Molly understood the need to stay close, and neither said or did anything about it when Fred kept bumping into her. Neither did she say anything when he chose to lean against the counter she was puttering about near. Taking two cups from the pantry, she placed them on the counter before grabbing the now-whistling kettle. All of this was done quietly, allowing them both to gather themselves and thoughts before they talked things through.
Once the tea was poured, two biscuits went beside it. Whether Fred ate them or not didn't genuinely matter to Molly. What did matter was that she attempted to make things as normal as possible, as comfortable as possible, for her son. It also mattered that she kept herself busy. She needed to be strong for Freddie; Molly had the strange position of not being from that time, or right after -- as George seemed to be. She only had her own fears, and the knowledge of the fact that said fears come to some fruition to disturb her. Not the battle and not the emotions that come after.
Looking up from the tea, and from her thoughts, Molly took a breath when Fred spoke. He was so tall now..they had another growth spurt between her now and their own. Absently, Molly took mental note that new trousers would have to be gotten. She wondered if Charlie had left any; no, perhaps not. They could do well with some new ones. But those thoughts were brushed to the side when Fred admitted that he didn't know what to do.
Placing her hand atop of his, Molly opened her own mouth, hoping that she'd say the right thing. If there was such a thing. "It's alright, Fred. We'll figure all of this out." And she would, too. As much as she could.
Gently, the question came. "What do you feel that you should do? Ignore it? Face it?"