The Substance of Things Hoped For, 20/29
Title: The Substance of Things Hoped For (20/29)
Rating: M
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.
(sorry for being late in posting--I was given the day off, and took advantage of sleeping in past 5am!)
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20
The agent had booked them into a hotel instead of a B&B, a lovely old pile near to the John MacCormick Forest Park. It was past Glasgow, but still close enough that they would find it an easy trip to visit Martin the next day; and as they pulled up the long drive late Friday afternoon Peter couldn’t help but gawp at what he saw. The grey stone manse was set upon a small rise, looking out over the lawns and forests surrounding it. A large conservatory was visible, jutting off the side of the building, and a pond-complete with swans-could be seen off to their right.
Lucy was practically bouncing with excitement, peering out one side of the car and exclaiming over what she saw, then straining to peer out the other side, desperately curious to know what lurked there.
“Wow,” Rose said softly as he came to a stop in the small car park, her eyes wide as she gazed up at the house before them.
He took her hand, squeezing it gently, then turned the car off. “Quite a place, eh?”
“Yeah.” Rose worried at her bottom lip.
“I think it’ll be quite…luxurious.” He gave her a small smile, unfastening his lap belt before turning to open his car door.
“Yeah,” Rose said slowly, finally doing the same.
Lucy had already unbuckled herself from her seat by the time he opened her door, and sprang out of the car with all the energy of an eight-year-old.
“Lucy,” he said sternly, drawing her attention back to him, causing her to slow down. “We’re guests here, eh?”
“Sorry, Da.”
He leaned down, kissing her hair, before straightening. “D’ye want to help me whilst Mum gets us registered?”
Lucy turned to Rose, considering what exciting possibilities might lurk in sitting down to register for the hotel, then looked back to Peter. “Aye.”
Rose smiled at him, thanking him silently, and slowly made her way to the small set of stairs leading to the front door. She’d not been expecting such opulence-she was, in fact, terribly uncomfortable with it, sometimes-and he hoped she’d be able to simply relax and enjoy the experience. He told her often-more than she liked to hear-that she was deserving of being spoilt, that she should allow herself to be pampered every now and again, as she worked harder than anyone he knew. She usually fired back with a comment-somewhat in jest-that he should mind some of his own advice.
Perhaps this was a weekend when they’d be able to do just that.
He’d pulled the luggage from the car-only a few small carryalls, more than enough for a weekend away-and Lucy was gamely carrying the lightest of them along the drive when Rose re-emerged from the house. She was smiling, and already looked more at ease; he found himself smiling, too, as she nearly skipped down the stairs, joining him. “All set. Room’s just inside and up the stairs.”
“Not so intimidating, then?”
Rose reached for one of the two bags he had in his hand, and he handed the lighter of the two over to her. “Not at all. ‘s a lovely couple, own the whole thing.” She glanced over to where Lucy was carrying the bag up the stairs now, then leaned in to him. “Have two rooms-they share a bath.”
“Not bad at all, I’d say,” he said slowly, feeling warmth wash through him. They might just make it into a romantic retreat after all.
The room was about as sumptuous as he’d expected, once they made it above stairs. A brass bed was at one end of the sun-filled room, the light only emphasizing the fresh whiteness of the linens and the sunny yellow of the chair. The en-suite was visible through a door on the other side of the bed, the white tile and warm colours also illuminated by the sunlight.
Lucy’s room was a cosy twin, accessible only by passing through the frankly magnificent en-suite. He spared the old iron tub a longing glance, suspecting that he and Rose wouldn’t have much of a chance to use it together, and made sure that Lucy was happy with her room before moving back to the space he and Rose would share for the next three nights.
He’d just finished unpacking, having hung his shirt and trousers in the wardrobe, when Rose joined him. He felt her arms around his waist, then the press of her as she leaned against his back; she let out a soft sigh as he stilled.
“’s been ages since we did this.”
“Aye.” He placed the hanger on the rail, then turned in her embrace. “We should do it more often.”
“We can, now.” She smiled up at him, no sign of regret evident in her face.
“That we can.” He was leaning down to kiss her when Lucy joined them, already talking about the view from her room and causing him to take a reluctant step back from Rose.
They had dinner at the hotel, then took a slow walk around the grounds as the summer sun finally began to set, the light fading so gradually that it was a bit of a surprise to finally realize that it was almost dark. Lucy was practically asleep on her feet by the time they returned to the house and he picked her up, carrying her up the stairs and into her room whilst stifling a groan at her weight.
How had their daughter grown so quickly? he wondered as he put her to bed, Rose helping to undress her then make sure she was safely tucked under her duvet. He pulled the curtains closed, leaving a small gap for light; Rose turned out the lamp before following him out of the room and into their own.
“Alone at last,” she sighed, closing the door to the en-suite behind her and securing it. Lucy had come across their door locked often enough that it wouldn’t worry her to find it so, but he suspected that she’d have almost no reservations about knocking on the door should she feel so inclined come morning.
He’d just have to make love to Rose that night, then.
Rose seemed to have the same idea, leaning back against the door and giving him a knowing smile. “Whatever shall we do?”
“Hmmm. I suspect you have something in mind,” he said softly, moving over to her.
She kept her gaze fastened on him, the smile never quite leaving her mouth, as she replied, “I might.”
He stopped in front of her, mere centimeters away, and leaned down until his lips almost brushed hers. “Were you thinking perhaps of making love?” he whispered, hovering, waiting for her to close the distance between them.
She leaned into him by way of an answer, her lips only barely making contact with his, the action teasingly seductive. The kiss was broken as she pulled back, her eyes opening slowly to look up at him.
“Is that a yes, Rose?” he asked in a rough voice.
“Always,” she replied this time, her hands finding the waist of his trousers, working to unfasten them.
He’d thought perhaps they’d make slow, lazy love in their hideaway, the room filling with soft sighs or whispered words. Rose, however, seemed to have a completely different idea of how things would go; as he moved away to quickly turn out the lights, leaving the room illuminated only by the lingering twilight outside, she shed her clothes, tossing them carelessly onto the chair. She seemed suddenly like a starved woman presented with food-her hands reached for his, pushing them out of the way, working quickly to unbutton his shirt even as she pushed him towards the bed. His trousers and pants were pulled down and off, his shoes kicked away after he’d fallen onto the bed; he noted absently that the coverlet had been folded back, and he spared a thankful thought for that.
His shirt half-unbuttoned, he was surprised when Rose pushed gently against his chest, guiding him further back onto the bed. “Scoot,” she whispered in a low voice. “Need you further back on the bed.”
He wiggled his hips, scooting backwards-and was surprised yet again when Rose kept him from lying down. “Want to kiss you,” she said softly, straddling him, causing him to groan as she brushed against his erection. She was as good as her word, leaning in, her lips now crashing against his as she rocked against him, hitching her hips perfectly to guide him into her.
The sex was brief and intense, Rose moving to drive him as far into her as she could as she kissed him. He held her to him, giving himself over to the experience, focusing on the feel of her undulating against him, how it felt to have the cotton of his shirt acting as a source of friction, what it felt like to be buried in her-and when she came, her shout stifled by their kiss, he let himself fall as well, his own orgasm boiling up through him and causing him to groan.
He was a bit dazed when she pulled back, her hair wild from where he’d had his hands in it at some point, the flush of her cheeks visible even in the half-light. He was sure he made quite a picture as well, his hair no doubt on end from Rose burying her hands in it, his poor shirt no doubt in need of a pressing-but whatever Rose saw, it caused her to gaze openly at him, her love for him more than evident.
“Tha gaol agam ort,” she whispered, her fingers brushing over his cheek.
“Tha gaol agam ort-fhein,” he replied, his eyes drifting shut at her touch.
~ - ~
They were awoken the next morning by the knocking of Lucy-which was a good thing, as Rose realized they’d forgot to set the alarm the night before. They were meant to meet Martin for lunch in Glasgow, at a small restaurant near the river. Peter had estimated it would take them nearly an hour to get there-assuming traffic was good-and by the time the three of them had bathed and dressed Rose realized they were cutting it far finer on time than Peter would have liked.
Martin was waiting for them outside the restaurant when they arrived, Peter’s brother dressed neatly in a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. Lucy had met Martin several times over her life but she was always shy around him, not quite sure what to make of the man who was similar to her da but so very different.
“Been waiting long?” Peter asked as he gave Martin a brief embrace. It was still awkward-it probably always would be-but Peter had told Rose he was determined to treat his brother as his brother, not as some casual acquaintance.
“Few minutes.” Martin stepped back, turning his attention to Rose. “Good to see you again, Rose.”
“And you.” Rose, too, gave Martin a hug; Martin was always a bit unsure of how to act with Rose, and always seemed taken aback when she acted like any other person he might meet on the street.
Lucy, however, hung back as Martin turned to her; Rose flushed in embarrassment at her daughter’s reluctance to greet her uncle, and Peter let out a sigh. “Cagaran, ‘s your Uncle Martin. Y’remember him, eh?”
Lucy shuffled forward, looking warily up at the man before her. Martin crouched down, his hands dangling between his legs as his elbows rested on his knees-an almost perfect echo of how Peter would crouch down to talk to Lucy.
“How are ye, lassy?” Martin asked, his eyes bright.
“’m fine,” Lucy said slowly, still not entirely sure of the man in front of her.
He reached forward, ruffling her hair, then stood to talk to Peter. He was trying, truly-but Lucy hated having her hair mussed, and she wrinkled her nose as Martin conversed with his brother.
“C’mere, love,” Rose said softly. “You hungry? We could look at what they have, while your da and uncle talk.” They’d skipped breakfast in their haste to make it into town, and Rose was sure part of Lucy’s reluctance to welcome Martin was down to her hunger.
Peter’s relationship with his brother had improved drastically in the years she’d known Peter, although it still wasn’t what she’d call ‘comfortable’-there was simply too much that had happened in their lives to make that a possibility. But both Peter and Martin tried, Peter doing everything he could to help his brother stay on the straight and narrow. Martin, too, worked at it, making an effort to visit with Peter, ringing down to his brother often simply to catch up, and regularly attending sessions for recovering addicts. Martin had taken up music as a way to recover from his addictions, and Peter had mentioned on more than a few occasions that the band Martin had joined periodically booked gigs at small pubs in and around Glasgow.
It was that which they talked about as Martin led the way into the restaurant, sharing out a tale of the last gig he’d played, clearly editing the story in the telling to make sure it was suitable for Lucy’s ears. Peter laughed when he was expected to-and more than once, it was genuine-while Rose smiled, paying more attention to a clearly-bored Lucy than to her brother-in-law.
“So, how’ve ye been, Rose?” Martin asked after they’d been seated and were looking over the menu. Martin, Rose noticed, didn’t bother looking-no doubt a frequent diner at the restaurant.
“Good.” She gave Martin a smile, trying to make it genuine, and desperately scrambled for a safe story to share with him.
“Peter mentioned you’d been promoted-congratulations.” Martin’s smile was genuine, and Rose felt herself relaxing. He really was a good man-or at least was working to become one-and she suspected he was probably as much at a loss for conversation with her, as she was with him.
“Thank you.” She felt her smile broaden slightly. “So the band’s doing well, is it?”
“Well enough, aye. Have a regular gig, now-every Friday night, just round the corner.”
“Ye’d not mentioned that, ye sod!” Peter grinned, punching his brother lightly on the shoulder.
“Aye, well, I’d not had the chance now, had I?” Martin looked almost bashful, and turned his attention to Lucy. “D’ye like music?”
Lucy gave the question grave consideration. “’s alright.”
“Just alright!” Martin turned to Peter. “What’re ye teaching your daughter, down in that heathen land?”
“Dinnae blame me!” Peter protested.
“I like singing…” Lucy ventured, seeing that her father wasn’t truly upset but instead seemed to be teasing her uncle.
“Singing?” Martin returned his attention to Lucy; Rose, too, was looking at her daughter in surprise. She didn’t think she knew that, and wondered if she’d missed something.
“Aye. Singing. We have t’do it at school. ‘s better than learnin’ t’play something.” Lucy wrinkled her nose at the idea.
“And what d’ye sing?”
As Lucy answered, Rose glanced across the table to find Peter gazing across to her; at her glance, he gave her a quick smile, then resumed watching his brother and daughter’s fledgling conversation about singing.
By the time their food arrived Lucy at least was invested in the discussion the adults around her were having, although she still remained warily shy of her uncle. Rose talked with Martin quite a bit as they dined, hearing how things were going at his job, what work he’d done around the house, answering his casual questions about her own job at Vitex, and laughing politely when he relayed how a story in a local tabloid, focusing on her and Peter, had made him laugh over the ludicrousness of it.
It was definitely the most comfortable she’d ever seen Peter around his brother, and once their dishes were cleared she considered the meal to overall be a success. Not that she’d consider doing it every week, but she was certainly able to agree with Peter when he said that he’d love to come up and listen to the band one Friday night after Lucy was back at school.
They parted company back on the street, Martin having to get to work for the afternoon shift. She couldn’t help but smile as Lucy allowed herself to be hugged by her uncle, and Rose was more than happy to place a kiss on Martin’s cheek as she gave him a hug.
“It was good to see you, Martin,” she said, stepping back, her hand absently finding Peter’s.
“Thank ye for coming out,” was his reply.
Peter dropped her hand only long enough to give his brother an embrace; and then they were waving to Martin as he set off down the street, giving them a brief wave in return before tucking his hands into his jeans pockets.
“That wasn’t so very bad,” Peter said softly once Martin had turned the corner.
“Not at all. I like him, you know.”
“I know,” Peter said, smiling. “You remind me every time we see him.”
“That’s because I’m not sure you quite believe me.”
He gave her a sideways glance, a sly smile pulling at his lips. “Sometimes I don’t. But today, I definitely do.” He brought their joined hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles before turning to their daughter. “Cagaran, care for a wee stroll?”
Lucy eagerly accepted his free hand, and the three of them set off for an afternoon walk through Glasgow.
~ - ~
Chapter 21
Rating: M
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.
(sorry for being late in posting--I was given the day off, and took advantage of sleeping in past 5am!)
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20
The agent had booked them into a hotel instead of a B&B, a lovely old pile near to the John MacCormick Forest Park. It was past Glasgow, but still close enough that they would find it an easy trip to visit Martin the next day; and as they pulled up the long drive late Friday afternoon Peter couldn’t help but gawp at what he saw. The grey stone manse was set upon a small rise, looking out over the lawns and forests surrounding it. A large conservatory was visible, jutting off the side of the building, and a pond-complete with swans-could be seen off to their right.
Lucy was practically bouncing with excitement, peering out one side of the car and exclaiming over what she saw, then straining to peer out the other side, desperately curious to know what lurked there.
“Wow,” Rose said softly as he came to a stop in the small car park, her eyes wide as she gazed up at the house before them.
He took her hand, squeezing it gently, then turned the car off. “Quite a place, eh?”
“Yeah.” Rose worried at her bottom lip.
“I think it’ll be quite…luxurious.” He gave her a small smile, unfastening his lap belt before turning to open his car door.
“Yeah,” Rose said slowly, finally doing the same.
Lucy had already unbuckled herself from her seat by the time he opened her door, and sprang out of the car with all the energy of an eight-year-old.
“Lucy,” he said sternly, drawing her attention back to him, causing her to slow down. “We’re guests here, eh?”
“Sorry, Da.”
He leaned down, kissing her hair, before straightening. “D’ye want to help me whilst Mum gets us registered?”
Lucy turned to Rose, considering what exciting possibilities might lurk in sitting down to register for the hotel, then looked back to Peter. “Aye.”
Rose smiled at him, thanking him silently, and slowly made her way to the small set of stairs leading to the front door. She’d not been expecting such opulence-she was, in fact, terribly uncomfortable with it, sometimes-and he hoped she’d be able to simply relax and enjoy the experience. He told her often-more than she liked to hear-that she was deserving of being spoilt, that she should allow herself to be pampered every now and again, as she worked harder than anyone he knew. She usually fired back with a comment-somewhat in jest-that he should mind some of his own advice.
Perhaps this was a weekend when they’d be able to do just that.
He’d pulled the luggage from the car-only a few small carryalls, more than enough for a weekend away-and Lucy was gamely carrying the lightest of them along the drive when Rose re-emerged from the house. She was smiling, and already looked more at ease; he found himself smiling, too, as she nearly skipped down the stairs, joining him. “All set. Room’s just inside and up the stairs.”
“Not so intimidating, then?”
Rose reached for one of the two bags he had in his hand, and he handed the lighter of the two over to her. “Not at all. ‘s a lovely couple, own the whole thing.” She glanced over to where Lucy was carrying the bag up the stairs now, then leaned in to him. “Have two rooms-they share a bath.”
“Not bad at all, I’d say,” he said slowly, feeling warmth wash through him. They might just make it into a romantic retreat after all.
The room was about as sumptuous as he’d expected, once they made it above stairs. A brass bed was at one end of the sun-filled room, the light only emphasizing the fresh whiteness of the linens and the sunny yellow of the chair. The en-suite was visible through a door on the other side of the bed, the white tile and warm colours also illuminated by the sunlight.
Lucy’s room was a cosy twin, accessible only by passing through the frankly magnificent en-suite. He spared the old iron tub a longing glance, suspecting that he and Rose wouldn’t have much of a chance to use it together, and made sure that Lucy was happy with her room before moving back to the space he and Rose would share for the next three nights.
He’d just finished unpacking, having hung his shirt and trousers in the wardrobe, when Rose joined him. He felt her arms around his waist, then the press of her as she leaned against his back; she let out a soft sigh as he stilled.
“’s been ages since we did this.”
“Aye.” He placed the hanger on the rail, then turned in her embrace. “We should do it more often.”
“We can, now.” She smiled up at him, no sign of regret evident in her face.
“That we can.” He was leaning down to kiss her when Lucy joined them, already talking about the view from her room and causing him to take a reluctant step back from Rose.
They had dinner at the hotel, then took a slow walk around the grounds as the summer sun finally began to set, the light fading so gradually that it was a bit of a surprise to finally realize that it was almost dark. Lucy was practically asleep on her feet by the time they returned to the house and he picked her up, carrying her up the stairs and into her room whilst stifling a groan at her weight.
How had their daughter grown so quickly? he wondered as he put her to bed, Rose helping to undress her then make sure she was safely tucked under her duvet. He pulled the curtains closed, leaving a small gap for light; Rose turned out the lamp before following him out of the room and into their own.
“Alone at last,” she sighed, closing the door to the en-suite behind her and securing it. Lucy had come across their door locked often enough that it wouldn’t worry her to find it so, but he suspected that she’d have almost no reservations about knocking on the door should she feel so inclined come morning.
He’d just have to make love to Rose that night, then.
Rose seemed to have the same idea, leaning back against the door and giving him a knowing smile. “Whatever shall we do?”
“Hmmm. I suspect you have something in mind,” he said softly, moving over to her.
She kept her gaze fastened on him, the smile never quite leaving her mouth, as she replied, “I might.”
He stopped in front of her, mere centimeters away, and leaned down until his lips almost brushed hers. “Were you thinking perhaps of making love?” he whispered, hovering, waiting for her to close the distance between them.
She leaned into him by way of an answer, her lips only barely making contact with his, the action teasingly seductive. The kiss was broken as she pulled back, her eyes opening slowly to look up at him.
“Is that a yes, Rose?” he asked in a rough voice.
“Always,” she replied this time, her hands finding the waist of his trousers, working to unfasten them.
He’d thought perhaps they’d make slow, lazy love in their hideaway, the room filling with soft sighs or whispered words. Rose, however, seemed to have a completely different idea of how things would go; as he moved away to quickly turn out the lights, leaving the room illuminated only by the lingering twilight outside, she shed her clothes, tossing them carelessly onto the chair. She seemed suddenly like a starved woman presented with food-her hands reached for his, pushing them out of the way, working quickly to unbutton his shirt even as she pushed him towards the bed. His trousers and pants were pulled down and off, his shoes kicked away after he’d fallen onto the bed; he noted absently that the coverlet had been folded back, and he spared a thankful thought for that.
His shirt half-unbuttoned, he was surprised when Rose pushed gently against his chest, guiding him further back onto the bed. “Scoot,” she whispered in a low voice. “Need you further back on the bed.”
He wiggled his hips, scooting backwards-and was surprised yet again when Rose kept him from lying down. “Want to kiss you,” she said softly, straddling him, causing him to groan as she brushed against his erection. She was as good as her word, leaning in, her lips now crashing against his as she rocked against him, hitching her hips perfectly to guide him into her.
The sex was brief and intense, Rose moving to drive him as far into her as she could as she kissed him. He held her to him, giving himself over to the experience, focusing on the feel of her undulating against him, how it felt to have the cotton of his shirt acting as a source of friction, what it felt like to be buried in her-and when she came, her shout stifled by their kiss, he let himself fall as well, his own orgasm boiling up through him and causing him to groan.
He was a bit dazed when she pulled back, her hair wild from where he’d had his hands in it at some point, the flush of her cheeks visible even in the half-light. He was sure he made quite a picture as well, his hair no doubt on end from Rose burying her hands in it, his poor shirt no doubt in need of a pressing-but whatever Rose saw, it caused her to gaze openly at him, her love for him more than evident.
“Tha gaol agam ort,” she whispered, her fingers brushing over his cheek.
“Tha gaol agam ort-fhein,” he replied, his eyes drifting shut at her touch.
~ - ~
They were awoken the next morning by the knocking of Lucy-which was a good thing, as Rose realized they’d forgot to set the alarm the night before. They were meant to meet Martin for lunch in Glasgow, at a small restaurant near the river. Peter had estimated it would take them nearly an hour to get there-assuming traffic was good-and by the time the three of them had bathed and dressed Rose realized they were cutting it far finer on time than Peter would have liked.
Martin was waiting for them outside the restaurant when they arrived, Peter’s brother dressed neatly in a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. Lucy had met Martin several times over her life but she was always shy around him, not quite sure what to make of the man who was similar to her da but so very different.
“Been waiting long?” Peter asked as he gave Martin a brief embrace. It was still awkward-it probably always would be-but Peter had told Rose he was determined to treat his brother as his brother, not as some casual acquaintance.
“Few minutes.” Martin stepped back, turning his attention to Rose. “Good to see you again, Rose.”
“And you.” Rose, too, gave Martin a hug; Martin was always a bit unsure of how to act with Rose, and always seemed taken aback when she acted like any other person he might meet on the street.
Lucy, however, hung back as Martin turned to her; Rose flushed in embarrassment at her daughter’s reluctance to greet her uncle, and Peter let out a sigh. “Cagaran, ‘s your Uncle Martin. Y’remember him, eh?”
Lucy shuffled forward, looking warily up at the man before her. Martin crouched down, his hands dangling between his legs as his elbows rested on his knees-an almost perfect echo of how Peter would crouch down to talk to Lucy.
“How are ye, lassy?” Martin asked, his eyes bright.
“’m fine,” Lucy said slowly, still not entirely sure of the man in front of her.
He reached forward, ruffling her hair, then stood to talk to Peter. He was trying, truly-but Lucy hated having her hair mussed, and she wrinkled her nose as Martin conversed with his brother.
“C’mere, love,” Rose said softly. “You hungry? We could look at what they have, while your da and uncle talk.” They’d skipped breakfast in their haste to make it into town, and Rose was sure part of Lucy’s reluctance to welcome Martin was down to her hunger.
Peter’s relationship with his brother had improved drastically in the years she’d known Peter, although it still wasn’t what she’d call ‘comfortable’-there was simply too much that had happened in their lives to make that a possibility. But both Peter and Martin tried, Peter doing everything he could to help his brother stay on the straight and narrow. Martin, too, worked at it, making an effort to visit with Peter, ringing down to his brother often simply to catch up, and regularly attending sessions for recovering addicts. Martin had taken up music as a way to recover from his addictions, and Peter had mentioned on more than a few occasions that the band Martin had joined periodically booked gigs at small pubs in and around Glasgow.
It was that which they talked about as Martin led the way into the restaurant, sharing out a tale of the last gig he’d played, clearly editing the story in the telling to make sure it was suitable for Lucy’s ears. Peter laughed when he was expected to-and more than once, it was genuine-while Rose smiled, paying more attention to a clearly-bored Lucy than to her brother-in-law.
“So, how’ve ye been, Rose?” Martin asked after they’d been seated and were looking over the menu. Martin, Rose noticed, didn’t bother looking-no doubt a frequent diner at the restaurant.
“Good.” She gave Martin a smile, trying to make it genuine, and desperately scrambled for a safe story to share with him.
“Peter mentioned you’d been promoted-congratulations.” Martin’s smile was genuine, and Rose felt herself relaxing. He really was a good man-or at least was working to become one-and she suspected he was probably as much at a loss for conversation with her, as she was with him.
“Thank you.” She felt her smile broaden slightly. “So the band’s doing well, is it?”
“Well enough, aye. Have a regular gig, now-every Friday night, just round the corner.”
“Ye’d not mentioned that, ye sod!” Peter grinned, punching his brother lightly on the shoulder.
“Aye, well, I’d not had the chance now, had I?” Martin looked almost bashful, and turned his attention to Lucy. “D’ye like music?”
Lucy gave the question grave consideration. “’s alright.”
“Just alright!” Martin turned to Peter. “What’re ye teaching your daughter, down in that heathen land?”
“Dinnae blame me!” Peter protested.
“I like singing…” Lucy ventured, seeing that her father wasn’t truly upset but instead seemed to be teasing her uncle.
“Singing?” Martin returned his attention to Lucy; Rose, too, was looking at her daughter in surprise. She didn’t think she knew that, and wondered if she’d missed something.
“Aye. Singing. We have t’do it at school. ‘s better than learnin’ t’play something.” Lucy wrinkled her nose at the idea.
“And what d’ye sing?”
As Lucy answered, Rose glanced across the table to find Peter gazing across to her; at her glance, he gave her a quick smile, then resumed watching his brother and daughter’s fledgling conversation about singing.
By the time their food arrived Lucy at least was invested in the discussion the adults around her were having, although she still remained warily shy of her uncle. Rose talked with Martin quite a bit as they dined, hearing how things were going at his job, what work he’d done around the house, answering his casual questions about her own job at Vitex, and laughing politely when he relayed how a story in a local tabloid, focusing on her and Peter, had made him laugh over the ludicrousness of it.
It was definitely the most comfortable she’d ever seen Peter around his brother, and once their dishes were cleared she considered the meal to overall be a success. Not that she’d consider doing it every week, but she was certainly able to agree with Peter when he said that he’d love to come up and listen to the band one Friday night after Lucy was back at school.
They parted company back on the street, Martin having to get to work for the afternoon shift. She couldn’t help but smile as Lucy allowed herself to be hugged by her uncle, and Rose was more than happy to place a kiss on Martin’s cheek as she gave him a hug.
“It was good to see you, Martin,” she said, stepping back, her hand absently finding Peter’s.
“Thank ye for coming out,” was his reply.
Peter dropped her hand only long enough to give his brother an embrace; and then they were waving to Martin as he set off down the street, giving them a brief wave in return before tucking his hands into his jeans pockets.
“That wasn’t so very bad,” Peter said softly once Martin had turned the corner.
“Not at all. I like him, you know.”
“I know,” Peter said, smiling. “You remind me every time we see him.”
“That’s because I’m not sure you quite believe me.”
He gave her a sideways glance, a sly smile pulling at his lips. “Sometimes I don’t. But today, I definitely do.” He brought their joined hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles before turning to their daughter. “Cagaran, care for a wee stroll?”
Lucy eagerly accepted his free hand, and the three of them set off for an afternoon walk through Glasgow.
~ - ~
Chapter 21