Chapter 52

He can still hear her voice. The accent. Scottish. Warm.

He can still see her silhouette in the dark. Petite and smelling of Christmas spice.

Two years since and yet before him.

How he tripped, stumbled, fell into her.

He smiles to himself, and she hears, glancing across from the passenger seat.

"What?" She says gently.

"Just remembering things. You know." He slows, aware of his passengers, and the sound of the tyres sliding on the gravel. "You being a 'charity case'."

She smiles at that too, "Ah, but never more now." Her hand pats his knee.

"No, never more."

The wintry mist is curling about the grounds as they drive towards the house, iced trees and damp silver grass stretched out for acres around them.

In the distance, stag, deer, visible then gone again before the eye can settle upon them.

The building, perched in front of the hill of white, shining distant caramel in the morning. Inside it will be warm and decorated for the festive season. For their festivities.

"I'd almost forgotten how beautiful it is," she sighs as the house comes into view through the fog.

"Elsie, it's a castle!" Becky excitedly exclaimed from the back seat, her hand on her sister's shoulder. "Does the Queen live here?"

Charles sniggered, "No darling, though your sister can surely take on the role."

"I'd be a fabulous queen," she laughed, turning to touch her sister's hand. "And you a princess, in your gorgeous gown."

Becky sat back happily, "Dada I'm getting my hair made pretty too, and my make-up." She looked up sharply to her father's face, "Is that okay?"

"Ay, need to look the part don't we. Not worn a suit since the year dot, and you'll be glad to know I've even cleaned my nails Elsie-May."

"Dad," Elsie shook her head as they pulled up in front of the steps.

"Needn't have bought that suit, could've rented one."

She turned to look at him as she took her seatbelt off, "Dad, it's my wedding day. We can buy you a suit. You never thought I'd ever get to this point – remember."

"Momentous," he said deadpan, but there was the slightest hint of a smile.

"Right then, let me help Becky," Charles said as he opened the back door for her, "icy out here, watch your feet."

Becky stared at her feet as Charles helped her up the front steps and into the house.

"Mighty fine here," Douglas said, "mighty fine." He was holding Elsie's arm, though she wasn't sure which of them was guiding the other

"It is rather beautiful isn't it," Elsie replied looking up to the grand staircase as they entered the main hall. "But not too much, not too ostentatious."

"No. What's happened to our bags?"

"They're being taken to your room, Doug," Charles stated, patting Becky's hand.

"We got you a twin room," Elsie said softly, "figured she'd be more comfortable knowing you were there."

"She's so excited about the whole thing," Doug said, watching as Becky rushed up to the mid-point of the staircase. "She'll tire herself out today. What are the plans?"

"Girly stuff for the ladies – spa, yoga, massages, nails, all that stuff. Charles has planned yours."

"Oh, I don't know, quite fancy having me nails done, now they're clean and all."

Elsie laughed, still holding onto her father's arm in the hallway, comforted by his presence. "I'm so glad you're here." She stated.

He nodded, avoiding eye-contact, "Your mother would have been proud."

"I wish she could have been here too."

"She will be."

She turned to face him, scanning his expression but any response she might have formed was forgotten when Alfie tore along the corridor, skidding on the polished floor.

"GRANDAD!" He yelled as he approached them and Charles turned quickly, instinctively bending to catch the lad in his arms and hoist him up.

"What's this, hey, hey? All this racket?"

"It's like a castle!" He exclaimed. "And our room is huuuuge!"

"Well, only the best room for the best greatest man in history."

"Best greatest man EVAH!" Alfie shouted.

"You shouldn't have done it," Ethel whispered beside Elsie, an unsettled Charlie wriggling in her arms. "It's too much, we could've got a taxi home, we needn't have put you out."

"Don't you worry, it's all Charles, he would never leave you out. You're part of the family now."

"Shall we find our rooms then," Charles said, still carrying Alfie, "Get our fun day started?"

"Hello darling," Elsie said, leaning across to kiss Alfie's cheek.

The boy clambered down from Charles' grasp, reaching for Elsie's hand, his face suddenly serious.

"Granny, can I come with you today? I've thought about it and tomorrow I'll be with Grandad a lot, getting our suits on and doing boy stuff like shaving. So, I thought I could spend today with you and do girly stuff. In the Sparrr."

Elsie laughed, "It's 'spa' darling, but of course you can, though I suspect you want to have fun with Becky not just me. You going to get in the jacuzzi with us?"

"You bet. You don't mind Mr. C? Do you?"

Charles frowned for a minute, looking downcast at the boy before smiling broadly, "Course not," he joked, "need to know somebody is taking good care of her before tomorrow. I can trust you to do that."

"Yes sir!" Alfie saluted.

"Come on then," Ethel said, tickling his side. "Let them get to their rooms and unpack, we'll go find your trunks, shall we?"

"We're meeting in the changing rooms," Elsie said. "We've got an aqua class first."

"Alright. See you down there." And to both of their surprise she leant in and kissed Elsie's cheek before heading upstairs with her children.

"It's snowing," she said, her voice so deep it almost croaks; though she is unsure as to why.

Behind her the door had opened and closed and she knew it was him as soon as the handle had turned.

Her arms are folded but she loosens them slightly as he approaches, waits for his hands to find her waist, his chin to rest upon her head.

"It looks rather nice though, doesn't it?"

"I do hope guests can still get here, before it gets too heavy."

"Don't worry," he kissed her head before resettling his chin there. "The most important person is here."

"Alfie?"

"Of course."

They both smiled.

"Remember how green everything was when we visited," she said, "now frosted at the edges. You think that's a metaphor for life." She turned in his arms, her hands lifting to his shoulders. "Or are we already frosted around the edges?"

"I know for sure I am." He held her tighter against him, "You settled in here okay?"

She nodded, "I seem to be, going to be odd isn't it, sleeping apart tonight."

"Tradition."

"I know, still, odd." She straightened his collar, "But you are a stickler for tradition."

His hands were still on her waist, resting there, a familiar comfortable feeling settling between them.

"You make me forget traditions, push the boundaries."

She gave him a slight smile, "You want to come to aqua class with us? Dance a little?"

"Because I'm such a dancer."

"But you are, tomorrow our first dance will be spoken of for decades to come." She bragged and he laughed.

"For the wrong reasons!"

"Not at all, we've had plenty of practice sessions in the kitchen."

"Sliding about in my socks with a kitten chasing me."

"That baby is almost one, and we'll no longer be able to call him a kitten."

"Oh, but he'll always be your baby."

She kissed him then, holding him tightly. "I hope it snows tonight," she whispered against his lips, "trapping us all here for days. Mystical and magical."

"Like you." He patted her bottom. "I'm going to marry you tomorrow."

She looked up at him, eyes sparkling, "Marry me good then."

He smirked, shook his head, "Go enjoy your pampering."

"Enjoy your… whatever it is men do."

"Eat cheese. Drink port."

"How sumptuous. Like Lord of the manor."

"It is the surroundings for it."

"Good you could make it down here for today," Robert mumbled to William as they followed the line of men down the corridor.

Charles was far in front, clearly anxious, silent as he marched to where the main hall was, to where they would marry the following afternoon. Tom and Bill were laughing; Richard following, chuckling as he listened in to the pair, admiring the artwork.

"Happy to be here, always enjoy a good wedding. Not often I go to one as fancy as this mind, I must say."

Robert glanced sideways to William – there was something in his voice then, something of Charles in his expression. Or maybe it was just that he searched for that now, sought it out as some sort of physical confirmation. "It's good for him, you being here," he said, holding the boy's gaze just a second too long, silently trying to convey that he knew, he understood. "It makes him happy, relaxes him."

"I wouldn't have thought him to be the nervous kind."

"He isn't. He's the particular kind though, he likes everything to be done just so." Robert held the door ajar as they made their way into the dining hall. "I'm surprised he's not offered to wait on himself, polish the silver… I bet he chose every bottle of wine."

"Standards," William laughed, but there was admiration in his tone, a need to know more about his father. It was odd to think he'd known him all his life, and yet not known him, not really. "I'm glad he's getting married," he added. "All my life I've only ever known him to be single, he turned up to every family party on his own."

Robert took a moment to reply, stopping by the window and taking in the ice-covered scene, "She wasn't what I expected." He finally said. "I've known Charles for a very long time, and she was very different to anyone he's ever introduced us to. But, she's brought him to life in a way I've never known either. And I would never deny him happiness. We should all grab whatever of it we can." He stopped when he realised William had stopped by his side, looked up to him. "Sorry, must be the wedding nostalgia."

"It's alright, was emotional myself at my own wedding. I like her, Elsie, she's been kind to me. This isn't the easiest of situations," he said pointedly and Robert looked at him clearly then – they both knew what the other did, no point in being coy.

"I understand your parents aren't invited."

William shook his head, "I never told them I was, not explicitly." He shrugged, "I'd rather not hurt my father, if it can be avoided but… who knows where things will lead."

Robert patted his arm, "There's time enough, just the break, the good food, the grand house. And Charles…." He said with a smirk, "….kneeling on the floor to check the height of the wine glasses."

They both chuckled at the sight.

"These aren't the ones I ordered, I'm sure." He pushed himself to his feet.

"Is it such a bother?" Richard asked, "Really, who will know?"

"I will." He said gruffly, "Where is Barrow?"

William perched back on the wide windowsill, "Why the use of surnames?"

Robert shrugged, "Part of the routine one supposes."

"It's a different world to me. Alien." William admitted. "All these dos and don'ts, which cutlery to use, how fast – or slow – you have to eat. The airs and graces, the importance or who or whom."

"You get used to it, learn it, over time."

"I wasn't brought up in this kind of circle. It's the same in the lab, all the way through the teaching, there's a group of elite. Those born into money."

Robert nodded as if he understood, which of course he didn't, he could only imagine. His father had been wealthy, and his grandfather before him. His great grandfather an MP, the business had been in the family for years and only grown. He reaped the rewards. Went to private school. Studied business management. It had been whilst working for him that he had met Charles, he'd been thorough and efficient and rehired him many times. And from there the friendship had grown. He had never stopped to analyse the differences between them; their life experiences.

"He's proud of you." Robert stated. "He perhaps won't tell you that directly, if I know him. But he is." He smiled as Bill and Richard took a seat at the head of either end the table and lifted their empty glasses to salute each other. "Not as stuffy as he used to be though, admittedly. He would have chastised them in the past. Not laughed. That's her doing, loosened him up some."

"He told me she gave him the courage to make the connection with me."

"Well, that's something to be thankful for. Would have been a shame wouldn't it, not to ever know?"

William nodded, "Yes. Yes, it would."

The door at the far end swung open and Barrow strode in, an air of elevated self-worth carried with him. "Right then, what's the issue Mr. Carson?" He snapped.

"Ah Barrow, now these glasses…"

Alfie was lying on one of the loungers around the pool when the women came in from the changing rooms. He waved at them and immediately jumped up.

"Watch this, Granny!" He called across before running and bombing into the pool.

"Oh good god," Isobel said, a hand on her heart, "like a ball of energy."

Elsie stood at the edge watching as Alfie rose to the surface, wiping the water from his face and pushing his hair back.

"Is that entirely safe, young man?"

"Course it is, Mr. C told me how to swim."

"Taught," Elsie said.

"Yes, and now he says I'm the best at it."

"You're the best at everything darling." Elsie assured him, watching proudly as he turned himself around in the water before clambering out in front of her.

"You can jump into too."

Ethel laughed as she helped Anna to sit at the pool's edge, they both dropped their feet in. "I feel like this is as far as I will waddle."

"You'll be able to do some of the lighter movements," Ethel assured her.

"Nobody told me we were getting a strapping young man in the class today," the instructor said, noting Alfie holding Elsie's hand.

"Important job, this one," Beryl said, "chief security for the bride. Must take care of her at all times."

"You just need jump in, Mrs. H," Alfie said, staring up at her. "Bomb it!"

"Do you realise how old we are laddo?" Beryl said. "Me cozzie's too tight to bomb anywhere."

"Don't be scared. I'll get you if you sink." Alfie said.

"What a hero," Isobel smiled. "I'll bomb if you do –," she started but before she could finish Elsie had already thrown herself into the pool and emerged spluttering and laughing in unison.

"That was great Grandma!" Alfie said, jumping in after her.

"I want to Elsie," Becky said.

"Come on sweetheart," Isobel took hold of her hand, and Beryl took the other and the three of them jumped in from the edge.

Becky was laughing as she reached for her sister, "I've not been swimming in years and years, I love it here."

"It's rather fabulous," Elsie squeezed her hand, "You're okay, you remember how. Just stand up to see where the water comes to."

"Come on Becky, let's race," Alfie said, splashing down the pool.

Becky only glanced at Elsie for reassurance before she went wading after him.

Striding through the garden room William paused by the refreshments, poured himself coffee from the pot and added a drop of milk, and a larger drop of whisky. It was frosty out.

Tightening his scarf and turning the collar on his coat, he pressed his hand to the glass door and eased it open, closed it as gently.

Charles – he wonders if he shall ever think of him first as 'father' – is seated in a broad-backed chair, a small canvas before him. He thinks it odd that a man of such breadth should work on such a small scale; he is focussed and concentrates upon each stroke and William stands for a while watching him. The brush seems lost in his fingers, but he holds it as delicately as one might a crystal-cut glass, and strikes the material as delicately as if it were one too.

William has never painted, not since school anyhow, and he almost nervous at the fact that if he tried it would resemble cartoon characters with balloon heads. Lollipop trees.

Robert is across the courtyard on a bench, Richard beside him, there's a heater behind the pair and they share a blanket over their legs. If he squints he can believe this is the 1600s and two lords are passing the time of day squelching paint to an easel, the sharpness of their minds dulling as they sip brandy to warm their lungs.

He sips his coffee, takes the free chair to Charles' left.

"This all feels very civil," William said, "Not your usual riotous pre-wedding celebration."

"Is it not your style?" Charles asked gently, glancing across from his work to his son.

"No, I like it. I like the stillness. And the liquor is rather good."

Charles smiles at that, "Knowing quality is an important skill."

"I'll admit I don't know much of that, wine and such."

"Well," Charles turns to his painting, he is still nervous of going too fast, pushing too much and scaring the lad. "I can teach you." He offers tentatively. "I'm well versed, in fact it's part of the course I teach. Wine. It's my best-attended."

"I might join a class."

"You needn't do that, really, I'd bore the pants off you I'm sure. Besides better at home, having a steak, talk wine."

William smiled at the warmth in the older man's voice, there was genuine excitement there, contentment.

"You going to pick up a brush?"

"Think I'll embarrass myself if I do."

"Nonsense. You should see Robert's offerings – he sticks to black and white twigs and calls it visionary."

William laughed, "I'm happy to watch."

"If you're bored… I mean, I don't mind I you'd rather go in, it's cold out here."

"Really, Charles, it's nice watching you work. And it is cold, but beautiful too. Go, get on, don't worry over me."

Charles nods, steals the quickest of glances to his son's face, and then returns to his painting. Yes. He is perfectly content.

She is by the fire when he approaches her, her hair pinned up, the simple silver heart he bought her for Christmas round her neck, the tiffany bracelet for the memory.

"You didn't tell me you'd be wearing red," he whispers by her ear and he feels her twitch back against him, a twist of a smile.

"Ah, but you never asked." She breathes deeply, the fire is warm, she can feel it prickling against the bare skin of her legs. "Besides, it's not the red dress. It's just a festive red dress."

"No. But you in red is a dangerous thing."

She turns slowly, "Careful. I am to be married soon… I must remain pure."

He can't help but smirk at that. "Times I think you've softened at the edges, then Elsie Hughes comes out."

"You'd miss her if she left."

"Be agony, if she left." He touches her arm, leans forward and kisses her cheek. "Shall I escort you to dinner?"

"Of course. Do you know the menu for tonight?" She asks, hooking her arm through his.

"No. Oddly, after being so involved in every detail for tomorrow."

"Your favourite," she says triumphantly. "I can plan too, see."

He laughs, "Last night of freedom and I get cottage pie? You're too good to me."

"This I know. And lots of red wine."

"Not too much, I want to look my best tomorrow." He says, "Are you feeling relaxed then, glowing from the spa?"

"Yes. Wonderful day really, Alfie had his toenails painted. We did Zumba to eighties hits, what more could a girl want?"

He rolled his eyes, "I have no idea."

"I had a massage, I've been buffed all over, my skin is glowing."

"You are glowing, actually, beautiful."

"How was your painting?" Her fingers are rubbing his, and they walk in time as they go from the library to the small dining room.

"Blissful. Quiet. I had time with William."

"I hoped you would."

Family and friends are already gathered and she laughs as they clap their arrival, mock-bowing in appreciation.

"Sit down," Charles urges, waving his hands at them. "No speeches tonight."

"Other than to say we are overjoyed you're all staying here tonight with us, and we hope you've enjoyed the day and even more… that you'll enjoy the treat later tonight."

"What's happening, Elsie?" Becky asks, and she can feel her sister's small hand in hers. Questioning. Nervous.

"A surprise, darling, but you'll love it. I promise." She kisses her head, bends closer to whisper, "Think about Santa's sleigh."

There's the hint of a smile on the younger woman's face, but she is in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, and more to come, and clinging to Elsie's hand seems like a lifeline.

Charles is already at the long dining table, holding out chairs for others because he can't help but do so. Douglas finds a spot close to the fire, and Elsie takes the chair one up from him putting Becky between them and saving a spot for Charles. He has overseen the decoration for the dining and she marvels at the tiniest of details – it's festive without being ostentatious. There are tall white candles lined up down the centre of the table, heavy red ones in the centre surrounded by greenery. The plate settings are white adorned with gold holly; the cushions on the seats tartan – and she appreciates the nod to her heritage.

There's broccoli and stilton soup to start, freshly baked bread rolls – of which Alfie has three – then cured salmon, a small portion, with beetroot and goats cheese mousse. When the pie arrives it is in traditional enamel pie dishes, great ones that are lined along the table and Charles stands to serve those around him. Elsie sits back, sipping her wine; he is in his element and it pleases her to see him so happy.

"You nervous?" She hears her father whisper by her ear, his voice seems oddly tiny among the chatter around the table.

"Not at all," she says, turning her head a little to look at him. "Excited." For a moment she remembers walking down the aisle in the small Scottish church, and she did feel nervous then, but they walked it together clasping each other's hand. "Perhaps I'll be nervous when we're at the top of those stairs waiting for the nod."

"I'll be bloody nervous then," he stated, knocking back his beer. "Order me another, would you?" He pushed his chair back. "Must find the gents."

She watches him leave; it hasn't entirely passed her by how frail he is these days, but perhaps she has ignored it more than she would care to admit. After all, he's been such a force in her life, sturdy and unchanging, that to picture a life without him there makes her heart shake. Beyond that, the fear for Becky, she hopes she has done enough to build bridges, to assure the girl – woman – that she can find a home with her. Whether or not she's up to the task still worries her but, as with everything, she will find a way through it. Life throws all manner of troubles and inconveniences and heart breaks at you, and yet, it goes on and you do survive. She has.

Charles is sitting beside her again, his arm stretched around her chair, his hand on her back, and she momentarily closes her eyes as his fingers trip along the back of her neck. It can still surprise her, how the gentlest of touches makes her skin tingle, chest pull tight.

"You're okay?" He says gently and she nods, her hand squeezing his knee.

"Very much so."

The floodlights across the patio area turn the snow blue, and there's a magical quality to the entire scene they could only have hoped for. Gold lights threaded through the trees like fireflies. Waiters stand to attention balancing trays laden with hot chocolate, marshmallow treats and alcohol for those that want it.

Alfie and Becky are already aboard one of the sleighs, waving frantically for Charles to join them. He does so willingly, clambering on and sitting them down beneath a blanket.

"This is by far the best wedding event I have ever witnessed," Beryl said, hooking her arm through Elsie's, as they watched the first sleigh leave to journey around the grounds.

"I'm going to take the credit for this idea," Elsie said, "I thought of how much children enjoy visiting these plastic North Pole imitations over Christmas and wouldn't it be nice if adults go to have a go too."

"Bloody marvellous idea, how did you organise it?"

"Charles knows a person who knows a person – he's well connected in all kinds of ways."

"I bet he is."

"I wasn't being vulgar," Elsie laughed, "You had some of the schnapps? It's glorious. Take one on your ride, where's Bill?"

"I lost him in the disco. He's likely passed out somewhere. Open bar."

"Oh dear, I have limited myself – don't want to feel like shit tomorrow."

Beryl rubbed her friend's arm, "You look very happy, my darling, and I'm glad of it."

"Thank you," she walked them a little way from the others, the line that had quickly formed as guests awaited their turn on one of the sleighs. "Hard to believe, isn't it, going on who I've been since we met."

"Yes. But that's another time and place. All those bastards in the past, all those mistakes."

Elsie sighed, "Many of them. You know, in every relationship I had – which I know were few and far between dating – I always inevitably reached a point where I knew it was over. Either I was bored, or I realised that our differences far outweighed our similarities. Sometimes they ended amicably, sometimes it was over some vicious row and ties cut. Like friendships. They can't all last."

"No. The ones that matter do. I think that comes with growing old, you filter through all those 'friendships' and relationships and realise which ones are real and will go the distance."

"Charles is the first man I can't imagine ever being over, does that make sense?"

"Yes."

"It doesn't mean the others..." she sighed, "I don't have bad feelings about them anymore, you know, no resentment. I just feel free of things that once weighed me down."

"I'm glad you finally got there."

Elsie smiled, and then jerked when a hand slapped against her arm.

"Fantastic party old lass," Bill gurgled by her ear, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"You drunken old fool," Beryl said, "showing me up."

"I'm havin' myself a good time." He took hold of his wife, spinning her around in the snow. "And we are… going to the chapel and we're… gonna get married…" he sang in an off-key kilter.

"Go, get on the sleigh," Elsie pushed them towards it, "and remain seated at all times." She said mock seriously as she waved them off.

Folding her shawl around her she shivered in the late frosty air, "You need a coat." Doug said, standing close behind her.

"I left it inside."

"Shall I get it?"

"It's alright, I don't think I'll take a ride, it's for the guests."

"Nonsense, it's your wedding. Besides, how many times you get to do this?"

"Very few one would imagine," she said, lifting her face as a few stray flakes of snow melted on her hair. "Used to be tougher, remember in the middle of January cleaning out the cow shed in minus degree weather? Ice so thick we used to chip it off the door with spades."

He nodded, standing beside her now. "I remember it well. Very well actually, those childhood years when you'd be my little assistant. Always hungry to learn and tackle the next challenge. You were talking before you could walk."

"You told me that before – always had too much to say, is how you put it."

"Yes well, what do I know." He reached for her hand, "Come on, let's get on this one."

She happily followed him, wrapping one blanket over their legs, another around their shoulders.

They rode in silence for a while. Content to take in the view. The sound of the snow crunching under blade. The breath of the horses on the air.

"I never realised you'd know so many people," Doug finally said. "Miss Popular."

"They're Charles' friends too."

They were sitting so close together she could feel the scratch of his wax jacket against her arm.

"But it…" she breathed deeply, her chest aching from the cold night air. "…Well, I just want to say it's more important that you're here. And Becky. If anything, over the past few years life has changed with Charles, and besides meeting him the thing I'm the most… I can't think of the word. But you. The fact you and I can be like this again. I have missed you. For many years."

He placed his hand over hers, tapping it gently but remaining silent. It was enough.

"So," he finally said. "I have something for you. A gift."

"Oh? But you were generous with Christmas, you needn't have –,"

"– from your mother."

Elsie stopped short, turning her face to search her father's.

"When she died, well she'd left this brooch for you. The instructions were pass it on when you married, kind of a tradition I think. Well, it was. Passed through the family to girls on their wedding day." He pulled a paper bag from his pocket and it amused Elsie that something so precious was wrapped up in a creased brown paper bag.

Doug rolled the bag open and a small brown box sat in his hand, inside cotton wool and a brooch. A silver thistle with a pale purple stone at the top.

She took hold of it, lay it in her palm and twisted it under the lights as they passed beneath the trees. Scotland.

"It's old. 1800s we always thought but you're smart, you can probably get it dated."

"Mum never wore it though?"

"Didn't want to get it dirty, you know how she was. Never felt the farm was good enough for it, so kept it for best. Only we never went anywhere best."

She knew that to be true.

"But you can wear it. You should."

She closed her hand around it. Her mother and her home wrapped up in one. "I'll wear it on my dress tomorrow." She looked up at him, leaning forward to kiss him. "Thank you Da." For a second she hesitated, but they were approaching the back of the castle again and the crowds of people. "I love you," she said quickly, and he nodded his head in approval.

It was after one and Charles couldn't sleep. It wasn't nerves – he had no doubts, regrets, fears – it was the result of too much energy, he wanted to get on with things, get to the point of actually standing beside her and saying those vows again with certainty and clarity.

The lightest tap at the door was not a complete surprise, and he was smiling as he opened it, leaning against the frame as he took in her small stature.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Have I mentioned how short you are?"

Her mouth quirked to the side; eyes bright. "That's potentially not a great chat up line."

"Petite. See," he held his arm aloft, "you fit right under my arm."

She pushed past him, pressing her hand against the door and closing it behind his back. "I still can seduce you, short as I am." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. "Take all of me…"

Her mouth was against hers, soft and inviting. She smelled of her face cream, and her hair was still slightly damp at the ends from the shower.

"You know I had two portions of pie, don't you?"

"I did notice," she placed her hand on his bulging belly. "

"You can't be here," he said against her mouth, "I'm getting married tomorrow."

"Lucky woman."

He toyed with a loose lock of hair that had fallen to her cheek, "Lucky man." He held her gaze, laughed when she didn't break the connection. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged, "Couldn't sleep. Lonely in a bed without you."

"I feel the same."

"What you watching?" She glanced to the television on the wall.

"Programme about fishing."

"You don't fish."

"Ah but I might after watching this."

She smirked, moved her body back from his and he watched as she slipped off her dressing gown, lay it across the bottom of his bed, and climbed right to the spot where he'd been laying. "Nice and warm here."

"That's because I was getting comfy there."

She quirked an eyebrow, "Watching fishing. This isn't going to be a Friends thing, is it – you masturbating to sharks?"

"Elsie Hughes!" He shook his head, "I haven't the foggiest but Christ…"

She giggled, stretching on the bed, "You like naughty Elsie."

"She's delicious." He turned away from her and locked the door – she was there for the night. "You want something to drink?"

"No."

She shuffled across as he returned to the bed, laying her head on his chest when he settled back and wrapping around him. His arms instantly around her, he kissed the top of her head and for a while they lay in silence listening to the conversation between the two men on the show.

"Where is this?" She asked.

"Enniskillen." He said.

"It's beautiful."

"It really is. We'll go one day, when we're retired perhaps."

She smiled at the thought of that, her palm warm on his chest. "Perhaps we won't spend our time fishing."

"Perhaps not."

"We can just eat, do the odd walk, read a book by the water."

"That sounds very much like a retired life." He chuckled.

"I haven't mentioned that we need to be up and out by seven thirty every morning, on the road, beat the traffic."

"In by six so it's not dark."

"Exactly." She giggled. "Pyjamas on. Big light off."

"Minx," he chuckled, squeezing her waist. "Do you see years stretching out ahead of us spent like that?"

"Yes, joyous ones."

He held her yet tighter, "My dear wife."

"Do you feel bad," she asked, turning slightly to look up at him, their faces close on the pillow. "Like we're deceiving all these people?"

"No I do not! This is costing us a fortune, these people are getting top class accommodation, the best food, wine, spa. Bloody sleigh rides!"

She laughed at his expression.

"No need to feel guilty at all, we will be married tomorrow, to an intents and purposes. But in here," he tapped his head, "you and I both know, we have that private moment."

"The most special moment of my life."

He felt his heart tug at that, "It was?"

She nodded, twisting onto her side now, facing him, her knee pushing between his legs. "Top of my list."

"What else is on the list?"

"The top five, hmm, it consists of… our meeting, of course. And I still have a soft spot for jumping into the water in Spain and goodness your moments with Alfie – I'll collapse them all together as funny wonderful brilliance. Ohhh, our baby, him jumping on your arse when we were having sex is still hugely comical."

"For you, yes."

"Your many proposals, I count them all as one too."

"You're still on six, not five."

"I am not."

"You just listed five things, on top of our first wedding. That's six."

"Well. I will have a number one and a top number one."

"Or a list of six things."

"I can't have a list of six, it's illogical."

"That's you all over."

She pinched his nipple, "Don't make me get the big guns out. What's your top five anyhow?"

"Your name dominates the list."

"You old softie."

"Don't tell anyone."

She kissed him before laying down again, tucked in against him and listening to the television. They were laughing together at the conversation; a shared moment of quiet normality.

"You think the rest of the hotel is asleep?" She whispered.

"Yes, they're well behaved."

"We'll look like crap tomorrow."

"You'll look beautiful whatever."

"Lots of makeup."

"You nervous yet?" He asked, switching the television off, sending them into darkness.

"A little, perhaps." She turned over again, searching for his face in the slight light coming in from the fire burning in the deep grate. "I need my hair to go right. And not to forget my vows or trip on my dress on those stairs."

"Alfie'll catch you. How was he today?"

"A total star, he amused me from beginning to end."

"You think he'll ever realise what joy he's brought to our lives?"

"Maybe not. We'll show him. Shower him with love," she said, kissing his chest and then yawning.

"You going to sleep?"

"Yes."

"Here?"

"Don't make me leave."

"Are you meant to spend the night together before getting married?"

"When have we ever done anything the right way round?"

"Right…" he leant his face in a little closer, his nose nudging hers before she lifted her mouth to his and kissed him deeply.

"Love you," she said, her hand sliding around to press against his back.

"Love you too, very much. Mrs. Carson."

She smiled, leaning her head back as his fingers reached into her hair, tangling in the strands. "Hard not to think of your mother when you call me that." She twisted her head and kissed his fingers, "Wish she was here."

"Me too. I miss her every day; I talk to her every day."

"You do?" She was genuinely surprised at that.

"Of course, just the odd hello, or to tell her about the flowers. The garden. How my tomatoes have grown."

She chuckled, placing her hand to his cheek, "You're incredibly wonderful." She kissed him again. "Thank God you tripped over me."

"Well. Indeed."

She was keenly aware of being exactly thirteen and a half minutes late as she left her room that afternoon. If it had been twelve, or even fourteen, it might not have bothered her at all. But thirteen seemed such a precarious number to be stepping out on. Charles would be fussing in the hallway below and, despite his apparent calmness when they'd parted early that morning, she knew him well enough to imagine his hands knitted together right about now.

"Elsie," Becky's voice whispered beside her. "You look like a fairy princess."

She smiles at that, feels a warmth in her chest as she glances to her left and sees her sister looking up at her – wide-eyed and happy.

"You, my darling, look like the fairy princess."

She holds up the hem of her skirt, "There are diamonds on my skirt."

"Gems, but yes, they sparkle as bright. Like you." She carefully bends, kisses her head, "So very glad you're here to walk with me sweetheart."

"Me too, Elly, and my hair is pretty too and I'm wearing eye-make-up. And all those people will be watching, Dada…" she says suddenly, "I'm scared of it."

"You don't have to do it," Elsie says quickly. "You can sit with Beryl and watch if you prefer."

"She'll walk with us," Doug says, fiddling with the flower in his lapel. "Bloody thing."

"Come here," Elsie fixes it for him. "You look smart."

"Thank you. And you look quite beautiful," he nods to the brooch, "your mother would be proud…" he breathed deeply, "…I am. Never thought we'd get here mind."

"Neither did I. Still, I'm glad we are." She glances at Becky's pale face, "Perhaps you should go in the middle, Dad, have one on either side."

"Not really traditional."

"Well," she picked up her flowers from the side table, "When were we ever the type of family to do anything right?"

He snorted, moved between the two of them and held up an arm to either one, "Bugger tradition."

Thirteen minutes. He tapped his watch, a beautiful Christmas gift from her, but one that now served to remind him of her lateness. He knew she hadn't changed her mind – the thought would be ridiculous – but it made him worry over Becky, or even Doug, neither were known for being centre of attention.

Clearing his throat for the hundredth time, he fiddled his cuff back into place, his foot tapping. "The foliage is a bit much," he complained, gesturing to the staircase and the greenery curling about the banister.

"I like it." Alfie said. "It's pretty. Mrs. C will like it too – they put Scottish stuff in it too."

Charles' head jerked towards him, "How d'you know that?"

"Becky told me when we were playing ghosts this morning before we polished our shoes."

He smiled at that, patting the young man's shoulder. "You're a tonic Alfred, a real tonic."

Alfie pursed his lips, unsure of what a tonic even was, but he would a) add it to his list of words to look up and b) add it to his list of odd things adults said when they were scared.

"The violins started," Alfie suddenly said, jumping to his feet, straightening his trousers the way Charles had taught him to do.

Charles too tuned in to the fact that the strings had indeed struck up.

He clumsily got to his feet, marvelling at how confident and calm Alfie was as he took his place at the head of the room. 'Trained him well', he thought. His fingers trembled, and he gripped one hand over the other; now was not the time to lose all sense and control.

She was stunning.

Doug in the middle, stern faced, like a soldier in his stature with one lady gripping each elbow. Becky grinned from ear-to-ear; the silver dress she wore sparkled as she came down the stairs.

And Elsie kept her eyes on his, a brief nip to her lips before she smiled and he nodded in kind. "Stunning," he mouthed and her smile broadened.

Doug was solemn in his duties, focussed as he gently took hold of his daughter's hand and placed it in Charles' – as if she were some young innocent embarking on a whole new life. Not this experienced woman who had weathered more storms than either of them would wish to remember. He leant in and kissed his daughter's cheek, before taking the hand of his other daughter and leading her to sit.

"Hello," Charles whispered. "You're late."

"I'm sorry," she mouthed in return, glancing down to his shaking hands. He pulled a stricken face when she looked at him; she strengthened her hold on his hands, stroking them between both of hers as they turned to face the registrar.

Alfie stood beside Charles, leaning forward just far enough so that he could see Elsie. He gave her a wave, patted his pocket where their wedding rings were hidden and gave her the thumbs up.

She couldn't help but laugh and Charles shushed her, trying to stifle his own laughter. This was very different from the solemn silence of their first wedding – when they were both deathly serious and reverent in their focus. Her voice shaking when she'd said her vows; his eyes fixed upon hers, each word committed to memory as he'd pledged himself to her for life.

"That was a damn site warmer than the first one," Elsie said as they made their way into the drawing room. A moment alone.

"Shorter too. Who knew it was that easy to wed, the most important decision of your life and it can be done in fifteen minutes."

"Same as making a baby, perhaps more important. Easier to dump a husband than a child."

"This is filling me with positivity, darling."

She laughed. "I like it in here, good choice for photos."

"Told you," he pointed to the chaise lounge, "this is where you can have a few taken. Draped here."

"We're not in some French magazine."

"Trust me, see, just settle your gorgeous…" he kissed her as he backed her towards the chair, "…beautiful body right down there."

She slid her arms over his shoulders, "Kiss me properly, Mr Husband."

"I rather like that," he chuckled, holding her waist, pressing tight against her. "Mr Husband."

They sank into the kiss, her moaning into his mouth, a river of memories of kissing – that first night, that first new year.

"If there wasn't a young photographer coming to join us, I think I'd suggest we consummate the marriage right now right here."

He breathed heavily, eyes closed, her scent in every pore.

"Your hands have stopped shaking."

"I don't feel quite so nervous anymore." His voice was deep, laden with desire and intoxication as he leaned in to kiss her again.

Outside there was the mumble of voices, of glasses clinking, drinks and canapes being served. The band was playing in the background and he was glad she'd convinced him they needed to hire them for the day. She swayed against him, her hips moving under his palms.

"Remember when I got drunk and told you I loved you?"

He nudged her nose with his as he smiled his reply. "Remember when I forced you to buy walking boots and trudge up muddy hills?"

"I secretly liked that."

"I know."

She squeezed his bottom, "You think we're going to make a thousand more memories?"

"Millions. Years and years of them."

"I like the fact you buy flowers when you do the weekly shop."

"It's nice to have colour in the house. And plants are –,"

"– really important for bringing healthy air into the house, yes I know, you've mentioned it before." She smiled cheekily, hands on his back now. "You look good in this suit; you always look good in a suit."

"And you look…" for a moment he held her at arm's length to look at her properly. "This dress."

"I knew it as soon as I saw it."

"And you thought you couldn't wear white."

"Picture of purity that I am."

He twirled her around, pulling her in close to him, dancing and turning together.

"Of course we both have to accept the fact that Alfie outshines the both of us." She said.

"Well, as expected. I did teach him well though, those shoes glisten."

They were laughing as the door opened and closed, "So sorry," the photographer said. "I had set up in the Blue Room, I didn't realise there was more than one drawing room."

"It's no bother," Charles said, surprising even Elsie with his relaxed demeanour. "Take all the time you need."

They danced together as he fussed with his equipment.

"She's going to have a few on the chaise lounge, if that's alright," Charles said over Elsie's head. "The light is just perfect for it now. Before it disappears completely."

"Sounds good."

"Thank you, Paul," Elsie said pointedly, raising her eyebrows at Charles.

"And then I thought we better head outside," Charles added. "...Paul."

"I agree, we can get some shots in front of the house, and with the wedding party if that suits." The photographer replied.

"Wonderful," he twirled Elsie again. "Now madam, let's get you settled on here."

She did as he requested, let him move her legs, arrange her dress and flowers – he had a painter's eye after all.

He stood back, behind the photographer, watching as he took the shots. She glanced at him a few times, winked, such a simple off-the-cuff action and yet it told him they were a pair, in it together, and always would be.

They had debated the wedding dinner for weeks and weeks; her argument was that nobody would want Turkey a week after Christmas. His – that it would be expected. In the end they'd compromised, she had chosen the 'street food' package for the evening celebrations. He had been given free reign with the main meal. As the smoked haddock souffle was served she was more than happy with his choices. She hadn't managed more than a chocolate digestive at breakfast with her tea, and her stomach was actually rumbling as they'd taken the last of the photographs.

Becky sat beside her, then her father. Alfie was next to Charles, then Robert – two best men – and Cora on the end.

Alfie wrinkled his nose and looked up to Charles, "What is this?"

"Fish. You like fish."

"It don't look like fish."

"Doesn't. And it's a souffle."

"Looks funny."

"Try it, it's good to widen your palate."

Alfie picked up his fork, "But you wouldn't even try MacDonald's the other day."

"Well, perhaps I will. If that's where you want to go after swimming."

"I definitely will. When you and Mrs C get back from the honey and moon we can go."

Charles laughed, "We have a date. Do you like your surprise?"

Alfie dropped his fork and pulled back the cuff of his shirt, "It looks brilliant, don't you think?"

"It does. And now we have to sharpen up this telling the time business. A young man should know the time, it's as important as your shoes being shined and your hair being combed."

"I will learn, grandpa, and I won't forget."

"I know you won't champ." He squeezed the young lad's shoulder, glancing out to the room of guests and noting William watching them. What could have been. He lifted his glass, tipped it towards his son, and William returned the gesture in kind.

"Is it just this fishy mush then?" Alfie said, chewing with his eyes screwed up.

"No, there's either roast loin of pork or free range chicken for main. With lots of vegetables."

"Can I have both? I'd like to try them both… widen my palate."

Charles shook his head, grinning at the quick mind on the boy, "Yes, you may have both. I will tell the waiter."

"Great. Won't need this then." He pushed his souffle away.

Elsie was feeling merry. Her cheeks were warm and her belly full; she knew better than to have a second slice of Chocolate York Ale Cake but it was her wedding day after all. She would slow down on the wine though, otherwise she would be asleep before nine let alone seeing it through to midnight.

"Now, I know you all want to dance," she heard Charles say, "So I won't go on for any longer. Especially as we have two more speakers to go… my dear, darling wife… and the man of the hour, the bestest man in the room. Mr Alfred."

There were cheers around the room and Alfie stood up proudly, taking a pile of cards out of his jacket pocket. The adults laughed and Charles clapped his hand to Alfie's back. "I guess that's me done then. I was just going to add that I can't quite believe this amazingly wonderful independent woman has agreed to hitch her wagon to mine," he glanced down to her. "I'm the luckiest man alive."

He bent to kiss her and Alfie took that as his signal, standing tall as he nervously addressed the room – he had practised hard and Mr. Carson had taught him tricks to hide the tickle in his belly but it was still scary.

"Mr. Carson doesn't have a wagon." He said as confidently as he could; Tom had told him that a good speaker could think things up on the spot – so he did. "But I think he means that if he had a wagon then he would let Mrs. Carson get a lift in it."

Charles sat down, holding Elsie's hand as the room laughed.

Alfie took this as a good sign and launched into his well-rehearsed speech.

"Mr. C and Mrs. H are now both finally Mr. and Mrs. C," he said. "But to me they are my grandpa and grandma."

"Oh Christ, I'll never make it through," Elsie whispered to Charles, already reaching for her napkin to dab her eyes.

"I first met Mr. C in a coffee shop where my mum worked when we had no money. He would buy me a cake and we talked about butlering. He has trained me to be a gentleman." He scanned the faces of the adults and they were all smiling at him so he continued, moving onto card number two.

"We have learned how to swim and dive, how to polish shoes the right way, what wow words are and how to dance even when the music is boring. Most importantly we have learned about trains, and that is why Mrs. C has hired the train for outside, so we can play in it like real drivers because she is a really kind lady. They are the best people I know and I love them very much."

"Alfie…" Charles said gently, feeling his usual firmness melting away.

"The internet says that a bestest man has to tell a joke. So, why is Cinderella bad at football?" He asked and there were mumbled responses from the room. "Because she's always running away from the ball!" He said with a grin on his face. There was more laughter and he took a deep breath as he moved onto his final card, he was almost done and he hadn't been sick on the table.

"When they told me they were going to get married and I knew I had to be bestest man I started doing lots of research, because Grandpa always says being well prepared is the key to success. And I found something Prince Phillip said about marriage and I thought that if anyone knows about being married he must because he looks about 102 years old and he's married to the Queen so he must know everything. Well, he said that if a man opens a car door for his wife, then it's either because it's a new car or a new wife. And Mr…" he paused as hilarity erupted.

Alfie was unaware that he had made a joke but he waited until they stopped laughing, gripping his card in his sweaty fingers.

"And…" he said loudly. "And, right now Mr. Carson has both…" they laughed again so he just shouted his final bit. "Because he got a new upgrade car the other week and now he has a wife too. We have to make a toast now, which doesn't mean bread, it means you need to have a drink and say congratulations granny and grandad."

"Congratulations granny and grandad!" The room shouted, glasses held aloft, and Alfie received a standing ovation.

"I did alright?" he whispered as Charles hoisted him into his arms and held him up.

"You did brilliantly. The biggest wow word I can think of."

Alfie kissed Charles' cheek and then Elsie's as she stood next to him; Paul busily snapping away – she could see this picture taking pride of place in the hallway.

"How I am ever meant to follow that?" Elsie finally said, taking a long drink of water as the room settled back down.

"And so…" she started, still giggling. "I have no jokes and no stories about trains. Though Charles did once carry me across a stream on my birthday, and if that isn't a test of true love then I don't know what is. No other man has ever carried me across a stream, I can tell you that."

She put down her water glass, her glasses were on the table alongside her notes but in the end she found she didn't need it.

"I had planned and written an entire thing," she said hesitantly, "But I don't think I need say much at all. When it comes down to it there is very little to say." She took a deep breath. "When I met Charles, it was another lonely New Year's Eve and I had been dragged out to some party by my dear friend Isobel who was wringing her hands over the fact I was still single. Still flitting about through life. I was fiercely independent, and I was more than certain I needed no man ruining my lovely little set-up. But he has this way of finding his way into your heart, dear Mr. Carson…" she glanced down to where he sat, Alfie on his knee. "He is unlike any man I ever dated, so not my type…" the guests laughed lightly at her expression. "But I found, rather suddenly, that he was everything I'd ever needed. He helped me face up to things I'd ignored for decades. And I realised that all's well than end's well, because whatever sad times I'd gone through faded away because I'd found him. Somebody I am always pleased to see. Somebody I can be quiet with, which I know may sound odd. Somebody that not only am I happy to go on a date with, but I'm happier to have built a home with. So, another toast, to the incomparable Charles Carson – love of my life."

There was snow on the ground when they ventured out. She wore the coat he'd bought her for Christmas and a bobble hat, wobbling in wellington boots beneath her bridal gown.

For a while she stood at the top of the steps by the open doors, watching as their guests gathered on the lawn to watch the fireworks. There had been laughter all night, good food, flowing wine and music. It was all she could have hoped for.

Isobel was kissing her husband. Beryl was chasing Becky with a snowball. A heavily pregnant Anna was leaning back against John. Alfie, who had been so very excited about the fireworks, was half asleep, lolling in Tom's arms.

"You're hiding up here?" Charles said as he came to stand beside her. "You'll be lonely here on your own."

"Never. I'm happy watching." She snuggled against him, his arm around her shoulders, her head on his chest as the first of the fireworks went up.

"That's it then," he said softly.

"Yes. That's it."

She felt his heart beat beneath her cheek. He was warm. Whole.

"Is it bad I can't wait to take my shoes off and go to bed?" He said.

"No. I feel the same. We best wait fifteen minutes though, see it through a little into the year."

"Alright." He kissed the top of her head. "Marvellous day, don't you think?"

"The best," she turned her back on the fireworks and celebrating couples, facing him instead, linking her arms around his neck as she kissed him. "Going to be quite the job, besting this New Year's Eve."

"And I thought I'd already had the greatest New Year's Eve of my life…" he waggled his eyebrows and she remembered stumbling down the hallway in his old flat.

"It seems a lifetime ago."

"Maybe next year we should have a quiet one; eat some cheese, drink some mulled wine, watch a movie."

She laughed, "Alright. Just the two of us in our pyjamas with Socks."

He brushed his lips across her forehead, warmed by the very simple image. "There are a great many things I want to tell you, my darling," he whispered. "I want to be alone with you."

"You will be. We have almost three weeks alone in the Maldives together. Tell me everything then, do what you like with me."

He laughed, kissing her again. "Standing here in the snow it's difficult to believe we'll be in the glorious sunshine in a few short days."

"Naked for the best part of the trip too, I hope. In and out of the ocean. Sipping cocktails. Making love."

"Ahh, that…" he kissed her forehead, was silent for a while listening to the others cheering the firework display. "Thank you." He finally said against her hair.

Her throat felt tight, chest pulling at the emotions. "Thank you."

He kissed her head again, "You're missing the display."

She turned in front of him, leaning back into his body, his arms around her holding her safe. His chin rested on her shoulder.

"Happy new year, Elsie Hughes."

"Happy new year, Mr Carson."

The End

Thanks guys, been quite the journey. On to the next adventure…