FLESH NOT STONE

Chapter One

Rob Scotcher's mind was riddled. To himself, he sighed: a true expression of torment, disbelief and of obligatory pain that today had swept upon him, like a wave onto the sand. Naomi had returned, the wife whom left him; tore the self confidence from his system the moment she had uttered those collection of words. Sticks and stones. Sticks and stones, Rob. No, he thought. Words could be just as harsh; just as thought provoking as actions. It was a mere tale; a saying he had taught to a growing Aiden. Aiden. His son - the boy who at this moment in time, he hoped, was at home; sat on his games console and cowering from the rest of the world.

His eyes remained fixated upon the floor, the surplus of thoughts within his mind vanishing; doting upon one, singular yet defining topic.

Karen. Quite frankly, he adored her. He knew not whether it be the way she kissed, the way she smiled, the way her eyes always seemed to glisten bright with intensity - oh, the cliché. He would be reminded of how her hair floated gloriously, fitting around her face perfectly as though moulded exactly. Her legs, how he would find them unbelievably sexy. How she would never be the skinniest woman on the planet; never considered the prettiest compared to that of models - but to him, she was perfect. A day could be cowering beneath the darkest of clouds, then she would appear and the weight was lifted; the sun would appear, and he would smile.

The light summer nights had enabled Rob in his ghastly long walk across town. He had never visited her home before, however after the events of today he felt the need to explain himself before the school day would commence tomorrow. It was almost a churning feeling - the bubbling in the pit of his stomach that he thought to be guilt. Guilt that he had given her cause to be upset; that his son had wriggled his way into her and her daughter's life - like a worm, into an apple - only to rip it apart on his journey back.

And this is why Rob Scotcher happened to find himself at her front door.

Inhaling deeply, his fist clenched and fell upon the solid structure. Had his mind not have been ravelled into such thoughts of what she might say; what he might say, he would have heard her voice approaching and he may have apprehended her sudden appearance.

Her mouth fell into the perfect shape of an 'o', her flouncing hair falling droopily to the side as she succumbed to a sudden stand still. "Rob…" she began, unaware of whether she should either be dismayed, angry or pleased at his appearance on her doorstep. "You're here."

"So it would seem," he provided his response calmly, notably covering his nerves with a convincing façade of sarcasm.

"At my house." A stunned Karen darted her eyes in all directions, until spotting the garments in his hands. "And you have flowers… And an enormous box of chocolates."

"And an apology, although that's coming from me - Shakespeare doesn't quite provide the 'I'm sorry my son's a git' sonnet."

"That wasn't funny."

Rob tilted his head, pursing his lips together and silently processing her comment, not being able to prevent his reply from slipping off of the tip of his tongue. "No, because in all seriousness I am here. Laden with flowers and chocolate because I am sorry."

"Sorry because your son is a 'git'?" Hit back Karen, using his previous comment to fuel her replies.

"Sorry because he is a git; sorry because I didn't come to you straight away - it's just, I told them to come clean, as soon as I walked in on them today-"

"Today? You only-" It was at that moment the head mistress realised he was shivering involuntarily. In his haste at returning home from work he had not changed clothes, and seemingly had not thought to bring with him a coat. There she stood, almost selfishly in the warmth of the doorway; dressed in an oversized jumper and casual leggings, hair ruffled and dishevelled as the clocks had ticked to produce six o'clock. "You're cold."

"Me? No. Bit of a breeze never hurt anyone."

Men and their stubborn pride. "Now you can either come inside voluntarily, or I will force you."

"Now, now Mrs Fisher…" Rob began before being cut short.

"And you can stop with the wise cracks - anyone would think I've forgiven you."

It was that glimpse, the twinkle in the corner of her bright and glowing eyes. The brash smirk was also a contributing factor as he stepped through and allowed her to close the door. "I've never been inside a teacher's house before."

Rob handed her the flowers and the chocolate he had purchased as she brushed past him and into the kitchen area. "I promise we won't talk about school. Or tell you off about your homework."

Whilst Karen preoccupied herself in finding a vase for the beautiful bunch of violets, Rob took the opportunity to sit down at the kitchen table and scour the room with his eyes. Photos and memorabilia were scattered everywhere, all distinctively feminine and unmistakeably Karen. Even the scent that filled each corner of the home was her. His eyes then fell upon the ironing board, the top she had worn for their date only days ago flung across the top of a generously huge pile of washing.

He was abruptly absorbed from his thoughts as the vase came into contact with the table and Karen seated herself opposite. "Thank you, for the flowers."

"I find roses such a cliché."

Karen giggled slightly, not at the comment but more so at the tone of his voice. Or even him - just being with him where casual talk is flowing like a naturally sprung river.

"So, where are the kids?"

"Harry's upstairs. Jess is staying with a friend tonight. It seems chick flicks and pampering appeal more to that of a night in front of the tele and her mother's disastrous cooking."

"Don't even get me started on cooking. There was this one time when Aiden and I-" suddenly Rob stopped, the conversation going stale at the mention of his son after the travesty of today. "I'm sorry. Look, maybe I should-"

"No, don't be stupid. I acted far too hastily today, too much for my own good when I should have listened to you."

Rob looked at her for a moment, their eyes connecting in a fearless trance. "No you didn't. You were looking out for Jess, exactly the same as I would have done."

"It has just occurred to me that I have not yet offered you a drink. I apologise for being such a bad host." Karen rose promptly to her feet and headed for the cupboard, followed by Rob who leant back against the work top as she brought out two bottles of wine.

"Well I did turn up rather unannounced," he protested.

"Still, no excuse," persisted Karen with a smile on her face. "Red or white? I seem to remember you prefer red."

"And I seem to remember you prefer white. We drank red last time, open the white," Rob smiled, adding tone to his voice and lightening the mood even further. "Where are the glasses?"

Karen pointed to the wooden cabinet just above his head as she attempted, in vain, to unscrew the bottle of white they had both opted for. Eyeing her difficulty, Rob placed the two glasses upon the top and held out his arm. "Give it here," he sighed playfully, hoping to wind her up. It seemed to work, or at least provoke the reaction he desired.

With an evil glint in her eye, accompanied by a playful smirk she reluctantly pushed the unopened bottle into his hand. She watched him tentatively as he unscrewed the lid with not even five percent of the difficulty she had encountered. "There you go, Mrs Fisher. Now that wasn't too difficult, was it?"

"Oh, shut up." Karen took the bottle out of his hand, placing it upon the work top. Rob's face was a picture, his lips pouting much like a child she thought. She held no restraint as her hand rose to meet with his cheek, her thumb rubbing smoothly across the stubble where he had not shaven. "Kiss me."

"You're sure-"

He was broken from his speech as her lips met his own, the soft glossy feel caressing his senses as his eyes closed. As he too responded to the kiss, his tongue skimming across her lips before being allowed entrance of her mouth, his hands travelled down to her waist. Her own had travelled to loop around his neck, connecting them both in an embrace neither were willing to break from. They were different. He liked red wine and she liked white; he liked football and she loved art; he was the caretaker and she was the headmistress. But opposites did attract, like a magnet would connect at the appearance of opposite charges. Something had connected between them, deep inside of them that would take a lot more than the circumstances of today to tear them apart.

Disclaimer: all of these characters belong to the BBC, unless I introduce any of my own in further chapters. Apologies if these are out of character at all, this is my first attempt at writing for both of these.