Chapter 10 (second part) to chapter 12.

 (Chapter 10 continued)

(If you recall Charles has been into the village and has bumped into Atta. They are chatting.)

 "So my mother has been keeping a secret from me and it concerns you."

   "She's been keeping many things a secret and I'm only a small part of it."

   "And you're not going to tell me? Or are you?"

   "No, no I think I won't. I'm visiting my son who is living nearby, I often come and stay for weeks on end. I'll be happy to talk to you once she tells you but if not...then maybe we can meet for cake another time. Here is my number," she said, scribbling down a number on a napkin "I have the new iPhone 6 with 64 giggles."

    "What's an iPhone?" said Charles, confused. Atta frowned at him, looking utterly baffled. 

     "Shall we meet tomorrow? Say 10am?"

    "What makes you think she'll tell me by tomorrow?"

    "Just mention the name Rufus Monroe to her and see what she says. Now drink up, you'll want to be getting back to those jumpers I expect."

    He drank his cappuccino in silence, keeping his eyes low. 'Rufus Monroe' he thought, puzzled. He finished the dregs of his coffee then looked at the old woman. 

    "Can I ask you one question?"

    "You can ask," she said shrugging her shoulders. 

    "What is your name?"

    "Ah. Great question. Thought you'd never ask. My name is Atta."

    Charles looked at her and furrowed his brow. 

   "Wondering where you've heard my name before?" she asked. 

   "No. Wondering what kind of a name Atta is. Totally bonkers if you ask me. See you tomorrow," he said as he pushed back his chair and went to pay George. 

"Mother," he called as soon as he walked through the front door. There was no answer. "Mother?" he called again, determined to find her and have it out with her. "Where are you?"

   Charles looked in the few rooms downstairs and saw no sign of her. He ran up the steps two at a time, even though it nearly caused his lungs to explode, and found her lying on his bed sleeping. She was clutching an old teddy of his, one he used to take everywhere with him until the age of 12. Charles frowned, it was unlike his mother to sleep in the middle of the day. He was about to walk out of the room to start on the remaining orders when he noticed something else in her hand. It was a photo of a man, a handsome man with a ruddy complexion and a warm smiling face. Whoever the man was it most definitely was not the man he had once called father. He went to leave again but this time haltered because of the sight of an empty bottle of pills on his bed side table. 

    

Two hours later and they were in the hospital, Suzannah having had her stomach pumped and Charles having had the fright of his life. They had caused quite a stir amongst the national trust guests when the ambulance arrived, and when his mother got carried away on a stretcher. At the time he had been too concerned to care but now his cheeks flushed with the humiliation. 

    His mother was sleeping now, the doctors informed him that it would take some time for the pills to flush out completely in her system. He stayed by her side and held her hand, willing her to wake up, willing her to be ok. If anything ever happened to his mother...she was all he had, he should never have shouted at her or stormed out like that. He cried and a giant tear fell and landed on the bed. 

    The kindly nurse who had taken charge once they were taken to the ward saw Charles upset and waddled over to comfort him. She was 8 months pregnant and felt every step. She rubbed his back however and bent over as far as her stomach would allow. 

   "Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked in her Lancashire accent. "Is there someone I can call?"

    Charles knew, later on when he recalled the whole scenario, that he wasn't thinking straight, and that if he was to ask anyone to come in that it would be someone like Jane, the national trust coordinator that they spoke to regularly, or Mr Timms the closest neighbour that they had who occasionally made them jam from the plums he grew in his garden.  But never in a million years should he have called the number on the napkin in his pocket. 

    "Yes, could you call this number please? She has an iPhone 6 with 64 giggles and her name is Atta." 

Chap 11

Agatha

The small company sat down at the table and looked at the food in front of them. Agatha had finished serving the final bits of food - the veg, gravy, though only after spending 20 minutes bleaching the kitchen after the mouse debacle. She looked around at the food she had so lovingly prepared and felt quite dismayed. It looked awful...the Turkey was greasy looking, the potatoes had gone soft, the cranberry sauce had a weird shine over the top. The marks and spencer stuffing balls she had tried to pretend were hers were looking quite well however. She let out a deflated sigh and looked at her guests. 

   "You know what," she said, "forget it. It all looks gross, I wouldn't feed it to a dog. Just go home, it's not worth it."

   "No, it doesn't look that bad," said Ben, reaching across the table to touch her hand. 

   "You're very kind but it really does. It's started snowing outside and there's every possibility that it won't stop. You don't want to be stranded here with me in this tiny flat. That would be an unmitigated failure."

    "It was an unmitigated failure when you brought out those starters...what were they?" This from Ruby, ever the tactful one. 

    "They were a recipe I made up...it should've worked. But thanks for your honesty," Agatha said, without a trace of sarcasm or anger. 

    "Maybe we should go," said Charles, "I mean I need to get back to mother and if I'm snowed in on Christmas Eve she will never talk to me again."

    "We're not leaving," said Ben "we are having a quick bite to eat and then we'll finish what we came here to do. It never snows that bad in England and it's not going to start tonight of all nights."

   Agatha looked at him gratefully for his support but really wished they would all go so she could put her pjs on and cry into the nice bottle of wine that Charles had hidden around the flat somewhere. He must have thought she hadn't noticed but she would make sure that he left it for her if it was the last thing she did. 

    She sighed again. 

    "Look, how about we skip all this and just have dessert. It's a particularly tasty Christmas pudding. While we're eating it I can deal with the necessary arrangements and then you can go. Go back to the wonderful lives you must all lead, and then we never have to cross paths again. Deal?"

Charles. 

"Rightio," said Charles, infinitely relieved. He hoped that Agatha hadn't found the bottle of red that he had secretly stashed away in a shoe cupboard in the spare room. He refrained from rubbing his hands together with glee. 

Ruby 

'Finally, a sensible suggestion. I can get the hell out of here.' Ruby thought. Everybody looked at her with varied expressions... "I thought out loud again didn't I?" she said. 

Ben

Ben felt a small twinge of something at Agathas words. 'What was it?' he thought. He looked at his hostess with her beautiful eyes and delicate wrists and realised that maybe he didn't want to leave and never see her again. She was...really quite sweet. But he couldn't out stay his welcome so he resigned himself to another Christmas with just his brother and a box set. 

Agatha

Agatha bought out the steaming hot Christmas pudding and placed it on the table, in place of the turkey which had been dumped in the kitchen with the hope she might salvage some to make curry with. She wasn't too hopeful but she had learnt over the years how to be thrifty and she had to try. 

   The guests looked underwhelmed at her Christmas pud, but she could hardly blame them after her previous efforts of the night. She served up four helpings and dolloped the brandy sauce on top. 

    They all picked up their spoons cautiously, hoping that a catastrophic event would suddenly prevent them from eating it. Agatha took a bite. 

Charles

The girl took a bite so Charles felt he should follow suit. He took as small a mouthful as he could without drawing attention to himself and put the spoon in his mouth. The taste was...the taste was surprisingly good. He could not contain his shocked expression. 

Ruby. 

'So the girl can make a Christmas pud. At least she can do something right.'This time no one looked at her so she was fairly confident she had managed to keep her thoughts inside her head. 

Ben

Ben took a spoonful and grimaced. There was one thing he hated and that was Christmas pudding. And trifle. And chocolate gateaux. In fact he wasn't really a pudding kind of person. For so many years of trying to look good, stay healthy so he could wear the clothes he liked to wear, his taste buds were no longer fond of sweet things. And plus he hated raisins. But he would persevere because after the terrible night his hostess had had she deserved to know he appreciated her for something. 

    "You know," he said suddenly, putting down his spoon, "this one time I was out on a date with this girl and we went to a quiet little restaurant with soft music in the background and candles on the tables. The conversation was lovely, she was really nice, the food was amazing. But after the main course she asked the waiter for a glass of ice...nothing else, just ice. When it came she popped one in her mouth and crunched...really loudly, with her mouth open. I listened to her as she munched through 16 ice cubes ...I know it was 16, I counted...and by the end the whole restaurant was looking at us in pure disgust. It was then that I realised what I feared...hearing people eat. Apples, carrots, ice...it sends shivers down my spine!"

    He finished with gusto and expected people to laugh. He got a disgusted look off Ruby, a puzzled face from Charles and Agatha gave a polite smile but looked back down at her pudding. 

   Maybe it was best that they leave soon. 

Agatha 

'It was a very sweet thing to do,' she thought as she took another mouthful, 'but it doesn't really come close to breaking the frozen ice of this party.'

    "What is it about mice then," Ben asked, trying to cover up his belly flop of a story. 

   "Oh...oh I'd rather not talk about it if that's ok? I um...I don't like to dwell on it, I just don't like them. Now excuse me a moment while I go and get something that nan left."

    Agatha practically ran to the bedroom where she had kept the letter..the place she kept all her treasured things ...mementos, photos, shoes. She opened the drawer and found to her surprise the bottle of wine that Charles had brought. She had a moment of feeling triumphant and took it back out, hiding it instead in the box seat that was against the window. It had a secret compartment, a lid that opened up. She mostly kept rugs and cushions in there but it was a perfect place to hide an expensive looking bottle of wine. Then she went back to the drawer, moved her most favourite shoes aside and found the letter, beautifully written in her nans handwriting. She held it in her hands, treasuring this moment that she had waited for for over 6 months. She wished she could just get them to leave so she could savour this moment on her own, rather than with 3 strangers. Agatha found herself wondering yet again what her nan had been up to when she plotted all of this. She sniffed the letter, taking in the smell of the paper, the mustiness of the drawer but also smelling the perfume that her nan always wore. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and drop onto the letter, and there she let it stay. 

Chapter 12

1 year ago

Agatha 

"Miss Monnow, James Black won't give me back the car and I had it first. And he said I smelt of wee wee."

   Agatha looked at the little girl in front of her and smiled, her unnatural but never ending patience with these children her most greatest gift. She knelt down and looked the child in the eye. 

    "Now Rose we know that telling tales is not very nice is it? Now let's go together and ask James to give you the car back, ok? Come on then," she said and took the little girls hand. 

    James Black - black by name, black by nature. He was from a large family with 4 older brothers and a father who worked  away for much of the year. His mother tried her best but the behaviour of her youngest child left a lot to be desired. 

    "James," Agatha said sweetly as she approached the boy who was hitting another boy on the head with the car he was taken, "James we don't hit do we?" She went to take the car from him but he swung his arm away from her and hit her in the eye. 

    "Oopth," he said, stopping in his tracks at seeing his teacher covering her eye and trying not to cry with the pain. The little girl Rose burst into tears however and ran away crying "Miss Monnow has a baddy, James Black did it!" to the nearest nursery school teacher. 

    Agatha groaned, this would mean an accident report, a health and safety report and the boy's mother would have to be informed, just what she needed with another baby on the way. 

    "It's ok Rose, I'm fine," she called after the little girl who thankfully had run to Elsie, a trusted friend of Agathas who also would not want the hassle of filling out reports. 

    "Thorry mith Monroe," he said with genuine concern in his eyes. 

   "That's ok James, it was an accident. But did you take the car from Rose?"

   "Yeth mith Monroe but only becauth she took it from me firtht. I wath jutht playing with it and she thnatched it away."

    "Did you also call her a name?"

    "Yeth, I called her a wee wee."

    He said it with such seriousness that Agatha had to bite her lip in order not to laugh. He ran off from her at that moment before she had a chance to reprimand him for the name calling but she let him go. He was a sweet lad really, just needed some love and one on one time. 

   Elsie came over at that moment with a wailing Rose clinging to her leg, concerned look on her face.  

   "You alright love?" she asked. 

   "Oh yes, of course I am. You know me, resilient to the end. Rose," she said firmly, turning to the girl, "stop that crying. I'm fine, look, nothing wrong with me." She removed her hand from her eye but it must have looked bad because it made Rose scream even louder and even Elsie wrinkled up her nose, wincing at the sight. 

    The nursery manager, Victoria had started to notice the commotion and Agatha knew that it would be any moment before she came over to see what was wrong. One sniff of trouble and Agatha would be filling out forms all night. And she had plans. 

   "Right Rose," she said suddenly, an idea forming in her mind, "why don't you do some face painting on me, make me into a beautiful butterfly or a flower."

   "Like a rose?" she hiccuped. 

   "Yes, like a rose! Come on, let's go over here." She led the girl to the craft cupboard and found the face paints, which they only used on special occasions, and let her paint her face with many colours. Victoria seemed content that everything was ok and in no time at all Agathas bruise was covered in bright green and pink smudges. 

   

  A few hours later and Agatha was driving in her battered old VW beetle - which she likes to call vintage - in the rain to her favourite place in the whole wide world. A place with Christmas cinnamon smells the whole year round, a place with freshly baked scones no matter how late notice it is that you're dropping by and a place with a happy, funny, wonderful woman who could sort any problem out with a good ear to listen and a funny story for every bad situation. 

    Agatha parked outside and locked the door, praying that the lock wouldn't stick like it did most rainy days. The key had survived so she skipped happily up the path to her grandmothers quaint little terraced Victorian cottage which had ivy growing on the outside and had a grand front door with stained glass windows. She rapped out her fondest knock and waited for the familiar creak of the doors inside and the mumbling she always made as she shuffled her way. Her grandmother was in her late 80s but she was a bright thing, fully in control of her life and her faculties. She often went out, catching the bus, train or taxi, visiting friends of old who could not leave their house, making new friends on the way, collecting them and their stories like stamps. She loved people  and attracted them wherever she went. In fact Agatha had something of a reputation when it came to her grandmother. People would stop her in the street, complete strangers and hug her or shake her hand or occasionally kiss her on the cheek. She was one of the most popular people in the town, purely because of Atta Monroe. 

    Agatha knocked again, concerned that she couldn't hear her on the other side of the door. After another minute Agatha started fishing round in the bottom of her bag for the spare key. She wasn't worried, occasionally her nan had been too busy in the guest room doing her yoga DVD in nothing but a thong. That had been something of a shock but Atta just carried on the stretch she was doing until she had quite finished. Another time Agatha had burst in because she could hear screams but her nan and the local creep Old man Taylor were just in her front room with the curtains shut watching scary films. They'd had the sound up loud because he was hard of hearing. So Agatha wasn't too worried about how her grandmother was...just worried about what she would find her doing this time. 

    She opened the door and called out cautiously but heard nothing back. Frowning, she walked from room to room, unable to find her downstairs. Agatha thought she heard something in the front bedroom so climbed the stairs slowly, not wanting to startle her nan or cause her to have kittens over being interrupted again. 

   But when Agatha got to the top her heart nearly stopped. She could see an unmoving foot. She ran to the room and pushed open the door, and cried out at seeing her precious nan lying on the floor with her dressing gown on with what appeared to have been a stroke. 

The ambulance arrived quickly and took the both of them directly to the hospital. Agatha was in a state of shock and kept looking at the paramedics as though they were speaking Greek to her. There were decisions to be made, phone calls to be made, but Agatha couldn't deal with any of it. When they got to the hospital the staff rushed her nan away from her and a nurse came and took her to one side, partly to get her out of the way and partly to ask some vital questions. 

   "Come on love, let's sit over here. Can I ask you some questions?" 

    Agatha just looked at her blankly, struggling to focus on the speaker of the voice. 

   "Come on pet, we just need to find out a few things about your nan. Are you the next of kin or is there someone else we should call?"

   "My dad. Call my dad."

   "Ok love, have you got his number there?"

   Agatha gave the nurse her phone with the number and she went to the nurses station to make the call. When she came back she handed her a sweet cup of tea. 

    Agatha laughed when she took a sip, appreciating the irony in the situation. The nurse looked at her through narrowed eyes. 

    "Sorry, it's just that...my nan swears by sweet tea when you've had a shock."

    "Sounds like your nan knows what she's talking about."

    "Will she be ok?"

   "I can't say that pet, but we'll do everything we can for her. Lots of people get through a stroke and have great lives."

    "She's the most important person in the world to me. I can't lose her."

Agatha choked down the sobs and took another sip of tea. 

An hour later her father burst through the door. Agatha was staring into space when he arrived, had not even noticed the disturbance. 

   "Aggie," he cried, running over and sweeping her up into a great bear hug.

   She held him tightly and cried into his strong, familiar smelling shoulder. He had been at home watching the rugby probably, and thrown his work clothes on which would have been the easiest thing to find. 

    "Oh Aggs," he said, finally pulling away from her to look into her eyes. 

"How is she?"

   "I don't know dad, they won't tell me anything. They wanted you, you're her next of kin."

    "Let's go and see them now, together." 

    They walked to the nurses station and waited for someone to be available for them. Everyone seemed to be on the phone or dealing with patients. 

   "You're looking good Aggs, really good."

   "Thanks dad. How's Molly?"

   "Yeah, she's...ok." Her dad smiled awkwardly at her but it didn't make Agatha smile back.

   "She wants a baby actually. I keep telling her that I'm too old but she's desperate and you know what she's like when she gets an idea in her head."

   "Well that's what happens when you marry a woman half your age."

   "Don't start Aggs, not now." 

   They continued to wait in silence, Agatha unable to speak for fear of saying something she would regret. She was tired, stressed and worried...really worried. She bit her lip, an old habit of hers, and started shifting from foot to foot. 

   "Come on, come on," she muttered impatiently. 

   "Alright love, they're busy. Give them a break."

    "I just want to know what's wrong with Nan. She'll hate being in here, I want to take her home."

   "She won't be coming home tonight love, not if it was a stroke."

   "It probably wasn't, they can't say until they've done tests and stuff."

   Her dad kept quiet, not wanting to distress his daughter further. He put his arm around her and pulled her into him, something she found hard to resist. 

   Finally a nurse came over and spoke to them about the early prognosis the doctors had made. It did appear to have been a stroke and by all probability a bad one. 

   "But look, people recover from strokes all the time. It'll take some hard work and dedication but there's no reason why she can't gain back a good portion of her life."

   The nurse was trying to help, Agatha knew this, but she didn't know Atta Monroe like they did. She didn't know how independent she was, and how sociable she was, and how many people relied on her. There did not seem to be any positives in this situation and Agatha felt desperation roll over her in a tidal wave. 

chapters 8 and 9

A bit more for your pleasure.
xx
chapter 8
Now
Agatha
Agatha stood on top of the kitchen counter hanging on for dear life and cursing herself for wearing a short dress. Her three guests were currently crawling on the floor looking for the mouse that she had seen and Agatha, scared out of her wits, would not come down until it had been taken away. But still…the dress was so short that she had caught Charles in the act of sneaking a glance, then looking away red faced from embarrassment.
   “It’s no good,” Ben sighed, standing up and brushing down his trousers, “I think it’s gone under the cupboards. You may as well come down, it won’t come out again tonight.”
    “I can’t,” Agatha said, “you don’t understand. I’m terrified of them, I’m really quite paralysed with fear right now.”
    “Look it’s alright,” Ben said patiently, “I’ll help you down…let me lift you. I’m stronger than I look.”
    “And I’m heavier than I look,” said Agatha, trying for the second time that night to keep the tears back. “Maybe…maybe you should all just go. We don’t need to do this.”
    “What, and leave you up there for the rest of the night?” This was from Ruby, who was also now standing and leaning against the fridge.
    “I’m fine, really,” said Agatha, trying to stand in a casual way, whilst holding onto her dress with one hand and to the kitchen cupboards with the other. “You just go, and have a nice christmas.”
    Agatha looked down at her guests - Ben who was looking up at her sympathetically, Ruby who was trying not to laugh and Charles who was still on the floor with one arm under the oven, a look of concentration on his face.
    “We’re not going Agatha so either come down here now or I’m going to have to manhandle you, and with the length of that dress I’m not sure you’re going to come away with any dignity,” said Ben with what he hoped was his stern voice.
    Agatha looked down and took a deep breath. She couldn’t hear a squeak and couldn’t see a tail…maybe she should just climb down. She started to lower herself but her foot suddenly slipped from under her and she fell into Ben’s arms clumsily, him only catching her at the last second. He held her there for a moment, Agatha looking into his eyes, until they were interrupted by Charles who stood triumphantly with the wriggling mouse in his hand.
    “Got him,” he exclaimed proudly, dangling the offending creature just inches away from Agatha’s face. She screamed loudly into Ben’s ear, scrambling as fast as she could to get back up onto the counter, which resulted in an elbow into Ruby’s face, a kick into Ben’s groin and a nudge in the way of Charles’ hand which sent the mouse flying into the sink. Charles moved quickly and recaptured the mouse, this time holding it in both hands securely.
    Ben was groaning, bending over and clutching his manhood, and Ruby was cursing a steady stream of expletives whilst tears streamed from her gradually blackening eye. Agatha had run from the room, seeing that as her only way of being protection. She ran and hid in the shoe closet.

Charles
The crazy one had been standing on the kitchen top in her tiny short dress and Charles had been unable to look away. He knew it was wrong and he knew what his mother would say but still…she had good legs. He set himself the easy task of finding the mouse, and shut off all the distractions whilst he felt about under the oven. This he could do…he knew how to catch mice, he was patient and calm and had had plenty of practise. He suddenly felt the warm furry body and as fast as he could wrapped his hand around the tail, and held on tight. He hadn’t anticipated the reaction from Agatha though, resulting in the mouse being knocked out of his hands. Carnage ensued but he managed to grab the mouse again before he scampered off. This night just got weirder.

Ruby
‘Ow, freaking ow’, thought Ruby as she saw stars. Wait, had she spoken out loud? Judging by people’s reactions she had spoken out loud, and had said a lot worse than ‘freaking’.

Ben
‘What was that? That…look.’ Ben was groaning and clutching his balls but he was pleasantly distracted by the way her legs felt in his arms and the way her pretty brown eyes looked into his. He waited for the burning sensation to ease before he went to look for her. But damn he had forgotten how much this could hurt.

Agatha
Agatha ran into her bedroom and shut the door, barricading herself in by moving the chair. She shuddered, unable to get the image of the mouse wriggling in front of her. She felt dirty so stripped down to her underwear, throwing her dress into the corner of the room to deal with later. She ran to the wardrobe and searched quickly for something else to wear. So absorbed was she in finding an outfit that she didn’t hear the knock on the door. The next thing she saw was Ben and Charles bursting into her bedroom, knocking over the chair and standing with their mouths agape at Agatha in just her underwear.

Charles
Charles gulped.

Ruby
Ruby looked through the freezer for a bag of peas and spotted the shelves and shelves of ready meals and tubs of ice cream. ‘Healthy eater’, she thought sarcastically before settling on a bag of sweetcorn.

Ben
“Oh wow…I mean sorry, we were just making sure you were ok, but we can see you’re more than ok, I mean you look great, really great, but not because you’re almost naked, although that’s great too - not that I’m looking because that would be weird, but…ok we’ll just go and leave you to it.” Ben nudged Charles in the stomach and turned. Charles didn’t move so Ben went back and grabbed him by the sleeve. “Sorry again.”

Agatha
‘Will this night ever end,’ she asked herself before settling on a slightly more demure dress which fell below her knees and covered up a good part of her chest. ‘What oh what were you thinking Nan?’ She sighed and decided to face the music, first off readying herself to explain about the mouse thing.

Chapter 9
Four years earlier
Charles sneezed again and blew his nose with the over sized hankie that his mother insisted he carry in his pocket. He had tried to persuade her that he didn’t need hankies any more but she wasn’t one to break with tradition and continued to embroider his initials in the bottom lefthand corner as she had done for his father before him. She came running into the room on the next sneeze and felt his forehead with the back of her hand.
    “Charles darling, you’re all snuffly, you must go to bed.”
    “Oh mummy, stop fussing will you? I must finish these jumpers or they won’t be out by christmas.”
    “No darling, I’m not risking your health. Come on, to bed with you.”
    “NO. Mummy I’m not a little boy any more and I’m not going to die like Daddy and James.” He sneezed again.
    “Well at least let me get you a lemsip, or maybe a few spoonfuls of calpol.”
    “Calpol? Oh please. A lemsip will be fine. Thank you.”
    “Rightio. Though I’ll be back with a thermometer and if your temperature is too high I’ll be calling Dr Sanderson. No arguments.”
    Charles waited until his mother had left the room then put his hand over his forehead, willing the shivering to stop. She simply didn’t understand it - they had no money and if he didn’t complete these christmas jumpers then there would be no goose for christmas lunch, and no christmas presents under the tree.
    He forced himself to continue but knew it was only a matter of time before he’d have to stop. He tried to focus on the last few bits of detail but found himself sitting back in his chair and staring out of the window.
   Charles was a handsome 22 year old with a mop of curly brown hair and dark brown eyes that remained in a furrowed position almost all of the time. He lived with his mother on a grand estate in the beautiful countryside of Surrey, surrounded by fields and farms and picturesque brooks. It had been their family home for many generations, being passed down from son to son. It was a tradition that the Harrington family have sons and this generation had been no different. Unfortunately it had also become a traditon that the Harrington men died young from heart disease, so Charles had grown up without a father since the age of 3. He had had a brother too, James, who had tragically died as a toddler in a car accident. As a result Charles’ mother was very protective and smothering towards her only remaining relative.
    They had a good relationship however, and for the most part Charles was content living in the grand house. But money was scarce and before long they had to face facts that they could not afford to live in the house any longer. The roof was leaking, walls were starting to fall because of damp and bats had moved into the attic, all things they were unable to fix. Charles had spoken to the National Trust and now they had visitors from all over the country traipsing through their home on Tuesdays to Sundays and a lovely tea room in the old stables.
It was not perfect but at least they were left alone at night time.
 Of course, this had meant that all the rooms were maintained by the National Trust, which had only left five rooms available to them - a bedroom each, the kitchen, dining room and one of the drawing rooms, the smaller one that had fantastic light. When visitors arrived they shut themselves in their rooms and kept the curtains closed so nosey old women wouldn’t be tempted to see how the mighty had fallen. Charles didn’t mind it really, he sometimes walked through the gardens to listen to the guests gossip, or just to get fresh air. But his mother had struggled to come to terms with the arrangement, still living for better times when every room was available to her and every room was furnished beautifully.
    Theirs was a weird but wonderful relationship. He had been pampered and spoilt by his mother from the day he was born and there was not a day went by when he did not feel smothered by her. Yet he loved her so unconditionally that all her faults seemed small and inconsequential. He had no social life to speak of, no real job and he did not really know the things that flicked his switch.
    He did love to cook though. He really loved to cook. Many hours were spent in the kitchen tasting, stirring, creating new recipes. He had spent many a night watching cookery programmes with his mother, and such was his brain that he just had to read a recipe once and it stuck in his mind until an opportunity arose for him to try it. His mother found this hugely beneficial as her culinary expertise stopped at being able to cook the perfect boiled egg. They ate like kings every night and his mothers waist line was the proof.
    Charles and his mother had tried their hand at many things - dog training (they had one dog Womack who was old and had no teeth) but people only came with their dogs to nose into the grounds of the house. They had tried clay pigeon shooting lessons but the only people that ever booked was stag parties and they either never showed up or showed up drunk in their onesies, nearly killing each other in the process. They even tried horse riding lessons but they had had to borrow a neighbours horse and it turned out that they didn’t really know much about how to teach people to ride. In fact it turned out that the remaining Harrington family knew very little about anything, and didn’t really like people very much, so after that they decided to start a business in knitting.
    Charles’ mother Suzannah had been trained in knitting back in the day, before she was married and had any prospects. She had learnt from her mother and was actually rather good at it. But when she found, met, and married Charles’ father it was suggested to her that she keep this…gift quiet. In fact she never even mentioned to her husband that she could knit because such a concept was alien to the Harrington family. But when they were resigned to a life of rack and ruin, Suzannah taught her son everything she knew and so they began knitting and selling chrismtas jumpers, just before christmas jumpers became fashionable. Their produce was good quality - Charles had learnt quickly with something of a flair for knitting, and soon their website - the unoriginally named Harrington Christmas Knitwear - was inundated almost throughout the year.
    Charles lay his head down on the table for a moment and rested his eyes. The wood felt cool for his head and in no time he was drifting off to sleep. He was awoken suddenly by his mother who had panicked that he had gone into a coma, and that was that, he was shipped off to bed.
    He couldn’t argue any longer. The orders would have to wait, even though it was their busiest time of the year. He took some paracetemol and crawled under his bed covers, ignoring the distant sound of National Trust visitors and occasional shriek from a fed up child.
    It was a few hours later that he woke up to the sound of raised voices and the smashing of what sounded like glass. His clouded brain took a few moments to register what was happening and he shot out of bed, causing his head to explode in agonising pain. He heard more shouting and made his way in the dark room to the top of the stairs. He glanced at his watch which said 7pm - he had slept for 4 hours - and wondered who his mother could be shouting at. The NT guests would have left and they didn’t have any friends that ever came to visit. As he neared the sound, which was coming from the kitchen he realised that the other voice was a womans, one which sounded similar to his mother. He found himself eavesdropping, something he had never really learnt was wrong.
   “Suzannah, this has gone on long enough. What on earth would Charles say if he knew?”
    “Leave Charles out of this, he must never know. We’re happy like this.”
    Charles frowned, unsure that he was happy, but also unsure that he knew what happiness was. He decided that he would go and find out who the voice belonged to.
   He walked towards the kitchen but stepped on the creaky floorboard in the hall, and suddenly the voices stopped. He thought he could hear a “shhhing” but that could just have been the fuzziness of his head. His mother came running out to meet him before he could reach the kitchen.
   “Charles my love, what are you doing out of bed? Come on, lets get you back upstairs, you need your rest.”
   She tried herding him back towards his room but he kept looking at the kitchen and trying to get past. His mother was a force to be reckoned with and she had made it to the bottom step before he could ask the question “who is in the kitchen?”
    She stopped in her tracks and for a moment Charles thought she would tell him.
   “No-one you daft sausage,” she finally said airily, continuing to push him. But it was too late, he saw the lie in her eyes.
   “Who is it mummy? I heard a smashing sound.”
   “Oh that was just clumsy old me dropping a plate. I was talking to myself like I always do. Come on, up we go.”
   He felt so lightheaded that he thought he would pass out so decided to let his mother put him back in bed after all. His head hit the pillow and he was out cold again, sleeping until the next morning.
   He did not wake as the woman was forced out of his home, he did not wake as his mother slammed the door slightly louder than she had intended, and he did not wake to the sobs of his mother as she cried herself to sleep.

Chapter 10
The next day Charles woke slowly, still feeling rough but feeling better, especially from the amount of sleep. He looked at the clock which said it was already 11 O’clock and pushed himself up in his bed. He needed to get back to the jumpers, some needed finishing but more importantly was the completed orders which needed to be taken to the post office. His mother was something of a recluse and hated going out anywhere…even a short walk to the village was a struggle for her, always feeling like the neighbours were laughing at her, and feeling like the open space was going to collapse on her. So Charles knew that he had to get out of the house, but that he may take some time to manage it.
    They had a car, an old Morris Minor that was kept in the garage, but Charles had never officially learnt how to drive so there it remained, rarely looked at and never used. His mother used to let him take it round the estate before the National Trust came in but now he didn’t touch it as he didn’t like the idea of knocking an old man in his wheelchair over. He enjoyed walking anyway, a trip to the village was a pleasant one and something he looked forward to. If his mother knew anything about couriers though he had a feeling he would never be allowed out of the house - which is why he kept quiet.
   He went downstairs and saw his mother watching a cheap TV christmas movie with dodgy actors and bad sound. He watched her for a moment, wondering how his life had ever ended up this way. When he was at school - the local village school instead of the boarding school his father had intended him to go - his teachers used to praise him and tell him he was destined for great things. He was consistently the top of the class and was considered a bright pupil. Socially he was lacking though and he had almost no friends in the small school where he was considered quiet and boring by the other children. His only friend was a girl who had learning difficulties. She never talked to him about spiderman - which held no interest for him - or asked him to play action man games like the other boys. They would sit without speaking and although Charles knew there was something strange about him he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to be more…normal.
    Watching his mother now though he knew that she was a big part of this. She had refused to send him to school for some time, stating that he didn’t need an education and that the world was too scary for a boy of Charles’ nature. But the authorities didn’t see it that way and so on his sixth birthday he left the house with his trousers out of fashion and too big and walked the half mile to school, his mother crying the whole way.
   She understandably had wanted to keep him safe, having had an awful time losing her husband and her son when they were both so young. Charles had grown up shouldering the responsibility that he must stay fit and healthy, that if he died then his mother would have no-one in the whole wide world. Her parents had died many years ago and she was an only child.
   When his mother finally looked up from her film he noticed a sadness in her eyes that he had not seen for some time. But she blinked and in an instant she had wiped it away with the strong iron will she possessed. She would never let him see her like that if she could help it.
   "How are you feeling my darling?" She exclaimed, standing up and cupping his face in her hands.
   "Much better thanks."
   "Good, good. Sit down and I'll get you breakfast. What do you want, bacon sandwich? Pancakes? Dippy egg with soldiers?" She giggled at the last option, still enjoying the joke they shared.
    "No, I don't want anything. I'm not hungry."
   "Oh my love you must eat," she said, absentmindedly stroking his hair.
   "No, really. I'm about to head to the post office."
   "No, you mustn't. You're not well enough to walk all that way. You should be back in bed."
   "No." He stood up abruptly. "Stop fussing over me mother, I'm not a child."
   She stood back as though he had struck her and kept her eyes low.
   "Who was it that was here last night? Tell me."
   "Honestly love, no one was here. You were hallucinating that's all. It was just me."
    "You're lying."
   "Charles!"
   "You're lying. And I know you are. I know what I heard and you're lying to me."
    She started crying, real tears falling down her cheeks, and she ran out of the room and went up to her bedroom. Angrily Charles stood up and left the house, making sure he slammed the door for effect. Of course, he had to sneak back in quietly when he realised he had forgotten the parcels and his wallet. But hopefully she would never know.

After posting his parcels Charles spent some time in the village, taking his time before he would have to head home and pretend like nothing had happened. Yet another strange event in his life that would remain unmentioned, unavailable to him. First though he would do something he was rarely able to do..,go and have cake at The Pot, the local cafe. Fran and her husband George were well liked in the village, and their cakes and coffee were some of the greatest Charles had ever tasted. In fact on the rare occasion that he went in and allowed himself an indulgence he found himself talking to Fran for hours about lemon drizzle cakes and drop scones. They were kindred spirits and she was one person he allowed himself to be real with.
   George, her husband, tolerated him but only because his wife would give him a look...a look which said 'leave the poor boy alone, what's he ever done to you.' Charles had a feeling that they laughed about him behind his back but she was the only person that made him feel normal, like a human.
    Charles pushed the door and saw with dismay that the cafe was busy and that Fran wasn't even there. George and the local girl were serving people, balancing trays and cleaning tables as soon as they became available. Charles was about to walk back out of the door but he caught the eye of an old lady and felt drawn to her. She nodded her head towards the spare seat at her table and he found himself walking to her, as if she was using magnetic rays to pull him in.
   "Come and sit with me Charlie, I have a spare seat."
   He faltered, nothing like this had ever happened to him before. She seemed safe enough but what would his mother say?
   "Oh come on Charlie, it's high time we spoke. I think there are some things you should know."
   He looked towards the door and back at the woman. He looked at George who had stopped with his arms folded, almost threateningly. He made to leave but then realised something. That voice. Her voice...he had heard it before. It was the voice from the kitchen.

   "Now I'll be having the Chelsea bun because I have a thing for raisins and Fran does make them with an extra helping. What will you be having Charlie?"
    "My name is Charles."
   "I know. But back when I was a young girl there was a boy that looked exactly like you, curls and all, and he liked to be called Charlie. Do you have any objections?"
   Charles thought long and hard. He had been called Charlie in school, and although he had objected to the nickname, back then it had been used with venom from the other school children who used it to taunt him. From this lady it seemed...it felt like she was a kindly relative who had a soft spot for him. But he had never met her before so how could that be?
   "I suppose we could give it a go," he said tentatively.
   "Good," she said, tapping his hand affectionately.
   George chose this moment to come and take their order, worrying no doubt that Charles was somehow mistreating this sweet old lady.
    "Morning George. My usual please. Now what do you want Charlie? I hear the croissants are good this morning."
   "I'm not hungry. I think..,I'll just have a cappuccino."
   George looked at him puzzled.
   "Nothing to eat? But you always have something to eat."
   "I think Charlie has been unwell, he may need to build his appetite back up slowly."
    George shrugged and shuffled away and Charles found himself staring at the woman before him. She looked vaguely familiar but she couldn't think why. Before he could stop himself however, he blurted out "you were in my kitchen last night weren't you?"
   The old lady looked at him long and hard but didn't say anything for some time. Charles felt time ticking away but didn't feel the need to speak or break eye contact with her.  
   George came back noisily with his tray and almost dropped it on the table in front of them.
   "Thank you George, this looks as lovely as always. Is Fran ok?"
   "Oh yes, the sickness is beginning to pass. I'll be glad when she's back on her feet again that's for sure."
   The old lady looked sympathetic and nodded her head.
   "The first trimester is always the hardest George. She'll be right as rain."
   "First trimester?" Asked Charles confused.
   "Yes. We're having a baby."
    "But...but you're too old," Charles blurted out before he realised that this was one of those thoughts that was supposed to stay inside his head.
   George's shoulders raised like the shackles on a cat and his face turned a bright shade of puce.
   "How dare you, you little -"
    "It's alright George come on. It's not like you're a pair of spring chickens is it? What Charlie means to say is congratulations, isn't that right Charlie?"
    Charles, stlll getting used to the way his nickname sounded on him, snapped out of his thoughts and nodded.
   "Yes. Um, congratulations George."
   George looked unsettled but seemed to accept it as he placed the food on the table. He nodded once at Charles before heading back to the kitchen.
   "So you still haven't told me why you were in my kitchen."
   "Well technically you didn't ask why, you just asked if I was. And no, I haven't answered yet, because I'm trying to decide if I should override your mothers wishes to keep it a secret."
    Charles felt as though he needed another sleep. The room started spinning and he gripped the table until his knuckles went white.
   "Oh come on now, don't be so melodramatic," the old lady said rolling her eyes. He snapped his head up to look at her and was so taken aback that he felt the panic dissolve and actually smiled.

A few more chapters...

A few more chapters...please excuse the bits I haven't had a chance to proof read (pretty much all of it!)

Chap 4

Now

Agatha

"I'm just (hiccup) going to the kitchen to - no, don't get up, (hiccup)" she said to Ben, ever the gent, as she forcefully pushed back her chair to stand. "I'll be back in a why wheel...I mean wee while." She hiccuped again and scampered off to the kitchen. Not even the delightful after taste of the starter could cheer her up right now. She was struggling, though the added stress of too much alcohol wasn't helping. 
She cleared the plates away and shoved them into the sink...slightly noisily but she didn't think they'd notice. It wasn't their fault that they were at this stupid dinner party. 
With 1 night to go until Christmas, Agatha felt sure that they all had plenty of things they would rather be doing...seeing relatives, last minute wrapping - hell, even watching Home Alone with mulled wine in pyjamas. That's what she'd rather be doing anyway. But instead they were all having to endure each other's company, despite the fact they obviously had nothing in common and didn't actually like each other. She took one last minute of sanctuary from her kitchen then took a deep breath. 

Charles
'Wow,' thought Charles, 'that girl can make a noise when she's mad.' He stretched out in his seat, stretching his hands behind his head and looking up at the ceiling. There was no point trying to make conversation with anyone, they were all as bored as he was and in just 2 hours time they would never have to meet again. 

Ruby
Ruby had a song resounding in her head...she couldn't stop humming it in her mind. It was The Beat Goes On by Sonny and Cher and it was one of her favourites. She had played it for a while with one of the groups she used to play in but the song gave her bad memories so she never listened to it any more. But today, today the song popped into her head like an unwelcome flea pops onto a cat. She was aware of a banging coming from the kitchen but barely acknowledged it, focusing instead on keeping the memories at bay. 

Ben
Bens hands found his pockets, and he started fiddling with his phone, willing there to be a phone call or a text or SOMETHING to drag him away. No doubt Giles would be having a marvellous time at home with all his carers, then waiting for him on hands and feet. It was his job, Ben's job to be there for him, no one else's. But they had insisted he come. Oh the things he could be doing right now...wrapping a few last presents, catching up with some friends at the bar...watching a film in his Pjs with some mulled wine. 'What film would I watch' he thought trying to distract himself. 'Something Christmassy? Yeah, Misery, that's quite Christmassy...at least it's got snow in it.' His mind wandered in the silence until he was disrupted by a scream. 



Chap 5
3 years ago
Ruby 
Paul heard the sound of heels from behind and knew that she was here. The signature click-clack of her red sparkly heels, her homage to Dorothy. She was late of course, as always, and he was about to turn and reprimand her when a small figure jumped on his back and wrapped her legs around him. It caught him off guard but he was strong, he worked out, and she was but a feather. She clung on for dear life as he thrashed about, trying to get her off...it seemed that she was as strong as he, and certainly more fierce. They continued to wrestle for some time, both as determined as the other to reign as champion but soon his grunts of determination turned to laughter and he gave up, collapsing to the wall near him with weakness. 
"Yes! Though she be small she be mighty!" Ruby jumped off his back and ran a victory lap around his shaking body. "Loser!" she shouted in his face. He caught her eye and she stopped suddenly, caught unaware as she always was when he looked at her that way. He could always unnerve her with one look, one glance, one wink. She had not yet grown used to the effect he could have on her. She went to kiss him passionately, and they spent a few moments like that, under the lamppost, in the alley next to the club where she was about to perform in front of a growing crowd of fans. He pulled away. 
"Don't stop," she implored, searching his eyes and stroking his stubble. 
"Aren't you going to be late," he teased, wiping some of her smudged lipstick off her face. 
"Oh I don't care," she sighed, "I don't need anything else in my life, I just need you."
"Now come on," he said, pulling her hands down and holding them in front of him. "You can't let all those adoring fans down. It's a sell out in there tonight."
"I know," she sighed again, "but you know who's going to be on the front row? Old man Taylor with his bunch of cronies. Leering, accidentally falling as though they're tipsy whilst trying to cop a feel of my bum. I'm tired of them, I've had enough."
"But they love you here," he coaxed, "and you're on the brink of something big. Played on the local radio station, you're getting noticed babe. You just need to do a few more of these gigs then you'll be hitting the big time."
"I don't even know if that's what I want. I like my life, it's,..uncomplicated. I like uncomplicated."
"No-one ever made it by being uncomplicated Rubes, now come on, get going. You need to sparkle tonight...plus your makeup needs touching up."
She narrowed her eyes at him. 
"You saying I'm not beautiful without my sparkly make up?"
"Oh good grief no. I wouldn't dare."
"Love you big man." There was an awkward pause and Ruby suddenly realised that something was off about Paul tonight. Usually it was him using the 'L' word but he hadn't said it yet. In fact he hadn't told her recently at all. He looked down at the ground and shuffled from foot to foot. 
"Yeah...about that. Um, let's catch up after your gig, ok? Let's go for a drink."
Ruby narrowed her eyes at him and watched him for a moment. He looked uncomfortable and he was squirming. 
"How about we catch up now? What's going on?"
"I don't want to talk now, you'll be late. But I'll be here I promise. I may even take out old man Taylor's bad leg for you."
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on."
He looked at his feet before quietly saying, "I'm really sorry Rubes but..."
"Ah, I get it, you love me too," she grinned, playfully punching his arm. 
"That's the thing...I do, kind of, but....oh man, I can't believe I'm doing this. I don't...I don't love you like that. Not really. I've been pretending for a long time, but I can't deny it any more...I just don't want to be with you any more."
"This is...a really nasty joke Paul, come on. I'm about play a gig."
"It's not a joke Rubes. I haven't really been busy the last few days I'm just...I've been avoiding you I suppose. I'm so, so sorry." 
"Why?"
"Look, let's go out for a drink after and I'll tell you. There are some things...things that I need to tell you."
Ruby looked at him intently and knew that he was speaking the truth. She suddenly felt her world crumble. She felt angry, hurt, shocked but not sad...she refused to mourn for this man who was trying mercilessly to break her heart. She would not cry. She wanted to hit him, wanted to scream. Instead she calmly said, "I don't think that's necessary, you've made yourself quite clear. I think I'll be on my way. Got a career to build without you." She turned and walked towards the club. There was no time, no room in her mind to stop and dwell on this. He was the love of her life, the only one who had got her to say those words. But she wasn't about to stop her life for him, she would not cry, would not be defeated by a broken heart. Yet she ached and she knew that if she stopped and turned around she would cry and never stop. She carried on walking towards the club. But something made her stop in her tracks. A shadow from the back door of the club...a silhouette she knew so well...he couldn't be here...
Paul saw her hesitation and caught up with her, placing his hand on his back. 
"Are you ok Rubes? You don't have to do this."
She looked at the man she loved, who had been her partner, her best friend and she whispered, "my dads here."

Chap 6
Ruby ran towards the club, her heart pounding, and flung the door open wide, ignoring the doorman who normally liked to search her bag even though she was a regular and never in possession of any drug, weapon or alcohol. He had his back turned to her but she's know this man anywhere. His tall frame, muscular shoulders, close shaved head, habit from years of being in the military. She hasn't seen him in so long...she spoke to him regularly, but to see him, to touch him and have one of his giant bear hugs? It was too much and she softly said "Daddy?"  
He whisked his head around and in two paces had crossed the distance between them and swept her up into his arms. She felt the weight of the world dissolve from her shoulders and she hugged him back with every ounce of love she had. In that moment nothing else mattered, the singing, the relationships? Not important. 
After some time he put her down, and wiped a stray tear away from her cheek. 
"What's happening my little Ruby Wednesday?" She laughed and held her fathers giant hand in hers.  
"Dad, this is the best gift I have ever received. I can't believe you're here."
"You look...you look so good. I can't believe how beautiful you are."
"You say that every time you come home."  
"And every time I mean it."
Ruby's dad had been in the army all her life and way before that. She was an only child who had been raised by a quiet and recluse of a mother, only seeing her dad for weeks at a time when he finally got leave. They had travelled all over the world, Ruby and her mum, packing the bare minimum every time and living in dingy military quarters, just to be near to Ruby's dad. The two women had very little in common, but this was one thing that United them. He was the centre of their world and all they wanted was to be close to him. 
Ruby's mother used to shine when he walked through the door, but he only ever had eyes for Ruby. He would smile kindly at this woman and as Ruby grew older she saw the pain that this caused. But the relationship had drifted apart and the only reason he came home at all was to see his daughter. 
The last time she had seen him was 2 years ago when he had called from a phone box in London to say he was home for the weekend and did she want to meet him? Well of course she dropped everything-rehearsals with the band, a night away with girlfriends and an interview for a new job, to see him for one day. Ruby never spoke to her mother much, she had moved out when she was 16 to live with an older man who was nothing except a mentor and best friend to her. 
Dave, the club manager, came running towards her, shouting and waving his arms angrily. 
"Uh oh," Ruby said to her father, "I'm in for it now. How long are you staying?" 
"I'll be here for you after sweetheart don't worry."
"But how long are you staying?"
"Ruby, you're late...look at the state of you!" Shouted Dave in her face. Saliva had gathered at the corner of his mouth and she was subjected to a spraying. 
"Dave, just a minute. This is my dad, he -"
"I don't care Ruby, if you're not on stage in 2 minutes you're..."
"I'm talking to my dad." She glared at the manager like the feisty firecracker that she was and refused to back down. 
"Ruby it's ok, I'll be here when you finish. I'm so excited to see you. Make me proud honey." He kissed her and nodded to Dave as he walked off to find a seat. 
Ruby couldn't believe it,,,she felt as if she was flying. Her dad had come to see her and she just knew he would be her number one fan. 
She managed to get through the set despite the niggling pain in the back of her mind that her relationship with Paul was over. 
A few hours later she was being applauded and cheered and she felt the happiest that she had ever felt. She hadn't taken her eyes off her father in case he disappeared, but she knew she'd given it everything she had. 
Finally the crowd let her leave the stage so she placed her guitar down gently and waved one last time before diving backstage to where her dad would hopefully make his way. She was thinking of all the places she would take him...they could go out for food to the Mexican that she loved - when someone grabbed her arm and stopped her in her tracks. 
It was Paul and he was drunk. It was unlike him but she didn't have time right then, she needed to get to her dad. But he wouldn't let her go and something about him just didn't seem right. 
"You've got a cheek. Let go of me," she cried, shoving him away from her. 
"I made a mistake," he slurred, "I'm sorry Rubes. I shouldna said anything." 
"I don't want to hear it Paul. Just go home and leave me alone."
Paul's hands were wandering over her back and shoulders, making their way to her face and she was about to knee him in the groin when her favourite person in the whole wide world bellowed "get away from my daughter."
Paul lost his grip on Ruby as she wriggled out of his grasp and he turned to see the man who was now towering over him. Max Devereux was a force to be reckoned with and ordinarily a man like Paul would have walked away, hands up in surrender. But a crazy confidence had possessed him and in his drunken state believed he could take him on. 
Paul staggered towards him and swung his arm wildly in the direction of the soldier. Max took a step back and let him exhaust himself. A few moments later and Paul had fallen onto his face and had a nose bleed. 
"Just go home mate, leave her be ok?" Said max, turning away from him to find Ruby. 
"She's a bitch, and you're welcome to her." 
It happened in a flash...max spun round on his heel and with a steel fist punched him in the side of his head, knocking him out cold. Paul slumped to the floor and a gentle stream of blood trickled down his face. 
"Dad, come on he's not worth it. Let's go, ok?" Ruby insisted frantically. The club was always having to deal with fights and as a result Dave had a no tolerance policy. She could see him now, heading towards them, look of anger on his face. 
Ruby grabbed her fathers hand and they headed to the door, though she glanced back at Paul once before they left. It was the last time she saw him. 

The incident with Paul hadn't really effected her - he was being a knob and deserved it - but seeing her dad like that, in a different light...it made her fear him slightly. Not that he would ever do anything like that to her, or even her mother for that matter. But she happened to glance at him and see something in his eye as he clenched his fist and punched. It was a grim satisfaction, a sort of lust that took over as his fist made contact. Ruby had never seen her dad like this and it scared her. 
They went for a Mexican however, her dad insisting that he treat her, then he drank vodka as though it were water. He started getting rowdier as the alcohol kicked in and before long he was guffawing loudly at her jokes and boasting about his talented daughter to anyone who would listen. 
There were a couple of people in the restaurant - an old lady at one table and a couple at the other, but it was already late, nearly closing time. 

Ruby looked out of the window as her father paid the bill and saw a police car drive past slowly. A couple of drunken men walked into the road and leered at the car but the police just ignored them. Ruby thought nothing of it and turned her attention back to her father who was now beginning to shout abuse at the waitress, claiming that she had overcharged him and that they didn't even order the nachos to start. Ruby stood up and went to pay herself, when two police officers walked into the restaurant and headed straight for her father. They calmly stood behind him and said "Mr Max Devereux? He spun round aggressively but stopped when he saw who it was. 
"That's me sirofficer. And how are you tonight?" he slurred, leaning up against the counter. 
"We would like to discuss an event which happened earlier tonight if you don't mind, sir." 
"What event? I been with my daughter all night, isn't that right Ruby?"
Ruby rushed to her dad and slid her arms around his waist. 
"That's right, he has been with me all evening. What's the matter?"
"It's concerning a Mr Paul Armstrong and an incident that happened at the club tonight."
"What's he said?" Ruby asked angrily, "he has no right to call you, it was his fault. He's such an arse."
"So you were at the club with Mr Armstrong then?"
"Well yes but he called my daughter a nasty name and I won't tolerate it, you know?" slurred max. 
"Mr Devereux I'm placing you under arrest -"
"What?" Shouted Ruby incredulously, "That's outrageous, what for?"
"For the murder of Paul Armstrong."


Chapter 7
Ruby could do nothing but stare as they led her father away, him glancing over his shoulder at her, trying to reassure her. 
"Don't worry babe, I'll sort this out, just go home and I'll see you in the morning. Love you Ruby."
Ruby was too shocked to move and suddenly collapsed to the floor just as the police car drove away. Although she remained conscious she was unaware of how long she spent lying on the floor until someone came and lifted her head, placing a coat underneath. It all seemed to be happening so slowly and she could hear strange sounds, as though she was swimming underwater. Her vision was blurred and she couldn't focus on the face now in front of her. She was waving something in front of Ruby's face and trying up force something into her lips...water, it tasted of water. Ruby felt a wave of nausea and started retching, though nothing would come up. She sat up finally and noticed that an old lady was kneeling beside her...the old lady who was sitting at the other table. She had a kindly face and although Ruby felt that she could trust her, she didn't want to talk to anyone, she just wanted to get to her dad. Ruby scrambled to her feet and mumbled her thanks to the lady, making her way to the door. Her legs felt like lead though and she could hardly move. The old lady took her by the shoulders and sat her into a chair. 
"Now sit here a minute, you're in no fit state to go anywhere. Cara, get this girl a sugary tea will you? She needs it."
"Isn't brandy better? My dad says that -"
"Your dad says brandy is good for anything, including alcoholism. Get me a tea."
"Alright," she rolled her eyes as she went behind the counter. "How many sugars do I put in?"
"3 teaspoons," the lady said curtly.  
"Is sweetener better, she looks like she needs to be on a diet," the girl continued, suddenly bringing Ruby out of her daze. 
"Cara Edwards, make that tea now...strong with 3 heaped teaspoons of granulated sugar and give it a good stir. I swear on your mothers grave that I will go back to where you live and tell your father that instead of going to school at 8 O clock in the morning you are actually going to Suzy Jenkins house to smoke pot in her dads shed."
Cara stood with her mouth wide open and blinked once at the old lady. Ruby was slowly beginning to wake from her dazed trance and found the situation in front of her rather funny. She giggled nervously, knowing she was being inappropriate but unable to stop. 
Cara looked at her crossly and stormed off behind the door to make a strong tea. This only made Ruby laugh harder and before long she had tears streaming down her face and had her hand covering her mouth. The old lady waited patiently, watching Ruby with pity. Finally Ruby stopped laughing, and suddenly she couldn't remember the reason she had started in the first place. This time the tears were falling for another emotion. 
"That's right love, let it out. You've had a shock, it's perfectly normal to behave strangely."
The couple in the corner couldn't take any more it seemed so they dropped some cash on the table and shuffled nervously out of the door, keeping their heads low. Cara came back in with the tea and sat down on the other chair. 
"I don't know what was so funny. I wouldn't be laughing if my dad got arrested for murder."
"Cara." The old lady gave her a warning look. 
"I knew there was something weird about him."
"Cara!"
"And to think he said that I had overcharged him...I'm not the criminal here. The cheek."
"Cara, into the kitchen now. You go there and you stay there until I tell you to come back."
"I don't want to. I want to stay here."
"Now young lady, and any more of your cheek and Suzy Jenkins will be a distant memory."
Cara held her hands up in surrender and sighed her way to the kitchen. Before she went in she couldn't resist one more comment. 
"Don't suppose I'll get a tip now, will I?" 
Ruby looked at the old woman sitting in front of her and felt her eyes fill with tears again. 
"Thanks but I don't drink tea," she said fighting back the sobs. 
"Take a few sips, it'll calm you down and make you feel better. I used to be police liaison officer and I can tell you right now that nothing calms the nerves like a nice cup of sweet tea." She patted her hand then watched as Ruby sipped the hot drink. It burnt her tongue and made her face wrinkle at the taste, but she did not feel strong enough to argue. 
"I remember this one time I had to go to a house where the poor man had lost his wife and two children in a car accident. I worked with him for 3 weeks solid, every day going round to comfort him, I saw him go through every emotion under the sun but every time the only thing that settled him was a sweet cup of tea."
Ruby nodded, barely registering what the woman had said.
"What's your name love?" She finally asked once she was satisfied the tea was staying down. 
"Ruby. Ruby Devereux."
"Not THE Ruby Devereux? The one on her way to the top?"
Ruby just nodded her assent. 
"Well, what a talent you've got, that's for sure. I've been to watch you a number of times now, I think you're a star."
"I don't recognise you," Ruby said with a puzzled look on her face.
"Oh that's because I always sit at the back...old man Taylor had a thing for me a few years ago and now I avoid him like the plague. He doesn't see me if I'm at the back, his eyesights too bad."
Ruby smiled despite herself. The tea must be working. 
"What are they going to do to my dad?"
"Well I presume he's still in active duty?"
"Yes."
"Well then the military police will come for him soon, he'll be taken back to base where he will have a trial eventually."
"How can this have happened? He only punched him once."
"Sometimes that's all it takes."
Suddenly shouts came from the kitchen area and cara could be heard swearing and cursing at someone. She came bursting back into the restaurant, arms folded and leaned against the bar. The old woman raised her eyebrows at her and cara tutted and rolled her eyes again, leaving the bar and going back to the kitchen. 
The old woman talked to Ruby as she continued sipping her tea, distracting her from the overwhelming problem she was facing. Because Ruby was facing the worst challenge of her life,,,not only was her father in prison but her recently ex boyfriend was dead. She loved him, she would never fully understand the reason he finished with her. And he wanted to tell her...she should have let him, instead of putting her father first in everything she did. Why did he have such a hold on her? Why did he always have to leave again? There was a pause and the woman looked down at her hands on the table.  
"I'm sorry, I haven't really been listening. I've lost them both in one night. I'm facing the rest of my life alone and I don't think any amount of tea will fix that. I've got to go to the police station before he's taken to the base and I can't see him again."
"They won't come tonight and you won't be allowed to see him anyway. Let me take you home and you can get some rest. Is there someone else I can call for you?"
"Didn't you hear me?" Ruby asked calmly. "I'm alone. There isn't anyone else. I don't want to go home anyway. There's nothing there for me. And all of his stuff is there."
They stayed at the restaurant for some time then the old lady insisted that they walk to cafe that was open all night. 
"You're being so kind but I don't even know your name."
"It's Atta dear. Pleased to make your acquaintance."