The Substance of Things Hoped For, 9/29
Title: The Substance of Things Hoped For (9/29)
Rating: K
Author: jlrpuck
Pairing: Rose Tyler, Peter Carlisle
Disclaimer: Characters from Doctor Who and Blackpool are the property of BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; but Ruby, Elias, and Lucy are all mine. No personal profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary: Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. - Hebrews 11:1
Notes: Thank you to both
earlgreytea68 and
chicklet73 for their beta work-and to
chicklet73 for her encouragement and advice as this was written.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9
The two of them remained comfortably ensconced in Jackie’s study-drinking tea, nibbling biscuits, talking about nothing and everything-until they heard the sound of running feet, followed by Peter’s voice carrying down the hall. “Don’t run, Lucy!”
Rose fought down a smile as she heard Peter’s rapid footsteps slow-he, too, had no doubt been running.
Jackie set her mug down then raised her arms over her head, stretching. “Pete should be back any minute, now-market’s not that far away, after all, so I reckon he either stopped off at the off-license for a bottle for us all, or he’s been corralled by the butcher, talkin’ ‘is ear off about the footie.”
“Even odds?” Rose quipped, setting her own mug on the tray.
“Might be a bit o’ both, knowing Pete,” Jackie replied, smiling tolerantly.
“So…I really ought to go out into the kitchen and tell Peter to stop letting Lucy eat the biscuits we left out?”
“That’s assumin’ Peter’s not eating them himself.”
Rose laughed, standing. “The two of them are probably in a bit of a standoff, waiting for the other to take one first.” She bent down for the tray, and was waved away by Jackie.
“No need for that, Rose; I’ll be in here, finishing off the tea. You probably want a bit of time with your family.”
Rose took in her mother-the sole constant of her entire life-and felt tears well up in her eyes. “Thank you, Mum,” she murmured, leaning down to give Jackie a hug.
Jackie turned, placing a quick kiss against Rose’s hair. “You go on, love.” Rose straightened, wiping her eyes, and Jackie added with a smile, “An’ you’re welcome.”
Rose returned the smile, then slowly made her way over to the door leading out into the hall; she cracked it open, and was able to see her husband and her daughter at the counter, both of them occupied by the treats which had been left out.
Rose wondered, briefly, where Matthew had gone; it was probable that he was out in the back garden, hiding in the ‘fort’ John had built years before, then handed down to his little brother. Matthew and Lucy got on fine-but even Matthew had his limits.
Peter had poured Lucy a glass of milk, and he was glancing impatiently at the kettle as he apparently waited for the water to boil. They looked so alike, the two of them-the dark hair, and the dark eyes; Lucy had even managed to inherit Peter’s dimple, although hers was more visible when she was happy than when she was angry. Their personalities were almost alarmingly similar; her daughter was terrifyingly clever, and Rose suspected she and Peter were going to be in for quite an adventure once she reached her teenage years.
Rose still wondered how she’d been so lucky-to have a daughter like Lucy, to find a man like Peter.
The kettle clicked, and she continued to watch as Peter carefully poured the hot water into a small cafetiere, kept at the house exclusively for him; Jackie spoiled Peter something terrible. Lucy, her back to Rose, said something indistinct to her father; Peter smiled, then leaned down, his elbows on the counter, replying to their daughter in Gaelic. They chatted like that, briefly, then Peter reached forward to tweak Lucy’s nose before straightening and pressing out his coffee.
~ - ~
It was as he turned back to Lucy, the steaming mug in his hand, that he noticed Rose was there. She put her finger to her lips, warning him to be silent, and then slowly made her way fully out into the hall, tip-toeing towards their unsuspecting daughter.
She looked relaxed-far more relaxed than he’d seen her since she’d returned. And had that only been a day ago? Severe emotional distress really did do wonders for distorting the passage of time.
His lips quirked at the sardonic thought, causing Lucy to raise an eyebrow as she nibbled at her shortbread.
“And how’s your biscuit, cagaran?” he asked, trying to keep her distracted as Rose crept closer to them.
“’s dry,” Lucy said, still munching at the treat.
“Mmm.” He took a sip of coffee, sneaking a hand over to nick it from Lucy.
“Da!” she protested.
“Well, if you’re not wanting it, why let it go to waste?” He playfully brought the biscuit to his lips, holding Lucy’s entire attention, ensuring she was surprised when Rose began to tickle her ribs.
“’s your da stealing sweets again?” Rose said, bending forward to whisper conspiratorially to their daughter before placing a great smacking kiss on her cheek.
“Mum!” Lucy turned around, throwing her arms around Rose. Rose buried her face against Lucy’s shoulder, picking her up in a hug.
“How’s my girl?” Rose hitched, shifting Lucy so she could hold her against her hip. Lucy was getting far, far too big for such a thing, Peter noticed-her long legs dangled loosely, and he could see Rose straining to keep Lucy supported near to eye level.
“Hungry!”
Rose laughed, placing another kiss against Lucy’s cheek before gently setting her down. “Don’t eat too much-your grandpa has gone for supper.”
Lucy glanced accusingly up at Peter; he still held the shortbread biscuit, and felt himself flush guiltily.
“That means you, too,” Rose chided, stepping towards him, taking the sweet from his hand as she leaned up to kiss him. He leaned into the kiss, reluctant to break it, and felt Rose smile against his lips. “Ye randy sod,” she whispered as she pulled back, her eyes sparkling.
“Good day?” he ventured.
“Good enough,” Rose replied, her smile fading a bit. “But I have the rest of the week free.”
He grinned. “How fortunate. I just happen to, as well.”
“Hmmm.” Rose turned to Lucy, crouching. “Would you want to go to the cottage for a day, love? Before you go back to school?”
Lucy wrinkled her nose. “Do I have to go back to school? Cannae we just stay in Scotland instead?”
Rose stood, shaking her head. “This is all your fault,” she muttered, teasing, as she moved around him.
He absently answered Lucy in Gaelic as he watched Rose move around the kitchen; she was still the most compelling woman he’d ever seen, and he felt as though he could do nothing but watch her, now that she was back. She’d poured out a cup of water; and when she turned around to look at him, she was almost laughing.
“You going to keep ignoring your daughter, then?” she asked, stifling her smile in her drink.
“Oh!” He turned back to where Lucy was glaring up at him, clearly impatient. “I wasn’t attending, cagaran; I’m sorry.”
“When can we go to the cottage? Tonight?”
“Aye-but that means you’d be to school a day sooner.”
Lucy weighed the decision carefully. “Aye,” she finally answered slowly. “But it means we’d sleep there tonight.”
“We’d get in very late indeed.”
“But we’d wake up there t’morrow.”
Peter turned to where Rose was watching them. “Rose?”
She gave him a sly smile. “You’re the one who has to drive, Peter; I’m not cleared to, yet.”
He sighed. They’d go to Croy that night, then-and most likely arrive just in time to see the sun rise in the morning. He paused to spare a grateful thought for the fact that they kept so much in the cottage-spare clothes, a bit of food, clean linens. He’d even left Lucy’s schoolbooks and uniform up there after he’d picked her up, suspecting on some deeply-hidden level that if he had to tell her Rose was gone forever, he’d do it up in Scotland.
He swallowed thickly, the thought of ever having to tell Lucy that particular news making his heart race with fear.
“Lucy, go see if Gran is done with her tea-she’s in her study,” Rose said softly from somewhere behind him.
Lucy, eager to find a way into the room she was only rarely allowed to enter, scampered off, leaving them in relative privacy.
He felt Rose move to stand behind him, felt her arms slide around his waist and her cheek press against his back. He brought his hands to cover Rose’s, and closed his eyes with a sigh.
“This is goin’ t’ take a while, isn’t it?” she whispered, his back growing warm where her breath bled through his shirt.
“Aye,” he replied, releasing her hands before turning in her embrace. She tightened her arms as he faced her, burrowing against his chest; he rested one arm around her back, and brought a hand up to stroke across her hair. “We’ll get through this, Rose.”
She tilted her head, looking up at him. “Yes.” Her eyes were dark, pulling him in; he leaned forward, cupping her jaw as he kissed her. She rocked up onto the balls of her feet, deepening the kiss, tempting him terribly-but he gentled the kiss instead, slowly pulling back.
“Not here, Rose,” he whispered, voice hoarse as he straightened.
She sighed in resignation. “Yeah.”
He leaned forward, kissing her cheek. “But once we’re in Croy…” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, earning a laugh from her. Lucy had a terrible habit of knowing when they were trying to make love-she’d knock on the door, complaining of strange noises in her room, or asking for help with the loo. They’d taken to sending her over to Graeme and Eirlys’s, finally, deciding it to be the only time they’d have a hope of a leisurely round of lovemaking. He was certain the older couple knew exactly what he and Rose were up to, but they were happy to entertain Lucy for an hour or two, here or there.
Their daughter proved her impeccable timing once more, the door to Jackie’s study banging open, followed by the sound of her footsteps, then her voice yelling, “Matthew! Where are ye?” She scurried past her parents without sparing them a glance, and continued on through the house, repeating her message.
Jackie finally emerged from the study, the tea tray in her hands, and shook her head. “That child…she has more energy than any living creature has a right to.”
Peter still had his arms wrapped around Rose, and let out a soft chuckle, drawing Jackie’s attention.
“I love that girl to bits, Peter, but you have got to take her home tonight.”
Peter laughed. “Aye, we’ll be taking her with us tonight.”
Jackie set the tray down, and let out a sigh of relief. “We love having her, you know. Just…getting’ a bit too old to keep up with her.”
Rose smiled, reaching over to rest her hand on her mum’s arm. Jackie had set the tea tray down, and turned with a smile to Rose. “I know, Mum. Thanks for the help.”
~ - ~
Pete returned shortly after Lucy found Matthew’s hiding spot, and it was only another twenty minutes until supper was served. It was a relaxed affair, the most exciting part being when Lucy loudly told Matthew that the frog he’d left in her shoe was cute, and asking if she could keep it. Matthew looked horrified at being so casually called out, but Lucy blithely carried on, explaining that she rather thought the frog looked like a Hamish, and she’d dearly like to bring it to Croy that night.
That, in turn, had led not only to Matthew being reprimanded, but also a hasty explanation by Rose of the Carlisle family’s plans for the rest of the week. And so it was that shortly after seven, Rose, Peter, and Lucy were being ushered to the front of the house by Jackie, encouraged to get driving before it got to be too late. Jackie gave Peter a long, tight hug before brushing a kiss across his cheek; Pete, in turn, gave him a firm handshake. Peter watched as Jackie then wrapped Rose in what had to be an uncomfortably tight hug, whispering something to her, waiting for her daughter to nod before releasing her. Pete, too, gave Rose a hug and whispered something to her; she gave her father a small smile as she pulled back.
Lucy was, by this time, practically begging to be in the car, on the road to Croy. Jackie laughed as Pete opened the door, allowing Lucy to race ahead of the group; and then there was a flurry of last-second hugs and kisses, and wishes for a safe drive.
And then, at half-seven, according to the clock in the car, the three of them were on the way to Croy.
Lucy might have been excited, but she fell asleep soon enough, safely strapped into her seat in the back of the car. Rose, too, looked drowsy, but each time he thought she’d dozed off she jerked upright, forcing herself to stay awake.
“Ye don’t have to stay awake, Rose,” he whispered after the fourth time he watched her do it, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. They still held hands when he drove-he couldn’t really imagine being in the car with Rose, and not holding her hand, to be honest.
She glanced over to him, her eyes heavy with sleep. “Don’t want you t’be alone while you’re drivin’,” she replied drowsily.
He brought her hand to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll be fine, Rose. I’ll be stopping off for a break if I feel sleepy, I promise.”
“’k.” She let out a soft sigh, and settled her head back against the headrest, dropping off to sleep almost immediately.
He watched the scenery pass by in the night, lights illuminating the odd farmhouse or village, the sky glowing eerily as they approached a city. Traffic was light, making it easy to avoid becoming too hypnotized by the steady passing of headlights in the opposite direction, and almost before he knew it they were well north of Manchester. Rose continued to sleep on peacefully next to him-she seemed to always fall asleep on the drive north, regardless of hour-and Lucy remained asleep in the back of the car. He had, on more than one occasion, noted that he envied their daughter her ability to sleep seemingly anywhere, any time-and he continued to attribute that trait of hers to Rose, much to Rose’s amusement.
He paused for a quick break at the nice rest stop north of Kendal-it was run by locals, and was easily the cleanest offering on the motorway-and though he didn’t stray far from the car, he did enjoy taking a moment to stretch his legs. The stop had been there for years-since he’d worked in Kendal, easily-and he had more than a few memories associated with the location, it being a frequent stop of his on late-night drives home from Croy or Glasgow.
When he got back in the car, ten minutes later, Rose was awake. “Y’ alright?” she asked sleepily, stretching.
“Aye. Almost there, now,” he answered quietly, immediately reaching for her hand. She smiled, pulling their joined hands to her side of the car, feathering kisses across his knuckles. He sighed, feeling his eyes flutter shut. “I cannae drive like that, Rose. As divine as it is.”
She smiled against his hand, and relaxed. “Very well.”
He gave her hand a squeeze as he started the car, and then guided them back onto the motorway for the last of the trip to Croy.
They arrived near to two in the morning; the sky was black, speckled with glittering stars, and the sea was moving gently in the starlight, the waves soothing as they washed up on shore. While Rose went to open the cottage and turn on a light he eased Lucy out of her seat, carefully moving her so he could carry her into the cottage. He could wake her and have her walk, of course-but she’d be so excited about being back at the cottage that he wasn’t sure she’d be able to go back to sleep. Far better to bus her upstairs, to put her to bed in her room, and to deal with his groaning muscles than to do without sleep entirely.
Rose was waiting for him just inside the front door; as he slowly carried Lucy up the narrow stairs, taking care to avoid hitting his head or Lucy’s, he heard Rose close and lock the door. Lucy was still out cold when he put her to bed, gently removing her shoes in the light cast into the room from the hallway, tucking her under the merrily-coloured duvet in her room. As he straightened she turned, rolling to her side, snuggling into the comforting embrace of her bed.
He grinned, and straightened to find Rose leaning against the doorjamb. Her face was covered in shadows cast by the light in the hall, and he felt a flash of want pass through him, pushing his exhaustion away.
He hurried to her, gently closing the door behind him as he joined Rose in the hall.
“Ready for bed?” she asked softly, taking his hand and leading him the short distance to their room.
“Aye,” he replied, following her in. She closed the door and locked it behind her, casting them into darkness; and then he felt her hands slide across his chest, up into his hair, pulling him down for a slow kiss.
He returned it, his arms coming around her, and felt himself falling; spinning dizzyingly as she continued to kiss him, as his exhaustion washed through him, pulling him towards sleep. He must have started to fall; Rose’s hands were suddenly gone from his hair, seemed to magically appear on his upper arms, holding him steady.
He opened his eyes, and was able to see Rose gazing at him, her eyes catching the faint light. He couldn’t read her expression, which he found to be incredibly frustrating, and he released a sigh.
“C’mon, Peter,” she whispered, gently steering him towards the bed. He let her, too tired now to protest, eager simply to be out of his clothes and in bed, luxuriating in the comforting warmth of his wife. She stopped him near the bed-he wasn’t sure how close they were, his eyes now shut as he gave himself over to following Rose’s direction. He tilted his head back with a weary sigh as she unbuttoned his shirt, and let out a soft sound of contentment as her hands moved to his waist, unbuckling his belt and undoing his trousers.
She guided him to sit before removing his shoes, then tugging his trousers off; he idly noted that she didn’t appear to be worried about his pants, and decided he didn’t really care if he slept in them or not. The room was spinning by the time he felt her cool hands on his shoulders, sliding his shirt off of him; and then she was gently guiding him to lie down.
“’love you,” he whispered, conscious of her ghosting her fingers across his cheek.
“And I, you,” she replied, brushing a kiss across his cheek.
The last thing he was aware of before he slept was the feel of her tugging a sock from his foot.
~ - ~
Chapter 10
Rating: K
Author: jlrpuck
Pairing: Rose Tyler, Peter Carlisle
Disclaimer: Characters from Doctor Who and Blackpool are the property of BBC, and are used with the greatest of love and respect; but Ruby, Elias, and Lucy are all mine. No personal profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary: Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. - Hebrews 11:1
Notes: Thank you to both
earlgreytea68 and
chicklet73 for their beta work-and to
chicklet73 for her encouragement and advice as this was written.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9
The two of them remained comfortably ensconced in Jackie’s study-drinking tea, nibbling biscuits, talking about nothing and everything-until they heard the sound of running feet, followed by Peter’s voice carrying down the hall. “Don’t run, Lucy!”
Rose fought down a smile as she heard Peter’s rapid footsteps slow-he, too, had no doubt been running.
Jackie set her mug down then raised her arms over her head, stretching. “Pete should be back any minute, now-market’s not that far away, after all, so I reckon he either stopped off at the off-license for a bottle for us all, or he’s been corralled by the butcher, talkin’ ‘is ear off about the footie.”
“Even odds?” Rose quipped, setting her own mug on the tray.
“Might be a bit o’ both, knowing Pete,” Jackie replied, smiling tolerantly.
“So…I really ought to go out into the kitchen and tell Peter to stop letting Lucy eat the biscuits we left out?”
“That’s assumin’ Peter’s not eating them himself.”
Rose laughed, standing. “The two of them are probably in a bit of a standoff, waiting for the other to take one first.” She bent down for the tray, and was waved away by Jackie.
“No need for that, Rose; I’ll be in here, finishing off the tea. You probably want a bit of time with your family.”
Rose took in her mother-the sole constant of her entire life-and felt tears well up in her eyes. “Thank you, Mum,” she murmured, leaning down to give Jackie a hug.
Jackie turned, placing a quick kiss against Rose’s hair. “You go on, love.” Rose straightened, wiping her eyes, and Jackie added with a smile, “An’ you’re welcome.”
Rose returned the smile, then slowly made her way over to the door leading out into the hall; she cracked it open, and was able to see her husband and her daughter at the counter, both of them occupied by the treats which had been left out.
Rose wondered, briefly, where Matthew had gone; it was probable that he was out in the back garden, hiding in the ‘fort’ John had built years before, then handed down to his little brother. Matthew and Lucy got on fine-but even Matthew had his limits.
Peter had poured Lucy a glass of milk, and he was glancing impatiently at the kettle as he apparently waited for the water to boil. They looked so alike, the two of them-the dark hair, and the dark eyes; Lucy had even managed to inherit Peter’s dimple, although hers was more visible when she was happy than when she was angry. Their personalities were almost alarmingly similar; her daughter was terrifyingly clever, and Rose suspected she and Peter were going to be in for quite an adventure once she reached her teenage years.
Rose still wondered how she’d been so lucky-to have a daughter like Lucy, to find a man like Peter.
The kettle clicked, and she continued to watch as Peter carefully poured the hot water into a small cafetiere, kept at the house exclusively for him; Jackie spoiled Peter something terrible. Lucy, her back to Rose, said something indistinct to her father; Peter smiled, then leaned down, his elbows on the counter, replying to their daughter in Gaelic. They chatted like that, briefly, then Peter reached forward to tweak Lucy’s nose before straightening and pressing out his coffee.
~ - ~
It was as he turned back to Lucy, the steaming mug in his hand, that he noticed Rose was there. She put her finger to her lips, warning him to be silent, and then slowly made her way fully out into the hall, tip-toeing towards their unsuspecting daughter.
She looked relaxed-far more relaxed than he’d seen her since she’d returned. And had that only been a day ago? Severe emotional distress really did do wonders for distorting the passage of time.
His lips quirked at the sardonic thought, causing Lucy to raise an eyebrow as she nibbled at her shortbread.
“And how’s your biscuit, cagaran?” he asked, trying to keep her distracted as Rose crept closer to them.
“’s dry,” Lucy said, still munching at the treat.
“Mmm.” He took a sip of coffee, sneaking a hand over to nick it from Lucy.
“Da!” she protested.
“Well, if you’re not wanting it, why let it go to waste?” He playfully brought the biscuit to his lips, holding Lucy’s entire attention, ensuring she was surprised when Rose began to tickle her ribs.
“’s your da stealing sweets again?” Rose said, bending forward to whisper conspiratorially to their daughter before placing a great smacking kiss on her cheek.
“Mum!” Lucy turned around, throwing her arms around Rose. Rose buried her face against Lucy’s shoulder, picking her up in a hug.
“How’s my girl?” Rose hitched, shifting Lucy so she could hold her against her hip. Lucy was getting far, far too big for such a thing, Peter noticed-her long legs dangled loosely, and he could see Rose straining to keep Lucy supported near to eye level.
“Hungry!”
Rose laughed, placing another kiss against Lucy’s cheek before gently setting her down. “Don’t eat too much-your grandpa has gone for supper.”
Lucy glanced accusingly up at Peter; he still held the shortbread biscuit, and felt himself flush guiltily.
“That means you, too,” Rose chided, stepping towards him, taking the sweet from his hand as she leaned up to kiss him. He leaned into the kiss, reluctant to break it, and felt Rose smile against his lips. “Ye randy sod,” she whispered as she pulled back, her eyes sparkling.
“Good day?” he ventured.
“Good enough,” Rose replied, her smile fading a bit. “But I have the rest of the week free.”
He grinned. “How fortunate. I just happen to, as well.”
“Hmmm.” Rose turned to Lucy, crouching. “Would you want to go to the cottage for a day, love? Before you go back to school?”
Lucy wrinkled her nose. “Do I have to go back to school? Cannae we just stay in Scotland instead?”
Rose stood, shaking her head. “This is all your fault,” she muttered, teasing, as she moved around him.
He absently answered Lucy in Gaelic as he watched Rose move around the kitchen; she was still the most compelling woman he’d ever seen, and he felt as though he could do nothing but watch her, now that she was back. She’d poured out a cup of water; and when she turned around to look at him, she was almost laughing.
“You going to keep ignoring your daughter, then?” she asked, stifling her smile in her drink.
“Oh!” He turned back to where Lucy was glaring up at him, clearly impatient. “I wasn’t attending, cagaran; I’m sorry.”
“When can we go to the cottage? Tonight?”
“Aye-but that means you’d be to school a day sooner.”
Lucy weighed the decision carefully. “Aye,” she finally answered slowly. “But it means we’d sleep there tonight.”
“We’d get in very late indeed.”
“But we’d wake up there t’morrow.”
Peter turned to where Rose was watching them. “Rose?”
She gave him a sly smile. “You’re the one who has to drive, Peter; I’m not cleared to, yet.”
He sighed. They’d go to Croy that night, then-and most likely arrive just in time to see the sun rise in the morning. He paused to spare a grateful thought for the fact that they kept so much in the cottage-spare clothes, a bit of food, clean linens. He’d even left Lucy’s schoolbooks and uniform up there after he’d picked her up, suspecting on some deeply-hidden level that if he had to tell her Rose was gone forever, he’d do it up in Scotland.
He swallowed thickly, the thought of ever having to tell Lucy that particular news making his heart race with fear.
“Lucy, go see if Gran is done with her tea-she’s in her study,” Rose said softly from somewhere behind him.
Lucy, eager to find a way into the room she was only rarely allowed to enter, scampered off, leaving them in relative privacy.
He felt Rose move to stand behind him, felt her arms slide around his waist and her cheek press against his back. He brought his hands to cover Rose’s, and closed his eyes with a sigh.
“This is goin’ t’ take a while, isn’t it?” she whispered, his back growing warm where her breath bled through his shirt.
“Aye,” he replied, releasing her hands before turning in her embrace. She tightened her arms as he faced her, burrowing against his chest; he rested one arm around her back, and brought a hand up to stroke across her hair. “We’ll get through this, Rose.”
She tilted her head, looking up at him. “Yes.” Her eyes were dark, pulling him in; he leaned forward, cupping her jaw as he kissed her. She rocked up onto the balls of her feet, deepening the kiss, tempting him terribly-but he gentled the kiss instead, slowly pulling back.
“Not here, Rose,” he whispered, voice hoarse as he straightened.
She sighed in resignation. “Yeah.”
He leaned forward, kissing her cheek. “But once we’re in Croy…” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, earning a laugh from her. Lucy had a terrible habit of knowing when they were trying to make love-she’d knock on the door, complaining of strange noises in her room, or asking for help with the loo. They’d taken to sending her over to Graeme and Eirlys’s, finally, deciding it to be the only time they’d have a hope of a leisurely round of lovemaking. He was certain the older couple knew exactly what he and Rose were up to, but they were happy to entertain Lucy for an hour or two, here or there.
Their daughter proved her impeccable timing once more, the door to Jackie’s study banging open, followed by the sound of her footsteps, then her voice yelling, “Matthew! Where are ye?” She scurried past her parents without sparing them a glance, and continued on through the house, repeating her message.
Jackie finally emerged from the study, the tea tray in her hands, and shook her head. “That child…she has more energy than any living creature has a right to.”
Peter still had his arms wrapped around Rose, and let out a soft chuckle, drawing Jackie’s attention.
“I love that girl to bits, Peter, but you have got to take her home tonight.”
Peter laughed. “Aye, we’ll be taking her with us tonight.”
Jackie set the tray down, and let out a sigh of relief. “We love having her, you know. Just…getting’ a bit too old to keep up with her.”
Rose smiled, reaching over to rest her hand on her mum’s arm. Jackie had set the tea tray down, and turned with a smile to Rose. “I know, Mum. Thanks for the help.”
~ - ~
Pete returned shortly after Lucy found Matthew’s hiding spot, and it was only another twenty minutes until supper was served. It was a relaxed affair, the most exciting part being when Lucy loudly told Matthew that the frog he’d left in her shoe was cute, and asking if she could keep it. Matthew looked horrified at being so casually called out, but Lucy blithely carried on, explaining that she rather thought the frog looked like a Hamish, and she’d dearly like to bring it to Croy that night.
That, in turn, had led not only to Matthew being reprimanded, but also a hasty explanation by Rose of the Carlisle family’s plans for the rest of the week. And so it was that shortly after seven, Rose, Peter, and Lucy were being ushered to the front of the house by Jackie, encouraged to get driving before it got to be too late. Jackie gave Peter a long, tight hug before brushing a kiss across his cheek; Pete, in turn, gave him a firm handshake. Peter watched as Jackie then wrapped Rose in what had to be an uncomfortably tight hug, whispering something to her, waiting for her daughter to nod before releasing her. Pete, too, gave Rose a hug and whispered something to her; she gave her father a small smile as she pulled back.
Lucy was, by this time, practically begging to be in the car, on the road to Croy. Jackie laughed as Pete opened the door, allowing Lucy to race ahead of the group; and then there was a flurry of last-second hugs and kisses, and wishes for a safe drive.
And then, at half-seven, according to the clock in the car, the three of them were on the way to Croy.
Lucy might have been excited, but she fell asleep soon enough, safely strapped into her seat in the back of the car. Rose, too, looked drowsy, but each time he thought she’d dozed off she jerked upright, forcing herself to stay awake.
“Ye don’t have to stay awake, Rose,” he whispered after the fourth time he watched her do it, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. They still held hands when he drove-he couldn’t really imagine being in the car with Rose, and not holding her hand, to be honest.
She glanced over to him, her eyes heavy with sleep. “Don’t want you t’be alone while you’re drivin’,” she replied drowsily.
He brought her hand to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll be fine, Rose. I’ll be stopping off for a break if I feel sleepy, I promise.”
“’k.” She let out a soft sigh, and settled her head back against the headrest, dropping off to sleep almost immediately.
He watched the scenery pass by in the night, lights illuminating the odd farmhouse or village, the sky glowing eerily as they approached a city. Traffic was light, making it easy to avoid becoming too hypnotized by the steady passing of headlights in the opposite direction, and almost before he knew it they were well north of Manchester. Rose continued to sleep on peacefully next to him-she seemed to always fall asleep on the drive north, regardless of hour-and Lucy remained asleep in the back of the car. He had, on more than one occasion, noted that he envied their daughter her ability to sleep seemingly anywhere, any time-and he continued to attribute that trait of hers to Rose, much to Rose’s amusement.
He paused for a quick break at the nice rest stop north of Kendal-it was run by locals, and was easily the cleanest offering on the motorway-and though he didn’t stray far from the car, he did enjoy taking a moment to stretch his legs. The stop had been there for years-since he’d worked in Kendal, easily-and he had more than a few memories associated with the location, it being a frequent stop of his on late-night drives home from Croy or Glasgow.
When he got back in the car, ten minutes later, Rose was awake. “Y’ alright?” she asked sleepily, stretching.
“Aye. Almost there, now,” he answered quietly, immediately reaching for her hand. She smiled, pulling their joined hands to her side of the car, feathering kisses across his knuckles. He sighed, feeling his eyes flutter shut. “I cannae drive like that, Rose. As divine as it is.”
She smiled against his hand, and relaxed. “Very well.”
He gave her hand a squeeze as he started the car, and then guided them back onto the motorway for the last of the trip to Croy.
They arrived near to two in the morning; the sky was black, speckled with glittering stars, and the sea was moving gently in the starlight, the waves soothing as they washed up on shore. While Rose went to open the cottage and turn on a light he eased Lucy out of her seat, carefully moving her so he could carry her into the cottage. He could wake her and have her walk, of course-but she’d be so excited about being back at the cottage that he wasn’t sure she’d be able to go back to sleep. Far better to bus her upstairs, to put her to bed in her room, and to deal with his groaning muscles than to do without sleep entirely.
Rose was waiting for him just inside the front door; as he slowly carried Lucy up the narrow stairs, taking care to avoid hitting his head or Lucy’s, he heard Rose close and lock the door. Lucy was still out cold when he put her to bed, gently removing her shoes in the light cast into the room from the hallway, tucking her under the merrily-coloured duvet in her room. As he straightened she turned, rolling to her side, snuggling into the comforting embrace of her bed.
He grinned, and straightened to find Rose leaning against the doorjamb. Her face was covered in shadows cast by the light in the hall, and he felt a flash of want pass through him, pushing his exhaustion away.
He hurried to her, gently closing the door behind him as he joined Rose in the hall.
“Ready for bed?” she asked softly, taking his hand and leading him the short distance to their room.
“Aye,” he replied, following her in. She closed the door and locked it behind her, casting them into darkness; and then he felt her hands slide across his chest, up into his hair, pulling him down for a slow kiss.
He returned it, his arms coming around her, and felt himself falling; spinning dizzyingly as she continued to kiss him, as his exhaustion washed through him, pulling him towards sleep. He must have started to fall; Rose’s hands were suddenly gone from his hair, seemed to magically appear on his upper arms, holding him steady.
He opened his eyes, and was able to see Rose gazing at him, her eyes catching the faint light. He couldn’t read her expression, which he found to be incredibly frustrating, and he released a sigh.
“C’mon, Peter,” she whispered, gently steering him towards the bed. He let her, too tired now to protest, eager simply to be out of his clothes and in bed, luxuriating in the comforting warmth of his wife. She stopped him near the bed-he wasn’t sure how close they were, his eyes now shut as he gave himself over to following Rose’s direction. He tilted his head back with a weary sigh as she unbuttoned his shirt, and let out a soft sound of contentment as her hands moved to his waist, unbuckling his belt and undoing his trousers.
She guided him to sit before removing his shoes, then tugging his trousers off; he idly noted that she didn’t appear to be worried about his pants, and decided he didn’t really care if he slept in them or not. The room was spinning by the time he felt her cool hands on his shoulders, sliding his shirt off of him; and then she was gently guiding him to lie down.
“’love you,” he whispered, conscious of her ghosting her fingers across his cheek.
“And I, you,” she replied, brushing a kiss across his cheek.
The last thing he was aware of before he slept was the feel of her tugging a sock from his foot.
~ - ~
Chapter 10