Chapter 19: Things Seem Fairer (Charles's Version)
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Word Count: 1270
Episode Alignment: 1.10
Recommended Soundtrack: "Here Comes the Rain Again," The Eurythmics
Summary: Tess and Charles's date doesn't go as planned, and it's about damn time. Special mention of @the-gall0ws's Ingram.
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Apple and Kestrel’s time-worn wood and décor felt like coming home. Charles smiled as he took a seat at the bar that swept the room in a wide arc. His reserved table with the privacy screen would be ready at the scheduled time. For now, he took a lazy dip into his memories.
The clouds hung low, catching the city lights in a sentimental glow, even more reason to stay cozy. The distance of twenty years seemed like nothing at all from where he sat, not when the pub felt just the same as it did to his younger, less canny but no less ambitious self. All that was missing was some Huey Lewis on the jukebox and Ingram retelling their fencing tournament.
And, if he could be so bold with the term, his date.
“Ah, Fuller’s ESB, please,” he said. Some echo of his undergraduate self was there somewhere, worked into the wood grain and pint glass stains. Like visiting my childhood bedroom. If he wasn’t looking out for Tess he may have caught his own ghost in the windowpane, wide-eyed and proud and embarrassingly more nervous than he would have cared to admit. He couldn’t help but smile to his pint. How far we’ve come, old friend.
Perhaps he might tell Tess about it. She might like it. She and Ingram may even get along.
Halfway through his pint he saw a tall blur outside. Right on time, he thought with a satisfied sigh. Charles watched her shake off her overcoat with a quick snap, revealing a smart sweater dress in British racing green over tall black riding boots. He sat tall with his hands folded on the bar, meeting her eyes with a mask of patience.
Tess returned with a look that melted into complete disappointment. Her head dropped as she closed the distance between them. Charles tensed with her every step.
“I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing her forehead.
Charles checked his watch.
“I have to go.”
“Is everything all right?” She looked haunted, and he immediately regretted the question.
“I was in a bit of a hurry – I wasn’t paying attention – and I left a candle burning.”
“Ah.”
“I’ll never forgive myself if I burn down my best friend’s flat.”
“She must be out for the night?”
“She’s in Paris. They don’t fly in until tomorrow.” She checked her phone. “If I get a black cab, I can be back in… An hour? Maybe?”
“How far are you going?”
“Chancery Lane.” Tight shadows framed her eyes when she looked at him. If this was a ploy to cancel, then it was expertly done. “I’m sorry. It’s been a day mostly not worth talking about.”
“How about I give you a ride?” He drained the last of his pint and stood. “I have a car outside. We can spend the time talking.” She hesitated. “Or, if you’d rather cancel—”
“Absolutely not.” Charles eased. “As long as it’s not an imposition.”
“We’ll manage.”
She hesitated a bit longer. “The ride would be helpful, as long as we can start fresh when we return.”
“Ah, sure.” He nodded to the Klokateer waiting across the street and told the tender to push their reserved table by an hour.
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“Is there anything I can do?”
The car turned onto Bayswater. Though Tess responded to him, she kept her eyes closed for the drive.
She responded with a hollow laugh. “Strangely, you could.”
“All right.”
“It doesn’t mean you should.”
“Is this, ah, work-related?”
“It shouldn’t be, but it’s a God-forsaken job to be sure.” Her eyes opened, somehow making her look wearier than before. “I’m not trying to be cryptic. As a rule, I don’t talk about my son’s father.”
“Yes. I, ah, read about the defamation suit. Nicely done if you don’t mind me saying.”
Her face softened. “It would be smug to say thank you,” she said.
“Well.” Charles watched Hyde Park slip behind them. “I’m sorry you’re going through whatever it is you’re going through with your ex. That I can apparently help with.”
“But shouldn’t.”
“I tried.”
“Trust me. Can you trust me?”
“I think you earned the right to ask.” He hoped he didn’t sound as condescending to her as he did in his head.
“It’s not worth your time. It wouldn’t make anything better in the long run.”
“I’ll rephrase: is there anything I can do for you?”
“Distract me back to the here and now?”
He paused. “I haven’t told you why I suggested Apple and Kestrel.”
“You haven’t.”
“It goes back to college. I had just won the most prestigious tournament of my fencing career, and my friend – then my significant other – Ingram insisted on celebrating.”
She smiled at him. He took a deep breath and thought of a tall, bespectacled, wholly worthy opponent from twenty years prior.
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“Impressive,” said Charles, shutting the car door behind Tess. The car pulled away from a five-story Edwardian building with geometric stone detailing. “I wasn’t aware Oxford had a hockey team.”
“Why not? Scandinavia’s down the street.” Trading college stories seemed to relax Tess, and the elegant lobby lighting gave her a glow. “Sports travel pretty well. Better than Guinness, at least. University of British Columbia has fencing, too, if you believe it.”
“Rule Brittania and the Commonwealth, I suppose.”
“It didn’t hurt that a Canadian founded the Oxford Women’s Blues.”
He followed Tess up several curling flights of stairs. “That’s your hockey team?”
“Mmm hmm. What was your fencing team called?”
“Ah, the fencing team.”
“Ha! Witty. Seriously, you didn’t have a nickname for it?”
“Ingram had a few, none of which are worth repeating at the moment.”
“I think I can parse them out.” From her purse came a small ring of keys. “Thank God,” she said, opening the door, “I didn’t burn the place down.”
The streetlights cast over soft living room contours in soft shades and a long dining table between the sitting space from the kitchen. Vases and small statues took up the flat surfaces and larger pieces looked down from their wall mountings, giving the look of a private museum. The wall of windows were barely concealed behind sheer curtains. It was an interesting space, though not to Charles’s tastes.
The warm, softly spicy scent in the air was the only part he immediately enjoyed. The candlelight died with the feathery hush of Tess’s breath. I wouldn’t be surprised if the candle was hers to begin with, he thought.
Charles glanced out the windows to see if his tailor’s shop was visible. Just barely. He kept his hands clasped behind him and his curiosity polite. To his left he thought he spied Tess’s face in a framed photograph. A wide smile stood out even in the dim lighting. He turned around to ask her about it, nearly knocking into her.
“Whoa, whoa, yard sale!” she said, stepping back to miss a collision. Her hand shot out to his arm to steady him. He grabbed her waist to prevent her from falling backwards. Both stared at each other with a blend of mild embarrassment and amusement that soon faded into the night.
Tess attempted a breathy laugh. “Are we dancing again?”
The dark, spiced air seemed to pull them closer. Their embrace was too delicate to survive a clever remark, Charles feared. The steps of the museum came to mind, but he wasn’t frozen this time. He knew his next move would leave him unguarded. It didn’t matter anymore.
A single word escaped his lips, barely above a whisper. “Please.”
She was already leaning in to kiss him.
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Taglist: @the-loveliest-lotus @theveryrealsf3uuf @blarnettebutter @the-gall0ws @chordsykat @explosiontooth @judasbeast
