Family Divided

by Allen, Anne

  But how can we prove it?’ His heart raced and blood pounded in his ears as he pictured his uncle’s smug face.

  ‘Andy? Are you all right? Do please calm down. There’s no point giving yourself a heart attack. I’m sure we’ll

  find a way to prove what actually happened. Someone has to know and I’m sure it can’t be long before the truth

  will out.’ He felt Charlotte’s hand on his arm and raised his eyes to her face, her forehead creased in concern.

  ‘I’m sorry, for a moment I…I lost it.’ He grinned ruefully. ‘It’s become a bit of an obsession, I’m afraid, and I

  mustn’t let it control me. But that bastard Harold!’ He added, his fists clenched.

  ‘I know and I sympathise, I really do. I’m not even part of the family and my blood boils too! Now, I don’t

  know about you, but I was really looking forward to a slice of apple tart as promised. If it’s as scrumptious as the

  casserole–’

  Andy took a sharp breath. He was meant to be impressing this gorgeous woman with his culinary skills and

  instead had acted like a crazed idiot. Hardly the way to a woman’s heart!

  ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t let Harold get to me like this, but because of…of what my father’s lost, he does. Promise I’ll

  calm down,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’ll serve the tart. Would you like some fresh Guernsey cream with it?’ He cleared

  the plates and various dishes before taking the foil off the apple tart. Using a pastry brush he swirled apricot

  glaze over the circles of apple slices.

  ‘Cream would be lovely, thanks. To hell with the diet,’ she said, laughing and Andy’s shoulders dropped in

  relief. Perhaps all was not lost.

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  Once he had served up slices of tart and cream they each took a bite. He looked at her enquiringly.

  ‘Delicious! You really can cook, Andy. What’s your signature dish?’

  ‘You’ve just eaten it. Boeuf bourguignon has always been my favourite and rarely lets me down. Although my

  coq au vin has won me some praise over the years,’ he replied, trying hard not to imagine what it would be like

  to take Charlotte to bed. Watching a woman licking a spoon was so sexy. Swallowing, he reached for his wine.

  ‘What a coincidence. It’s another of my favourites. It’s hard to beat those classic French favourites, isn’t it? I

  do get so tired of the modern food trends like sushi, or a miniscule piece of meat or fish perched on a jus that

  wouldn’t feed a mouse. Do you agree?’ She tilted her head and gazed at him, a spoonful of French apple tart

  poised in mid-air.

  Andy forced himself to concentrate and for a while the conversation turned to tastes in food and the

  atmosphere seemed to lift. He sensed Charlotte was determined to jolly him out of the earlier mood as she

  recounted tales of underwhelming meals at overpriced posh restaurants as well as some of the more memorable

  ones. He made a pot of fresh coffee and once they had finished he offered to show her around.

  ‘This was originally two small cottages and I had them knocked into one to make a decent family home as

  well as providing me with an office,’ he said, leading the way into the hall.

  ‘Was this where you lived with your wife?’

  He turned to face her. ‘No, we rented a flat in Town as we didn’t earn enough to buy. We were very young. I

  only bought this place five years ago so I chose everything. It might be a bit too masculine for your taste,’ he said,

  leading her by the elbow into the sitting room.

  He watched as Charlotte looked around and he tried to see it through her eyes. The room was large, two

  rooms knocked into one, and he had kept it simple. Pale cream walls contrasted with the oak beams of the

  ceiling and the original fireplace, now housing an enormous fire basket filled with logs, ready for when the

  weather turned chilly. A large modern rug, swirls of blues and greens, sat on the reclaimed oak floor in front of a

  dark grey low-line sofa long enough for him to stretch out on and watch the huge television opposite. A window

  at the front gave a view onto the drive and the French window at the rear led onto the neat garden composed of

  a patio, a small lawn and flower beds.

  Charlotte turned and smiled. ‘It’s definitely a man’s room but beautifully done. I’d guess you don’t spend a

  great deal of time in here.’

  Andy nodded. ‘You’re right, I don’t. I’m either in the kitchen knocking up something to eat or in my office

  when I’ve brought work home. Which is probably most nights. I need to get a life,’ he said, realising he sounded a

  bit of a saddo.

  ‘You’re not the only one! Although I’ve stopped bringing work home, I don’t get out much since my divorce.

  Coming over to Guernsey is my attempt at being normal; spending time with people and making friends,’ she

  said, her face clouding. ‘It’s not easy to start again, is it? How did you cope?’

  ‘Oh, to be honest, it wasn’t that bad for me. Julie and I drifted apart, realising we weren’t right for each other

  quite early on. So it was all very amicable and we stayed friends. She’s remarried and had kids and we bump into

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  each other occasionally. Hard not to on a small island! I carried on as usual, working hard and seeing mates

  when they dragged me out of my cave,’ he said, his hands thrust into his pockets.

  ‘And haven’t there been any women to drag you out of your cave? Bearing the proverbial club in an act of role

  reversal?’ she asked, hands on hips.

  Andy swallowed. If she only knew! ‘Nooo, but I sense it’s time to come out of hibernation and join the real

  world a bit more. Now the cottage is finished and the business is going well, I have no more excuses.’ He jingled

  the loose change in his pocket, watching her reaction.

  Charlotte stared at him for a moment and then lowered her eyes so he couldn’t see her expression.

  ‘No, you don’t have any excuses.’ Looking up she smiled, saying, ‘Are you going to show me the rest of your

  home? I’d love to see the garden as well.’

  ‘Of course, let’s go outside first.’ A pulse beat in his neck as an image filled his head of Charlotte, bearing a

  club and wearing a skimpy animal skin yanking him into a cave for nefarious purposes. He hoped the air outside

  would cool his erotic thoughts. Opening the door, he stood back to let her go past and her arm brushed against

  his. His body’s response did little to temper the thoughts and Andy took a couple of paces away from Charlotte

  as she studied the garden.

  ‘How charming! Small but perfectly formed, with enough space to eat outside and catch some sun. And low

  maintenance. Perfect!’ she cried, turning around.

  ‘Thank you. The original gardens were tiny but added together they are, as you say, perfect. I’m not much of a

  gardener so Jeanne helped me with the beds. Their cottage has a fab garden, enormous compared to mine. The

  gang often end up there for a BBQ.’ He walked to the edge of the lawn, surveying the plants and shrubs

  displaying the last of the autumn colours of red and orange.

  Charlotte shivered. ‘It’s too cold to stand outside, let’s go in and you can show me the rest of the cottage.’

  Once inside Andy led her to his office, across the hall from the sitting room.

  ‘My main office is in Town, but it’s handy to have a designated space here too,’ he said, waving his arm

  around the room, a miniature version of his professional office. White
walls, white desk and shelving full of

  books. A small window gave a restricted view of the back garden.

  Charlotte nodded and he then showed her the downstairs cloakroom before offering to continue the tour

  upstairs. At this point Andy wondered if showing her the bedroom – tidied and immaculate just in case – was

  appropriate. Would it look like he was coming on to her? She had come for lunch as a friend. Not on a date,

  exactly.

  ‘I’d love to see upstairs, Andy. How many bedrooms have you got?’ she asked, her eyes large and soft.

  ‘Uh, three. I turned a fourth into an en suite–’ he was interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone. Muttering

  ‘excuse me’, he lifted the receiver to find it was his mother.

  ‘Hi, Maman, everything all right?’

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  ‘Oh, Andy, mon chèr, you are there! Your father has been so stupid! He was lifting a heavy box, which he has

  been told not to do, and his back, it gave way and he fell on the floor and cannot move. Can you come, please, and

  help get him to bed? He is too heavy for me.’

  Andy was jilted out of his good mood. ‘Of course, don’t worry, I’ll come right away. Are you sure he doesn’t

  need a doctor or go to A & E?’

  ‘No, once he is lying down, all will be well. Thank you, mon chèr. I will tell him you are coming toute de suite!’

  He cursed under his breath. Great timing, Dad! Turning to Charlotte, he explained what had happened and he

  had to leave.

  ‘Of course, absolutely. I do hope your father’s better soon. And thank you for a wonderful lunch, Andy. Will

  you phone me later?’ she said, picking up her bag and jacket. He thought he saw a flicker of disappointment in

  her eyes. Or was he fooling himself?

  ‘Yes, for sure. Perhaps we can go out for dinner again soon.’ He helped her with the jacket and kissed her

  gently on the mouth. The thought of his father bent in agony distracted him. He had to go.

  ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled.

  ‘It’s okay, another time. You must hurry…’ she kissed his cheek briefly before opening the front door and

  striding to the car. Starting the engine, she gave a quick wave and left. Andy grabbed his keys and banged the

  front door shut, hoping his father hadn’t caused himself too much damage this time.

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  chapter seventeen

  Charlotte drove away from Andy’s house holding on to the look in his eyes as he kissed her, the wanting mixed

  with disappointment. It echoed her own feelings and if it had not been for the phone call who knew what would

  have happened. Gripping the steering wheel, she also acknowledged an element of relief. They hardly knew each

  other and she wasn’t up for a brief fling. Which maybe was all Andy wanted. He admitted to not having dated for

  some time so was he ready for a relationship? The arousal in her body was still strong in spite of the lack of

  resolution and she shifted in the seat.

  Forcing herself to concentrate on the road, Charlotte pushed down the thoughts of bodies entwined in bed

  and took some deep breaths. What she needed was a brisk walk on a beach and she headed to the west coast

  instead of home. Parking at Vazon, she joined the dog walkers recently allowed back on the sands and strode

  along the firm sand. A cool breeze whipped through her hair and reddened her nose. The tide was coming in and

  the sound of waves crashing on the shore grew louder, mixing with the shrill cry of gulls searching in vain for

  easy food. It was too cold for picnics and the gulls were forced to dive for the small fish in the shallows.

  As Charlotte watched their antics she thought about Andy’s father, hoping he would make a quick recovery.

  At least it wasn’t as serious as cancer, she told herself, frowning as her thoughts shifted inevitably to her mother.

  In a few days they would have the test results and then…She shivered, whether from cold or fear, Charlotte

  wasn’t sure. Turning around she made her way back to the car and headed home.

  Andy phoned later that evening.

  ‘Hi, sorry about this afternoon. I managed to get Dad into bed, not easy as he was bent almost double, and

  after taking some strong pain killers he fell asleep. I stayed to make sure everything was all right and got home a

  few minutes ago.’ He sounded tired and Charlotte wanted to rush round and take care of him.

  ‘I’m glad he’s okay. How’s your mother?’

  ‘She’s fine, but annoyed with Dad as he brings these things onto himself. He’ll be stuck in bed for a few days

  until his back sorts itself out, which it will, but it means she has to look after him as well as work. Fortunately

  she works from home, but it’s not great.’ He let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Anyway, enough of my family, what

  have you been doing?’

  Charlotte told him of her walk and said again how much she had enjoyed the lunch. Feeling self- conscious at

  how close they had been to going to bed together, she dried up. Andy, perhaps thinking along similar lines, also

  seemed a bit hesitant. He did say he would have to go round to his parents on Sunday but would have loved to

  see her.

  She was disappointed but tried to sound casual, saying, ‘Another time. Didn’t you say something about

  dinner?’

  ‘Yes, let me take you out, to make up for having to leave so suddenly. Are you free on Wednesday? I’m sorry,

  but I’ve got meetings booked for Monday and Tuesday otherwise–’

  ‘Wednesday would be perfect, thanks. I look forward to it,’ she murmured.

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  After saying goodbye, Charlotte sat staring into space, lost in a daydream involving Andy leading her upstairs

  to his bedroom and…Giving herself a shake she switched on the television, searching for an escapist film.

  Anything to stop her thoughts taking over.

  Sunday morning dragged. The house was so quiet with Louisa away and for the first time since she’d been in

  Guernsey, Charlotte felt alone and at a loss. There was nothing she could do with regard to Andy’s quest, the

  only reason for staying on here. Her thoughts turned to England – and her mother. In a couple of days the test

  results would be back, meaning either the end of the anxiety or the beginning of even more. Charlotte’s stomach

  clenched as she recalled Dr Rowland’s comment “we might not be able to operate”.

  Not particularly reassuring, she thought, making herself a third cup of tea. Knowing she would go mad if she

  sat around all day, she hit on the idea of inviting Malcolm to join her for lunch. He was delighted to accept and

  suggested The Old Government Hotel, within walking distance for both of them. After making a reservation

  Charlotte changed into something more suitable than jeans and sweater and immediately perked up. Malcolm

  was good company and would provide a great diversion to her problems.

  Charlotte woke with more enthusiasm on Monday than on the previous day. Not only had she enjoyed her lunch

  with Malcolm, but Louisa had returned from Jersey in a bubbly mood. She and Paul had loved their trip and,

  according to Louisa, had talked through their issues.

  ‘I did as you suggested and told him about my insecurity and we also discussed the pressure he’d been under

  at work,’ Louisa said, giving Charlotte a hug. ‘It felt so good to bring it all out into the open, for both of us, and

  we’ve promised not to let things build up like it again. We both want our relationship to
work and agreed if

  things are going well in three months’ time, we’ll move in together.’

  ‘Wonderful! I’m so pleased. I’ve always thought you two made a great team. Will you say anything to

  Malcolm?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, not yet. Paul wants Dad to agree to more staff so he’s not as tied to La Folie. We’ll

  take it a step at a time,’ Louisa said, filling the kettle. ‘How about your weekend? How was lunch with Andy?’

  ‘It was lovely, thanks. Andy surprised me by being a great cook, the food was delicious and I liked what I saw

  of his cottage,’ Charlotte said, chewing her lip.

  Louisa gave her a searching look.

  ‘I sense a ‘but’. What happened?’

  She told her about Jim and his back and Louisa nodded her head in sympathy, saying she would ring him on

  Monday to check how he was. Charlotte went on to say she had lunch with Malcolm, Andy being needed at his

  parents’ house, and Louisa wanted to know how it went. By the time they’d caught up with each other it was

  late.

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  Lying in bed on Monday Charlotte recalled what Louisa had said about her and Paul living together. It

  brought home to her how much she wanted a committed relationship. It was now more than a year since her

  divorce and, pushing forty, was running out of time for a family. If she wanted one.

  Sitting up, the duvet tucked under her chin, she examined the idea of having children. Richard had been

  unable to father children so it had not been an option. She would never have considered a sperm donor, having

  few maternal instincts. Or so she had assumed. Maybe that was because of Richard, she now asked herself; he

  was stridently anti-children, always insisting they booked adult only holidays. The thought of nappies, sleepless

  nights and leaky boobs was not appealing but…she sighed. That wouldn’t last forever and friends like Jeanne

  seemed to find motherhood rewarding. Perhaps it could be fun to have a little person or two to care for and call