"The women whom I love and admire for their strength and grace did not get that way because shit worked out. They got that way because shit went wrong, and they handled it. They handled it in a thousand different ways on a thousand different days, but they handled it. Those women are my superheroes." Elizabeth Gilbert
Chapter 49
That Sunday – Charles' view
As he'd pushed the pram over the drive and towards the house Charles felt every bit of his age. His knees ached from controlling the descent down the hill and he was ready for a sit down, a cup of tea and Sunday lunch – preferably in that order. Once he'd got Charlotte fed and settled of course.
Nearing the front door, the gravel crunched beneath the wheels of the pram and he felt a foreboding he couldn't quite explain. The door wasn't clicked shut, the latch was down and the door rested against the lock but wasn't actually closed at all. He gently pushed at it with the wheels of the pram and it bobbed forward, opening the hallway up to him.
He glanced down to the baby staring up at him with wide, dark eyes, and then he heard it – Elsie's muffled scream and a bang, as if furniture was being knocked about.
His heart jumped into his throat and he pushed open the door with the front of the pram, quickly shifting it to the bottom of the stairs and out of harm's way. He could see Elsie on the floor as he passed the entrance to the kitchen, a man on top of her, her pushing and shoving and kicking and screeching – his movements took a split second but seemed to last forever as he left Charlotte and rushed to Elsie.
The sight would forever be emblazoned in his nightmares. Elsie's bloodied face, torn clothes, her skirt pushed to her waist, underwear kicked aside, and this horrid, evil being between her thighs, trying to… trying to…
The fatigue from walking was gone and he yanked the man from her with such strength it only took one hand. He hurled him backward against the wall, thinking nothing of pounding him into submission – not out of anger, no, but so he was rendered immobile and could give Charles time to attend to Elsie.
He has no recollection, so he'd tell the police later in his statement, of how many times he'd hit him. Only that his fist was now grazed and bruised from where it'd struck the man's face and body repeatedly.
The man. Joe. He can't think of him as a man. As a human.
It was the blow to the back of the head, as Joe had hit the wall, that had knocked him out cold and left him limp and crumpled in Charles' hands. He let him slide to the floor and immediately moved to tend to Elsie.
His heart broke when he saw her eyes, overflowing with terror and pain. He knelt before her, "Elsie." She avoided his gaze so he lifted her chin delicately with one finger, forcing her to acknowledge he was there. "Elsie, I'm here. I'm here now, you're safe."
Her eyes appeared to clear as she recognised him and she grasped at his hand. "Is he dead?" She asked.
"Unconscious. We need to ring the police."
Her eyes were full of panic. "No! No, I can't. Don't make me do it. Don't make me, please Charles, I don't want anyone to know..."
She was sobbing and it broke his heart, he didn't want to hurt her.
"Nobody can know. I can't tell them…"
He didn't want to force her into anything, but she needed to do this, they needed to do this. "Elsie, darling, listen to me." His arms were moving around her body, pushing down her skirt, tentatively pulling her to him. "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."
Two days later
A light tapping upon the bedroom door roused Elsie from the book she was reading. Twisting the corner of the page around her little finger she sat more upright and pulled her robe around her chest.
"Come in," she said lightly.
"Hi sweetheart," Beryl said as she came in, doing her best to maintain the stoic expression on her face as she first set eyes upon her friend.
Elsie looked exhausted, depleted. Her hair was pulled back which only served to highlight the paleness of her skin in contrast to the angry bruise across the right side of her face, the swollen and cut lip, the puffy eye.
"Hello," she said weakly, but with a genuine smile as her oldest friend sat beside her and rested her hand over Elsie's, leaning forward to place a tender kiss to her cheek. "My, my Elsie, I never thought…"
Elsie turned her hand over, folding it with Beryl's, "Now, let's not get upset. I've enough with Charles handling me like china, let's just be the same, just be you. Don't cry, for heaven's sake."
"Alright." Beryl shook away the tears threatening to fall and instead kicked her shoes off and pulled her legs up onto the bed, sitting beside Elsie and holding her hand. "So…" She breathed deeply, "I'd like to cut the fucker's balls off."
Elsie seemed to laugh without making a sound, her chest shaking as she leant towards Beryl and rested her head on her shoulder. "Okay, but try not to get caught."
They were quiet for a while as beryl held her; downstairs she could hear Charles making tea, the clink of the lid of the teapot, spoons being placed on a tray.
"He didn't rape me, you know, Charles told you that, didn't he?"
"Yes honey, he did. He said he attacked you at home, that he tried to… to rape you. But you fought back." She rubbed Elsie's arm, kissing the top of her head. "You fought back. Gave him quite a beating apparently."
"First time, you know, that I've ever…" She paused as she heard Charles' footsteps on the hall carpet.
Beryl got up and opened the door for him and he carried in a tray.
"Tea," he stated, "and a drop of whisky too." He set the tray down on the table by the bed. "Try and get her to eat some of the cake, Beryl, won't you."
"I ate that porridge you made for breakfast, didn't I?"
"Five spoonfuls hardly counts as eating it."
"Six. And it's because you don't put enough sugar on it."
He smiled endearingly at her, but his eyes were full of regret and she looked away lest she saw something she didn't want to. "Are you going to pour the tea?"
"I'll do it," Beryl said.
"I'll leave you two to talk. I'll just be downstairs, in the garden, if you need me."
"Alright." She said gently, watching him leave.
Beryl looked over to her, raising her eyebrows.
"You see what I mean, kid gloves."
"Love, that's what that is. He wants to protect you."
"He did. If he hadn't come home…"
"Don't go there."
She took her tea from Beryl, "He broke Joe's arm."
"He should have broken his neck. I don't know how he stopped himself."
"Me, I guess, he came to me. And Charlotte was crying."
"Oh fuck."
Elsie drew in a tight, shuddering breath. "I don't remember how I got to the hospital, what was said to me, who I saw. I remember waking up and Charles was in the chair by my bed holding my hand and Anna was asleep beside him."
"How is she?"
"Horrified. Devastated. Furious." She shrugged. "Heartbroken, I think she really wanted to believe he'd changed."
"The gullibility of the young. And how are you? Really?"
"Honestly," she sucked in a tight breath, "oddly, I feel okay."
Beryl nodded.
"It's odd. But I do feel okay, physically, obviously, like total shit, but for the first time, the first time Beryl, I fought back and that's quite liberating, in a way, like a weight's been lifted."
"I can understand that."
She passed her empty teacup across to her friend, "I'll have a drop of the other stuff now."
"You know, I think I will too."
"I kicked him in the mouth, you know, broke a tooth. God…" she threw her head back, "All those bloody years just putting up with it, letting him do that to me. Hiding it away, keeping his secret… He told me that was why, you know, because I let him, because he could. He wanted to see how far he could push it, how far I'd let him go. And of course I never stopped it, did I?"
"You know he only said that to control you. To try and hurt you."
"I know. Charles said the same. He saw how happy we were, in the shop with Charlotte. I hadn't seen him for so long and I'm not that person he used to know, he saw that. I'm not that scared little Elly anymore, content to just let things go on and keep my mouth shut. I don't know, maybe he always intended to come back, or maybe it was seeing us that day… who knows…" She downed the whisky. "But he did come back and now I guess we all know he hasn't changed, he can't. Not where I'm concerned, anyhow."
"I'd like to wring his neck."
"I think Charles is front of the queue."
"How is he?" She patted Elsie's leg, "Charles? Besides handling you like china?"
"I don't think he knows what to say, where to put himself."
"It's only been two days. Give it time."
"He's scared to even sleep in here with me, that he'll hurt me or scare me, I don't know. Roll over and crush me," she smiled.
"He's sleeping elsewhere?"
"No, of course not. He's just nervous."
"Messy business," Beryl said lowly, reaching for the whisky bottle and refilling their cups. "You spoken to your therapist?"
Elsie nodded, sipping the liquor. "Only on the phone. I have an appointment tomorrow, Charles is going to join me, his first time there but – well, I don't really want to go alone."
"I can understand that. And perhaps it will be good for him too." Beryl curled her legs beneath her. "What are you going to do, love? You gave a statement to the police, yes?"
"I did. Could hardly avoid it, we had to call an ambulance and of course it's a domestic issue so there's police involved…" She covered her face momentarily with her hand. "Just mortifying. Not being able to clean myself up, to hide away."
"Maybe that's a good thing, not hiding away."
"Yes. Maybe. And I can't fault any of them, very professional, very kind, supportive. But I have to make decisions now as to whether I prosecute or not."
"And, will you?"
"You're not going to jump in and tell me I should?"
"Not this time. Something as serious as this, it's down to you."
She picked at a loose thread on her dressing gown, "Charles wants me to. And Anna, I think, oddly, I didn't expect that of her." She sighed, leaning her head back. "There's a restraining order on him, clearly, not that he's out of hospital yet. And I'm not at all scared he'll come back, not now." She breathed heavily, "God, I had to tell my Head, didn't I?"
"Your Head teacher?"
"Yes. I need a few weeks off, clearly, and, well, I couldn't avoid explaining."
"Awkward."
"Very. Attacked by one's ex-husband – how low class."
"You mustn't think that. And listen, you make that decision yourself, you want to prosecute him then do it, there's no doubt he deserves it. You want to just keep the injunction and let that be that," she shrugged, "So be it. You've fought back Elsie, I'm proud of you for that."
"I'm proud of me for that."
"Well then, there you go."
Beryl left over an hour later, squeezing Charles' arm by the door. "Keep doing what you're doing lad, she'll be fine," she said reassuringly in his ear.
He took his time before going up to her, giving her time alone.
She was deep in thought when he got up there, sat forward on the bed, her knees bent, her hands resting flat against her legs as she gazed into space.
"Hey," he said, leaning against the bedroom door, one hand in his trouser pocket, his cardigan buttoned up incorrectly.
"Hey." She smiled at him, settling back on the stacked up pillows.
"You feeling okay, now you've had someone to talk to?"
"Charles, I have you to talk to, and you don't have to worry, you're doing a fine job."
He shrugged, "I do worry. I often don't know what to say."
"Just be normal with me."
He nodded sheepishly, "Usually I'd flirt."
"Flirt away."
"You er…" he stepped towards the bed, "come here often?"
She grinned, "To the bookshop? Why, yes I do." She beckoned him over, pulling on his cardigan and unhooking the bottom four buttons before refastening them correctly. "A kind, handsome man works there."
He knelt on the bed, reaching forward to touch her hair, "What would you like to do with the rest of the day?"
"Really? Eat lots of Chinese food, drink copious amounts of wine and watch some rubbish film on the television, some sci-fi blockbuster-blowing-up-shit-thing that has no storyline what-so-ever."
"I can make that happen."
"And I want to get out of this bed."
"How are the ribs feeling?"
"Hammering, as is my back, but I still want to get out of bed."
"Fair enough."
"I need a bath, but I can't get in and out of the tub."
"You know I can help you with that."
She rested her chin on her hands as she regarded him, "Not going to be uncomfortable for you?"
"Lifting you into the bath?"
"You know what I mean. I'm rather bruised."
He shifted a little, "I don't want it to be uncomfortable for you, my seeing you… touching you…" His voice clouded over slightly and she reached for his hand.
"Charles. Don't ever confuse what that man did to me to what we have. Our lovemaking is so far removed from what I had with him that they might as well be classed as different acts. They are different acts. I don't want it to affect what we have."
"It won't."
"Then don't be embarrassed around me, don't change how you act. You don't have to handle me with kid gloves or be afraid to touch me." She smiled nervously, "Unless of course, it's altered how you view me."
"My darling," he clasped his hand over hers, "nothing ever could."
"Good." She leant forward, grimacing a little at the movement. "So, can you run a bath for me, undress me?"
"Of course." He kissed her forehead. "And wash your back too."
"How about my hair?" She pulled a face. "It's been three days since I rinsed it?"
"I'll give it a go."
He filled the tub first; there were no less than five bottles of bath oil in the cabinet and he couldn't recall which was her favourite so instead he put in a drop of each before laying a towel on the mat by the tub and fetching across the chair from the other side of the bathroom to sit beside her.
When he returned to the bedroom she'd slipped off her robe and was waiting for him to help.
"Okay, think it's the right temperature. So, let's get this thing off then…" He eased down the blankets, his fingertips grazing over her shin as he did so. She shifted her leg slightly, shuddering, but when he looked up at her, her mouth was twisted into a smile.
"That tickled."
"Sorry." He took his time as he pushed the nightgown up her legs, letting her lean against his shoulders as she lifted her bottom enough for him to get it up to her waist, and then she raised her arms as he took it off completely.
He'd seen her naked of course, immediately following the attack when she'd been shaking and embarrassed and he'd held her as they'd dressed her wounds and taken photographs.
This was different. That was unimaginable horror mixed with clinical accuracy. This was them. This was intimacy.
The angry red marks that had decorated her pale skin two days earlier were now easing into purple blemishes. Gathered beneath her ribs were clusters of red and yellow bruising, and it was this that caused her pain as she lifted her hands to his shoulders and he eased one arm beneath her legs, the other around her back.
"Okay, you ready?"
"I am going to yelp, Charles, just don't put me back down until it's in the bath, right?"
"Right."
She closed her eyes and he watched as she bit her lip, "Just go – 1, 2, 3!"
And then he lifted her. And then she screamed and he almost put her down again but she squeezed his shoulder and he hurried through to the bathroom, settling her gently and delicately in the bath.
She sank back, groaning as the warm water enclosed her.
"Alright?" He asked, nervously.
"Much better." She opened her eyes and looked up at him, "Cup of tea, perhaps?"
"That I can do, madam."
He let her soak for a while, sat beside her chatting over inane things – the latest politician embroiled in scandal, the fluctuating price of petrol, Charles even let her prattle on about what she thought about the latest Emmerdale storylines, as long as it distracted her.
Finally, she sat forward and he moved closer to the tub, unhooking her hair from the bobble it was tied up in and filling a jug with water.
"Never done this before."
"Be gentle with me, then. Good practice for when you're having to wash Charlotte's hair when she's older."
"I think you're sitting a bit stiller than she would."
"True." She leant her head back; eyes closed, and enjoyed the sensation of his hands in her hair, lathering the shampoo, so gentle, so sure. "Remember when you called me once? I'd been out with Beryl for dinner and we wanted to talk because we hadn't all day. And it was late and I needed a shower but I had a bath instead so we could talk."
He smiled, "I remember. It was the first time you called me 'honey' that night."
"Oh, so it was." She moved to crane her neck back to look at him then grimaced and re-thought the move. "You're very sweet to me, see, always have been. I wasn't used to it, someone being so kind to me, so sweet."
He rinsed the last of the soapsuds from her hair and bent forward to kiss her forehead, his hands resting gently on her shoulders. "Always will be. You know, I know you don't really want to do this but we should talk about how you want to proceed, with the charges I mean…"
"You're right, I don't want to talk about it. Not now. Let me think for a couple of days, hmm? Right now, let's go order our Chinese food and find a rubbish movie."
"You know, I'm going to have drive to town to pick this food up." He said, moving to get a towel for her. "They won't deliver out here."
"Would you begrudge me that?"
"No. But I don't particularly want to leave you alone."
She stared at him for a second; she really hadn't considered that aspect of it.
"I won't be alone," she finally said. "My babies are here."
"That they are. Now, how do you want to do this?"
"Just," she held her arms up, "put your hands under my arms, and yank me up."
"Yank you up?! You're not a rag doll."
She chuckled, the first time she'd laughed in days. "I guess not, maybe something like yanking me up but a whole lot gentler."
Shaking his head he lifted her, let her lean against him as she pain eased back in and she stood still readjusting. Then he wrapped a towel around her and lifted her out, standing her on the mat as he dried her body and put her a clean nightgown and her robe back on.
"Do I need to dry your hair too, now?"
"Not just yet, let me have a glass of wine first."
"Aren't you on painkillers?" He asked, as she hobbled across the bathroom.
"Not fucking working, are they?"
Charles had arranged the sofa so could sit facing the television without having to turn. There were pillows stacked behind her and he'd brought the coffee table over so her drinks, the telephone and her painkillers were within easy reach.
He watched her as she scanned the Chinese menu, peering over her glasses as William climbed into her lap and curled up in a tiny ball. Smiling, she rested her hand on his back and let her fingers sink into his fur.
"Okay, I've decided." She glanced over at him, "You got a pen? Or am I ringing up?"
The front doorbell rang and he got to his feet, "You ring, I'll go get that."
When he returned several minutes later Izzy came in behind him carrying a tray bearing a teapot and cups.
"I wondered where you'd disappeared to…" She started to say, then she saw Isobel and quieted.
"Hello Elsie," Izzy said, popping the tray down on the table beside her.
Elsie looked away; keenly aware of the state she looked. She didn't want Isobel to see her; she didn't really want anyone to see her.
"Don't worry, love," Izzy said, resting her hand on Elsie's shoulder. "I'm not here to cause trouble."
She moved to sit in the chair facing her and, to her credit, didn't bat an eyelid when she got the full view of Elsie's swollen face.
"I asked her to come sit with you." He explained.
"Charles!" Elsie complained. "I'm not a child."
"Not for you, for me. I'd feel better knowing you're not alone."
Cheeks flushing red, Elsie glanced back at Isobel's patient face. "You're all dressed up." She noted.
"I'm going to the theatre, meeting them there in about an hour."
"Charles –," Elsie grumbled again.
"It's fine," Izzy assured her, leaning forward to pour their tea. "We can have a chat."
"I'll be twenty, twenty-five minutes at most." He said, before turning away. On second-thoughts he returned and kissed the top of Elsie's head. "Won't be long."
Isobel handed her a teacup as the front door closed and she listened to Charles' car pulled away.
"I'm sorry, he's being rather over-protective."
"With good reason. It would seem." Isobel sipped her tea.
"Yes, well." Elsie leant back and sipped her tea. "What are you going to see at the theatre?"
"Would you believe a local production of A View from the Bridge?" She smiled. "I remember studying that play at school, a lifetime ago."
"I've actually never seen it, Charles always says we should get out to see more."
"Elsie, let's skip the small talk, shall we?"
"Alright." She breathed deeply, feeling decidedly nervous. "…If that's what you want."
"You know, what I admire about you – well, one of the things – is that you're a straight talker."
Elsie bit down on her lip, tapping her fingernails against her teacup. "Okay."
"So, I'm going to be honest with you…"
"Isobel, really, you don't have to say anything. Charles shouldn't have brought you here…"
"No, listen. You see, I know you and I haven't always… I've been a bitch to you at times, I know that." She put her teacup down, sitting forward in her chair, her hands clasped together on her lap. "There, that's me being honest."
Elsie allowed herself a small smile, biting the inside of her cheek to keep it in check.
"You see, when he first started dating you, he was so excited, so exuberant about it all. And time went on and he fell deeper and deeper in love, that much was obvious to me, even by Christmas. And especially after New Year, though he may not have admitted it to himself at that point. I know him, it was clear to see."
Elsie remained silent, listening attentively, remembering back to those times – perhaps she knew it too. As much as she railed against it and pushed him away, she knew, and she wanted it, otherwise she wouldn't have allowed it to go on.
"I wasn't sure about you. You were elusive. To me you seemed difficult – he'd been with you for months yet we'd never met you. He talked non-stop about you, yet you never accompanied him to anything. I worried you were using him."
"You know I…"
Izzy held her hand up, "No, I need to say this. You see, even though I guessed it'd been a messy break-up from your ex-husband, from the snippets of things Charles said, I never imagined it had been anything like this."
Both women stared at each other in silence, appreciating that sometimes things don't need to be explained. Sometimes, you just knew.
"I think you're a very brave woman Elsie, and I don't just mean for coping with what you coped with all those years. I mean for this," she waved her hand about. "For being brave enough to build a new life with Charles. For having the strength to."
"Well," Elsie paused, licking her bottom lip. "I'm not quite sure how to respond to that."
"You don't have to." Isobel got up, taking Elsie's cup from her and squeezing her hand as she did so. "Let's just be friends, how about that?"
Helping Elsie from the car and into the waiting room, though awkward to see her in such pain, was a welcome distraction from Charles' own nerves.
He loathed admitting it, but he felt incredibly nervous about meeting Elsie's therapist, Doctor Bloom. For some odd reason he felt like he was going to be judged, held up for scrutiny, which was a ridiculous and selfish idea really considering the state Elsie was still in.
In her office the therapist took Elsie's hand as they entered from the waiting room and helped her to her usual chair. It wasn't needed, Charles was there, but the gesture appreciated.
"So," the Doctor said gently, crossing her legs and resting her hands in her lap.
Elsie smiled, "So. Rather awkward." She reached over and rested her hand on top of Charles', stilling his nervously tapping fingers on top of his knee.
"Very nice to finally meet you, Charles." The Doctor smiled. "Though I feel like we've already met, Elsie's spoken so much about you."
"Well, I… I'm not quite sure how to respond to that." He said shakily.
"He's nervous about meeting you." Elsie said, folding her hand reassuringly around his.
"Why are you nervous, Charles?"
He shrugged, "I guess I worry what your advice might be, in relation to what's happened, I mean."
"I don't give advice. I just listen. But what do you fear I'd say?"
"That she'd be better being alone, getting her head clear. Now she's strong enough to."
"I don't think that," Elsie said. "If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be strong enough to."
"How do you feel, Elsie, now, with a few days between you and the attack?" The Doctor asked.
"Better, actually. I feel free. As odd as that might sound."
Charles sat back, silent, content to listen to her open up.
"Can you explain why?" Doctor Bloom pressed.
Elsie shrugged, "Because now I know why he did it, all those years. I guess a part of me has always blamed myself, and now I can safely assure myself he is the one in the wrong. Not me. And besides, I stood up to him. I wasn't physically strong enough to really fight him off, of course, so thank god for Charles coming home. But I did fight; he knew I wasn't going to just accept it this time. And I needed that – I needed to do that for me."
"And, now that you have, do you think you've dealt with things?"
"I think I've dealt with some things. I think, in a way… what I mean is I've come to realise, over the past two years, that I may have married Joe to escape my father, that farm. But in some way I married the man who reminded me the most of my father. And I let him treat me that way because it's all I knew of marriage. Of so-called 'love'. And fighting him like that, in some way it was how I'd always wanted to respond to my Dad, to stop him doing what he did to my mother. Does that sound feasible?"
"I think it does." Charles said softly.
Elsie glanced to him, her eyes gentle as she smiled. "You don't have to worry, you know," she said directly to him. "About touching me, showing me affection. What he did to me has no bearing upon us."
She turned in her chair, facing him, forgetting almost about the other woman in the room. "You see, before you I'd never had any chance to explore these kind of feelings. Sometimes I think back to our time in Dubai, or even Edinburgh, and I'd never been so forward with sex."
He blushed, keenly aware of the therapist listening.
"I'd never known passion, real passion, and intimacy. I could let go of my inhibitions because I trusted you. I never really knew that side of me existed, that I could have sensuality and that nervous excitement that came with it, and that whatever we did or said, I'd wake in the morning and you'd still be there, and there'd be no judgement, no recriminations. It was overwhelming at first, discovering that."
"You know I'd never had that either, I've told you that before, haven't I?"
"You have. And I'm only saying this because I need you to know that we haven't changed. That the way I felt about you Sunday afternoon was the same way I felt about you Sunday morning, maybe even – impossibly – even deeper. I'm a stronger person than I ever was, but I'm secure in this Charles, in us."
Charles glanced sideways to the Doctor, "I feel rather embarrassed having this chat in front of you."
"No need to be. It can be disconcerting at first, being in here."
"But it helps," Elsie interrupted. "It has helped. It's forced me to face things and that's been painful and messy but I'm so thankful for it now, God knows how much. I still don't know what I'm going to do next in regards to him," she shrugged. "But I'll get there. I'm not going to rush my decision."
She felt Charles lift her hand and kiss the back of it. She was right, whatever happened now they were secure together.
One week later
Dinner was long since over and yet they lingered around the dining room table. Anna and Elsie across from each other, Charlotte sleeping in Elsie's arms after waking in tears an hour earlier and needing to be changed. And Charles at the opposite end, opening a new bottle of single malt for them to sample.
"So, you heard from John?" Charles asked as he filled their glasses.
"Yeah, he rang around lunchtime to say he'd arrived safely, and I got a text a couple of hours ago. I'm not expecting anything else now until the morning," she took the glass from him. "You know how stag nights can get."
"Thankfully I've never been to any too rowdy or vulgar." He smiled.
"Can you imagine, a stripper sitting on Charles' knee?" Elsie teased. "I'm sorry, but could you remove yourself from my lap, your baby-oil-covered skin is damaging my trousers." She said, imitating him.
"Very bloody funny, sometimes you're too cheeky for your own good." He turned to Anna. "All week I've had this."
Anna laughed, "Been winding you up a bit has she this past week? She's terrible when she's bored."
"And I am bored. Believe me. Just sitting around all day."
"But getting better, you seem to be moving better." Charles stated.
"When you thinking of going back to work?" Anna asked.
Elsie rocked the baby in her arms, settling her again as she mumbled in her sleep. "A couple more weeks I think. I really don't relish the idea of anyone spotting my bruised face."
"I can understand that." She took a long drink of the whisky; licking her lips of the liquid and feeling it burn against her lungs before she spoke again. "I need to see him." Anna said resolutely, and Elsie's head shot up.
"You what?"
"I need to see him, mum. I need to speak to him."
"To do what? Give him time to explain, excuse himself?"
"As if he ever could." Anna leant her elbows on the table, swirling the whisky in her glass. She was no stranger to strong liquor, her mother was Scottish after all, but after months of being teetotal the nightcap was certainly knocking her for six. "That's not why I want to see him."
"Then why?" Charles asked gently, and Anna was surprised by the strength in his voice as she glanced to the other side of the table where he sat.
"I need him to know what I think of him. I need to say it to him, in my own words, so he's in no doubt. I want to look him in the eye and make it clear that he no longer has a daughter."
Elsie's lungs expanded as she breathed deeply, she looked down to Charlotte asleep in her arms. The sweetest, most innocent face she'd ever seen.
"Have you made a decision?" Anna asked.
"Yes. I think so."
"And?"
Elsie looked across the table to her daughter's face, tired and weary from the trials of being a new mother, and from the trauma of the past week.
And then to Charles. Silent and unwavering as he reached for the bottle and refilled all of their glasses.
"I'm going to go ahead with it. Press charges. It would be easier not to," she shrugged, and looked down to Charlotte again. "And I don't know what's going to happen, whether we'll have to go to court, or settle, what his punishment will be. But I feel he should be punished." She held Anna's gaze again, "Because I've been punished enough all these years. And for every woman out there suffering something even remotely similar, I feel I owe it to them to make sure he pays for what he did."
The room was silent for a long time after she'd spoken. Charles swirled the ice in his glass, Anna tapped her fingernails against the table top, the old Grandfather clock in the hallway swung its seconds and they all breathed.
"I think that's very brave." Charles finally said and she smiled weakly at him.
"Brave or stupid."
"Brave, mum, brave." Anna assured her. "As easier as it might be to walk away and leave him in the past, he doesn't deserve to be let off. Not again." She pushed her chair back from the table and came around the back of Elsie's chair, sliding her hands over her mum's shoulders and hugging her back against her as she kissed her head. "I love you mum."
"I love you too, darling." She reached up to pat one hand with hers. "Both of my girls."
"Mmm, I think your girls should go to bed."
"Alright." She gently passed the sleeping baby up to Anna. "You need any help?"
"No, we're fine; thanks for letting us stay though, didn't fancy a night alone in the flat."
"You know you're always welcome," Charles said. "All of you."
"Thank you Charles." Anna moved closer to him, dipping down slightly so he could kiss Charlotte's head.
"Night, night baby girl." He whispered, rubbing his thumb gently on her forehead. He looked up at Anna, "I'll go with you."
"What?"
"When you go to see Joe, I'll go with you. I don't want you to go alone and John… well, he can have a temper."
"And you'd be calm?" Anna asked, wide-eyed.
"For you, yes." He briefly rested his hand on Anna's arm, "You're not going alone."
She nodded, "Alright. Thank you."
"Good. Now, goodnight."
"Night." She made her way across the room, stopping by the door and glancing back to where the two of them sat at the table, Charles had stretched his hand out across to Elsie and she was lacing her fingers with his. And it dawned on her – her parents.
"So, does this mean I actually get to call you 'dad' now?" Anna suddenly said. "Or would you prefer father?"
Blinking rapidly Charles opened his mouth to respond but found his tongue suddenly dry. He licked his lips "Dad will be fine."
Anna nodded curtly, "Good." Then smiled and disappeared upstairs.
Reaching for her tumbler, Elsie lifted it up and held it towards his until he tapped her glass with his. "It seems you're a fully-fledged member of the family now…Dad."
"Yeah. Goodness…" He drained his whisky in one go then shook his head, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. When he looked up Elsie was smiling at his falling tears. "Sentimental old fool." He mocked.
"Nonsense."
"I guess. Not every day you become a father, is it?"
"Oh, I think you've been one for quite a while now honey, in all but name." She squeezed his hand, "And a damn good one too."
Mid-June
Charles had never been an aggressive man. He turned away from conflict wherever possible. He didn't even like arguing with Elsie, and he was more than secure now in the belief that even when they did argue they'd be fine. But there was something unsettling about not being in agreement with her – luckily they were usually so in sync that his world ticked along just fine.
Yet that morning, an oddly bright and breezy morning in June, he felt like he was on his way to be shot.
When he'd collected Anna from the shop he expected to find her as nervous as he was. Surprisingly, she seemed fine, resolute in what she wanted to do. There was something of Elsie's steel in her, an inner strength when it came down to the wire that he marvelled at.
"You don't have to come in, you know," she'd said as they'd pulled into the drive. "I will be okay."
"I said I'd come with you and I meant it." He pulled on the handbrake, pointing to the 'for sale' sign that was stuck in the ground by the main gate. "He's selling up?"
"News to me." Anna shrugged. "This farm's been in his family for generations. So if he is, I'm surprised."
"Well, happen we'll find out why." He opened his door. "You ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
Sarah answered the door, looking dishevelled and distracted.
"Oh, Anna. This is a bit…" She looked at the man standing behind her, nervously hovering. "Are you…? Blimey."
"Is he here?" Anna asked, her voice clear and strong.
"Where else would he be?" Sarah stood back from the door, granting them entrance to the hallway. There were boxes piled up, all labelled ready for storage.
"You're moving?" Anna asked.
"I am. I've been offered a job in India, I start in a fortnight. He was meant to be coming with me…but now, well, who knows. He didn't tell you?"
"I think I know why he didn't." Anna mumbled. "Where is he?"
"Lounge. Still can't do much, you know, with his arm." She glanced at Charles. "Do I get you tea or something?"
"We won't be here that long." Anna stated.
"Well then, feel free." Sarah said, pointing in the direction of where Joe was.
Charles felt oddly sorry for the woman, in her mind they were happily preparing for a new life elsewhere, a baby and a new job and a new country. How was she to know her husband would use the opportunity to carry out some sort of last chance hurt upon his ex-wife?
"Thank you," he said. "And I'm sorry we've had to disturb you."
Sarah shrugged, "I've learnt not to plan, just go with whatever life throws at you. I am sorry though, for what he did to her. I think you should know that."
He nodded, following a quickly retreating Anna.
For the past few days Charles had spent the early mornings, when he woke unable to sleep, imagining how he'd react when he saw this man again – would he be able to control his anger? Would he snap and want to kill him? Or could he somehow find a way to hold it together and just support Anna, to be there if she needed him to be?
What he didn't expect was that this ogre of a man, this man who had become some evil spectre in their lives, would simply be broken and pitiful.
As he viewed him laying on the sofa, a blanket over his legs, his arm in plaster, he looked very old and very tired. There was nothing to fear. He was just a sad and deeply disturbed man.
"Anna," he heard Joe say, surprise and desperation in his voice. "How are you? How's Charlotte?"
Anna held her hand up to silence him. "This will go better if you don't speak."
Joe glanced to Charles who did his best to stand behind Anna, yet far enough away that she didn't feel crowded. She needed to do this alone as much as possible, he understood that.
"I needed to see you because I need to look you in the eye and tell you we're done." She breathed deeply, as if saying those words had been something she'd kept locked in her heart for far too long and the effort of releasing them exhausted her. "I cannot express how much I despise you. I've tried, believe me, all these years, to understand your actions, to pity you, to help you, to try and forgive you. It was easier maybe because there was no physical evidence and mum, god damn it, mum always let you get away with it."
Charles shifted uneasily from foot-to-foot, avoiding Joe's eyes, feeling trapped by the dark, warm oppressiveness of the room.
"Well, fuck you Joe." She said pointedly. "Because you deserve nothing but my hate, and I'll always hate you, always. There's no pity, no forgiveness, just emptiness for you."
"You might feel that way now –," he started.
"I will always feel that way! Don't try and control me, or turn this around. I'm my mother's daughter and she's stronger than you could ever be. So, this is how it's going to be. We will never see or hear from you again. Ever. If we do I won't be held responsible for my actions. You will never see Charlotte. You forget we exist because you no longer exist to me."
As awkward as this all was Charles couldn't recall ever feeling prouder of someone.
"You're nothing to me and never will be again. You are not my father. This is my Dad – and I love him. And he's done more for us than you ever could."
Joe shifted uneasily on the sofa, attempting to get to his feet but he wobbled and fell back, his body failing him.
"When you find yourself in the position of being held to account you make it as easy for mum as you can, you accept all blame, do you understand me? You take the blame and you accept what you have done. You. Nobody else."
He closed his eyes.
"That's it," Anna sighed, stepping back and finding her back against Charles' chest. He reached to squeeze her upper arm reassuringly.
"That's all I have to say." She breathed deeply for a few seconds as if fighting her emotions, trying to find a way to end it and walk cleanly away.
"I think that's enough," Charles said by her ear. "Let's go."
He held her hand as he escorted her from the room; Charles could feel Joe's eyes on their back but neither turned around, neither gave him a second glance.
Late June
Reaching round and zipping up the back of her skirt Elsie tucked in her camisole and moved to the mirror, picking up her brush from the side and easing out the tangles from her hair.
Behind her she spotted Charles sitting up in bed, hands resting nervously on top of the sheets as he watched her.
"What?" She said, taking out the concealer from her make-up bag and beginning to apply it.
"What?"
"Don't 'what' me back. You're staring at me."
"Nothing so nice as watching you fit your bottom into a lovely skirt."
She rolled her eyes at him, "What are you really thinking about?"
"You sure it's not too soon…?"
"To go back to work? Of course not. I've been off three weeks." She ran the blusher brush over her cheeks. "I need to get back, I'm bored to death."
"Oh thanks!"
"You know what I mean. It'll be good for me." Putting her make-up bag away she moved back to his side of the bed, leaning over to kiss him. "I want to enjoy the last few weeks of the year with the kids anyhow, I've rather missed their antics."
Elsie's sentiments weren't quite so heartfelt some four hours later when she found her only free hour of the day, just prior to lunch, had been taken up covering another absent staff member's lesson.
A Year 8 maths cover. A subject she wasn't particularly strong at even when in the best of moods. Added to that she seemed to have lost a class. A fact that the majority of the staff would find hilarious no doubt. The cover information listed M4 as their classroom – but when she got there (five minutes late) said classroom was bare. Logging onto the computer and searching for the class name she found that on their timetable it was listed as Geo2 – the next block along. Leaving her things where they were she headed out in search of the lost group, only to find a class already in there and the teacher insisting the group had done a swap to M4.
She wasn't quite ready for this kind of nonsense on her first day back and as she traipsed back across to the maths block she felt the pinch of her shoes on her toes. She'd been wearing little more than slippers and flip-flops since she'd been off; heels were an unwelcome necessity.
Finding the classroom still empty she called reception from the maths office.
"Yeah, the class are meant to be in M4," the young man on reception stated.
"Yes. I know that. But they aren't, so where are they?" Elsie insisted,
"But they're meant to be," the receptionist helpfully offered again.
Just as she felt she might be about to completely lose her mind and have to go searching the school for a lost class of twenty-eight students they casually wandered down the corridor outside the office.
Putting down the phone she strode after them, shepherding them into the room.
"And where have you all been?" She asked as they sat down, not shouting but making her voice strong enough to make her feelings on the matter clear.
"Said a different room on our timetable, Miss."
"Funny that, because of the two rooms I've been given on your timetable you were in neither."
"Honest, Miss," a girl butted in. "We were sat in A4, not M4."
"An Art room for a maths lesson?" She said, seating herself at the desk. "Of course."
"We have German in a Biology lab for one lesson Miss." Another boy protested.
"Well, you'll be happy to know Miss. Clark has left you a mock exam paper to prepare for your end of year test. So, if you want to get your pens out and spread yourselves out across the room we might get started – some twenty minutes late."
She called out names from the register as they set themselves up. "Tabitha?" No reply. "Tabitha?" She asked again, looking up at the class. "No one seen her?"
"She was in reg, Miss."
"Has she gone home? Was she ill?"
"She disappeared after P.E. Miss Hughes," one of the more polite girls said gently. "We didn't see her come back to get changed."
"Lord above," Elsie whispered under her breath as she got up to hand the exam papers out. "Right, well, you lot get on with this and I guess I'll go find this girl. I'll be leaving that door open too, so no talking, no whispering, no cheating. Remember I'm old and have magic skills you can only dream of!"
She nipped into the classroom next-door and whispered to the teacher to keep an eye on her cover class whilst she located a missing student and headed off down the corridor towards the P.E. block.
Rounding the corner, heels clattering against the tiled floor, she paused by the coat hooks. There were piles of abandoned P.E. bags and art folders; coats probably left hanging there since about March and beneath that a pair of feet sticking out in plimsolls.
Sighing heavily, she crouched down beside the legs, feeling her ribs protest at the movement.
"Tabitha?" She asked gently, "Are you in there?"
The coats shook slightly as the girl nodded. "And are you alright?"
The coats shook again.
"Do you think you might come out here dear? And let me talk to you."
No response.
"Oh goodness, Tabitha, my legs can't take sitting here." She sat back on her bottom, the strain instantly leaving her leg muscles, even as she contemplated the grimy floor she'd placed her skirt on. "If you won't come out here, can I come talk to you?"
The girl pushed forward one of the coats so Elsie could see her face, red and puffy from crying.
"Ah, now that's better. Have we met before?"
"No. You're Miss Hughes though, I know that."
"I am."
"You teach History. You taught my older brother four years ago, Scott Brown."
"I remember him, how is he?"
"He's a bit of an idiot, Miss." The girl folded her arms across her chest and pouted her lips.
"So, do you want to tell me why you're sitting under the coats?"
"Not really."
"Okay. Well, will you tell my why you're sitting under the coats?"
The girl shrugged, her glasses slipping down her nose.
"I don't think this is a shrug answer unfortunately dear. People will be wondering where you are, where you got to. You're still in your P.E. kit."
"I hate P.E. I'm rubbish at it."
"You're thirteen and built like a greyhound, I'm sure you're not."
"I am Miss. No co-ordination. I'm not much good at anything."
"That's not true. Come on. You must have talents."
"I fail every subject."
"You don't just have talents in subjects, Tabitha, you have other skills too, outside of school." She watched the girl's face as she stared at her feet, batting the toe end of her plimsolls together repeatedly. "Tabitha's a lovely name."
"It's awful. People pick on it. Was after my gran."
Elsie smiled, "Mine too. And yes, kids picked on my name too."
"What is it?"
"A secret. If I tell you, you can't go spreading it round the school."
"Deal."
"Elspeth."
"I've never heard that name before."
"It's not all that common. It can be tough, I know, feeling like you're different."
"I bet you were dead smart at school, Miss."
"Not really. I didn't work very hard; nobody in my family did, not at school anywhere. I grew up on a farm."
The girl looked properly at her for the first time. "I live on a farm."
"I know. I remember from Scott."
"You must have a good memory."
"I remember important things. Do you not like living on the farm?"
Tabitha shrugged, "It's not so bad, kids pick on me though. Call me Tabby cat."
"How original."
"Say I'm dirty, I have dirt under my nails some mornings from my chores and they… they say I'm stupid."
"Who does?"
"All of them."
"Girls in your class?"
"And boys."
She was quiet again and Elsie let her have a couple of minutes before she spoke.
"You know they can't get away with that, don't you?" She asked gently. "Because we'll do something about it, make it stop. I can take some names down and report it…"
"Not just that Miss." She closed her eyes, already red-rimmed but filling with tears again. Elsie felt the overwhelming urge to put an arm around her young shoulders for comfort, but she couldn't, even though it went against her instincts.
"What else?" She said softly.
"They… they beat me."
"Beat you?" She shook her head. "I don't understand."
"They kick me, you know. Punch, sometimes, in the toilets. They kicked me today in P.E. See…" She shifted her leg and Elsie noted the line of bruises forming on the girl's outer thigh.
"Oh my goodness, Tabitha." She covered her mouth. "Why did you never tell anyone?"
"Used to happen to Scott too. He never told anyone, only me, don't wanna bother Dad, he's on his own since mum left... They call us gypsies, thickos."
"You can't just ignore it, sweetheart, you have to tell people. Get help. We'll make it stop, I can promise you that."
"They tell me I deserve it, because I'm stupid and dirty."
She pressed her hand lightly against the girl's arm. "Nobody has the right to make you feel like this is what you deserve. Nobody. Believe me. This is not how human beings treat other human beings and the children doing it to you will be severely punished."
Tabitha cried openly now, holding Elsie's gaze. "Everyone will hate me for telling."
"Nobody will hate you. I'm disgusted this has gone on. Disgusted. And heartbroken for you, that you've coped on your own with this. I have a granddaughter now and I can't bear to think of anyone hurting her, of hurting any child."
She pushed herself to her feet, leaning against the wall to support her body and grimacing as she stood.
"You alright Miss? You look in pain." The girl snuffled, getting to her knees.
"Fell over the other week, hurt my ribs. But I'm fine, healing. Come on, we need to get you down to Mrs. Roy's office and get this out in the open."
Grudgingly the girl got to her feet. "I don't want to go alone."
"Alright. Do you have anyone in there…?" She indicated the classroom with a nod of her head.
"Can't you come?"
"Well, I can. Why don't you just wait in the office for me, it's not long until lunch and then we can go together. If that's what you want?"
Unexpectedly, the girl pressed herself against Elsie, her arms pulling her into a hug. Elsie kept her arms by her side, the mother in her would give in to the hug, the teacher in her remembered the rules.
"Now, you go on. Just wait in there, get yourself a glass of water, I won't be long."
She stared at the retreating diminutive figure and closed her eyes briefly. Oh but for the grace of god there walked herself.
When she got home that night, tired and emotionally drained, Charles greeted her in the hallway. He was wearing an apron and had a wooden spoon in one hand which he held aloft as he spoke and she couldn't help but smile as she stood back against the door and took in his appearance.
"Well, how did first day back go?"
"Fan-bloody-tastic!" She sighed, dropping her bags to the floor. "What are you doing?"
"Making parsley sauce for the fish."
"Home made?" She slipped off her shoes.
"Of course."
Grinning she made her way down the hall to him, "I bloody love you."
"I should hope so, because I made lemon tart too."
And she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his.
"I wish everyone could find a Charles Carson."
"Tough day?"
"One bit was. I'll tell you over dinner. Do I have time to shower?"
"I'm just going to cook the fish."
"I'll be quick then. Pour me a large glass of wine, I need it."
Early July
They gathered outside the church, the vicar leading the way down the path and towards the patch of land he thought perfectly placed for photographs. It was mid-afternoon and the sun high, the sky clear, and Charles felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck.
He watched Elsie navigate the cobbles in front of him; she'd met them at the church after work and heels and fitted dress weren't the best of outfits for a blisteringly hot afternoon. But she looked well, healthy, happy, and that was what mattered most.
Behind him Charlotte was murmuring in Anna's arms, grizzly no doubt from the heat and having her routine disturbed.
Reverend Travis paused beneath the trees and they were all glad of the shade.
"A wonderful spot, you see. If you gather here for the photographer then you can have the church in the background and…" he paused as Charlotte wailed and balled. "Somebody's out of sorts. Poor thing."
"She's been like this for the past few days," Anna explained.
"It's the heat. She's not sleeping." John added, readjusting the hat on his daughter's head.
She wailed again, filling the summer day with her cries.
"Here, let me take her." Charles said, stepping forward. "You talk to Reverend Travis, it's your Christening day. I'll take her in the church, it's likely cooler in there."
Lifting the delicate, fragile weight from Anna's arms he observed the baby's scrunched up face, red and puckered from crying. She was so tiny she disappeared in his large hands.
"Hey, sweetie, what's this noise about? Do you just want some attention, is that it?" He cradled her in the crook of his arm, and rocked her very gently. "Come find us when you're done talking."
He headed off from the others, out of the bright sunshine and into the cool solitude of the church.
"That's better, isn't it? Out of that nasty sunshine." He rocked the baby as he walked around, it was a place he'd known all his life and the quiet stillness of it never failed to move him, or centre him when he was unsure.
"This is one of my most favourite places," he said, his voice echoing in the large, empty space. He paused in front of a stained glass window, brilliant and aglow with the sunshine filling it. Charlotte's eyes blinked as she gazed up at his face, and he ran his thumb over her nose. "Now that's better, no more crying hey. Don't want to ruin your voice."
He moved slightly, turning so she could face the window, the array of colours sliding over her tiny face. "You like those, don't you? I wonder which your favourite will be – red, pink, yellow?" He kissed her head.
Turning from the window he headed toward the altar, listening to Charlotte gurgle in his arms.
"This is where we'll stand for the christening, no need to feel nervous with all those people looking at you though. Are you excited? I bet you get excited when we sing, because you like music, don't you sweetheart? And here in this beautiful place with all of your family and those that care about you, you'll love it. So, don't get nervous when Reverend Travis takes you, or when he wets your head."
He rocked her for a while, watching as she pushed her fist forward against her blanket. Easing it to the side, he let her grab his thumb and smiled as her tiny fingers wrapped around his nail.
"Some people will think it out-dated," he mused as he took a seat in the front pew, settling Charlotte in his arms. "Christenings. You might even think the same, when you're old enough to know. But I'm glad we're doing it. 'And whoever receives one such child in My name receives Me.'" He said aloud, recalling the many christenings he'd attended with his mother, even when he didn't know the couple involved. But he always bought a gift, played the part.
"It makes me happy, to celebrate your birth as much as anything." He glanced down at her face, wide-awake and listening to him. "You've already brought me so much joy, darling, so much." As he bent to kiss her head; she gurgled and smiled at him, waving her fist in the air.
He looked up to the altar again, stretching his legs out, "One day, I'll marry your Grandma here. One day. And I'll be nervous, never mind me telling you not to be. Standing right there, terrified I'll say the wrong thing or trip up. And she'll walk right down there," he indicated the aisle. "Looking beautiful and serene. Calm. No doubt you'll play your part. If you're walking by then. It can't come a day too soon Charlotte, I don't mind telling you, I've waited a lifetime for her. A lifetime."
He sighed, looking to the baby's face as she gripped his finger again. "You don't mind Grandad going on and being silly now, do you? Silly old granddad!" He rubbed his nose against the baby's. "Silly, silly. I hope you get to find something like this sweetheart, someone who loves you as much as I love your Grandmother. That's what I wish for you."
"Goodness," he heard Reverend Travis say from the back of the church. "You'll have us all in tears."
He twisted his neck to look behind him, feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up his neck and smother his face. "Oh dear." He whispered. "Now, don't all be laughing at an old man's sentimentality."
Elsie was smiling at him, her head tipped to one side as she chewed on her nail. He caught her eye and shrugged, getting to his feet, rocking the baby. "She just likes to be talked to, makes her settle."
Elsie was already getting close to them, an endearing look upon her face, her eyes bright, soft. "Charles…" He said when she reached the altar where he stood. She placed her hand on Charlotte's head, rubbing tiny circles with her thumb, and then stood on her tiptoes to lean forward and kiss him deeply, in sight of the other three.
"Oh goodness." The Reverend said again. "This is too much." He suddenly clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's do it. Let's just do this."
"Do what?" Anna asked, following him down to the front of the church.
"Right here, let's do it, let's get you two married. The church is booked that afternoon for the christening; let's make it a double celebration. We have time yet to organise it, read the bans, put together something small."
Charles turned to him, handing over a now sleeping Charlotte to John.
"Something small? Just the guests already invited. And then still back at the house afterwards?" He was already excited. "That would work?" he turned to Elsie. "That would work, wouldn't it?" he stepped nervously close to her, taking her hands, "Not too much of a rush, if we do it this summer? This August?"
She shook her head gently, her eyes already filled with tears.
"I think it would be lovely." Anna said. "Marrying as we christen Charlotte."
"It would be beautiful," Elsie whispered, squeezing his hands. "Beautiful."
"So, you want to?" He said, earnestly. "You want to do this, marry me?"
"Of course I do." She felt like her smile was too big for her face. "Do you want to marry me?"
"Don't be silly." He pulled her into his embrace, resting his chin on her head. "I feel I've waited forever for it."
One to go... :-(