They sat in silence for a few minutes, pens at the ready. Eventually he let out a big breath. ‘No… I was wrong. I have no idea where to start.’
She looked at the blank page. ‘Me neither. I mean… there’s so many good things to say, I can’t narrow it down.’
‘All I have is…’ He cleared his throat dramatically. ‘I promise to always love you more than Manchester City, even if they win the Championship again. Even if they win the European Cup five years in a row.’
‘Idiot.’ She hit him with her pillow. ‘Everyone knows Chelsea’s going to win next year. And the year after… and after that.’
‘Oh, you heathen. Get out of here. I can’t marry you now. I just can’t. You’ve broken my poor, fragile heart.’ He grinned and nudged her and she grinned and nudged him back, every movement feeling like a lie, a deception. And yet he seemed to want to start every day anew, a slate wiped clean. He was giving her another chance. Yet another one. At some point he’d stop. She just didn’t know when.
She focused back on the vows. ‘Got to mention the salt and vinegar crisps, though; maybe the marshmallows.’
‘Everyone will think we’re bonkers.’
It sometimes felt that way. It sometimes felt like she’d gone a little bit crazy, especially when she bolted headlong into things without giving them too much thought. ‘Hmmm. Maybe we are.’
‘Yes, maybe.’ He tapped the pen against his lips. ‘Okay, how about, I promise not to spend all our money in B and Q?’
She shook her head. ‘You already have.’
‘Ah. Yes. True that. Seriously, though… do we want funny ones or weepy ones? I want to get the tone right. In other words, I don’t want to look like a prat writing silly things if you’re all loved up and serious.’
‘Ones that come from our hearts, I suppose. Weepy and funny.’
‘God, woman, I’m a cop not a poet. I can just about manage to say I promise to love you faithfully and honestly…’ He pulled a face. ‘I googled that, by the way.’
‘Well, it’s lovely. Keep that bit in.’ Faithfully and honestly. His vows were going to be like knives stabbing her, reminding her of what she was keeping from him.
He grinned. ‘How about, I solemnly vow to have lots of sex with you in as many places as possible…?’
Charlotte’s spirits lifted for the first time that day. ‘You, Benjamin Murphy, are a devil, given we haven’t had sex for a very long time.’ There. She’d said it. Put it out there for them both to think about.
‘I know. It’s not like us, is it?’
She met his gaze and saw he was as confused and worried as she was. That he was struggling no matter how much he put a brave face on it. ‘It’s just a blip. Most people have them, right? I mean, all those people who say they’re at it like rabbits, it’s just bravado. No one could have sex five times a week, like… for ever.’
His eyes lit up. ‘It’s a good target to aim for, though. Remember when we first met and we were all over each other?’
‘Yes. Yes, I do.’ Her heart tugged because she’d hoped they’d always feel like that, that their relationship would always be easy. But life had become a struggle recently. And today, it felt as if it had been cursed.
‘It was awesome.’ He wrote something on the paper. ‘So, let’s vow to have lots more sex then. Five times a week. D’you think we should put a target… but that could be a limit too, right? No, let’s just say lots of sex.’
‘Poor Father Lukas would have a heart attack if you said that out loud in a wedding ceremony, as would my mother.’ Charlotte laughed and squirmed. ‘Not even thinking about how yours would react.’
‘Mine would be thrilled and thinking we’ll be having lots of babies for her to dote over.’
Her heart sped up. Maybe this was a good opportunity to sound him out about changing The Plan. Without actually covering the breast surgery and cancer conversation. ‘That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, though, would it? If we had babies sooner rather than later?’
‘Sooner? Nah.’ He leaned away from her and frowned. ‘You’re only twenty-five, Charlotte. We have The Plan up and running. Thirty is a good time to start thinking about kids. We’ve talked about this. A lot.’
‘I know, but things happen and plans change…’
‘Are you trying to tell me something?’ The abject panic on his face tore her heart into pieces. ‘You’re not… are you pregnant?’
‘No. It was just an idea, that’s all. I think having a baby now might not be such a bad thing. I’d be young and healthy and we’d have lots of energy to spend on the kids.’
He turned to her, the vows forgotten, the pen falling onto the duvet. ‘And I’d be at work all hours trying to pay the mortgage. Never seeing the kid. Never being the dad I want to be. You know why I want to do it my way… our way.’
‘Because your dad was never home, because he worked too hard. Yes. I know.’
‘And I resented him. We never saw him and when we did he was too tired to give us any attention. And he snapped too easily.’ Ben was supercharged about this. Always had been. ‘It was hard, Charl. It’s different now he’s retired – you’ve seen him with Niamh’s kids – that’s the kind of dad I wanted when I was young; the happy-go-lucky one. The one who reads stories to his kids, teaches them how to fish, about cars, plays games. That’s what I dreamed of having. Dream of being.’
This was, sadly, going the way she’d thought it might. Hoped it wouldn’t. ‘So, basically you’re saying it’s your way or no way.’
‘I’m saying we agreed, Charlotte. I’m saying we both decided on The Plan, we talked about it. We work hard now and reap the rewards later. This is our dream, right? Not just yours? I do get to have a say in our future, right? Or has that changed now? Because lately I don’t know.’
‘Of course it hasn’t changed.’ Lies. Secrets and lies. It’s for his own good.
‘We delay the reward until we can both relax and enjoy it. That’s the fairest way.’
Thing was, how could they enjoy it if they waited too long? She tried to lighten things. ‘I was just thinking, that’s all. I mean, dreams can change, though. They’re not rigid, unmovable.’
‘Yes, of course… but…’ He stopped, the shadows around his eyes deepening. His voice darkening too. ‘This isn’t something to do with…? Carol? No…? Everything’s shifting, Charlotte. You’re shifting… you’re changing and I’m not sure how to keep up. I thought we were both going in the same direction. Hand in hand, you said.’
‘I am. We are.’
He gave her a look and she knew things were not okay at all. If only she could explain.
He shook his head, his voice stern. ‘No more talk about babies then. Let’s get these vows written.’
But she didn’t feel like it now. Her stomach felt cramped up and Erika’s words kept coming back to her. I’d get it done as soon as I could. Make time to talk it through.
She put the blank paper down, wishing they’d never started this. ‘I think I’ll do them later. Tomorrow or something. I’m just not feeling it right now.’
‘Funnily enough, me neither.’ He threw his paper onto the cabinet, a muscle in his jaw twitching.
They sat for a few minutes in aggravated silence. Then he sighed. Loudly. Jumped up and started to work his way out of his police uniform. But instead of reaching for his PJs or decorating clothes he shrugged on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
Unusual. There was a heavy weight of panic pressing on her chest. ‘Are you going somewhere?’
‘Yep. Out.’
Her heart started raging against her ribcage. He never went out, barely even with his friends these days, except to the stupid quiz night. He was all work and DIY. ‘Where? Where will you go?’
He shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Of course it matters.’ Then she joined the dots. ‘Oh, are you going to do some overtime?’
He turned and glared at her. Cold. Angry. ‘What does that even mean, Charlotte?’
‘You tell me. The other week you said you were going to do overtime, but I don’t think you did.’ How easy it was to mistrust someone when you deserved the mistrust too. How easy to jump to conclusions about lies and secrets when you were mired in them yourself. ‘Did you? Am I imagining things?’
He frowned, opened his mouth. Closed it again. Shook his head. ‘Just leave it.’
She followed him to the bedroom door, watched him stalk downstairs, not knowing what to say, how to make him stay, how to make him love her like he used to, when she knew she was the cause of all of this turmoil. ‘When will you be back?’
‘I don’t know.’ His hand slid off the banister, the door slammed and he was gone.
Charlotte ran back into the bedroom and saw his crumpled, discarded piece of paper. Just three words… Honest. Faithful. Sex.
Three things that had somehow become impossible for them these days.
She stumbled into the bathroom, swiped the tears with the heels of her hands and slumped to the floor. They couldn’t even write the vows without arguing. They couldn’t do anything without arguing. Time was running out for them to get things back on an even keel. What the heck kind of marriage were they going to have?
If they were going to have one at all.
Chapter Twelve
It was Saturday afternoon and Charlotte had an hour to spare before she met the girls for the final planning meeting for the hens’ weekend. This time next week she’d be in Amsterdam. Having the time of her life. Apparently.
The wedding was in a fortnight and there was still loads to finalise.
And yet, here she was, walking along Garden Lane, Highgate towards the Coffee Time Café, having snuck away at the end of dance classes pretending she was going to find a quiet place to write her vows – which she still hadn’t managed, because every time she started to write or type her hand was frozen by the ever-growing panic inside her. She needed to get things back on track with Ben. Talk to him. Love him. Be honest with him. She needed to find a way back to him before they were both completely lost.
But instead of facing him, she was coming here to see Carol. Because she just couldn’t leave talking to her about the faulty gene any longer. There were things she needed to say. Important things that might affect her birth mother, her future.
Just like last time, her heart thrummed fast and furious as she approached the café. Unlike last time, Carol wasn’t expecting her.
Charlotte pushed the heavy door open and walked into the little café and saw the bob of her mother’s head, the shock register in her eyes and the wavering smile.
‘Charlotte.’
‘Hi.’ She still wasn’t sure what to call her so she left a gap without saying a name. ‘I hope this is a good time?’
No stringy girl here today. Charlotte glanced round the empty café and wondered, fleetingly, if there was ever anyone else here. Just Carol, wiping her hands as she stepped out from behind the silent chrome coffee machine.
‘Any time’s good, really. But I do tend to have a rush on in the mornings.’ Her voice was wobbly but warm. ‘But you should have rung ahead. I could have made something for you. What’s your favourite? I might have it in.’ She pointed to the almost-empty glass cabinets patchworked with condensation. ‘Fruit cake? I’ve got one piece left. Or what about a scone? Date? Cheese?’
So this was what Carol was like when she wasn’t prepared. She had the same runaway mouth as her daughter. Charlotte smiled a little inside. Another thing they had in common.
Then her mum was wrapping her in a stiff hug and, when she pulled back, Charlotte had that strange feeling she was looking into a mirror again. Which made her feel just a little off balance. ‘No, thanks. I’m not hungry. I was just passing…’ More lies. ‘…And thought I’d pop in. I can’t stay very long. I’ve got to meet friends in an hour or so.’
‘In the pub, like last time?’
‘No. It’s a planning meeting. At my… at Eileen’s.’
‘It’s okay, you can call her your mum. I do understand. Tea? Coffee?’ Carol dipped back behind the counter and breathed out, clearly much more at home there, with a physical barrier, than face to face with her long-lost daughter.
‘I’m fine. Honestly.’
Carol tapped her fingers on the counter. ‘I didn’t think I’d hear from you until after the wedding, to be honest. I know how these things can eat away at your time.’
‘Yes, it’s hotting up, I have to say. Who knew there was so much to do just for one day?’
Her birth mother’s head tipped a little to one side as she frowned. ‘It’s for a lifetime really, though, isn’t it? Not just the day.’
Oh? Life lessons from her?
Stop it. The minute things got rocky, Charlotte took it out on everyone else. ‘Oh yes. I didn’t mean anything by that. Just that there are a lot of things to plan…’
‘I know. It’s okay, love. It’s a stressful time. But hey! I can’t believe my little… I can’t believe you’re getting married. That makes me feel very old. Such a special day…’ Her eyes widened hopefully and Charlotte wondered whether Carol was angling for an invitation. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that that was definitely not something she could do. But Carol just said, ‘You look worried. Are you a bit nervous about it?’
‘A little.’ But for all the wrong reasons.
‘That’s perfectly normal, everyone has wobbles. You’ll be fine on the day. Will you have a photographer? I mean… of course you will. But would you…’ Carol ran her palms down her thighs, embarrassed. ‘I know this is a lot to ask, but I’d love to see you in your dress. And to see a picture of your man.’
‘Oh. That one’s easy.’ Charlotte tugged out her phone and scrolled through until she found a photo of herself from the wedding dress shop. ‘Obviously it’s not what I’ll be looking like on the day. I’m having my hair and make-up done. And there’s a veil and the flowers, but you get the idea.’
‘Oh, love.’ Carol’s hand was over her heart. ‘Oh, love. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. I’m so proud.’
Which made Charlotte’s hand shake a little and her throat suddenly go raw. Because that was all she’d ever wanted, really. For someone to feel like that about her.
But there was a nagging pulse in her head. Eileen had said the same thing. Eileen had reacted the same way. Eileen did feel like that about her. It was Eileen’s privilege to see her in her wedding dress before the actual day, not Carol’s. Not really.
It was all so confusing, as if she were being torn into pieces. A little bit for Eileen. A little bit for Carol. More for Ben. Some for work. Some for Lissa and… oh… for that little baby who wasn’t wanted, who tugged and tugged and tugged at Charlotte’s heart.
So many pieces to give away that there was very little left for herself.
Her enthusiasm over the dress wavered a bit so she found some photos of Ben instead. She leaned across the counter and showed them to Carol. The ones of him after the charity skydive where he was grinning like a Cheshire cat. The one – her personal favourite – in his uniform, receiving the bravery award. How proud she’d been that day. How proud she was always. Did she tell him enough how much she loved him?
Carol’s head tilted to one side as she peered at the screen. ‘Oh. He’s lovely. Really handsome. Lovely man.’
‘Yes. Yes, he is.’ But whatever she did, she couldn’t seem to find the right tone or the right words to make things better. He’d come back late the other night. Cold and still angry. And she’d lain awake beside him, listening to his uneven breathing, staring into the darkness, not knowing where to begin, or even how to. Because he’d hate that she’d gone behind his back, that she was shifting the goal posts, that she was keeping secrets. She hated it too.
‘So, don’t look so sad, love.’
Charlotte snapped back to the present, dug very deep and found some courage. ‘Things haven’t been going well between us recently.’
‘That’s no good.
If you’re having second thoughts you should talk to him.’
‘Believe me, I’ve tried, but it all comes out wrong and then we argue and things get worse.’ It felt very strange indeed to be offloading to someone she barely knew, someone she was actually, when she thought about it, quite ambivalent about. But there was a fledgling affinity there as well, and a relationship she still wanted to try to develop. Somehow. Although a heart-to-heart about her relationship woes hadn’t been what she’d planned. Not yet. She couldn’t even talk to Eileen about it. ‘He’s gorgeous, actually, and I love him very much and can’t wait to marry him.’
‘So what is it then?’
Charlotte wasn’t going to go into any more details. Her private life was exactly that and it was up to her to fix it. And she would.
She would.
She would ask him to explain the overtime thing, just to put her wandering mind at rest, and she’d tell him everything about the tests and the result, be open and honest. Just like she was going to be now with Carol.
She took a stabilising deep breath. What she had to say might come as a shock, God knew it had for her. She didn’t want to scare Carol, but she needed to know the DNA details so she could take steps… so her mother would have choices.
Choices. She was starting to sound like Erika. Choosing between grim and grimmer.
Charlotte tried to be as gentle as possible. ‘Look, there’s something I need to tell you… come and sit down.’ She took her birth mother’s arm and walked her, the way she’d been taken so gently the last time, over to the sofa in the corner. Sat her down. Found a soft, warm smile to offer some kind of hope. ‘I went to the doctor’s recently and had some tests done.’ Charlotte swallowed. There was a fierce lump in her throat. This was hard; breaking bad news was hard. She had a newfound empathy with Erika. ‘Thing is, they told me I carry the BRCA1 gene. The one that means I’m more likely to get breast cancer.’
‘Ah. Yes.’ Carol looked away, busied her fingers folding a tea towel on her knee.
Charlotte’s mind was racing. As was her heart. Meanwhile, her stomach tied itself in knots. Carol looked out of the window, her cheeks deepening to crimson. She closed her eyes, shook her head. Opened them again. And then it dawned on Charlotte. Yes.
The Other Life of Charlotte Evans Page 15
