This is a continuation from Piper Plus. It can be read as a standalone but many of the same characters feature. There is a list of characters at the foot of the document.
Constructive criticism and comments are very welcome
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely co-incidental
The song that Anna sings to Charles is from (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman by the incomparable Carole King
Courtships
March
Charles Stanforth picked up the sheaf of paper and tried to focus on the
precis
. After a minute he realised that not one word of it had impressed itself upon his consciousness and irritably tossed it on to the desk.
Leaning back in his chair he rubbed the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. This was intolerable. Charles prided himself on his self-discipline. Hail, rain or shine, the job came first.
However, thoughts of Mr Piper's sister-in-law swam tantalisingly close to the surface. As if on cue, David knocked on the door to the office and Charles groaned gently.
"Enter!"
David let himself in and sat in the chair across the desk.
Charles found David's presumption entertaining. Apart from a couple of the staff, he didn't consider anyone - Charles included - to be his intellectual superior, and therefore undeserving of deference, which caused consternation amongst some of his colleagues. Much to Charles' amusement, David was unaware of this meritocratic stance.
"It's about Paul's analysis, Charles. I don't agree with the conclusions."
"How so?"
"I wish I could put my finger on it. There's no one thing that clearly sticks out as being in error but the slant of it is wrong."
David paused and rubbed his forehead. "That's doing Paul a disservice. His work is fine, but I don't find the outcome convincing."
"The report's not due for a fortnight, David. Let your famous subconscious dwell on it for a few days. See what bobs to the surface."
David nodded and closed his eyes for a moment.
Charles drew on his courage and took advantage of the natural gap in the conversation.
"Would you be kind enough to divulge Miss Mollica's telephone number, David?"
He waited expectantly for the other man to engage in some ritual banter, but David surprised him with a slow, pleased smile and recited a string of numbers.
He stood and went to leave the room but paused by the door.
"I think you'll find Anna will be delighted to take your call."
Some of the tension that had tightened Charles' shoulders ebbed away. David inclined his head in understanding and let himself out of the office.
Charles inspected the row of digits for a few moments and then picked up the telephone.
No time like the present and all that.
It rang for a moment or two and then an alto voice came on the line.
"Four, double four six."
The pit of his stomach did something most curious.
"Anna?"
"Yes, who is this?"
"It's Charles Stanforth. We met at your sister's wedding."
He heard Anna's sharp intake of breath and could picture her raising her hand to her mouth.
"Charles! How did you get this number? Ach, stupid of me! You'll have got it from David of course. Why didn't you phone before?"
Slightly taken aback, he paused, "I didn't want to presume."
She laughed. "As if!"
Her voice was music in his ears and shockwaves in his blood. He drew on his reserves.
"How are you, Anna?"
"My day just got a lot better!"
"Indeed," he murmured. "A win at the races, perhaps?"
She laughed again but to his dismay a call waiting light appeared on his phone.
"My apologies, Anna, work is about to intrude. May I call you this evening?"
"Of course, Charles, eight o'clock?"
"Eight o'clock."
With that he switched to the waiting call and wrong footed a difficult client with his good humour.
Once the call was over, he stood and went to stand by the window. The day was wet and grey; the passers-by wrapped up against the weather. A sports coupe was caught in the traffic, and he thought again of the occasion when he had met Jennifer Piper's sister.
Tapping his thumbnail against his front teeth he remembered that there was a dealership within walking distance. It was lunchtime and a bit of rain never hurt anyone. He retrieved his coat from the peg.
***
"When you said, 'go for a walk' I didn't think we would end up here, Charles!"
David eyed the sleek machines, polished to a high shine under the crisp glare of the showroom's halogen spots.
"I'm a bit disappointed not to find one in green," Charles replied.
"Being the only proper colour for a gentleman's motor?"
"Quite."
"I'm sure they'll be happy to cater to sir's needs."
"One would hope so."
A salesman oiled over to enquire if there was anything,
anything
at all, he could do for them.
Charles was assured that British Racing Green, with cream leather interior, was a standard finish and a model could be delivered within the week.
He was not given to ostentation, but on reflection thought that perhaps such a purchase wasn't outside the bounds of propriety, and to David's amazement, produced his cheque book.
"Anna will be delighted to know she has such influence on you, Charles."
"Nonsense, Mr Piper. I have been thinking of buying a new car for a while. Miss Mollica's suggestion merely crystallised my resolve."
"An Aston isn't just any car, Charles. It's a statement."
"As is my suit and my accoutrements. What car do you drive, David?"
"I don't drive as you very well know, Charles."
"Indeed. And that too is a statement. It marks you out as having a diverse set of values."
"I'm not sure I think of it like that. More laziness on my part than anything else."
"Not true, David. For you, not owning a car is not some ideological standpoint, and certainly not anything you would dream of defending in an argument. It's a facet of your character. That authenticity is what attracts people like your remarkable spouses."
David squinted at Charles.
"Did you just pay me a compliment, Mr Stanforth?"
"I believe it was your spouses I described as remarkable, Mr Piper."
David grinned at him, and Charles could not but smile in return.
***
Eight o'clock finally arrived and Anna hovered at the top of the stairs. Mustn't appear too eager. Or desperate. The seconds ticked past, and an awful kernel of doubt started to materialise in her breast.
Downstairs the phone rang, and Anna let go of a breath she hadn't realised she was holding.
Jean Mollica picked the receiver up absently, still watching the television.
"Hello?"
"Mrs Mollica?" said a very upper-class accent.
"Yes?"
"I wonder if I might speak to Anna. It's Charles Stanforth. We met at Jennifer's, ah, nuptials."
Jean remembered a tall, smart man with an adroit turn of phrase. Anna had been very taken with him. She smiled. It seemed that he might be similarly taken.
"Yes of course. It was lovely to meet you, Charles. I'll just call her."
Fred looked across from the other chair, eyebrows raised in question. She put her hand over the mouthpiece.
"It's that tall posh boy we met at Jennifer's do."
Her husband frowned. They still couldn't agree on a proper word for the event they'd attended some weeks earlier. Although nuptials sounded quite good.
She went to the foot of the stairs and called up. Moments later her eldest daughter appeared at the top.
"It's Charles Stanforth, dear. He wants -" she tailed off and held the phone out as Anna threw herself down the stairs and snatched it from her.
"Charles!"
Jean smiled as she watched her daughter blush. Then she turned and went back into the living room to give her some privacy.
Anna had refused all the young men in her social circle. Her mother had feared her standards were so high she would be single all her days, but it seemed Cupid's arrow had found a chink in her armour at last.
Half an hour later her daughter bounced into the room. "He's coming to see me!"
Her mother looked up over her half-moons. "That's nice. When?"
"A week Saturday."
***
April
When Saturday came Anna was a bundle of nerves. She was on her third change of clothes when the doorbell rang. Briefly stuck trying to put on a cashmere top, she shrieked.
"Mum! Mum! Help!"
Fred went to answer the door while his wife tried to help her daughter be presentable.
Now free of the clingy garment, Anna allowed her mother to brush her hair while she strained to hear the murmurs of conversation from the hall. She fought to control her breathing. Demure was the desired look.
Five or so minutes later she let herself into the living room where Charles and her father were sitting talking. Charles rose to his feet as she entered, and he smiled.
The world fell away and her answering smile faltered. A smile seemed inadequate to express the power of her feelings towards him. Suddenly she felt bashful and diffident, unsure how to conduct herself.
His face changed and he advanced to stand in front of her. He took her hands.
"Anna. It's wonderful to see you."
Realising that he was surplus to requirements, her father sat down with a grunt. The sound brought her back to the present.
She stepped back and looked Charles up and down. He was wearing a dark grey tweed jacket over a checked flannel shirt and thick brown corduroy trousers. A scarf hung round his neck and the ensemble was topped off with a dark blue cap.
It was about as far away from the immaculate suit he'd sported at Jen's wedding as it was possible to get but he looked completely at home.
"What
are
you wearing?"
He looked down at his apparel with faint dismay.
"It's what I wear when I'm driving any distance."
"You drove here!"
"Yes of course. I could have flown I suppose but that would have been a lot of fuss."
Anna inspected him with narrowed eyes.
"You don't mean to tell me you can fly?"
"Certainly."
