#Best Removals Company Oxford

[mightyflamethrower]

“Net Zero” is the hot thing among Climate Change zealots and has been for quite a while.

The idea is simple: if excessive emissions of CO2 are changing the atmosphere sufficiently to cause undesirable changes in the climate, then we have to quit emitting excessive levels of CO2. The “net” part of Net Zero is finding a way to remove CO2 from the atmosphere in the same quantity with which we increase it through the use of machines.

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Simple enough. It’s a bad policy, but the reasoning is simple enough to understand.

More than 140 countries, including the biggest polluters – China, the United States, India and the European Union – have set a net-zero target, covering about 88% of global emissions. More than 9,000 companies, over 1000 cities, more than 1000 educational institutions, and over 600 financial institutions have joined the Race to Zero, pledging to take rigorous, immediate action to halve global emissions by 2030.

This policy goal is truly insane, and everybody promoting it is as well. And, as the Telegraph reports, they are incredibly careless as well, playing with human lives and prosperity without thinking anything they do through to their logical conclusions. Their obsession with Net Zero overrides the most basic level of prudence one would expect from world leaders.

Two of the primary strategies for achieving Net Zero are, as you know, electrifying everything while simultaneously abandoning the use of fossil fuels to produce electricity. And, since nuclear power is controversial, time-consuming to construct, and requires a substantial up-front investment, countries are placing almost all their eggs in the “renewable” generation basket.

If renewables were reliable and affordable, it would be a great idea. Who wouldn’t prefer a cheap method for reliably generating a lot of electricity without depleting resources we could use for other things, or stretch out for a longer period? If it is all upside and no downside, why not?

Yeah, well, but…None of that is true, so the advocates get sloppy, deceptive, and push ridiculous propaganda out to obscure the basic facts.

Britain’s climate watchdog has privately admitted that a number of its key net zero recommendations may have relied on insufficient data, it has been claimed. Sir Chris Llewellyn Smith, who led a recent Royal Society study on future energy supply, said that the Climate Change Committee only “looked at a single year” of data showing the number of windy days in a year when it made pronouncements on the extent to which the UK could rely on wind and solar farms to meet net zero. “They have conceded privately that that was a mistake,” Sir Chris said in a presentation seen by this newspaper. In contrast, the Royal Society review examined 37 years worth of weather data. Last week Sir Chris, an emeritus professor and former director of energy research at Oxford University, said that the remarks to which he was referring were made by Chris Stark, the Climate Change Committee’s chief executive. He said: “Might be best to say that Chris Stark conceded that my comment that the CCC relied on modelling that only uses a single year of weather data … is ‘an entirely valid criticism’.” The CCC said that Sir Chris’s comments, in a presentation given in a personal capacity in October, following the publication of his review, related solely to a particular report it published last year on how to deliver “a reliable decarbonised power system”.

Here’s a simple question for you: would you completely upend a system that was working and that undergirded your civilization based on such a limited amount of data?

If the answer is “Yes,” step aside and let the adults make policy because you are a buffoon.  Unsurprisingly reality has not matched the fantasy of the Nut Zeros.

But, in response to further questions from this newspaper, the body admitted that its original recommendations in 2019 about the feasibility of meeting the 2050 net zero target, were also based on just one year’s worth of weather data. The recommendations were heavily relied on by ministers when Theresa May enshrined the 2050 target into law. A CCC spokesman said: “We stand by the analysis.” In October 2021 The Sunday Telegraph revealed that assumptions underpinning the committee’s 2019 advice to ministers included a projection that in 2050 there would be just seven days on which wind turbines would produce less than 10 per cent of their potential electricity output. That compared to 30 such days in 2020, 33 in 2019 and 56 in 2018, according to analysis by Net Zero Watch, a campaign group.

It is not accidental or, bad enough, negligence that led to this rather error-prone way of estimating energy needs. Instead this is the sort of strategy used all the time in getting government to do remarkably stupid things: mislead about what the actual costs and benefits of achieving a goal would be.

In my earlier life as an activist, I saw this strategy used all the time: project an unrealistically low cost, claim unreasonably high benefits, and use the sunk cost fallacy to keep the money flowing. Projects in government can escalate in cost by as much as a factor of 20 or more and produce few actual benefits, but once the first dollars flow in the project has a life of its own.

Think high-speed rail in California. Costs have escalated out of control; hardly anything has been built; and a project that was supposed to be already running will likely never get finished. But the gravy train for the people getting the money continues for years or decades. The project got off the ground in…1996 and has consumed untold billions of dollars without much of anything having been built. The project got the green light in 2008, and costs have ballooned with little progress having been made.

The costs for the California high-speed rail project, which voters approved $10 billion in 2008, have risen sharply and the authority has not identified key funding needed for the project that has faced numerous delays. The full San Francisco to Los Angeles project was initially estimated to cost around $40 billion but has now jumped to between $88 billion and $128 billion. The rail authority estimated costs for an initial 171-mile segment connecting Merced to Bakersfield rose from $25.7 billion to at least $32 billion and is hoping initial service will begin in 2030.

Just to let you know, the Merced to Bakersfield portion is all in central California, where few people actually live. In other words, there will be a segment of high speed rail from nowhere to nowhere. Not to offend the good folks of Merced and Bakersfield, but nobody would have approved a $32 billion train from one to the other. It would have been the subject of very unkind jokes.

Now, it is reality, or rather, it might be late in this decade. That is how government scams work.

Nut Zero is using that model. Overpromise, underdeliver, skim a ton of money off the taxpayers and create a disaster.

Nobody involved with Net Zero has your interests in mind, and only the childish believe it is possible or desirable in the foreseeable future. Trillions will be made by scammers, bureaucrats and the transnational elite will gain more control over you, and the average person will be immiserated.

That is the reality of Nut Zero. It is a scam and a power grab. Nothing more. Trust nothing its advocates say.

[mia-studyhaus]

5 Minutes, 5 Words - #194

🍁✨🥀☘️🍃☘️🌍

Daunt /dɔːnt/ (v.) - make (someone) feel intimidated or apprehensive.

Cara's confidence seemed to daunt Vanessa, her best friend.

Decimate /ˈdɛsɪmeɪt/ (v.) - kill, destroy, or remove a large proportion of.

Many of my farm's plants were decimated by the storm.

Deduce /dɪˈdjuːs/ (v.) - arrive at (a fact or a conclusion) by reasoning; draw as a logical conclusion.

I was able to easily deduce the trend from the samples I had.

Defame /dɪˈfeɪm/ (v.) - damage the good reputation of (someone); slander or libel.

Zack could not catch the culprit who had attempted to baselessly defame him.

Definitive /dɪˈfɪnɪtɪv/ (adj.) - (of a conclusion or agreement) done or reached decisively and with authority.

The company has released a statement on their definitive commitment to adapt more sustainable practices in their manufacturing processes.

🍁✨🥀☘️🍃☘️🌍

Definitions from: Oxford Languages.

IPA Phonetic Transcription (UK English) from: tophonetics.com

Sentences are fictitious, though they may be based on real issues that occur across the world.

Follow @studyhaus for more vocabulary content!

[aliypop]

Back To Black : Chapter 4

latest chapters : Chapter 1  Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Word Count:  7,319

Writers Notes: Here we are Chapter 4  topping off season 3 and kicking into gear of season 4, I hope you all are enjoying the series so far, I’ve been enjoying writing and watching Peaky Blinders

shout to @herosneednotapply​ and her oc Florence

Warning: Show violence and language Suggestive themes

Pairing: OC ( Eleanor Williams ) / Thomas Shelby  

(Claudette Williams) / Finn Shelby

Song to listen to as you read

Plot: What happens When the Williams Family makes their grand return back to London from a war stricken France to only find the rocks of war and the runts of crime the Shelby family slowly leaking into their world,

1924, The 1st Of June, New York City

My Dearest, Thomas Shelby

Regarding your last letter, I'm terribly sorry about your wife, Grace. I'm sure she was a great wife while you were married. I also hope you received my gift for Charlie. 

I know it isn't much, but I saw the jockey on the horse, and I figured it would remind you of when we crossed paths at that derby. To think that was only two years ago. We were nearly at each other's throats. Virginia told me about what happened between Leslie and her. I could see why she'd be upset.

 I  thought the woman was dead. After all, if I weren't the head of The Black Pearl Oyster company, I  would have left. 

Meanwhile, you were right. Florence did  ask, "Why the fuck were you in the south?" I do like her quite a lot. She keeps me up on American trends and ways. 

I now have a song on the radio, a cover, if you will, they give a chance for any gullible fool to have one, but I figured why not. I have a voice, and it brought in money at The Pearl. Perhaps I can make a few records here. It's a bit of a ballad, but the words reminded me of us. If it ever swims across the pond, you'll know of it. 

By the way, Polly tells me you've met my aunt Vadoma, and I know you're wondering. Polly talks to me, and yes, she expresses a lot of how much she likes me and how much Virginia comes around to kiss Ada backward, as the kids call it.

 She also told me you had a problem with the Russians and a Priest. I wish you would've told me. After all, diamonds are girls' best friends, and I've made allies with the Russian Mafia. I met one man who could out-talk Alfie. On the other hand, I met a man writing a book, a struggling artist named Francis Scott Fitzgerald. Scott says he's writing a book that's gonna blow the blues. He calls it Among the Ash-Heaps and Millionaires, but I think he should name it The Great Gatsby. 

Anyways It seems I'm running out of room on my paper, and Florence calls me to go into this dreaded heat of American summer, give my sisters my best regards, and give Charlie a kiss on his forehead for me,

Best Wishes

With Love

Eleanor Vadoma Williams

PS. 

I hope Polly received the earrings I bought her.

1924 -  London The Pearl

"Mr. Williams..." Claudette said, sitting in the chair backward. Andre looked at his adopted sister, sickened by her appearance. She was wearing black breeches, a button-up shirt with pearls, a vest,  a black overcoat with dressy oxford heels, and suspenders keeping her pants up, 

"Claudette, it's been a while since you've shown your face..."  he laughed, "I've done some thinkin, reinvented meself," removing her gloves as she turned to Isaiah, "Butt me, will ya," handing her a cigarette, 

"Anything for you, Etta, " he smirked, 

Tommy had sent Isaiah, Finn, and Claudette to deal with Andre, who was running the club almost to the ground had Virginia not known anything, 

"Thank you, Isaiah. Now Tommy Shelby sent us here because it appears your fuckin with his shares on his Gin..." looking into her cousins' eyes as he laughed,

 " A group of children policing me, oh this is fresh." Andre laughed harder, mocking them. Finn and Isaiah stood up as Claudette motioned for them to sit, "Have you or have you not been keepin the money to yourself?" Finn asked, his trigger-happy hand on his gun, 

"I broke his deal off," a smug look on his face as he lit his cigar, "Passed it to a woman who really cares about this shithole of a place." motioning his index finger in a circle, "Who'd that be," Isaiah questioned as Claudette leaned forward, 

"Your mother Claudette," he smirked as her brown face went pale, " I partnered with her to start getting kids your age something to do; I think, what you slum rats call snow?" he smirked, 

" You snake!" pulling out her razor blade from her overcoat pocket as it was under his neck. The two boys and their guns were drawn, ready to blow a hole in his head if need be, "Look at this. This isn't you. You were the cute pearl to be, Eleanor 2.0. and-" feeling blood drip from down his neck. 

"I'm not from Manchester and be careful who you call a slum rat. Last time I checked, we were born to freed slaves who could barely afford food. The only difference was everyone in Small Heath couldn't, but we fuckin worked for what we 'ad. So yeah, this is me," she laughed, "Workin' with everythin I fuckin 'ave!" Andre's eyes grew wide to see the girl who called him her brother betray him in such a way,  

"I hope Will was good to you, Lorcan," Virginia said, pocketing her money and giving half of it to Julian, 

"He was an angel with a throat that wouldn't let go." Lorcan laughed, the three coming down the stairs as Andre rolled his eyes, "I train my girls and guys to do only the best." she grinned, Lorcan taking the keys to his car out of his pocket as he fixed his hat, "You know back home we have Lizzie, 

she's great, but every man in towns had Lizzie,"

"I remember my first time with Lizzie,"  Julian and Virginia said in unison. Virginia looked over the railing, and she then noticed Claudette. She had to admit that peaky look was looking good on her, as was the grasp of power surrounding herself. This was the Claudette that had always been inside her, 

"Look at you, Ms. Williams." Virginia smiled, motioning for them to disarm themselves, 

"It's Hilda, Claudette Hilda," taking a long drag of her cigarette, 

"Forgive me, Ms. Hilda. turn so I can get a good look at ya." Claudette turned as Andre was still stunned, "You carry power well. I'm sure Nora would be proud if she'd seen you." hugging her cousin tight as Claudette hugged her back, 

"Aye, Hilda, you ready?" Finn asked as her face flushed, turning a deep red by the cheeks,

 "Coming, Mr. Shelby." she winked at him as Finn got flustered, 

" What's that about," Virginia asked,

"Never you mind. Oh, and Andre, clean your hands. You're dripping blood on Eleanors' floors." Stomping out her cigarette and walking out the door,

 "That was a ballsy move, Etta," Isaiah said,

"He better be lucky I haven't got a hat yet." taking Finns as she ruffled up his hair, placing it on his head, "Claudette Hilda Shelby," she grinned,

"Gotta nice ring to it." Lorcan looked back at the three as Julian snickered, "Could have a ring to it..." Finn mumbled enough for Isaiah to hear it.

1924 The 21st Of August, Warwickshire

  Dear, Elle

Thank you for your condolences. You seem to be the only one saying them with good intentions, and I respect that. For the time being that I had with Grace, she was what I assumed a good wife was, but I wouldn't know what one really does. And yes, the gift for Charlie. He seems attached to it, anything to do with horses,  just like his old man. And yes, it does remind me of the derby. If I'm not mistaken, the horse looks like yours that we beat. I still remember that look on your face,

However, when it comes to your aunt Leslie, we all wish she'd have died, but I'm keeping her alive because one, I assume you want me to spare her, and two, she's a minor inconvenience, 

sure she and your bastard of a brother have messed with our bootlegging deal,

 But I sent Claudette to handle that. I may never say this to her, or I may, but I am proud of her. She's more ballsy and gutsier than Finn but less impulsive.

Regarding New York City, I'm glad you ran into Florence. She's a good friend and confidante, and I wouldn't call you gullible, a fool sometimes, yes, but you have a gift, Eleanor, singing, something my late wife tried her hardest to do. Claudette actually bought it. She plays it all the time. It Had To Be You, the words are charming, and about the Russians, they're manically fucked up, or perhaps it was just the duchess. But I don't doubt you could tame them. For all I know, you tame lions for fun, 

And yes, I did meet your aunt Vadoma. You're splitting the image of her as beautiful, eccentric, and emotionally connected. However, she talks in metaphors, but I feel they hold unforeseen truths. And as for Pol, she loved the earrings. I will say I was surprised to learn you're of Romani people, Pol, however, said she knew by your bones, whatever that means, really because she knew Vadoma, 

And a writer? Careful, he may make you his muse. Lorcan does it all the time. Lorcan's either buried in a prostitute, he's painting them, or both. You have no idea how often  I've walked in on him bending some whore over a canvas. You never know with a Lee man, 

Sorry, it took so long to respond. I feel my next time will be longer, things are changing, and I can feel it. 

Yours truly,

Thomas Shelby

PS,

Emeralds suit you better from the picture you sent. 

Small Heath

"Good mornin, Aunt Polly," Claudette smiled, walking through the halls of the gambling den, "Morning, Claudette," Polly responded from her office, passing Finn as he was flirting with another girl, her face green with jealousy as Tommy looked up from the paperwork on his desk, but with a slight smirk on his face, 

"Finn, can I talk to you..." Claudette asked as he ignored her,

"You probably make everyone jealous," the girl's eyes looking directly at Claudette, 

"I wouldn't say that." checking over the numbers. "Besides, you ain't bad looking yourself." he winked at her, tipping his hat, "Finn!" Claudette shouted again as he shrugged her off, 

"Fine," walking off, she took his keys and a pack of his cigarettes, putting them in her own pockets, 

"Try impressin her now, flyboy."

"Ay, I saw that..." 

"Mr. Gray, how's the accountin going."  sitting on Michaels's desk as he laughed, "It's shit. I don't get to be out there like you, which is odd considering you're a girl in breeches." he looked at her, her face frowned up, "Don't give me that look Dette," his index finger under her chin, pulling her closer towards him,

"I hate it when you frown,"  he whispered. Finn walked by, clinching his fist, "And I hate it when you tell me not to." Getting off his desk, she gave him a wink,

 "Oh, check the total from the shares of The Pearl club and trading company,"

"Let's say Tommy's a little pissed at ya for not catching the added surplus charges we 'ave to pay." she walked out of his office, "Hope you don't die, or maybe you will." she shrugged as Arthur laughed, 

"How's me favorite, little lady?" Arthur asked. Arthur had now embraced her presence rather than seen it as a threat. And maybe it was because he understood her, or he was there on the lonely nights when she would fall asleep in Tommy's office screaming from night terrors as to why her mother left her. After all, he had been in a similar situation, "Still wantin her hat," she joked, sitting next to him, watching his Whiskey glass, 

"Can I?"

"When ya turn 17,"

"So 1925!"

1925  6th Of January 

My dearest; Tommy

When you get this letter, it will hopefully be on your birthday, but before I get into that, I'd like to wish my condolences on the life of your brother John. The splitting of your family. We have lost family, my father, and Andre. It seems my Aunt Leslie has pissed off Luca Changretta, and he's coming for us just as he's coming for you. Virginia has been teaching the rest of her girls to shoot. She's building them as soldiers, and I fear they'll kill her too. Claudette tells me Andre nearly raked our businesses across the mud. of course, that could never happen. 

See, I thought up a plan, and that is for Shelby limited to buy half of The Black Pearl Oyster businesses. That way, if Changretta or anybody else comes for your shit or mine. We can protect each other. I know I haven't met your brothers other than Julian yet,

 But I assume you can muster the will to convince them. Florence tells me you're good at these things.

 Florence also told me it'd be a bad idea to come home, Yet it's so hard to explain plans in writing rather than face to face, 

Vadoma tells me Polly tends to host séances since your family tussle. Which, yes, did cross the pond amongst the organized crime world. 

Everyone says she has a gift, and Vadoma sees it as well. Of course, from what I'm learning, Vadoma sees a lot of Polly, but I digress. I hope you got my gift, for it may be my last yet, 

My mother thought it well to go back to the practices of her youth and decided maybe I should settle down for the business and marry a politician who wants to change the world. I see it as being silenced and shown as a trophy; 

women aren't allowed much here to have opinions or be heard, they are dainty decorated things, and you and I know that's not me. I have a mind and a sharper tongue. But never the less, may you have a happy birthday, try not to work too hard, and have an old fashion in my honor.

Your dear friend,

With love

Eleanor Vadoma Williams 

  1925-London Docks

"You be gentle with my Myrtle, you hear." Virginia smiled, pocketing half the money, the rest going to Myrtle. Virginia had always done business around the docks, for it was the most desperate place where men would do anything for a quick fuck. Since Andre had gone, Virginia threw herself deep into the family business. It was time for her to step up, and she knew it. Sitting at the docks, she had been waiting for Thomas Shelby. Her sister was smitten with him. Hearing footsteps on the cobblestone Virginia grabbed for her gun. As the man stepped into the light, it was none other than "Luca Changretta..." flicking her cigarette out her mouth, "Who was you expecting, sweetheart," his New York accent getting under her skin, "One of my girls, actually," she looked at her nails then back at him, 

"You mean my broads?" his hand out as if he were expecting money.

"Expecting something?" she glared at his hand, 

"My money for my share of the fuckin girls..." he said, almost like a spoiled brat, 

"Sorry," Virginia said, 

"Sorry for what..." Luca grabbed her by the chin, his grip on her tight, 

"That I don't speak bullshit." 

BANG!

A bullet lodged right in her ribs, crimson blood staining her suit. Virginia tried reaching for her gun, but her vision was blurry. She could only hear voices, "Go ahead, shoot her, Andy." Luca said, a shot to the chest,

 "That'll teach her not to talk back," Luca smirked as the man next to him spat at her body. Running out covered in blood, Myrtle fired a few warning shots. Luca could smell the scent of sex and the cologne of one of his men on her, 

"What did you do to her!"

"She's just sleep angel face," he said, pushing her up against a wall. Myrtle spat in his face, her gun pressed to his head, "Shoot me do it," he whispered in her ear, "But I warn you, you'll be shootin fucking blanks, dear." Luca growled, 

"You don't deserve to live, you monster, you-"

BANG

BANG

BANG

Her Red Clara Bow styled curls slid down the cement bridge. Myrtle's  lifeless body lay there, a fresh bullet hole in her head, next to the slowly dying woman she'd loved, "Is this the war you want, Andy?" Luca asked, patting him on the back, "That is the warning sign." he laughed, cigarette now in his mouth. It wasn't his first choice, but it would do for now. 

"The real war is with the remaining Shelbys. You can kill the other bastards. Just let me share the main one." he grinned, snapping his fingers as a few goons dumped myrtles body in the water. 

"What'dya we do with the other,"

"Clean her up and leave her at the doorsteps of the Shelby's," Leslie said, her heels making the entrance first, "But keep her alive, and make sure the girl sees her first. Let her know she's next."  Leslie smirked. 

The Shelby House

"So this sister of yours has a plan..." Ada asked Claudette, the two drinking Whiskey, "How come I've never seen her?" Claudette sighed, "She's in the states, but she wrote Tommy the plan." leaning over the table as a sense of sadness took over in her eyes, "Eleanor was the glue to the family, and when my father, uncle told her she could never come back the family went to shit." she laughed, "Well, welcome to the Shelby family, it's always going to shit." she sighed,

 "So this Changretta shit, can she ..."

"Mhmm, Squash it, yes, but to kill it, you'll need more than the Shelby family. Two wars are going 'round, and I'm the target." she looked up at Polly, her cigarette burning as usual,

 "You won't be a target, not while you're here. I won't allow it," Polly smirked, "Now eat." Polly looked at her, "Yes, Aunt Pol." Claudette smiled, eating her sandwich, "Heard anything from Virginia lately?" Polly asked as Ada rolled her eyes, 

"Pol!" she grumbled, "No, I haven't,"

"Well, you should. I like having Virginia around. Besides, she beats all the men you've met." Polly mumbled the last part as Ada blushed, 

"We haven't talked in a while. Virginia's grown busy and-"

A plumping noise stopped the three women from talking, "I'll go see what it is." Claudette said, taking her revolver with her, "Ada go with her," Polly commanded as Ada stood up, walking with the young girl, Ada looked out the window as she saw no one but the usual bustle of the town, nodding to Claudette to open the door, laying there was Virginia bloodied, beaten, and almost on a dying limb, Ada ran to her side as Claudette was standing frozen by her feet, she couldn't breathe, her mouth was dry, and suddenly she wasn't there, this was her warning sign, this was her reason to fight. As she stood there like a dead weight, she saw her mother standing across the street in the shadows, giving her a menacing wave. This officially meant war, 

"Arthur, Finn, Julian, one of you move your asses and help!" Polly shouted as they rushed to carry her in, "Lorcan,  get Tommy, Michael, get Claudette some tea..."

"But, I'm not a maid." Michael sassed,

"Make the fucking tea Michael!" Ada glared at him. 

An hour later, Tommy had arrived with a firey fury, perhaps from meeting with Alfie or having Ms. Jessie Eden in the office. Either way, he was needed in the gambling house for a family meeting. Shrieks of pain were heard from Ada's old room. Tommy raced toward to see a brown-skinned woman dressed in one of his brothers' suits. 

"Who the fuck is this..." Tommy glared at Ada, 

"Virginia, bite the cloth, don't suck the gin out of it!" Polly grumbled, pulling the bullet from her chest out. 

"I can tolerate the OUCH FUCK!" 

"Virginia Williams, " he nodded, remembering that Eleanor had told him about her in his letters. It was strange how they never crossed paths, "Don't just stand there, help or something!" Ada growled. He took off his overcoat, he began walking over to her. She didn't look too bad, nothing he hadn't seen in France, but he knew if one thing went wrong, Eleanor would be on the first boat back to have his head. Pouring Gin over the bullet wounds, Virginia bit harder against the rag, "Ada, hold her down. Polly, get the bandages." he sighed, his fingers going into the cavity of the hole in her rib, from where it was she was lucky to be alive, "Alright love just stay calm Tommy's got you." Ada cooed, rubbing the side of her face,   and that's when it connected, but he hadn't had time to address that just yet, "It's out..." Examining the first bullet, it said Virginia, which wouldn't be surprising. After all, he had one with Tommy's name on it, but the one in her chest was different. Taking the other out, he could read the name on it clear as day, 

"Claudette..." what would Luca want with her. She wasn't officially a Peaky, and she hadn't caused any harm, but then there was Andre, who was dead, or was he. 

"So, you're Thomas Shelby..." she winched as Polly wrapped her up, 

"That would be me, yeah," he looked at her.

"We met briefly at the charity event. The night you caused my sister to leave home." Virginia said with gritted teeth, "She left because she wanted to," he stared her down. Virginia could see the hurt in his eyes, the look of a man spending sleepless nights in the arms of lovers who weren't Eleanor. 

"Well, I feel better, and I should head back to Lon-"

"STAY!" Claudette shouted, rushing over, " I mean, if you'd like to," clearing her throat, 

"You're worried about your sister?" Ada smiled. It was nice something wholesome was in the Shelby home, "I don't want Luca tryin to shoot the only family I got." Claudette said, sipping her tea. Tommy looked up at her. He could see the look of relief in her eyes. Knowing that she wasn't dead was enough for her, but knowing she might next wasn't enough for him to look her in the eyes,

"Shouldn't you be in bed, young lady?" Polly asked as Claudette shook her head, "Why's that." Claudette tried to think of an excuse, "I'd like to be tucked in first, perhaps a warm glass of milk even ?" she mentioned as Tommy laughed among himself,  that she hadn't changed much from he first met her, "You're fucking seventeen Dette," Virginia bluntly said as Claudette rolled her eyes, "Virginia and I will tuck you in, and Pol will make you some milk with honey," Ada smiled kissing her forehead, "What about Arthur and Tommy?"

"I already have Charlie to tend to." he looked at his pocket watch as Claudette nodded, 

"I'll be in bed then." she sighed, noticing how Tommy wouldn't look at her, dressed in one of Ada's old nightgowns. Claudette was tucked and comfortable as anyone could be living in Small Heath. As her eyes began to grow heavy, she could see Ada and Virginia sharing a passionate kiss with each other. 

"You should really rest," Ada suggested helping Virginia out of the room, "Fuck it, I'll be fine, my darling," her arm around Ada's waist, the two walked down the hall past Arthur as he glared at her, his wife Linda already sleeping peacefully, 

"When I let go, run for your life," Andre said, hugging Claudette tight, pushing away his grip as his hands now were around her neck, squeezing tighter. She couldn't breathe. Claudette felt lightheaded and dizzy. As if the room around her was spinning, focusing, she was in The Pearl. This much she knew, 

"Let... me ..." 

"Let you what..." Andre growled, "Go, you owe me something, Etta..."  he laughed as he pinned her against the mirror, her face towards the mirror,

"I don't owe you shit,"  she growled, his neck oozing with blood as it did on the day she cut him, 

"Oh, but you do..." another familiar voice said, peering from the shadows. Leslie had a revolver in her hand. Pointed towards Claudette. As she tried to break free, Andre slammed her face into the glass, shattering it, shards cutting deep into her face as it oozed with the red liquid on the floor. Claudette only laughed, her disfigured face looking at her mother, 

"Is that all you got..." another thrash into the mirror as she only laughed harder, 

"No, there's more..."

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

"I wish I never had you..." her body lay lifeless as a gaping hole was in her chest, the bullet next to her with her name engraved. As she tried to get up, she saw another person, Luca Changreta, 

"Send this one to Tommy..." 

BLAW!

"No....No....No...NO!" Claudette screamed, jolting out of bed. She was sweaty and sticky, her hair felt stuck to her head, and her body felt like dead weight, "No, don- don't touch me!" Claudette screamed, backing away from Finn as she flinched. Finn's eyes had gone wide until her breathing was faster and shallow,  her body trembling in fear, and she was known to never fear anything.

 "I'm not gonna hurt you. Just tell me what's wrong..."

"I-I C...Can't," her teeth chattering as hot tears pricked her cheeks. Her body shaking like a leaf, 

"Darlin, tell me, please." 

BLOOM!

"NO!"

A crack of thunder across the sky only caused her to panic more, "They're coming for me..." she whispered, laughing out of anxiety, "He's coming for me, and he's going to kill me..." Finn tried to touch her again, as another sound of thunder happened, 

"TOMMY!" she shouted, "Where's Tommy..." she asked. Claudette was 4 again, cowering in fear, screaming, kicking, and crying just like she was that night. 

"In his office," extending his arm out to her, Claudette took it. Trying not to focus on the shadows surrounding her or the many tricks her nightmare-stricken mind played on her, "Could you take me to him?" Claudette asked, counting his freckles, trying to calm herself down, "Yeah, uh, Claudette..."  Finn locked eyes with her. Something about the moonlight and the vulnerability of how close the two were was taking over his senses, 

"Yes, Finn..." the two walking towards the gambling house offices, "I wanna tell you somethin if that's okay..."  he asked, as she was snuggled up into his warmth, 

"Tell me,"

"I'm here for you." he kissed her forehead. Tommy looked up from reading over the books that Michael handled as he smirked to himself. Finn was growing up right, and he was proud. As Finn wiped away a loose tear, "If you need me, I'll be in John's old room," Tommy cleared his throat startling the two, "Finn bed... now." Tommy grumbled as Claudette straightened up, "Tommy, sorry... I." Claudette took a deep breath,

 "Why are you up. It's 3 in the morning," Tommy pointed out, "You're up too," she glared at him, "To answer your question, I had a nightmare..." she sighed, 

"But you wouldn't care 'cause you're busy workin," Tommy had finally looked up at her, puffy red eyes and drenched clothes, "I'm all ears now, tell me what was it that made you scream like a fucking banshee."

"You heard me, and you didn't think to help!"

"Can't depend on me all your life." he shrugged, "Gotta learn to do things on your own sometimes," Tommy was right, but it wasn't what she wanted to hear, 

 "That's why I got shot in my dreams by my mother..." she mumbled, "Because you weren't there, You know Andre... he haunts me in my sleep every night, and Eleanor isn't here to tell me it's okay, and Virginia's drinking her sorrows out with Ada as we speak, so forgive me if I wanted sympathy from THOMAS FUCKING SHELBY!" she broke down and cried screaming as Tommy scooped her up and held her, something he wished his own father would've done for him when he was little,  

"Hey, hey, hey," he cooed, brushing out her hair with his hands. He may not have been as paternal to Charlie, but he was learning through Claudette,

 "Talk to me..." 

"Promise you won't leave..." she asked, looking at him, trying not to cry himself, remembering how it felt when he asked his father the same thing, 

"Claudette..." 

"Promise me, even if you don't mean it!" she sobbed into his waistcoat, " I'd get it. No one wants me, not my father, Eleanor, or mother. They all left me," 

"Claudette Hilda Shelby!" Tommy took her chin to look up at him,

 "Don't you ever fucking say that, yeah they left you, but Elle, she's coming back, and the rest of us, we never left you, and fuckin won't," his hands on her shoulders as he bent to her height, "I'm not fucking leaving you," he smiled at her wiping her tears away, Claudette looked up at him still teary-eyed, "I'd even do the most shittiest Charleston for you," he began to dance, as she shook her head, "Eleanor does it better," she mumbled, "You bet she fuckin does, but just know we'd throw ourselves in front of every damn bullet with your name on it, to keep you safe."Hugging her back made Tommy feel like, just for one time in his life, he deserved to do something good, to have something good, 

"You really think of me as a Shelby?" Claudette asked, her tired puffy eyes nearly closing, 

"I don't know..."

"You called me Claudette Hilda Shelby..."

"You're delirious go to bed." he said, sitting back down about to type on his typewriter, "But I'm not tired..." yawning as he peered over his glasses, 

"Okay, I'm going, but you better go to sleep too,"

Walking down the halls, Claudette heard a whispered noise. Looking for a weapon, she grabbed the nearest bottle and swung it like a bat. The creaking of the floorboards as the nose got closer to her, she felt a halting motion towards it.

 "Put the Whiskey down..." Finn glanced at her, 

"Finn..." she sighed, "You scared me..."  taking the bottle from her hands as they brushed against each other, "Just tryin to keep you safe," he winked,

 "Finn!" she gasped, " What are you tryin to do?"

"We could drink a little Whiskey, maybe..." he smirked, "Calm down those nerves of yours..."   Claudette rolled her eyes as if he didn't have her with the mention of Whiskey.

 "Whadya say?"

"Cups or the bottle?"

"We drink like Peaky's out the fuckin bottle," he smirked, taking the first swig and passing it over to Claudette, who nearly drank the entire bottle, "I see why Arthur told us no to touch the Whiskey," she laughed, "Kinda burns." Finn chuckled as she got a bit giggly, the two laying in the bed as he held her closer, their lips inches away from each other,

 "Finn..."

"Yeah... Claudette,"

"Can we always be this close?" she whispered as the wheels in his mind began to click. Seven years he'd been trying to get the girl,  she'd rejected him, it seemed the seventh time would be the charm, "Why do you like me or somethin." he asked, "I wouldn't say I like you. But... lately, I've wanted to kiss the freckles on your face, and punch that girl you've been talkin to," she grumbled as Finn laughed, to think Tommy's advice was working, "Are you sure it's me you think of and not Michael or Isaiah." Finn asked, a dorky grin on his face,

"I'm as sure as a rainy day that I only think about you." she snuggled into his side, and Finn took in her features. They were soft,  like her brown skin, her curls poked out of her scarf. She  looked at him like he was her world, kissing her nose as she giggled, "Finn, kiss me?" she murmured, "In the morning." 

The sun rose only halfway as it did in the winters of England. A cold, pale landscape, but it was home and somehow comforting to a woman like "Virginia, what are you doing..." Ada laughed, hearing soft music playing as the brown skin woman limped her way toward her, "I'm in the mood for dancing in honour of Myrtle's life and in honour of you saving mine." she gave Ada a quick peck on the lips, 

"Virginia, you haven't even healed properly yet," 

"Don't care, I feel fine, so butt me a cig, would ya, and let's dance." dipping Ada as she laughed, their eyes meeting, 

"We could be dead at any moment," her hand on Virginia's cheek, "I'd rather die by your side. Then without you at all." she sighed, 

"When did you get so fucking romantic..."

"When I started losing everyone..." she sighed, "It's fucking pathetic, innit..." she mumbled as Ada shook her head, "It's-"

"Ada Tommy's arranged a family meeting. Uh hey, Virginia..."

"Julian, you're a Shelby?" Virginia smirked, "I knew it,"

"We'll be there..."

The taste of Whiskey was still fresh on their lips. And her hands were everywhere, not knowing where to go at first, "Claudette, have you ever actually been kissed," Finn asked as she looked away from him, "You haven't..." he laughed a little. 

"I haven't done a lot of thins but don't go fucking laughin at me!" she pushed him playfully, 

"It's cute." he smiled, "But let me show ya how to kiss," he winked at her as she rolled her eyes, "Then fucking do it, Fi-" her eyes closed as her arms were around his neck, she was breathless but fully breathing, Claudette felt like her body was on fire, but also felt like she was flying, "How was that,"

"It... it was good but uncomfortable," she said,

"Uncomfortable ?"

"Yeah, layin like this on my side, no," she grumbled,

 "Fine then, what's more, comfortable." Claudette sat in his lap, looking at his lips, " That's uh comfortable very..." his brain short-circuiting. Claudette ran her thumb over his lips as she smirked,

 "Soft. I like that in a man." 

"Claudette, will ya please just kiss me alread-" Claudette leaned in, kissing him as the lingering taste of Whiskey smoke and sleep took over. His hands were around her waist, pulling her closer to him, goosebumps peppering Claudette's skin. Biting his bottom Finn flipped her over. So he was on top of her with his hands on either side of her head, 

"I can stop if you'd want." 

"By all means, please continue, Mr. Shelby..." hoarse from the kiss, Finn kissed her neck, then her cheek as he loomed right over her lips. Claudette had pulled him down to finish what she had started, 

"The French invented this one..."

"Invented what?"

"Finn, have you ever been kissed," she smirked, taking his face in her hands and licking his lips as she snuck in her tongue. Finn was flustered for once. And by the one woman, he found peace in. His fingers were in her thick curly hair, lost in everything that was,

"Claudette..."

"Where the bloody hell is Claudette..."

BLAM! 

Claudette and Finn both pulled apart from each other as their hazy gaze's cleared on the sight of Arthur, "What the fuck were you two doin?" both Claudette and Finn were lost for words and lies to come up with, 

"We were-"

"Fuckin snoggin, wait till Tommy 'ears about this." Arthur laughed, "Family meetin, by the way," he left as Claudette giggled,

 "Get dressed..." Polly said, walking by, her cigarette in hand,

 "And before you two get any more ideas, separate rooms!"

1925 12th Of January

Dear, Elle

I did get your gift. Unfortunately, I won't be able to make it to the states just yet, but I  hope you've gotten my gift. Claudette told me you're only a day younger than me. I find that ironic, or maybe it's fate, as Pol would say. Either way, things have been getting worse since Luca arrived. It seems he and your aunt partnered off and attacked Virginia with someone else by their side until she's safe. Ada has commanded her to stay here, and I've learned they're secretly together. However,  enough about business. 

Flo tells me you're flourishing in New York, making quite the name for The Black Pearl company. I'm proud of you and wish I could see it. I've gotten on Ms. Jessie Eden's good side, a boxer under my belt, and on top of that, if we aren't careful, you might become an aunt and I an uncle again. Arthur caught Claudette and Finn in the middle of snogging each other's faces off, and I can't say I'm not surprised. I  don't know which to threaten first. After all, Finn is my brother, and Claudette is like a daughter to me that I hope to one day have. I can only hope you'll return to London. There's so much unfinished business that we left.

Manhattan New York

"Unsaid... from your dearest Tommy Shelby..." Eleanor sighed, laying on the floors of her penthouse in her Chanel nightgown, "Flo, did you hear that..."  the woman could hear the lovesick sigh in her voice, "You read his letter for what has it been the 6th time?" she rolled her eyes, "Can't like read some other shit," Florence asked, as Eleanor got excited, "No, no more letters," Eleanor let out a sigh, "Fine," she groaned, "Don't let me have my excitement." she huffed, a knock on her door, as a maid went to open the door, 

"Ms. Williams, it's a gift." perking up as Flo sighed. She already knew it was one of Tommy's gifts, after all. She's been right where Eleanor had, 

"Send it back..."

"Ignore her. I want to see it." running toward the door, "Ellie, this gift is going to break your-"

"It's a ring box!" 

"Heart..." she mumbled, "See, he's not giving out necklaces anymore," Flo said, watching Eleanor taking the ring out of its box. It had a golden band with a garnet in the middle and pearls surrounding it. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Taking the note card from the box, she then looked at Flo, 

"Happy birthday to the pearl in my life, Thomas Michael Shelby." she swooned harder. Flo didn't want to break her heart, for it was the happiest she'd ever seen the woman, but she couldn't let her go on like a bumbling idiot,

 "I should head back to London..."

"Luca will eat you alive."

"What if he loves me the way I love him."

" It's Romani culture to give gold. I read that somewhere," Florence responded, 

"What if he's proposing and I have time to say yes but is it too soon. It's been a year and!"

"The man's engaged to a Lizzie Stark!" 

"Oh..." Eleanor nodded, setting the ring down, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. But you're a bit too late." she sighed, "But you can put it on a chain and wear it close to your heart." Eleanor nodded, 

"He can write me about family updates but not his engagement..."

"To be fair, dear, you haven't been honest either," pointing to her cheek, "I'm fine," she rasped out, "I have dinner at eight with the Barlow's and my mother." her heart was beyond breaking. It no longer existed, 

"He could've knocked her up." she shrugged, 

"That's pretty common for Tommy to do... and,"

"Silver or blue..."

"Silver, with the feathers and the diamond headdress, "Flo suggested, 

"Is fur too much?"

"Ellie, it's snowing outside,"

"So fur," she smiled, her smile tarnished into one that would be never-ending pain, 

"Do you want to talk?"

"Have you seen my cake mascara?"

"Dresser." 

"Are you sure you're okay?" 

"Necklace or no necklace..." 

"Necklace, Eleanor, you're avoiding my questions. Are you sure you're -"

" I LOVE HIM, AND FOR ONCE, I THOUGHT I HAD A REASON TO GO FUCKING HO-"

"Ms. Williams, Bernadette Willaims, and Mr. Carlton Barlow are here." taking a deep breath, she hid the ring under the neckline of her dress, 

"Mother, you've made it,"

"You look beautiful, like a bride-to-be,"  she kissed her cheeks, 

"How's that campaign about those handsome colored soldier boys going for you, Carlton..."

"Hello to you too, Florence, Eleanor. You look,"

"Radiant, breathtaking, stunning?" Bernadette asked,

"Pretty." Kissing her on the cheek as if it nearly pained him too, "Thank you, you look handsome yourself," she complimented, "Will you be joining us, Florence?" Bernadette questioned, 

"Oh, no,  I have a business to attend to, but Ellie, tell me all about the dinner," she smiled as Eleanor winked. The three walked out the door. Eleanor had been courting Carlton, who came from an old money family, the Barlow's from Louisiana, but he had his secrets, and their names were Thomas, Raymond, and Walter, but this was something Eleanor already knew, after all, she agreed to let him screw around with any man he wanted, as long as she pretended to be his loving fiance and convince his family that he was the perfect southern politician, 

"Eleanor Williams."

"Mrs. and Mr. Barlow." she sat down at the restaurant as Carlton took her fur coat off, "You must be Mrs. Williams," his father kissed her hand as she smiled, "Ms. Dupont, my husband's deceased." Bernadette sighed as Carlton looked at her, mourning the loss for her,

 "Dupont, is it Creole?" Harold asked,

"French, my mother was a -"

"French soothsayer, " Eleanor butted - in, both Carlton's parents looking at her as if they'd come across the table and smacked her, much like his sister did for her talking back to her, "You hold your tongue and let her talk," Sally glared as Eleanor nodded, 

"As you were saying?"

"She was a whore, and a Romani prophesier. She fell in love with my father, who was a rich Irish man,"

"What... an interesting bloodline." 

"Sex sells especially in Manhattan." 

"Carlton control your girl," Harold ordered. Bernadette gave him a glance as Carlton cleared his throat, 

"You know, I was thinking of a way to help our colored folks, with all the protesting happening and the rise of White Mob bosses, which all illegal crime should be stopped if you ask me."

Bernadette nearly choked on her champagne.

"I think they should all be hanged for every crime they've committed and every sin they've done." Sally smirked, looking over at Eleanor, "Don't you agree."

"I think we're all sinners in the eyes of God, and sometimes I think the worst sinners are the ones who doubt that they aren't." lighting her cigarette and waving over the waitress,

 "Ms. Williams, we didn't expect you here tonight, checking on the club, Ma'am."

"No, just taking out the family," both Harold and Sally looking at the young woman. Bernadette looked frightened for her daughter as if she'd had maybe made the wrong choice,

 "Ay, I see. will it be an Irish Whiskey, Scotch, or-"

"Give me your best Gin," she winked, watching the man walk away,

"Ladies don't own dance halls, and they don't drink Gin-"

"They don't tell me how I raised my daughter either," Bernadette growled. Eleanor fiddled with the ring around her neck as the light glistened. Bernadette knew it all too well. It was her mother's engagement ring that she gave to Vadoma for safekeeping, but how did it get from where she was seeking camp to New York, 

"Lovely ring," Harold smiled, "Did Carlton get it for you?"

"No, it was a birthday gift from a good friend." Eleanor smiled as she held the bottle, 

"Distilled for the Eradication of Seemingly Incurable Sadness."  

"Is the Gin not to your liking,"

"I think I'm going back to England..." Eleanor smiled, 

[vinylwindowsolutionsblog]

Frequently Asked Questions About Window Replacement in Oxford

Window replacement can be a significant investment in your home, and understanding the process can help you make informed decisions. Here are some frequently asked questions about window replacement in Oxford, AL, to help guide you through the process.

1. What Are the Benefits of Replacing My Windows?

Answer: Window replacement Oxford, AL offers numerous benefits, including:

Energy Efficiency: New windows can improve insulation and reduce heating and cooling costs by minimizing drafts and heat loss.

Enhanced Curb Appeal: Modern and well-designed windows can boost your home’s exterior appearance and increase its value.

Improved Comfort: New windows can provide better temperature control and reduce noise from outside.

Increased Security: Updated windows often feature advanced locking mechanisms and stronger materials for enhanced home security.

Reduced Maintenance: Modern windows are often easier to clean and maintain, with features like tilt-in sashes and low-maintenance frames.

2. How Do I Choose the Right Type of Window?

Answer: Choosing the right window replacement Oxford, AL depends on several factors:

Architectural Style: Select windows that complement your home’s architectural style. For example, double-hung windows are ideal for traditional homes, while casement windows suit modern designs.

Energy Efficiency: Look for windows with high energy performance ratings and features like Low-E glass and argon gas filling.

Functionality: Consider how you will use the windows. For example, picture windows offer unobstructed views but do not open, while casement windows provide ventilation.

Budget: Determine your budget and choose windows that offer the best value within your price range.

3. What Should I Expect During the Window Replacement Process?

Answer: The window replacement process typically involves:

Consultation and Measurement: A professional will visit your home to measure the existing windows and discuss your preferences and options.

Window Selection: Based on your needs and preferences, you’ll choose the type, style, and material of your new windows.

Installation: The old windows are removed, and the new ones are installed. The installer will ensure proper fit, insulation, and sealing.

Post-Installation Inspection: After installation, the installer will inspect the work, make any necessary adjustments, and clean up the area.

4. How Long Does Window Replacement Take?

Answer: The duration of window replacement Oxford, AL depends on several factors:

Number of Windows: Replacing a few windows may take a day, while larger projects with multiple windows can take several days.

Window Type: Standard windows are typically quicker to replace than custom or complex window styles.

Weather Conditions: Installation times may be affected by weather conditions, particularly if significant exterior work is needed.

5. How Much Does Window Replacement Cost in Oxford?

Answer: The cost of window replacement varies based on:

Window Type and Style: Different window types and styles come with varying price points.

Material: Materials such as vinyl, wood, and fiberglass have different costs associated with them.

Size and Customization: Larger or custom-sized windows can be more expensive than standard sizes.

Labor and Installation: Costs can also vary depending on the complexity of the installation and the rates of the installation company.

To get an accurate estimate, it’s best to obtain quotes from multiple window replacement companies.

6. What Should I Look for in a Window Replacement Company?

Answer: When selecting a window replacement Oxford, AL company, consider:

Experience and Reputation: Look for companies with a proven track record and positive customer reviews.

Licensing and Insurance: Ensure the company is properly licensed and insured to protect your home and ensure compliance with local regulations.

Product Quality: Choose a company that offers high-quality windows from reputable manufacturers.

Warranty: Verify that the company provides a warranty on both the windows and the installation work.

Customer Service: Look for a company that communicates clearly, provides detailed estimates, and offers excellent customer service throughout the process.

7. Are There Any Maintenance Tips for New Windows?

Answer: To keep your new windows in good condition:

Regular Cleaning: Clean the windows and frames regularly using appropriate cleaning products to maintain their appearance and functionality.

Inspect Seals and Weatherstripping: Check the seals and weatherstripping periodically to ensure they are intact and effective in preventing drafts.

Lubricate Moving Parts: For windows with moving parts, such as casement windows, lubricate hinges and locks to keep them operating smoothly.

Address Issues Promptly: If you notice any issues, such as drafts or difficulty opening, address them promptly to prevent further problems.

8. Do I Need to Prepare My Home Before Installation?

Answer: Yes, preparation can help ensure a smooth installation:

Clear the Area: Remove any furniture, blinds, or decorations around the windows to provide clear access for the installers.

Protect Flooring: Use drop cloths or protective coverings to shield your flooring from dust and debris.

Secure Pets and Children: Keep pets and children away from the work area to ensure their safety and minimize distractions for the installers.

9. Can I Replace Windows Myself or Should I Hire a Professional?

Answer: While DIY window replacement is possible, hiring a professional is often recommended:

Expert Installation: Professionals have the expertise and tools to ensure proper installation, which is crucial for optimal performance and energy efficiency.

Warranty Coverage: Many manufacturers require professional installation to maintain warranty coverage.

Complexity: Window replacement can be complex, involving precise measurements and installation techniques that professionals are trained to handle.

10. How Can I Ensure My Windows Are Energy-Efficient?

Answer: To ensure energy efficiency:

Choose Energy-Efficient Models: Look for windows with Energy Star ratings and features such as Low-E glass and argon gas fills.

Proper Installation: Ensure that your windows are installed correctly with proper sealing and insulation to prevent leaks and drafts.

Regular Maintenance: Keep your windows in good condition by performing regular maintenance and addressing any issues promptly.

Conclusion

Understanding the ins and outs of window replacement can help you make informed decisions and ensure a successful project. Whether you’re considering the benefits, costs, or preparation required, being well-informed will contribute to a smoother and more satisfying window replacement experience. For expert guidance and professional window replacement services in Oxford, AL, contact Vinyl Window Solutions. Our team is dedicated to providing high-quality solutions to enhance your home’s comfort and appearance.

[esgjuly]

Net Zero: Essential Information for Businesses

We are well-known as Net Zero in Agile Advisors; it is a component of a longer-term move toward decarbonized economies in response to a climate emergency. Many people are interested in establishing Net Zero targets as COP26 approaches. Initiatives like Race to Zero are designed to mobilize companies, cities, regions, and investors to set Net Zero targets ahead of COP26 to accelerate the decarbonization of the economy. Because each scheme has different requirements, it is crucial to look over the technical details before deciding which initiative to join to ensure that scheme participation and a company's own Net Zero pledges and strategy lineup. Even if specific industries still need innovation to meet science-based targets that follow a 1.5°C trajectory, this shouldn't stop businesses from acting now to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and from actively exploring substantial changes to their business models.

As far as we are aware Net Zero Consultancy in Agile Advisors, A corporation should set a target date for Net Zero emissions, and the SBTi draft criteria stipulate that the Net Zero target year should be at least 2050. A few businesses want to establish a Net Zero goal year before 2050. While more ambition is welcomed, companies should also consider whether it is feasible to accelerate value chain emissions reductions over 1.5-degree pathways and whether the necessary carbon removal will have financial repercussions. An internationally recognized standard, PAS 2060, defines carbon neutrality and lays forth procedures for measuring, reducing, and offsetting greenhouse gas emissions. The SBTi draft definition of Net Zero and carbon neutrality differ in several important ways: The reported emission reductions needed differ. While the degree of ambition of a carbon management strategy for carbon neutrality is not specified, net-zero targets must align with a 1.5°C science-based target.

To support you as Agile Advisors with Net Zero Carbon, Different approaches are taken to residual emissions: carbon offsets are allowed for carbon neutrality, whereas specific greenhouse gas reductions are needed for Net Zero aims.  Carbon offsets vary from one another. Oxford University released The Oxford Principles for Net Zero Aligned Carbon Offsetting, a taxonomy that divides offsets into three categories: avoided, reduced, and offsets for greenhouse gas removal. Projects like switching from kerosene cooktops to solar stoves can provide avoided emissions offsets by preventing emissions that would have resulted from the original cooktops. Projects that prevent emissions from being released into the atmosphere, such as carbon capture and storage on industrial processes and averted deforestation, can serve as offsets for emissions. Projects that physically remove emissions from the atmosphere, such as direct air carbon capture and storage and afforestation, can provide offsets for greenhouse gas emissions.

As one of the leading Net Zero Consultant, there is also a difference between short-term (afforestation) and long-term (direct air carbon capture and storage) carbon storage. There are several choices regarding the best course of action shortly. According to the Oxford Principles offsetting paper, corporations can adopt a progressive approach to offsetting. They can begin by offsetting in the current year with easily accessible offsets (like avoided emissions) and gradually increase the percentage of offsets related to greenhouse gas removal up to 100% in the target year. Although it advises businesses to employ additional offsets shortly to supplement the greenhouse gas removals, the SBTi has concentrated its requirements on final and interim targets linked to the amount of greenhouse gas removal accomplished.

In our role as Net Zero, in their approach to Net Zero, companies should prioritize decarbonization of Scope 1, 2, and 3 emissions aligned to 1.5°C pathways over and beyond offsetting. Under science-based targets, which specify a trajectory for Scope 1, 2, and 3 emissions, a corporation cannot employ offsets to reduce emissions. With a science-based target matched to 1.5°C, net zero aims should include the extra component of using greenhouse gas removals to offset leftover emissions. Through greenhouse gas removals, remaining emissions are removed from the atmosphere and stored for all time. Notably, the greenhouse gas removal market is still in its infancy, and businesses are advised to make upfront expenditures to get removal offsets in time for the Net Zero goal year and expand the market's capacity.

[cleaningservicetidytouch]

Transform Your Space with Tidy Touch: Oxford’s Premier Cleaning Company

Living in Oxford, with its rich history and bustling lifestyle, keeping your home or office impeccably clean can be a challenge. Enter Tidy Touch, Oxford cleaning company, dedicated to transforming your spaces with our top-notch cleaning services. Whether you need regular housekeeping, one-time deep clean or specialized services, Tidy Touch has you covered. In this blog, we’ll explore what makes Tidy Touch the best choice for your cleaning needs and how our services can benefit you.

Why Choose Tidy Touch?

1. Professionalism and Expertise

At Tidy Touch, we pride ourselves on our professionalism and expertise. Our team consists of highly trained and experienced cleaners who are passionate about delivering exceptional results. We use the latest cleaning techniques and high-quality products to ensure your space is spotless and hygienic.

2. Customized Cleaning Plans

We understand that every home and office is unique, which is why we offer customized cleaning plans tailored to your specific needs. Whether you require daily, weekly, or monthly cleaning, we can create a schedule that fits your lifestyle and ensures your space remains clean and inviting.

3. Eco-Friendly Products

Caring for the environment is a priority for us. Tidy Touch uses eco-friendly cleaning products that are safe for you, your family, and the planet. Our sustainable approach ensures that your space is not only clean but also free from harmful chemicals.

4. Comprehensive Services

From general housekeeping to deep cleaning, carpet cleaning, window cleaning, and more, Tidy Touch offers a comprehensive range of services. No job is too big or too small for our dedicated team. We also provide specialized services such as post-construction cleaning and move-in/move-out cleaning.

5. Reliable and Trustworthy

We understand the importance of trust when inviting cleaners into your home or office. Our team is thoroughly vetted, insured, and committed to providing reliable and trustworthy service. You can have peace of mind knowing that your space is in good hands with Oxford cleaning company.

Our Services

Residential Cleaning

Keep your home sparkling clean with our residential cleaning services. We cover all areas of your home, including kitchens, bathrooms, bedrooms, and living areas. Our team pays attention to detail, ensuring every nook and cranny is thoroughly cleaned.

Commercial Cleaning

A clean and organized workspace enhances productivity and creates a positive impression on clients. Tidy Touch offers commercial cleaning services for offices, retail spaces, and other business premises. We work around your schedule to minimize disruption to your operations.

Deep Cleaning

Sometimes, your space needs more than just a regular clean. Our deep cleaning services tackle built-up dirt and grime in hard-to-reach places, leaving your home or office looking refreshed and rejuvenated.

Carpet and Upholstery Cleaning

Extend the life of your carpets and upholstery with our specialized cleaning services. We use advanced equipment and techniques to remove stains, dirt, and allergens, ensuring your carpets and furniture look and feel like new.

Window Cleaning

Let the light in with our professional window cleaning services. We ensure streak-free, crystal-clear windows that brighten up your space and enhance your view.

Customer Testimonials

Don’t just take our word for it—here’s what some of our satisfied customers have to say about Tidy Touch:

“Tidy Touch transformed my home! The team was punctual, friendly, and did an amazing job. I couldn’t be happier with their service.” – Sarah L.

“Our office has never looked better since we started using Tidy Touch. They are professional, reliable, and their attention to detail is unmatched.” – John M.

“I love that Tidy Touch uses eco-friendly products. They leave my home spotless without any harsh chemicals. Highly recommend!” – Emily R.

Book Your Cleaning Today!

Ready to experience the Tidy Touch difference? Contact us today to book your cleaning service and discover why we are Oxford’s preferred cleaning company. Whether you need a one-time clean or a regular service, we’re here to help you maintain a pristine and healthy environment.

Visit our website Tidy Touch or call us at [phone number] to schedule your appointment. Let Tidy Touch take the hassle out of cleaning, so you can enjoy more of what Oxford has to offer!

[cmlremovals]

Best Removals Company Oxford - CML Removals Looking for the best removals company in Oxford? Look no further than CML Removals. With a dedicated team and years of experience, we specialize in seamless house moving services in Central London as well. Whether you're relocating within Oxford or making the move in Central London, our professional and reliable team is here to make your transition smooth and stress-free.

Contact us now at London - 020 4553 1078 or Oxford - 018 6563 0019

[bragtech]

Superb Moves London Removals Company

Superb Moves offers one of the best London removals companies right now. From domestic and international moving services to relocations of businesses and individuals, this company can provide the right assistance to everyone. Having been in the industry for many years, Superb Moves takes pride in offering cost-effective services designed to the particular needs of their clients. Office Removals London Movers London Man and Van London

LOCATIONS COVERED

London Removals

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West London Removals

[robertseo2019-us]

Are You Searching For Removals Company in Swindon

Superb Moves Ltd Removals Swindon is a fully insured professional registered family-run removal company. Further we always get a five-star rating, and we cover Swindon and surrounding areas. Our employees are properly trained, so you can have the confidence of quality professional service. In other words your products are safe.

Here some areas and services:

Welcome to Swindon movers. We are an established home Removal company with many years of experience in Swindon. We provide a local and Nationwide house removal service, man & van hire, house clearance services. Further, We always get a five-star rating, and we cover Swindon and surrounding areas. We facilitate the transport of products in Swindon, all of Great Britain, and internationally. We have a tendency to cope with domestic moves. Further as moving offices for your business. We will transport all of your products to any destination you specify.

Our packings

Firstly We can provide you with an array of packaging supplies such as boxes and tape for your move. And also we have the knowledge of just what you will need for your special move. Above all Our boxes and supplies will guarantee the safe transport of your goods. 

Secondly, with our expertise, you’ll be able to admit the U.S.A. to supply you with the most effective removal in Swindon. We are the best removal company in Swindon, and also with a prime quality service. Moreover, we provide value-effective removal solutions to you right here in Wiltshire. Local, national, and even international, we tend to cowl all doable Swindon removal variations. Further with a whole piece of mind that your move is going to be secure, quick, and trouble-free. We pride ourselves on our individual approach to each move. So contact us today to get a quote for your move.

OUR REMOVALS IN SWINDON AND AROUND AREAS:

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[signshopjacksonville]

How To Transform Your Office With Wall Graphics

Let’s be honest, nobody likes working when they’re unhappy. In fact, people are 13% more productive when they’re happier, according to an Oxford University study. Attractive workplaces attract better talent too, which is why the tech giants are always locked in a battle for engaging, cool offices.

However, even if you don’t have the millions to spend on office decor, you can still transform your space. Keep reading to find out how you can turn those frowns upside down with these creative wall graphics ideas.

Let’s Get the Essentials Right: Artwork

Inspiring art pieces can get the creative juices flowing. Customized wall graphics showing off artwork are an easy, cost-effective way to decorate your walls. These custom wall graphics can be as large or as small as you want, allowing you to display everything from small homemade prints to large photographs.

Make Your Office a Space for Collaboration: Quotes

There is a reason why most office spaces have motivational quotes on the wall: they work! Employees will feel inspired and carry the mindset to their work. Harvard Business Review suggests that office and wall graphics design transforms workspaces from empty spaces to impactful learning centers, which people look forward to returning to. They can foster team interaction, create spaces for socializing, and encourage creative thinking.

Don’t Forget the Past: Company Achievements

Timelines, founders’ photographs, company outings, achievements, and mission statements are all vital elements of your business. Use vinyl wall graphics to display all that your company has achieved tastefully.

Custom wall graphics are flexible, meaning you can display almost anything you want. If you’re unsure what you’d like to highlight, work with a wall graphics design expert at Jacksonville Signs and Graphics. Our designers create personalized, branded designs that you’re sure to love (and which you can modify if you don’t).

Repaint the Wall: Large Murals

Painting is messy, expensive, and disruptive—not ideal for active workplaces that don’t have days to watch paint dry. Large wall graphics allow you to effectively “repaint” the wall with none of the fuss and at a lower cost. Best of all, when it’s time to move, you can simply remove the wall graphics without leaving marks behind.

Some of the most popular mural designs are world maps (in a variety of colors), city skylines (to show where your offices are located), and abstract patterns.

How to Make the Most of Vinyl Wall Graphics

A creative wall graphic is only as good as its design, which is why you need to work with a creative team. At Jacksonville Signs and Graphics, our team is trusted by all types of businesses in the Northeast Florida Area for stunning designs that enhance the workspace and boost morale.

Source:   https://jacksonvillesignsandgraphics.com/transform-your-office-with-wall-graphics/

[singcanaryair]

Animal-based or plant-based? – What to consider when choosing milk?

Let us get straight into it. See below a quick breakdown of the most popular milks available on the market, what their environmental impacts are, if there are any animal welfare standards relating to said milk and what the health benefits are of each.

There are of course huge amounts of information on the internet relating to these milks and more. This is just a quick glance at the most common.

Cow’s milk 

- Due to the huge amount of greenhouse gases and slurry produced by dairy farms their environmental impact is sizable to say the least. According to the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization ‘livestock generate 18% of total greenhouse gas emissions as measured in CO2 equivalents - more than the entire transport sector, automobiles, trains, ships, and planes’. 

- If milk is sourced locally the transportation impact would be reduced, however overall the emissions emitted from farming, the packaging process etc. is the most damaging.

- It cannot be ignored that cow’s milk was not designed for humans but for calves. Young calves are taken from their mums, so milk is not ‘wasted’ on them with both mum and baby mourning their loss.  

- Male calves are sent for slaughter to feed the veal market (calves range in age from about 6-8 months old when slaughtered).  

- Cow’s milk is a good dietary source of calcium and vitamins.  

- According to Peta, the charitable organisation that opposes the use of any animal for human use says; ‘Cow’s milk can increase the risk of developing heart disease, diabetes, cancer and other ailments’.

 Almond milk: 

- 80% of the world’s almonds are grown in California, using a whopping 6,098 litres of water to produce 1 litre of almond milk! That is tricky to get your head around isn’t it? We are all aware of the droughts in recent years devastating California with the almond trade no doubt adding to this already worrying time.   

- Farmers have been found to be removing citrus groves in order to feed the huge demand for almonds as many of us look to a plant-based alternative to cows’ milk.

- Pesticides are used in abundance and to make matters worse bees have to work exhaustingly to try and pollinate all the almond trees, usually coming out of hibernation early and with the fun prospect of being sprayed by pesticides!   

 - Low in calories.

- Low in sugar.  

- Good source of vitamin E and calcium.   

- Vitamin D is usually added to it.

- Suitable for vegans.  

- Lactulose-free.

Soy milk:

- Creates less emissions than rice and cow’s milk (considerably less for cow’s milk) but not oat and almond milk.  

- Land use and water use is minimal.   

- Contains as much protein as cow’s milk.  

- Lower in fat than cow’s milk.  

- Good source of protein and calcium and many companies will fortify the milk with vitamins.  

- Soy milk contains all 9 essential amino acids.  

- According to healthline.com ‘most of the soya produced in the US comes from GM crops’.  

- According to Peta ‘if you eat soy products that are certified organic by the US Department of Agriculture…its standards prohibit the use of GMOs as part of its certification’. So best to check standards in other countries as they may differ.

- According to some studies it has been known to help fight prostate cancer.

- Suitable for vegans.

- Lactulose-free.

 Rice milk: 

- Rice not only uses huge quantities of water, only beaten by cow’s milk, but also an Oxford study found that it produces more greenhouse gas emissions than any other plant milk!    

- Bacteria breeding in rice paddies pump methane into the atmosphere and large  amounts of fertilizer pollute waterways, according to The Guardian.  

- It has little nutritional value, however, is usually fortified with calcium.

- Good for those with nut or soy allergies.

- Suitable for vegans.

- Lactulose-free.  

Oak milk: 

- Produces more greenhouse gas emissions than almond milk but less than soy and cow’s milk. However, this can depend on the process of packaging, transporting the product etc.

- Buying from a shop oak milk will usually be fortified with vitamins, calcium, and iron.

- Contains less protein than soy and cow’s milk but more than rice, coconut, and almond.

- Suitable for vegans.

- Lactulose-free.

- Not suitable for those with a gluten intolerance.

 Coconut milk: 

- The demand for coconuts and their ability to grow only in tropical climates not only furthers deforestation but also the exploitation of those that pick them, as these people are paid abysmal wages.

- Consider choosing Fair Trade coconut products if you must buy them.

- Pig-tailed macaques are taught to pick the coconuts, being kept chained up when not ‘working’ and taken from the wild to use as labour.

- High in calories.

- Good source of vitamins and minerals.   

- Suitable for vegans.

- Lactulose-free.

Hemp milk: 

- Does not require pesticides or herbicides.  

- Requires little water use in the growing process.

- No waste from the product.  

- According to GoodHemp.com ‘it breathes in x4 more CO2 than trees’.  

- Good nutritional value as it is rich in high-quality plant protein, minerals, and healthy fats.

- It contains fewer calories than cow’s milk.

- It can have sugar, thickeners and salts added to it so check the packaging.  

- Lower in protein than dairy, oat, or soy milk. 

- Suitable for vegans.

- Soy, gluten and lactose-free.

[clandonnachaidh]

Light Across The Seas That Severed (Ch3)

AO3

Even after years of friendship, of seeing each other through some of the best and some of the hardest times of their lives, Jamie Fraser would still need to catch his breath at the sight of Claire Beauchamp when she really laughed. With her head thrown back, her whisky eyes would screw shut and she would run her long fingers into her beautiful hair in comedic exasperation.

If watching her laugh was a sight to behold, making her laugh was the best thing in the world.

They were sat across from each other surrounded by a pungent cloud of smoke, both of them situated on plush sofas of green leather that was cracked and worn from use. With each passing minute, Jamie felt like the sofa was beginning to swallow him. He made the mistake of voicing his concern to Claire.

She thought the whole thing was hilarious, obviously, and told him so before taking a bite out of the space cake that she had cut down the middle to share.

“Edibles are stronger, you’ll only need half anyway,” she had said in her matter of fact way that she had, taking charge of the situation from the minute they’d stepped foot in the coffee shop.

Jamie Fraser, being the good catholic boy that he was, had never been inside such a place and he certainly hadn’t experienced anything like the Red Light District that they had just walked through. Of course he had heard of Amsterdam’s relaxed laws when it came to sex work and drugs but seeing it first hand was something entirely different. When he caught sight of the first woman in the window, her long blonde hair tumbling around her bare shoulders, he felt the blush rise to the very tips of his ears as Claire just laughed and dragged him by the hand, deeper into the belly of the beast.

The plan had been for them to spend two days in the city before they said goodbye. Claire was following her heart (which took the shape of one Frank Randall, the same bastard who’d stood her up the night that Jamie and Claire had kissed for the first and only time) to Boston where she’d managed to get a placement in a surgical programme while Frank would teach at Harvard. It had taken everything in Jamie not to break when she told him, the smile that she had plastered on her face not quite reaching her eyes as she surveyed his reaction over her coffee cup. He had swallowed the rising panic in his throat and felt as it soured in his stomach but he managed to calm himself long enough to take a deep breath and tell her the truth — that he was proud of her and he would miss her. He would miss her so much.

Jamie knew that she was lying about not being able to book a more straightforward trip from London to Boston and he strongly suspected that she had orchestrated the two day layover in Amsterdam for the sole purpose of asking if he’d like to join her, a mini break that they both sorely needed after an arduous final year at university. He hadn’t even needed to think about it before he agreed and in the week leading up to it, he had struggled to think of anything but watching her as she wandered around the Rijksmuseum, oblivious to the art hanging on the walls when he had his own masterpiece right in front of him.

“I canna believe I’m in such a place wi’ ye, Sassenach, and for breakfast no less,” he said, hearing a laugh that didn’t sound quite like his own. Frowning at himself, he looked across at her as she chuckled kindly at him, her index finger dabbing a crumb from the corner of her mouth before popping it between her lips. The lips that he had tasted just once years ago in what had been agreed as a funny drunken lapse of judgment in a grubby old pub on the edge of their college campus.

“You just need to relax and you’ll enjoy it, I promise,” she said. It had been her idea to get high first thing in the morning and then spend the remainder of their final day together strolling around the museums and parks of the city, allowing themselves to get into the spirit of the place and cut loose for once.

He watched her waggling her eyebrows suggestively, looking to him like furry brown worms, “You seemed to enjoy the ladies outside well enough.”

He went bright red and tried to sit up straighter amongst the sofa cushions that were trying their best to swallow him, “Dinna be daft, ye ken I wouldnae pay a woman to do that sort of thing.”

“A lot of people pay for sex, Jamie, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Two consenting adults and all that.”

He had always known that Claire was a very liberal thinker and she spent a lot of time and energy educating herself on things to broaden her perspective of the world. Jamie admired her for it even if he did enjoy poking fun at her sometimes, just to watch the spark catch fire in her eyes as she told him precisely why he was wrong.

“Aye well, that’s all fine an’ weel but I winna be dealing wi’ it myself, thank ye.”

“Oh, live a little, Fraser. How long has it been since Annalise? Seven months?” She asked him directly as he made a very Scottish noise in the back of his throat in an attempt to dismiss the conversation about his ex-girlfriend.

“I’ll thank ye to leave her out of our weekend,” he warned her jokingly, delighting in the corner of her mouth quirking upwards in amusement. Before he knew it, the words were tumbling out of his mouth, “Besides, Lise and I, we never…”

He watched as Claire’s eyes almost burst from her skull as she leaned forward, her beautiful mouth gaping at his revelation. Why the hell had he told her that? They never spoke about the personal details of their respective relationships, it was the unspoken rule between them. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Jamie could think of nothing worse than sitting and listening to Claire regale him of her sexual exploits with the uptight historian. It also meant that Claire didn’t know exactly how much sex Jamie wasn’t having.

“Never?! You were together for a year!” The amazement in her voice was evident and Jamie flopped backwards in the sofa, raising his hands to his face. He cursed the effects of the marijuana that had relaxed him to the point where he was divulging information that he would usually keep behind his teeth.

“Never, okay?”

“Wow… okay… not sure what to do with that but okay,” she mirrored his body language, collapsing back onto her sofa and tucking her legs up underneath her. “So you’ve not had sex in what, just shy of two years? Good God, you must have the patience of a saint.”

“Something like that,” he mumbled into his palms, refusing to remove them for the fear of her gaze seeing the truth that he was trying desperately to keep hidden but that was on the tip of his very stoned tongue.

“Longer than two years?” He heard her whisper in disbelief.

“Try 24.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds before it became too much, he had to look at her to gauge her reaction to his honesty. He had expected her to laugh or to yell in surprise but he realised that she mostly just looked curious, like she was trying to figure out the answer to the puzzle that was sat opposite her.

“You’re a virgin?” He nodded in response and watched as her shoulders dropped slightly, smiling kindly at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we dinna talk about things like this,” he sighed. He could see all the questions that were threatening to slip past her lips.

“Have you not wanted to? Because that’s okay, maybe you’re just not into the thought of-“

“Christ, no! No, I’m definitely into the thought of it,” he laughed. “From the age of thirteen to seventeen, I barely thought of anything else. Besides, I said I was a virgin, no’ a monk. I’ve done stuff.”

She laughed at that, “So why not? I’m sorry, you absolutely do not have to tell me but I- just… how? Why?”

“Was just waitin’ on the right woman,” he shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant about the whole thing. Whether she was buying it or not, he couldn’t tell but he was certain that if she listened hard enough, she could hear his heart beating out a rhythm in time with the syllables of her name.

Because that was the real truth, wasn’t it? That he had been waiting for her.

She didn’t say anything in response, just leaned to cut the remaining space cake in half again, offering the larger half to Jamie that he almost snatched from her, anything to distance himself from the conversation that they were having.

He was grateful when she left it at that, being able to intuit that he wasn’t comfortable with the line of questioning. That night, when the effects of their morning had worn off, they rented bikes and attempted to navigate the city like the locals did, getting horribly lost and ending up drinking a beer by the canal as the sun went down. Jamie watched as the rays painted her pale skin gold and the wind caught the folds of her sundress, settling the material delicately against her bonnie wee shins. It had been the perfect day and Jamie didn’t want it to end. But he knew that it had to.

In the morning, she was getting on a plane.

“Shall we head back, d’ye think? It’s been a long day,” he said quietly, pulling her out of the daydream that she was sat in. She turned to face him with a dreamy smile on her face as she nudged his shoulder with her head.

“The best day,” she said simply. “Let’s go.”

They walked the short distance back to their hotel in silence, neither of them needing to fill it with words as they just existed in each other’s company. When they got to their hotel room, he made light work of pulling off his hoodie and collapsed onto his twin bed with the remote in his hand as she shut herself in the bathroom, the lock gently clicking behind her. Jamie ran a hand over his tired face and tried to concentrate on the tv. He had an ear for languages, being the proud new owner of a First in Modern Languages and Linguistics from Oxford, but the rules of Dutch seemed to be far removed from that of the French and German, and a little Italian, that naturally clicked together in his brain.

He strained to listen in an attempt to isolate some of the sounds, let his mind create patterns and try to fill in the gaps but he was tired and gave up quickly, punching the pillow that was under his head to prop up his neck a little further so that he could look out of the window. He heard the bathroom door unlock.

That was when he saw her. Really saw her for the first time. And it wasn’t because he could see more of her skin than he had ever seen before but because of the look that was painted on her face. Her beautiful face radiating a vulnerability and softness that he had never seen the depths of before, never as unguarded as she was in that moment. She smiled shyly at him and her hand came to cover her bare stomach slightly. Panic clutched at Jamie’s chest as he watched her wall build itself back up.

He was on his feet before he even knew it, pulling her hand back down to her side and lacing their fingers together.

It was always easier if they touched.

“What are ye doin’, Claire?” He tried to keep his voice soft, to not let the need he was feeling flow out in every word. She blushed and ducked her head, as though looking him in the eye would break the spell.

“I just thought…” she trailed off before defiantly bringing her head up and fixing him with a stare. “I can’t stand the idea of you having your first time with someone who doesn’t appreciate you.”

She had sounded strong and sure but Jamie’s head was birling. He took a step closer to her, so close that he could feel her breath on his chest and looked down at her body, barely an inch of space between them. The swell of her breasts were contained by a lace bra, a lilac so soft that it made her pale skin look like ivory against it. She was wearing matching underwear, just a scrap of material really, and his cock twitched at the thought of what she must look like from behind. The amazing arse of his best friend that he had shamefully lusted after for so long.

He raised the hand that wasn’t tangled with hers to hover over her heart, not quite touching the skin but watching as the goosebumps appeared anyway. She let out a shaky breath through perfectly pursed lips and he knew then what she was doing, the gift that she was giving him. Because she knew or at the very least suspected how he felt about her. She’d have to be blind not to see it.

She was saying goodbye.

“Claire… lass, we dinna have to do this. You dinna have to do this for me,” he whispered but he barely managed to get the words out before she popped up on her toes and closed the gap between them.

For a moment, they stood still. Neither of them moved a muscle for fear of breaking whatever magic had been cast over them. But then his mouth moved instinctively, applying pressure to her lips in an attempt to open them so his tongue could reacquaint itself with hers, so many years since they first kissed. He heard her, felt her, sigh softly and that was all the proof that he needed to wrap his arms around her and pin her to his chest, his mouth greedily seeking hers. Her hands found his face and thinking that she meant to push him away, he immediately let her go and took a step back from her, breath bursting from his lungs.

“I’m so sorry, lass, I didnae mean to get carried away-“

“Jamie, stop. You’re overthinking this,” she interrupted him by pressing her body back to his and put a steady hand on his cheek, his face leaning in to press a kiss to her open palm. The reality of the situation filled him. When the sun came up the next day, she would pack her things and they would travel to the airport to say goodbye. His chest tightened and he exhaled heavily, trying to take a steadying breath but it shattered in his throat and he tried to suck another in. Noticing that he was beginning to panic, Claire urged him to look at her. “It’s just me, Jamie, it’s us. Do you want this? Do you want me?”

“Oh God, yes.”

Their mouths snapped back together and all was right with the world. He couldn’t stop touching her, desperate to elicit sounds from her that she had kept hidden from him for so many years, ones that he thought he’d never have the privilege of hearing. An errant thought passed through his head, that maybe he should feel nervous about his first time, about not satisfying her, but the way that she was reacting to his kiss put his mind at ease. He would take everything in, commit everything to memory and be attentive to what she seemed to like and not like. She was terrible at lying, his Sassenach, and he was secure in the knowledge that he already knew her better than anyone else on this earth.

He was pulled from his thoughts at the feeling of her hands on his zipper and he groaned into their kiss as her hand brushed against his painfully hard cock through the thick material of his jeans. Everything was happening too fast and at the same time, not fast enough. He wished to be utterly consumed by her, to share something that neither of them would ever be able to take back. Something that he knew he would carry with him until the day he died.

Claire’s skilled fingers divested him of his jeans and he refused to break their kiss as he wriggled out of them, swallowing her giggles when she realised what he was up to. He ran his hands from her hips up the soft planes of her body, feeling her delicate ribs under her skin and brushing around the lace of her bra to where it joined in the back. Whether it was intuition or he fact that he practically ripped the clasp apart in blind need, he had no idea, but his fingers fumbled less than he had anticipated.

“I want to see you too,” she whispered against his lips, pulling his t-shirt over his head in one quick movement before she fixed him with a stare, licked her tongue down the palm of her hand as Jamie’s eyes widened in disbelief before her hand disappeared into the waistband of his boxers.

“Christ,” he shuddered, screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to contain the feel of her warm, wet hand on his cock. Her grip was firm on him as his jaw hung open and she greedily claimed his mouth once more as she quickened the pace.

When her mouth disappeared from his, Jamie opened his eyes in confusion to see that she’d dropped to her knees in front of him, her index fingers taking the fabric of his boxers on the same descent. The sight alone nearly undid him but it was nothing compared to the heat that enveloped him as she took him inside her mouth. Fingers immediately threaded through her hair, he squeezed his eyes shut with a gasp as she took him as far back as she could, which was no small task given the size of him. His mind betrayed him with a memory of Annalise trying her hardest but he was never truly convinced that she had wanted to do it, suspecting that she felt like it was an obligation which meant that Jamie could never really enjoy the act. As though she knew that his mind had wandered, Claire’s fingers gripped him tightly as her mouth kept a steady rhythm and his hips jerked forwards instinctively. An attempt at a stuttered apology was on the tip of his tongue but she beat him to it, moaning around him and sending delicious vibrations down his length. Knees buckling slightly at the sensation, Claire’s whisky eyes peered up at him, her lips plump and wet and with a hollowing of her cheeks and a hard suck, she sent him crashing over the edge, moaning her name as he did.

As the stars that had burst into his vision began to fade, he fought to get his breath back, feeling the brush of her body as she got up from her knees.

“Did that feel good?” She whispered as he nodded furiously, bumping their noses together in his enthusiasm. She laughed quietly and went back to kissing him, the feeling of her smile on his lips.

“It was amazing,” he told her. “Thank you.”

She laughed at his earnest gratitude, “I know how you can make it up to me.”

Taking his hand and leading the both of them towards her bed, Claire didn’t allow for too much space to come between their bodies as she lay back and pulled him down with her. Jamie’s mind raced as the sight. How many times had he imagined this? And how pitiful his imagination had been when conjuring it, missing the exquisite details like the way her her skin trembled at his touch and the softness of the sole her foot trailing up the back of his calf as he lay on top of her.

He knew that he was the luckiest man alive as he kissed down her body and a found a freckle on the inside of her thigh. To know the secret parts of her, to have her share them with him when she kept everyone else at arm’s length. How could he not be in love with her?

“Touch me, Jamie.”

He knew that those were the words that would wake him in a sweat for the years to come as he revisited this moment in his dreams. Hearing them fall from her throat was a blessing and he wasn’t one to squander such an invitation. He was trying to be gentle with her so as to not scare her off but in that moment, his trembling fingers became sure and shredded through the thin lace of her underwear, ripping them from her body with a deep growl that he didn’t know he was capable of producing. He felt her body melt into the mattress as his middle finger found her wet centre, her legs quivering in response.

“Oh, my Claire… how beautiful you feel,” he whispered as she moaned loudly, pushing her hips towards him in an attempt to receive more attention. His warm hand left her and closed around her hipbone as he kept her at a distance, blue eyes blazing into whisky ones with so much love that it made her mouth water. Not breaking eye contact, his fingers flexed around her hip, holding her in place as he brought his mouth to her core.

Claire threw her head back against the pillow, mouth agape.

“What the fuck,” she gasped. He had told her that he wasn’t entirely green behind the ears but it was nice to hear the shock in her voice as he set his tongue to work. Within minutes Claire’s body was writhing, one hand fisted in the bedsheets like she was holding on for dear life. It still wasn’t enough and so he shifted his arms underneath her, running them up the length of her back and pulling her closer into his mouth. She squeaked with surprise as she settled her weight onto her shoulders, trusting that Jamie’s strength would hold her steady as he relentlessly licked and nipped at her.

“Jamie, I’m-“

Claire was unable to finish as her words were replaced by a loud moan, Jamie’s growl indicating that he was not willing to let her go without knowing what it felt like for her lose herself on his tongue.

Fingers gripping his curls, Claire pulled slightly and he felt her entire body go rigid as she tried to control the feelings that were coursing through her body. Jamie slid two fingers into her and lightly flicked his tongue against her, holding her steady as she began to convulse in his arms. He was fascinated to learn that she didn’t make a sound, only screwed her eyes shut and let her mouth hang open as she rolled her hips against him, riding out her orgasm.

When he felt her shy away from his tongue, he gave her a final kiss and moved up towards her, delighting in the way that she curled her hand around the back of his neck and brought his mouth down to hers, tasting herself on his lips.

“Not a monk indeed,” she laughed breathily as she ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes shutting slightly as the aftershocks ran through her.

“I’m a man of many talents, if I do say so myself.”

“I wonder what else you’re good at,” she raised a single eyebrow above a pair of seductive eyes and Jamie took the opportunity to press his renewed erection against her thigh.

“Only one way to find out, I suppose.”

Her hands sought out his body again, as though they were always meant to be touching and she moaned a little when she felt that he was hard so soon after his orgasm.

“We can stop here, Jamie. This is your choice. Whatever you want.”

“I want ye so much, I can scarcely breathe. Will ye have me?”

“Yes,” she sighed deliriously, “Yes, I’ll have you.”

“Come here to me, Jamie,” she whispered as she took him in hand and lead him to her opening. He steeled himself, taking a deep breath and basking in the look of wonder on her face, soon replaced by a quiet, exquisite joy as he pushed himself home for the first time.

She was like velvet. Impossibly soft and hot, wet with her need and it was all he could manage not to immediately race to his finish, to take her with a force and a desperation that he knew was painted on his features. With the strength of an army, he stilled himself and raised his face to hers, nearly coming undone when their eyes met.

Claire had never looked at him like that. Her cheeks were flushed from her pleasure, her pupils blown wide and stunned. His soul was laid open to her and hers to him. And he knew that his face showed the unfathomable depth of his love for her, incapable of hiding it when they were joined like this.

Jamie could have stayed that way forever but his physiology had other ideas, his hips responsively snapping into hers. She moaned and tilted her hips to meet him, raising a knee upwards to cradle his side and deepen the angle of him inside of her. Jamie was completely unaware that something could feel this good and he lowered his head to capture her lips as he began to rock his hips against hers.

All worries that he may have had left him when he watched the way she responded to his body, her fingertips digging into the muscles of his biceps until he was sure that they would bruise. She was panting and moaning beneath him, making tiny movements with her body that produced huge waves of sensation in his. He was so distracted by his own pleasure that the first time she clenched lightly around him, he wasn’t even sure that it had happened. Looking down at her, he mimicked the movement with his hips and earned himself another wonderful contraction coupled with an urgent moan that ripped from her chest.

He slowed his pace, not wanting to be undone before she reached her peak and moved his fingers to her mouth which she accepted greedily. Screwing his eyes shut at the sensation, he trailed his hand down her body to the place where they joined and lightly found the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex. She convulsed, eyes snapping open in pleasure and he wished for the hundredth time that he could drown in them.

As his fingers began to stroke her, he watched as her body changed from pliant and soft to frantic and needy. Her hands moved to his arse and pulled him into her, keening at the feeling of his cock coupled by the pleasure that he was seeking in her from his fingers.

“You’re going to make me come, Jamie,” she sobbed in surprise and he doubled down his efforts to find it for her, to let her chase her pleasure before he gave in to his own. What a gift to be able to feel the way her body reacted to his, to know how it felt when she came close to her orgasm. Her tight muscles fluttered around him as he watched the flat plane of her stomach clench in an attempt to control the pleasure that was crashing through her body. It was all too much.

“Give me your mouth, Sassenach,” he gasped as he sealed his mouth to hers, their tongues hungrily seeking the other. It was the moment of combustion when they finally met and her body convulsed once more before she began to shake uncontrollably, noises coming from her that he never thought he’d hear. It was everything he needed in that moment as he began to pour himself into her, unable to stop the frantic jerk his hips as he experienced a blinding white pleasure that he’d never felt before.

Only just managing to shift his body so that he didn’t collapse his entire weight onto her, Jamie rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he waited for his heart rate to slow. He was hyper aware of Claire’s body beside him, of the rise and fall of her chest as she descended from waves of pleasure that he had elicited in her. He’d expected for his mind to be running a hundred miles a minute but all he felt was serenity. In that moment, the world was exactly as it should be.

“Christ,” Jamie huffed, unable to stop the air bursting from his lungs. The question fell out of him before he had a chance to stop it. “Is it always like that?”

He didn’t look at her, couldn’t force his eyes to look at her face in case he didn’t like what he saw. But his eyes began to drift closed at the feeling of Claire curling her naked body around his, bringing a bent leg to rest over his abdomen and her hair splaying on his chest.

“No, it isn’t.”

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 4

A/N  Here’s the next chapter installment of Ginger Snap.  I now have this story mentally plotted to its conclusion.  It will have a total of 6 chapters, with perhaps a wee epilogue.  In keeping with the theme, the title of this chapter is “Where There’s Smoke”.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

I glanced around the sitting room, trying to see it through a stranger’s eyes.  Well, not a stranger.  Through Jamie’s eyes.

We had sold most of our furniture before leaving Boston, not considering it worth the expense of shipping across the Atlantic.  Frank hired an interior decorating firm to furnish the third floor Southside flat before we arrived.  The overall impression was stylish, if a bit soulless.  Having grown up a virtual nomad, there were no mementos or heirlooms to speak for my personal journey.  For the first time, I regretted their absence.

The buzzer rang, and I shook away my wistfulness.  Jamie’s tousled curls and reckless grin greeted me as I opened the door.  Today he wore a fitted navy jumper, faded grey jeans with frays about the ankles and the ubiquitous work boots.  A messenger bag was slung across his broad chest.  

“I hope I wasn’t supposed to supply the ingredients for today’s lesson, because my cupboards are bare,” I remarked after inviting him in.

“Jus’ as well.  I wouldna squander yer food.  I have all we need right here.”  Reaching into his bag, he removed a clear container filled with chunks of pink meat swimming in a broth of blood.  I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

“What sort of dish will I be making with those?”

Those summer eyes shone in merry provocation.

“No’ a dish, Arsonist.  An experiment.”  

Two saucepans were set on the stove.  Jamie had me place a few pieces of meat into the water of one pot before it warmed.  To the other I added a pinch of salt and a clove of garlic, but waited until it came to a boil before adding the chicken.  After five minutes, I used tongs to move the now-pale flesh to waiting salad plates.  Neither looked particularly appetizing, but the first pot yielded a glutinous blob.

“I suppose this is the control group,” I remarked, looking at Jamie where he leaned against my countertop, ankles crossed like a cover model.  “I’m already quite familiar with what culinary failure looks like, thank you.”

“No’ failure.  Variability,” my teacher argued.  “See here?  If ye want meat tae dissolve til it doesna hold its texture, low heat is key.  An’ if ye want tae infuse it with flavour, always combine heat an’ seasoning at the same time.”

I took a small nibble of chicken from the second pot, and sure enough it tasted mildly of garlic.  It was otherwise quite bland, though.  When I commented on this, Jamie nodded in excitement.

“Aye, verra good.  Nature seeks equilibrium, as ye well know.  Sae now ye have poultry tha’ tastes o’ water and water tha’ tastes o’ chicken.  If ye were makin’ a stew or chicken stock, t’would be a good thing.  Fer anything else, tis shite.”

I laughed, getting into the spirit of his well-executed game.

“Have ye any music?” he asked while we cleared away the results of round one.  “I always cook better with a bit o’ background noise.”

There was a high-end stereo system in the living room, but I doubted Jamie would be interested in Frank’s collection of Brahms, Mahler and Celtic harp.  Seeing my hesitation, Jamie dug out a portable speaker from his bag.

“Do ye mind?”  I shook my head and soon my kitchen hummed with guitar chords and plangent vocals.

The lesson lasted far longer than the scheduled hour.  Jamie had me bake, fry, roast and braise different samples, each time explaining why a particular technique might be used and insisting I taste the result.  It was so much fun, I shed my habitual reticence while cooking.

“An’ now fer the pièce de résistance,” Jamie announced in dramatic tones.  From his seemingly bottomless messenger bag he removed what appeared to be a miniature flame thrower.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked, forgetting myself.

“I wanted ye tae ken there’s a place fer fire in the kitchen, Arsonist.  Tis only a question of picking yer moment.”

With a flick of his lighter, he set the butane alight and handed me the small kitchen torch.  Using extreme caution, I seared the outside of the two remaining morsels until they were a rich caramel colour.  Jamie then wrapped them in foil, placing them in the oven to finish cooking.  When they were cool enough to sample, the outside was pleasingly crunchy and sweet, while the inside swam in moist chicken-y flavour.  We both declared them the winner.

“Tis a funny thing about fire,” Jamie remarked as he packed up his bag to leave by the more conventional front door route.  “It can remain hidden beneath the surface, burying its secrets deep inside.  Doesna mean it doesn’t burn, though.”

I thought about what he’d said long after he was gone, leaving me alone with his signature scent of rising bread and salt air.

That weekend, I blamed the poor weather when I declined Frank’s offer to shop for an engagement ring.

***

The next week, instead of asking to be buzzed inside, Jamie requested that I join him downstairs.

Grabbing a Mackintosh, my purse and slipping into comfortable walking shoes, I joined Jamie outside my door.  He was particularly animated, despite the foul weather.

“We should ha’ started wi’ this lesson, but t’wasn’t the right day fer it,” he explained as we walked towards the farmers’ market that took place twice a week in the shadow of Castle Hill.

I considered protesting that I already knew how to shop for food, but Jamie’s enthusiasm was contagious.

We stopped at every stall, sampling the foodstuff on display, which was surprisingly varied despite it being November.  Jamie knew most of the merchants by name and our progress was regularly halted by conversations on topics as varied as his family’s health, the latest rugby results and Scottish politics.  I envied his wide circle of acquaintance and apparent ease interacting with them.  There was no pretense, no stiffness, just a man who inhabited every square centimetre of his life to the fullest.

Jamie insisted that I taste various produce before adding it to the cloth bag he’d provided.  Honey-crisp apples.  Peppery radishes.  Herb-infused venison sausage.  

“Close yer eyes,” he instructed when I was practically dizzy with all the flavours.  Still, I complied immediately.  A rubbery moisture tickled my lips.  “Open,” he said simply.  I opened.  “Tell me what ye taste, Arsonist.”

I chewed the morsel of cheese thoughtfully, letting the taste and texture coat my mouth before finally swallowing.

“Creamy.  Thick.  Salty.  Sorrel.”

I opened my eyes only to fall into the inky vortex of Jamie’s pupils, which had expanded to almost eclipse his irises.  His hand still hovered near my mouth, muscles frozen in abstraction.  The cheesemonger let out an awkward little cough.  Jamie blinked, and the moment vanished.

“Sorrel?” he asked a bit gruffly.

“Yer lass has a fine palate, Fraser.  My sheep graze in fields full o’ it.”

I allowed myself a smug little smile.  Neither of us corrected the merchant’s presumptive pronoun.

Later that evening, I sat cross-legged before the fire with a picnic for one.  Frank had called from his office earlier to say he was working on notes for an upcoming symposium.  Before me lay the results of the afternoon’s market adventure.  Closing my eyes as I ate,  every mouthful set my senses ablaze.

We never found time to visit the jeweler that weekend either.

***

The next week, I fell ill with a miserable head cold.   Frank was in Oxford for his symposium, so I called Ginger Snap myself and explained to Jenny in a hoarse voice that Jamie should avoid coming to my flat at all costs.

I was curled up in a mentholated daze when there was a series of knocks.  It took several minutes to free myself from my blanket cocoon and shuffle to the front door.  Glancing in the entryway mirror, my hair called to mind an electrified poodle and my nose was twelve shades of raw, but I opened the door anyway.  No-one was there.  Leaning out to peer down the hallway, I practically tripped over a brown paper bag resting at my feet.

Inside was a metal thermos, still quite warm to the touch.  As I unscrewed the cap, my stuffed nose was assailed by fragrant steam.  Homemade cock-a-leekie soup.  I felt a glow fill my chest that had nothing to do with my fever.  Pouring a helping into a mug, I shuffled back to my couch-nest.  I felt better already.

***

The following week, Jamie was distracted.  I’d thanked him profusely for the soup, and asked if he could show me how to make it for myself.  As the chicken thighs and stock began to warm, however, I caught him glancing regularly at his phone, fingers drumming against his thigh.

“Are you expecting an important text?” I finally asked.

“Hmm?  Och, Arsonist, I’m verra sorry.  Tis only that we got a last-minute request tae cater a big corporate Christmas party, an’ Jenny is beside herself wi’ worrying.”  He tucked him phone into the pocket of his cargo pants.

“When’s the party?”

“T’morrow,” he confessed.

“What!  Jamie, what are you doing here?  You should have called me to reschedule.”

“T’wouldna be fair, what wi’ us missing last week on account of yer sniffles.  An’ wi’ Christmas ‘round the corner, I didna ken when I’d... er, when we’d have time for another lesson.”

I turned off the burner with a decisive twist.  Jamie opened his mouth to lodge a protest, but I beat him to the punch.

“Jamie, the soup will keep.  Growing your business is more important. I wish there was something more I could do to help, but under the circumstances...”

“Come wi’ me?” he blurted out.

I was nodding before the words finished leaving his mouth.  Notwithstanding the fact that he had just literally been teaching me how to boil water, I didn’t want to lose his company so soon.   We likely wouldn’t see one another again until after the New Year.

It was a thirty minute walk to Leith.  Jamie could probably have covered the distance in half that with his long strides, were it not for me trotting along beside him.  We stopped at several shops along the way to pick up provisions, arriving at Ginger Snap with our arms laden with the freshest food Edinburgh had to offer.

I had expected Jenny and Jamie to be working alone, but the fire station was abuzz with activity.  I was hastily introduced to Angus, a distant Fraser cousin; Mary, a childhood friend of Jenny’s; and Murtagh, Jamie and Jenny’s godfather.  They worked together like a well-oiled machine, and I stood awkwardly to one side, wondering what the hell I was doing there.  I was preparing to make my excuses when Jamie called me over to a spare station.  He gestured to the commercial-sized sink, which was full of vegetables of every dimension and colour.

“Claire, I need ye tae rinse and then cut these inta nice even pieces.  Can ye do tha’ fer me?”

"Consider it done, chef,” I said with a jaunty salute.

There was a feeling of camaraderie as we each went about our assigned tasks.  I chopped.  Mary baked.  Angus filleted.  Jamie cooked, and Jenny plated the various canapés, salads and sauces and stored them in the enormous refrigerators that lined the back wall.    Murtagh’s role seemed mostly to keep the troops in line with an assortment of verbal barbs. 

Music played in the background.  Volleys of witty banter flowed between us, but never at the expense of the work or anyone’s feelings.  Angus nicked himself with his filleting knife, and Jenny sent him to my station for treatment, saying I was the team’s resident doctor.  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so at home.

Time passed quickly and before I knew it, it was dark outside.  The bulk of the work was done and the pace slackened, the pressure of the looming deadline relieved.  One by one we cleared our stations, meeting at the small seating area to share a well-earned drink.

Jenny sunk into the couch beside me and let out a loud sigh.

“Ouf, I canna believe we got it all done.  Claire, ye were a godsend.  Normally I do most o’ the prep work, but it leaves me no time tae arrange the dishes.”

I demurred, uncomfortable with the praise.

“Nay, Arsonist, ye were amazing,” Jamie began to object, but he was interrupted by my phone buzzing.  Glancing down, I felt my face fall.   I’d completely forgotten about Frank.  Now he was texting, asking me where I was.  I quickly fired off a reply, then stuffed the phone into my pocket.

“Everything alright?” Jenny asked.

“Oh, yes.  It’s only my fiancé, asking when I might be home,” I answered, still distracted by my uncharacteristic lapse.  As I glanced up, I ran straight into Jamie’s iceberg gaze.

“I didna realize ye were engaged,” he looked pointedly at my bare ring finger.  “Congratulations.”  

He said the word as though every syllable pained him.  I quelled the urge to explain, to say it wasn’t a real engagement because I’d never agreed, that I’d only been looking for a sense of security, but somehow found myself in a cage.

Instead I hastily finished my drink, called myself an Uber and quietly wished everyone a good night, all while avoiding the many questions written across Jamie’s expressive face.

[bumbershots]

A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER FIVE: A SPECIAL DAY

Author’s note: Hello! We have finally reached the awaited date between Harry and Alma. I was really excited for this chapter, hopefully you will enjoy it as much as I did, forgive me in advance for any mistakes, my beta reader (my boyfriend) was unavailable, so this is a good time to say that if anyone out there has the time and willingness to beta read any future chapters send me an ask or message to let me know. Enjoy! (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.6K **

Harry wakes up feeling excited, nervous and hungry. He takes care of the latter, decides to make some blueberry pancakes, turns out he can't eat more than two and a cup of coffee. Not that the pancakes weren't great, in fact they were fantastic, he even decides to brag about them on an Instagram story that is published for his close friends only. Nick quickly replies to it with a laughing emoji.

You should take a Tupperware full of them to your date ;)

The reason behind his excitement and nerves make his heart race, he decides to type in a polite 'fuck off' to his mate before heading to the shower. Under the warm spray of water he tries to sort out his thoughts. Harry doesn’t want to think about his upcoming trip to California. 

It was necessary for the album or so he thought last week, after going through a box with the very few memories he kept from his ex. He wasn’t in a right state of mind then, he feels pathetic. The only reason why he wanted to spend time in Los Angeles was because everything there —from the pavement to the sky— was tainted by her. 

Why would he want to go back to that place where the constant reminder of his pain was literally living in the same neighbourhood? Because it would provide him the cathartic release he was looking for. That’s the line he used after Sarah and Mitch tried to dissuade him from flying across the Atlantic and Harry was so proud of himself when it worked. 

That very same day, he got the first text from Alma, it was the address like she promised. ‘In case one of your talents isn’t stumbling upon my work place ;)’ the second text read and Harry had to endure Sarah’s questionnaire about the girl that made him blush with a mere wink emoji. Not that he minded talking about her, he could go on all day.

He usually preferred a shower before breakfast, usually even work out before then but well, hunger clouded his judgement earlier today. Even with that taken care of that dread still niggled him away. Just slightly. So, he decided to pick up his guitar for a moment and strummed. There was no real intention to play seriously, or to write anything down on the journal by his desk. It was more of something he enjoys too much not to do it, a way to keep his hands and mind busy, faffing around with chords. With a bit of luck he might come up with a song, a tune which just worked, that just... clicked.

Contrary to what people might believe, genius didn't strike him here and then. Not like when he'd come up with Sign of the times or Two ghosts. But finding a neat little pattern of chords a good thirty minutes later makes him smile, it's something he can work with. It needs a little polishing from Mitch and company, sure, but it has a good rhythm. He scribbled down some notes on his journal and sent the audio to his fellow musician.

Maybe he will find the words in one of the old notebooks that are somewhere in the other room, perhaps on the ones that are still on his unpacked suitcase from Japan. Silently he also hoped to find the lyrics around London. He had lived in the capital for a few years now, but he had been different then. Now he likes to think that he's a man, no longer the teenager from the boy band or the shiny new solo artist. He has new perspectives, sights, smells in this new home of his. New ideas.

Harry gazes out his bedroom window; the view is not great –mostly of the other houses in the complex. His mind focused on the cloudy sky, confused because he swore it was sunny just a few minutes ago, can bet on his life that he woke up to dazzling sunshine rays of a warm yellow colour peeking through that same window. He puts his guitar away on the bed with care and makes a beeline to his wardrobe. He needs to figure out what to wear, pronto.

Skipping her afternoon kip was not something Alma did, it was a rare occurrence which meant one thing: something special was happening.

Walking down Oxford Street, trying to decide where to get some lunch without a care in the world, that was until the calmness faded, when her schedule for the day hit her.

She had a date with Harry. A date, with Harry Styles. It was weird to go by his full name in her head, she couldn't bring herself to call or think about him as The Harry Styles.

Maybe she'd settle to call him Harry the tube guy.

The clock on her phone showed that it was no longer single figure hours, she needed to get some food now or starve until her shift was over, and then he would have to watch her feast at whatever place he chose. Alma groaned, thought how ridiculous it was to worry about him watching her eat. Harry was a grown man; of course he knows that women eat too, right?

Walking into the nearest Sainsbury's she decided to take a deep breath. He's just some guy, she concluded after paying for her chicken baguette. Nothing to stress about.

Harry showered again, while belting out some classic pop tunes. Namely Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears, something that in the past he'd swear blind you'd misheard and it was actually The Rolling Stones or Pink Floyd. But he'd come to terms that he liked what he liked.

Towel clad in the bedroom, trying to shirk off hypothermia, he was quick to put on some pants and jeans, before throwing on some simple white tee proclaiming some fading band name. He uses a dry clean towel from the closet and attempts to dry his hair, as he styles his flopped mop the thought of a haircut crosses his mind. It was getting a bit long.

One last look at the clock and he is ready to leave. "You'll be fine. Trust me." He quietly speaks to himself before closing the last few buttons of his green parka and fixing the newsboy cap on his head.

When he walks out of Colindale tube station, a little earlier than half past five, he sees the bakery from her instructions just below the large modern building Alma was kind enough to describe. She was right; the bakery is right across the street, he waits for the green man to light up to cross, shoving his hands in his pockets. The huge front windows of the establishment allow Harry to see her behind the till, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. She looks better than she did three weeks ago. He hesitates about going in for a few minutes, but feels it ought to be better than to lurk on the street.

Alma can feel his presence the moment he sets foot into the shop, her eyes are drawn to him and a content close lipped smile is the best greeting he could ask from her. The only customer in the place can feel the shift in the atmosphere when they lock eyes. So, picking up her bag full of baked goods, she steps out and leaves them alone.

"Sorry if I'm too early." He begins while she takes off her apron and hangs it in the back wall.

"You're right on time," Alma says after checking her watch, "I'm off Carlos, see you tomorrow!" She hollers to the employee that is taking a non-allowed nap in the back. Harry holds the door open for her and follows out of the warm store. "Shall we take the tube?" At his affirmative response, she then takes out her Oyster card and leads the way.

The café was not somewhere Alma expected Harry to go, the little shop with soothing music and simple stools full of the scent of organic coffee brewing is dazzling and unique. A bit like him, she thinks. She liked it. It reminded her of the places she used to frequent when she had recently moved into the city.

Harry orders a black coffee at the counter before asking Alma what she'd like.

"A cappuccino, and remember I'm paying for our food," she hands him a tenner that he reluctantly takes from her.

"Absolutely," he iterates the order to the woman behind the counter and adds two salted caramel cupcakes handing over the cash. "If you get a seat, I'll bring it over."

Alma thanks him before scampering across the room to sit at the back two seat table tucked in the corner. It was right beside the large back window, dimly lit. Before she sat, she removed her signature burgundy coat and Harry couldn't help his eyes being drawn to certain aspects of his companion. Nice arse, he remarked with a raise of his brows before the woman behind the counter tells him for the third time that his order is ready, a look of disdain as she probably caught his gaze. Giving her a sheepish smile to appease her, he manages to balance the two plates and mugs in his hands and walk over to the table.

"They asked if you wanted whipped cream or foam and I settled for foam, hope that's not a problem." He plonks himself on the seat across from her, removing his parka in a clumsy manner before hanging it in the back of the chair.

"No problem, I actually despise–

"Whipped cream, yeah, I kind of remembered what you told me about that birthday party of yours," the green eyed lad finishes for her and scratches the back of his neck. "You know with that dare..."

Her eyes flickered down to the cupcakes laid out before them and she started picking the caramel out of one, hoping to hide the nerves his words caused.

"Right enough, yeah... I can't believe you remembered that or that I told you about it." She chuckled nervously at the anecdote she chose to share with him, it was a bit inappropriate due to the amount of vomit around it, literally. But he shrugged with a charming smile. No big deal. "Nice place," she noted.

"I know it's a bit of a strange choice. It doesn't strike me as, you know, the kind of place you put so much effort into for a first date..." Harry stops talking and now his eyes meet the cupcake in front of him. "Bollocks I must have sounded so daft, I'm sorry." Lucky for him, she doesn't laugh, instead she reaches out to stroke his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

"Nothing to be sorry about, I can be quite daft so..."

"I doubt that Miss suave." He gets a laugh out of her then, one that is almost a snort and earns a few glances from other customers.

"I’m far from it! Honestly, I once accidentally stepped on dog shit and didn't notice until my date couldn't bear the stink anymore and checked my shoe, in a very fancy restaurant. Terrible story. Trust me, I can be daft." Alma held up her hands and the musician giggled at her.

"Promise you won't laugh?" he raised an eyebrow at her, pleading. She promised. "Well, I kind of always wanted to have a first date here. It's always one of the first places I visit when I'm back in London, the food is amazing, and service is excellent. Came here completely hung-over after my twenty-first birthday party. I guess it has a lot of good memories." Pinked cheeks gave away Harry's embarrassment, he wanted to relax and for her to be more comfortable around him.

With a sincere smile Alma placed her hand over his resting on the table. "I think that is very sweet." This reply was not what he had expected; she leant in and beckoned him closer. "For your information Harry, this is exactly a great place for a first date." Up close he swore the darkness of her eyes were about to swallow him whole and spit him out to an alternate universe. He swallowed hard and took a sip of his coffee to distract himself a bit. Perhaps caffeine was not a good choice on a day where his heart was speeding so frequently.

"Did you have a good day today at work?" he asks with a familiarity that Alma can get used to.

"Yeah, had a bit of free time to plan my next video blog. It's been ages since I uploaded one." She bashfully admits. "This cupcake was delicious, a great flavour choice." And just like that they fall into easy conversation until their cups are drained. The place is almost empty around quarter to eight and they both know it's almost closing time –the death glances from the employees behind the counter gave it away. They put on their garments again before leaving.

Harry makes his way to the door expecting Alma to follow. Instead she first gathered up their mugs and plates, to place them neatly on the counter and thanked the three workers behind it with a genuine smile. Harry looked surprised; she didn't quite have to do that. She noticed.

"Just being polite," she stated the obvious, before walking under his arm that held open the door. He chose not to comment and fought back a smile.

They stood outside, not really sure of what to do next. Usually he would suggest going back to his place. It was near, but he watched her yawn discreetly and he suddenly remembered that she had a real job, well actually jobs in plural. He broke the silence.

"It was nice to see you again Alma." He meant it and she smiled as she toyed with the buttons of her coat. British summer weather was hardly cold, but today it seemed to be punishingly windy. Harry near gave a shiver, but instead took a deep breath before speaking again. It was now or never. "It'd be quite great, if I could... I'd like to see you again. Please." He shifted on one foot, nearly drowned in the silence that followed.

"I'd quite love to see you again," Harry gave a slight gulp, very slight and got out strength from the words she spoke to take a big risk, the first of today.

He stepped closer and cradled her face in his hands before leaning down and kissing her cheek. It wasn't the full on kiss he wanted to give her. But it is something he'd been dying to do since he first saw her today, something he hoped would make clear how attracted he was to her. Harry smelled like coffee and caramel. God this man's lips are prettier up close, she thought right before he straightened up.

She stayed close to him before speaking again. A low murmur so that the passing London traffic wouldn't steal her words from him.

"This was an amazing date."

Alma walked with him the long distance of one mile to the tube station, their hands brushing against each other. He was desperate to just hold hers, kiss her soft knuckles and ask about the lightning-shaped scar on her little finger. But decided against it, he knew that West Hampstead was not a common area for paparazzi, but he didn't want to risk her. Especially after the splendid afternoon they just shared.

They said their farewells.

"I'll call you," he said again. She warned that he better, before entering the station, he took great delight in watching her walk away from him, his gaze falling once more to her bum now covered by the coat. Harry spun on his heel and walked the short distance to his home.

Surely London could help him find the lyrics for that tune, this city definitely had something.

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[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

“Berliner Fernsehturm” * Foto: BernardoUPloud

After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach​

Chapter 9: 14 Men (5)

      After she sat down and Jamie poured everyone a glass of water, Ferdinand Groide began:

        "Mrs. Beauchamp, Jamie, Mr. Fraser, told me that your husband is Dr. Frank Randall. Is that correct?"

(...)

        "As you may also know, I have left my husband. Our marriage had been on paper only for several years. I intend to ask for a divorce, if that's possible from here. But I still have to care about this man's life. I'm a doctor, I took an oath. If I reveal the secrets I have learned... what will you do to him?"

        "What do you mean? What are we going to do with him?"

        "Will you hurt him? I mean, will you let someone hurt him?"

        Ferdinand Groide and Jamie looked at each other in amazement.

        "Mrs. Beauchamp, we're not the Mafia. We don't hire hit men."

        "But you're in Intelligence, Mr. Groide."

        Claire said that sentence with the same calm and objectivity as if she was saying to Jenny:

        "If you put one more egg in the batter, it gets better."

        "And intelligence agencies do these things," she added to her statement with the same objectivity.

        "Well, maybe the CIA or the KGB. Let me answer you this way: In my opinion, a living Frank Randall is far more interesting and valuable to a secret service than a dead Frank Randall."

        "In other words, you guarantee me that the information I give you will not endanger his life."

        Groide and Jamie looked at each other again.

        "Promise me."

        It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, it was a demand, and the words Claire used to make that demand left none of the men unaware that there was no alternative to this bargain for them.

        Groide struck the hand Claire held out to him.

        "You have my word, Mrs. Beauchamp. You don't know me yet and you probably mistrust me. That's only natural. But Jamie, Mr. Fraser, can assure you that I'm a man of my word."

        Claire looked over at Jamie. He nodded.

        "Done."

        She reached for the glass of water that Jamie had put in her hand and emptied it in one gulp.

        Then she began to talk.

"Microphone" by Florian-Media

        "It was in the year 2015, in late November 2015 to be exact."

        "Excuse me, Mrs. Beauchamp," Groide objected, "but we ought to do this properly."

        He removed from his briefcase a device whose rectangular clunkness was reminiscent of an early mobile phone. After placing it in the center of the table, he inserted two small, round microphones attached to longer cables, one pointing at Claire and one pointing at himself. Groide pressed the record button, then he gave the date, time, place, names of those present and, as the reason for the recording, ‘Statement by Dr. Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp’.

        Jamie had to smile. Ferdinand was a friendly person, but he was also a German bureaucrat. Everything had to follow the specific order and everything had to be done 'by the book'. Those Germans. They had rules for everything. They couldn't just have a conversation like that, it had to be a 'statement' and of course it had to be 'recorded'. In this country everything was recorded, either on paper or on tape. And then everything was filed, paginated, numbered and archived. Nothing was lost. They were so damn meticulous, these Germans, but also so damn effective.

        "Please begin with your personal life, Mrs. Beauchamp. Name, birthday, place of birth, family, etc."

        "My name is Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I was born in London on October 20, 1993, the only child of Julia, née Moriston, and Henry Montmorency Beauchamp. My mother was a primary school teacher, my father worked as a statistician for an insurance company. In the winter of 1998 my parents were killed in a car accident. My uncle, Lambert Quentin Beauchamp, was appointed by the authorities as my foster father and guardian. He was my only living relative, my father's only brother. Due to the activities of my uncle, who was an egyptologist and archaeologist, I grew up in England for only a short time, the rest of the time we spend abroad. When I was 16 years old, my uncle returned to England permanently and accepted a professorship at Oxford University. Shortly afterwards I began training as a nurse. Also in Oxford. At the age of 19, I had just completed my education, I met my future husband Franklin Wolverton Randall through my uncle. He also worked in the history department and specialised in Scottish history. At times he worked as an assistant to a professor. We married the following year. My uncle died only a few months later. His health had unfortunately not been the best at the end of his life. When my husband was called to Harvard University's history department, we moved to Boston.

"Oxford" by MarlonRondal        

         Groide nodded. Jamie was sure that nothing Claire had told him so far was new to his friend. Guaranteed, they had checked Claire from the day he requested the visa for her passport. And they had certainly not been idle since then. At "In Vino Veritas" there was a small but very effective group of staff who had certainly dug up everything they could find about the young woman in the past few days.

         "When and how did you learn of your husband's secret activities?"        

         "It was in the year 2015, in late November of that year to be exact. Does the name Jonathan Pollard mean anything to you?"        

         Jamie listened with new interest. Groide just nodded.        

         "Then you know that this man has served thirty years in the United States for espionage. In 2015 he was released on parole and in the American media there was a lot of coverage and discussion for days. I had never heard this man's name before and, to be honest, I didn't care about the whole thing. However, I listened up when my husband spoke about it. It was a Sunday, two days after Pollard was released. I remember the whole thing so well because that day was the day of the terrible accident in that jademine in Myanmar, where 90 people were killed and over 100 people were missing. We had had dinner and then Frank turned on the TV. There was a talk show where the case was discussed. My husband had already started drinking in the afternoon. While Frank was watching the talk show, I thought, ‘My goodness, they're talking about an age-old espionage case and people are dying elsewhere without the media even paying attention.’"        

         Claire reached for her glass, which Jamie had refilled in the meantime, and took a big sip.        

         "I didn't pay much attention to the discussion on TV. But then suddenly Frank started mumbling loudly:       

          'Spy! Spy! Spy! Nonsense! The man was an amateur! What real spy leaves secret documents openly on his desk in the office and his wife was stupid enough to leave a suitcase with secret documents with a neighbour who was in the military himself!’”

        Claire reached for her glass again and drank.        

         "What he said made me furious, so I said to him: 'Oh yes, but you know how a real spy behaves!’ I thought his reaction was terribly arrogant. To my surprise, he then turned down the TV. He came over and sat down with me on the sofa. He looked me in the eyes and grinned. Then he said, ‘Yes, my darling, I know that. The MI5 recruited and trained me while I was still studying at Oxford. Right after they heard I was going to specialise in Scottish history. With my family background and the good connections we had in the military and police through my cousin Jonathan, there were no obstacles.’”

"Books" by MichaelGaida        

         "How did you react to that?"        

         "Well, at first I was stumped. I thought he was just showing-off again. So I replied, ‘Why would the MI5 need an expert in Scottish history?’ He replied, ‘Well, of course you can't imagine, you little fool. Good God, Claire! The Scots want independence and just because last year's referendum went so well, they will not give up. It's their history they're drawing strength from! What do you think will happen if they really gain their independence? It could set off a chain reaction. You know that Prime Minister Cameron announced two years ago that he would hold a referendum on Britain's withdrawal from the EU if he was re-elected in 2015? So? He has been re-elected! Now there must be a referendum. And what if Britain's withdrawal from the EU is carried out but Scotland becomes independent and is then admitted to the EU as a member? Did you ever think about that? This is going to get us in big trouble! Then the EU will continue to stand with two legs on our island! We can't let that happen.’”

         Claire paused for a moment, then she went on:                  "I must have looked at him in wonder and disbelief, because suddenly he stormed out of the living room. I heard him looking for something in his study. When he came back he had a newspaper article in his hand which he held in front of my face. ‘Read it,’ he said to me. ‘Our government takes this danger seriously... and so should you!‘          I took the article and read. It was an article in the International Business Times in July 2015. It reported that the Prime Minister had met with the CEOs of a media company. The purpose of the meeting was allegedly to prevent the broadcast of a TV series about the Scottish Rebellion of 1746 before the referendum on Scottish independence. It seems that a request has been made to postpone the broadcast. I later found on his desk a copy of an article from ‘The Scotsman’, which also covered the subject in detail.”                  Groide and Jamie looked at each other and smiled. Both men nodded, but said nothing.        

         "Frankly," Claire continued, "I hadn't given the matter any thought at all. In the five years before, I had been mainly busy finishing my medical studies and gaining experience as a doctor. You don't have much time to worry about other things. Besides, due to my, well, somewhat non-conformist upbringing, I was never so much confined to one country alone ..."        

         "How is it that despite medical school, your husband still refers to you as..." Groide is looking for words, "intellectually... weaker...?”          "Frank believes that medical school would consist largely of memorizing the contents of textbooks. He thought that people's bodies were somehow all the same and that if you had learned the appropriate forms of treatment, then you could treat them. He never understood the diversity and complexity of the human body and how medical science reacts to it."                   "Did your husband explain his duties for the MI5 to you?"          "When I told him that Scotland's history, and Scotland's ambitions for independence, were well known, he told me not to think so superficially. He said that historians are not only concerned with the past. They can also make predictions about the future to a certain extent, based on their knowledge. I should think about what the clan system had meant and still means to the Scots. Why did the English central government everything to destroy it after the Jacobite uprising of 1746? England should not allow a united counter-power to be formed again in the north of the country. He was probably particularly concerned about this lobby group, One Banner for all Scots, which had formed the year before."

"Scottish Independence" by Emphyrio         Claire was focused on Ferdinand Groide and the recording equipment in front of her. She didn't see Jamie's face become more and more thoughtful.        

         "Mrs. Beauchamp, all this is interesting, but... not very specific."          "At first, I too got to know only general things. It only became more specific later when I did... well, my own... research.                  "You did your own research?"                  Groide suddenly seemed interested again. Jamie tried not to smile. What seemed like a minor revelation to his friend only confirmed what he had been thinking all along. Claire was an intelligent, strong woman. Her strength might have been broken for a time by what her husband had done to her. But Jamie was sure that she would find her way back to that strength. And he vowed to himself that he would do everything he could to help her.          "I thought Frank was a braggart for a long time, but... I can't describe it exactly. Something had caught my interest. Then a colleague asked me if I would trade a weekly shift with her. She would have had a night shift, but her babysitter was unavailable. I agreed and that same afternoon I went to the university library and borrowed books on Scottish history and the independence movement. The department where I was on night duty was not very labour-intensive. I had a lot of time to read and think during the nights of that week."          She paused for a moment.          "After that week, I became aware of the urgency of the issue."          Groide didn't say anything, but his gaze urged her to continue.          "National self-determination. Well, there's no need to explain that further. Scotland's oil. 64% of Europe's oil reserves are on Scottish territory. They're said to be worth 4 trillion pounds. Then there is the issue of renewable energy. I mean Scotland has 25 % of Europe's wind energy potential, 25 % of Europe's tidal energy potential and 10 % of Europe's wave energy potential. I do not have to tell you that these are also enormous financial potentials."          A fine smile appeared on Groide's face.          "And then, of course, there is the question of nuclear disarmament: with control of defence and foreign policy, an independent Scotland could tackle the elimination of Trident nuclear weapons, an issue long associated with the campaign for an independent Scotland. Trident class submarines carrying missiles with 120 nuclear warheads are based at the Clyde naval base near Glasgow. In the event of Scottish independence, England would have to withdraw these weapons and revise its defence strategy. I imagine that would be a thorn in the side of the American allies as well. There will certainly be a lot of diplomatic pressure behind the scenes."          Claire took a deep breath.          "Now you're going to tell me that this is all public information and I would agree with you. But I wasn't aware of it before. These informations woke me up. It took a while but when I had the opportunity to take on another week of night shifts I immediately agreed. In this time I developed a kind of plan. I was eager to find out if Frank's statement was true. At first I tried to track when he was going to conferences or work meetings. Not all of them, but several of them took him to England and Scotland. I can't prove it, but I had the impression that his travels became more frequent at times when 'the Scottish theme' was boiling up. Later, after 2015, and particularly after the brexite, his travels intensified.”          To Jamie's surprise, Claire reached into her handbag, which she had hung on the back of her chair, and pulled out a piece of paper she handed over to Ferdinand Groide.

"Tea" by Pexels          "This is a list of all the trips my husband has taken since 2013. supposedly for reasons of his work as a historian."          Groide skimmed the list, then put it aside.          "Thank you very much. We will try to verify the data."          "In the weeks that followed, I voluntarily took several weeks of night duty. Because there was another advantage to this. I was at home while my husband was at university and could look through his records almost undisturbed."        

         "Will you share the knowledge you have gained from this?"          "Yes. But perhaps we could have some tea?" Claire replied as she looked at Jamie.          "Certainly."          He got up and left the room. Ferdinand Groide pressed the 'stop' button on the recorder. Then he got up and stretched a bit. Claire did the same.