh no," she bends to kiss his shoulder, smiling, "Not my babies." Her kisses move down his back. "They're so beautiful and innocent, he didn't know. Imagine him seeing something as big as you bobbing about, of course he wants to play."
Charles twists his head over to look at her. "I was enjoying my play until that little fur ball… bloody hell it stings."
"I know," she ruffles his hair, looking down at him. "But I do love them. They can't go. You'll just need to have a chat with him about appropriate behaviour."
They both glance to the kitten, oblivious now as it sleeps on Charles' pillow.
"That's another thing, sleeping on our bed." He shakes his head. "I'll be lucky to get any Elsie love."
"Poor baby," she kisses his cheek. "You're just going to have to accept your place as second in line now."
"Ha! I already bloody have."
Smiling, she kisses him again, finding his mouth with hers, "Such a shame, I was so close, he could have waited a minute or so."
Groaning he buries his face into the quilt, "Don't tell me things like that."
She taps his bottom as she gets up, "I'll get the cream, if it stops stinging maybe we can undertake round two."
"Well, you can go on top! I'm keeping my eye on the little sod!"
Later, when the kittens have been fed and let outside to enjoy the morning sunshine, she sits propped up against the pillows in bed sipping a cup of tea. Charles is dozing, his head against her chest, her fingers running up and down his back, across his shoulders, up his neck.
"You know, I thought of my mother last night."
"Hmm…"
"When I was doing my hair. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and just for a second…" her hand stilled upon his neck, fingertips curling into his hair. "Just for a second I saw her. I never think we look alike, you know."
"Do you have pictures of her?" He mumbled against her skin.
"I'm not sure. Maybe the odd couple somewhere. I'll have to look. Be nice, you know, to pass them on to Anna for Charlotte, nice to have those memories for her."
"Maybe I can make a scrapbook for her," he said, waking a little. "I'd rather like that, pictures of our families, background, history."
She smiled, "Because of course she'll be interested in history."
"Of course. She's already got the brightest, most inquisitive mind."
She shook her head, leaning it back against the wall – at not even three months old and he had her pinned as a genius.
"You know I have this memory of my mother. One of those horrible memories that somehow, even all this age later, still manages to make my gut twist."
He opened his eyes, staring out across their bed, his fingers flexing against her arm.
"We were heading to the park, I think my sister was there too, and I was holding my mum's hand on one side, my sister on the other and… It was the main street, you know, we passed it on the way to the park and there were these lads on bikes. Only young. Teenagers, maybe, but certainly no older than fourteen. A few of them and they looked at us and they started laughing. All of them. Whispering and laughing."
"Why?" Charles asked, his voice quiet.
"Because my mother had a huge black eye. That was seemingly amusing to them."
He moved uncomfortably, those kinds of images never sat well with him – even if he was watching television and he witnessed some form of violence against women he'd feel physically sick.
She moved her hand, finding his with hers and lacing their fingers together.
"I felt ashamed. You know. Ashamed of my mother for making those boys laugh at us."
He said nothing. Just listened.
"Silly, the silly childish thoughts you have. As if my mother was to blame. It's funny isn't it, how often we blame ourselves?"
Now he moved, twisting his head slightly to kiss her chest.
"Sorry," she stroked her hand down his back again. "Miserable thoughts."
"I don't mind," he pushed his body up, moving to rest beside her against the pillows. "I like that you can talk to me about these things."
"That's because I can tell you anything, even me being a stupid, little girl, and you're still here."
"Well, you accept all my faults too." He said lightly and she smiled at the warmth in his eyes.
"As Cromwell would say, 'warts and all.'"
"Nice history line Mrs. Hughes."
"I aim to please." She leant over and put her teacup down. "So, the cats are out now…" She said, wiggling down in the bed. "Want to see if we have better luck with round two…?"
"And there I was thinking she might make me a bacon buttie if I played my cards right."
She tapped her hands lightly on the bed sheet, "Which would you prefer?"
"God help the day I opt for the bacon sandwich." He said as he disappeared beneath the bed sheets with her.
They were sniggering together like school children for quite some time.
Sunday
Humming to herself Elsie set about cleaning the kitchen. They'd only been looking after Charlotte for six hours and already the place looked a state. There were empty bottles and nappy bags and boxes of wipes and tubs of cream stacked up on the kitchen table.
She'd forgotten how much hard work babies could be. And Charles was so pedantic about making sure everything was done correctly. No short cuts. Not with his little girl.
"Now, here we go Granny." He said, coming into the kitchen with the baby in his arms. "All ready for our walk, wrapped up nice and warm."
"And I see madam has seen fit to stop crying just as you're about to take her out." She moved the hood of the sleep suit slightly, glancing down at her sleeping face. "Don't go too far pushing that pram." She said.
"Yes sir."
She looked up at him and smiled, his face inches from hers. "Have fun," she said, kissing him.
"Sure you won't come?"
"No. You two go, enjoy it. I'm going to tidy up and then do a bit of work, how long you think you'll be?"
"Hour or so. Not too long."
"Okay. Then we can have the afternoon with her before we take her home."
Charles ignored Elsie's advice and did indeed push the pram up high, strangely enjoying the sting of exhaustion as he reached the top of the hill and stood gasping for air as he took in the view. He was making his lungs work, making his muscles work, and it felt good.
June, and the joy of summer. An endless sea of blue sky and rolling Yorkshire countryside. The grass freshly cut, the hum of bees and trees, thick with leaves, whispering in the breeze.
For a second he closed his eyes and enjoyed the tranquillity of it. Until he heard the bark of a dog and instinctively bent down beside the pram, his hand resting lightly on Charlotte's blanket-covered belly as he glanced about.
Two boys chasing, and being chased, by a chocolate-coloured Labrador. All three were bounding across the field without a care in the world. Behind them their dad, carrying a kite and raising his hand in a wave to Charles when he spotted him.
He sank down onto the grass, sitting and watching as they set it up the kite – it was a dragon, embroidered in blue and green, silver threads embedded through the body and a long silver tail flapping in the wind. He thought of Elsie and laughed to himself.
"When you're older we'll fly kites up here," he whispered towards the pram. "And bring Granny too." He turned to look at the sleeping bundle. "I'll get you the best and brightest kite."
Once the kitchen resembled hers again Elsie made a pot of tea and settled down with her laptop at the kitchen table. Charles had purchased lamb from the butchers for dinner and she put the oven on to warm, intending to put the meat in and start the roasting whilst he was out.
His adoration for their granddaughter was quite overwhelming to her, of course she felt the same, but she'd never witnessed a man care so much for a child. It was new, not unexpected, and certainly wonderful, but new all the same.
A scream and growl from the other room made her jump to her feet and she dashed through, catching Mary scratching the stair carpet as William prepared to pounce on her from the top step.
Scooping the two of them up she carried them back down the hallway, one dangling from each hand. "Now, Mummy has spoken to you repeatedly about scratching the carpets. And you're already in trouble this weekend," she said pointedly to William. "So probably best if you have an hour outdoors to calm down before Daddy gets home, don't you think?"
She passed the front door and continued to the kitchen, opening the latch with one hand and bending to place them gently on the floor. The pair skipped out, chasing after one another across the patio.
When she got to her feet again and pulled the door closed she knew instantly someone was there with her and she turned sharply. Her heart instantly tightening.
"Joe! What the hell?!" She pressed herself back against the door.
He held his arms up, palms open and facing her. "I did knock."
"This is my home, you can't just wander in."
"As I said, I did knock. But you were rather pre-occupied. Never had you pitted as an animal person."
"You never asked." She stepped forward slightly as he moved back, increasing the distance between them. "What are you doing here? How do you even know where I live?"
He smiled, "I don't live on the moon Elly." He moved to sit at the table, glancing at what she was working on. "Are you going to offer me a cup of tea then?"
"Again, Joe, what are you doing here?"
"I want to talk about Anna. And the baby. And this guy she's had her with."
"A bit late to play the caring father, isn't it?"
"I've told you. Turned a leaf. David's made me reflect."
"Hmm," she wasn't convinced but she flicked the switch on the kettle anyhow. Charles had only just left, she reckoned it would be an hour before he got back, she certainly didn't want him finding Joe in their kitchen and yet she didn't relish the thought of being alone with the man.
"You have fifteen minutes." She said, then added, "I'd forgotten, about the baby." She turned to face him, "Congratulations. How's it feel to be a dad again?"
He shrugged, "Odd, I guess. Thought I was past it."
"Clearly not," she rolled her eyes, taking out a mug from the cupboard.
Coming back down the hill Charles paused by a bench and sank down onto it, his knees throbbing with the effort.
"Just need a minute blossom," he said, and when he peeked inside the pram he found a pair of large blue eyes staring back at him. "Well hello, awake are we?"
He pushed the blanket down and slid his hand beneath her back, "Want to come sit with granddad for a moment, have a look around?"
She gurgled and murmured as he lifted her, but once settled back against his arm she quieted and stared up at his face.
"This is Yorkshire, where you live." He lifted her, as if showing her the view. "Harrogate, more to the point, and it's a wonderful, beautiful place. And, you see down there." He moved on the bench, turning so she was facing the direction they would soon be walking. "Down there we can see Granny and Granddad's house, isn't it lovely? And I promise you by the time you're running about I'll have that garden done up. Got you a spot all picked out where you can have your slide and a sandpit. Right by the oak tree, we'll put a swing on it and I think I can get a tree house in there too, I'll get someone to build you a proper one of course, no rubbish. Want you safe up there."
He sat back, nestling her against his chest. "It's a very happy home darling, and one day it'll be yours. All of it. And you can live happily there too." He kissed her forehead. "I'm determined."
"You can't just come here. Can't just turn up. If you need to speak with me about Anna then call, meet me somewhere else." She regretted the last line as soon as it left her mouth.
He smiled again, "You mean without your husband-to-be knowing? Or is that all off now?"
"No. It isn't. And you have no right to ask. So, stick to the subject, Anna and Charlotte."
"Yeah, alright." He took his phone from his pocket, resting it on the table beside her laptop, twisting it over between his fingers. "This guy, John, you think she'll marry him?"
"I wouldn't be surprised, she's had a child with him after all." She'd only filled his mug three-quarters full, the quicker he drank, the quicker he'd leave.
"He's not what I want for her. She's better than that. He's too old and doing what – running a book store that his brother owns?"
"Since when did you become a snob?"
He looked up at her, noted the fact she still stood at the opposite side of the kitchen, leaning back against the side, no cup of tea, arms folded across her stomach.
"There's nothing wrong with his job."
"And that's what you want for her? Stuck with an old husband and a kid and that flat above a shop." He rolled his eyes. "Fuck me, Elly, always thought your standards higher."
She bit her lip, ignoring the bait.
"Didn't you want her to travel, see the world? End up working in some glam museum somewhere?"
"Things don't always turn out as we plan," she said gently, her throat tight.
"I guess not." He stared at her for a long time. "I wanna get rid of him."
"Excuse me?!"
"Scare him off, tell him to sod off back to Ireland."
"You can't do that!"
"Can't I? Watch me."
"Joe don't be ridiculous, she loves the man – it'd break her heart."
"Better now than later."
"You don't have the right to interfere."
He held her gaze; his eyes narrow as he watched her. "Who says I don't?"
"Me. I say. Anna's an adult, she makes her own choices, and I wouldn't let their family get broken up for anyone."
He laughed, a short, sharp sound. "Your family Elly, I mean come on, bit weird – the guy you're sleeping with is –,"
"We are not 'sleeping' together. You know very well…"
"Alright, whatever it is. But come on, what the hell is he? Uncle? Surrogate whatsit? Distant mad relative?" The corners of his mouth turned upwards. "The guy who shares Granny's bed."
She stood straight, unfolding her arms. "You can leave now."
"Nice place here Elly, you've done well, thought you hated farm life, but here you are."
"I hated farm life with you. There's a difference." She wasn't sure where the sudden strength in her words had come from but rather than feel intimidated by him she felt her strength growing with every passing second.
He got up from his chair, digging his hands into his pockets. "You know, it's only ever been you. You do know that, don't you?"
Her brain couldn't follow his train of thought at first; she searched her mind for his meaning, his intentions.
He took a slight step towards her. "All those women over the years. All those conquests. All willing, all consensual." Another step. "Even Sarah. Never quite had the same…allure…doing it to anyone else. But you," he raised a finger, waggled it playfully at her, "you were the one."
She felt like there was glass in her throat. "Why?" She managed to croak out, her knuckles white where she gripped the side of the work surface.
He smiled, "To break Elspeth Hughes…" He shrugged. "Didn't start that way. And then you just made it so damned easy, you know. So easy."
The realisation, after so many years of questioning and wondering, struck slowly, painlessly – she was numb. She didn't even try to speak; there was nothing to say.
"It grew dull. Predictable." He laughed, a hollow sound. "Didn't think you'd bounce back quite so quickly, though."
She closed her eyes. Bit her tongue until her mouth filled with blood.
"Buying houses…" he tutted. "Getting married… I've just come to get what's mine."
She opened her eyes. Met his cold stare.
She knew before he even moved what was going to happen – like she wasn't there, oddly detached as she measured up her options.
In a split second she dashed across the kitchen, heading for the back door. But he was behind her too, grabbing her arms, yanking her back. She kicked against him, pushing forward with all of her strength and they both fell forward, smashing against the door panel.
She slipped, hitting her elbow on the corner of the counter, sinking slightly, and then his hand was in her hair dragging her back and she screamed as loudly as she could – out of pain, out of panic.
His fingers loosened a little as he turned, manoeuvring his body so he was in front of her and she scrambled back, her shoe coming off, the long skirt she wore hampering her movements.
His large, rough hands caught hold of her ankles and she screamed again.
"Middle of nowhere Elly." He said, leaning over her. "That's why you chose this place wasn't it, you and the old man, tranquillity?"
She got a leg free, kicked him hard in the chin, hearing his teeth smash together as she scrambled back again, clawing her way to her feet, stumbling in the one shoe.
"I hate you!" She spat, her words coming out in a strangled cry. Her arm and hip throbbing where she'd hit into the cabinets.
"Crazy fucking bitch!" His voice was raw, cutting, and there was blood dribbling from his mouth.
Somehow she had to get past him or find something to defend herself with, but she was cornered back against the sink. Her hand sought across the draining board for anything of use but then he was there again – large and immovable.
"Don't touch me!" She yelled. "Don't you dare…"
"You're acting irrationally." He said calmly. "It's nothing we haven't done before."
He moved to catch her waist in his hands and her arms flailed about, striking him, pushing and shoving as violently as she could.
"Stop…" he grabbed her upper arms, and she felt the sharp slap of his palm against her face, like ice splintering her skin. The force made her head roll backwards, fatigue leaving her depleted. "Now, stop it. Settle down." He said, his voice oddly flat.
"No," she moaned as he yanked her back again, throwing her down to the floor. "No, no, no. Please…" She was crawling back away from him, screeching as he forced himself on top of her. His head near hers, "Please Joe no," she made sure she looked him in the eye, forced herself to try and find some ounce of humanity. "I don't want to. I don't want this."
But his eyes were black. Dead.
"No… God no… please…" She sobbed hysterically as he held her down. One hand clamping her wrists above her head as she struggled beneath him. She could taste blood and knew her face was bleeding, her eye was throbbing and his other hand was forcing up her skirt.
"No!" She screamed, dragging her legs about, trying to push him off, fighting back. "You're hurting me! Stop it, please god stop it, stop it!"
But his hand was already inside her underwear, hot and insistent, pushing down her knickers as she squirmed.
Words wouldn't come now, she cried and screamed and yelled, sobbed and battered about beneath him as she tried to free herself. Lifting her knee and thumping it into his stomach. He groaned at the action – she'd never fought back before and he was surprised by it. Not for long though, and he returned the action by pushing her leg up and back until she cried in pain and he was gripping her thigh tightly, his nails piercing her skin – she wasn't even sure he was there, that he even knew what he was doing.
"I don't want to," she managed to sob again, "Please, just stop. Just stop…" But she could feel him right there, as open and exposed as she could possibly be, and he was pushing against her as she cried. "No… no, no not this…"
And then he was gone.
His body dragged from hers and she was gasping for air, her lungs expanding at the relief. His weight lifted from her.
She squirmed round on the floor, her eyesight blurred by tears and swelling. She shuffled back to where the kitchen cupboards were to try and escape and in her eye line she could see the tall figure of Charles as he smashed Joe repeatedly into the wall until he crumpled to the floor.
She cried openly – relief and shock and regret and fear… Sharp, gulping breaths that made her lungs ache and her throat raw.
"Elsie," he was on his knees in front of her, lifting her chin. "Elsie, I'm here. I'm here now, you're safe."
"Is he dead?" She asked, her voice hardly her own.
"Unconscious. We need to ring the police."
She looked at him then, eyes wild and panicked. "No! No, I can't. Don't make me do it. Don't make me, please Charles, I don't want anyone to know." Her words were sobbed out, packed with fear and shame. "Nobody can know. I can't tell them…"
"Elsie, darling, listen to me. You're badly injured, you need a Doctor and we need the police because he can't get away with it. Do you hear me? I'm right here, right here. I'll never leave you. But he can't get away with it."
She was hiccupping, her eyes fixed on Joe who still lay crumpled on the floor and somehow in the distance she could hear a baby crying. Charlotte, in the pram in the hallway.
Sobbing again, she thought of Anna. And then Charlotte. And she knew exactly what she had to do because no man should ever get away with what he'd done to her.
Perhaps the hardest scene I've had to write in this entire story - which is saying something, right?!