He looked sick, pale. ‘What else? What else could be as bad as this?’
‘It’s nothing… but, I went to see Carol. Again.’
He huffed out a breath. ‘Oh. Really? Nice. Playing happy families? Remind me what they are, because I’m starting to forget.’
‘It wasn’t a great meeting, to be honest.’
‘When? When did you go?’
She could see Father Lukas watching them from the church steps, frowning. He gave her a questioning half-wave and she nodded back at him and tried for a weak smile. Seemingly satisfied they weren’t on the brink of a world war he turned and went back inside. She longed to take five minutes in that cool, dark place to gather her thoughts and calm down. Instead, she lowered her voice. ‘Saturday lunchtime. I went to tell her she probably had the gene too, if I have it. She urged me to talk to you, actually. She made me promise.’
Ben’s jaw was tight. Gorgeous, but tight. His eyes blazing with so many emotions and questions. ‘So, you’re taking relationship advice from someone you’ve met twice, when you won’t talk to your fiancé or the mother who knows you better than anyone?’
Does she? Does anyone? ‘I don’t want to worry Eileen. That’s why I haven’t said anything. You saw what she was like about the lump. You know what she’s like.’
‘You have to give her a chance. She deserves to know, not Carol. You’re living a completely different life to the one I think you’re living. You’re in a different stratosphere. Who the hell are you?’
‘Stop it. You know damned well who I am. I am Charlotte Marie Evans. And I’m finding out about me, at last. It’s not exactly what I’d hoped for, but it’s who I am and I have to accept it. And if you don’t like it, you can…’ She wanted to tell him to go to hell for not supporting her, not understanding her need to do all this. But she’d broken his heart and broken his trust, she could see that.
‘Go on.’ He glared at her. ‘I can… what?’
‘Nothing.’ If she said it, he might just do it and she really, really didn’t want that to happen. She loved him. Adored him. Her chest felt as if it was being ripped open. ‘This is pointless. We’re getting nowhere.’ She hopped down from the swing and made her way back to the car. ‘I don’t know what to say, Ben. I don’t know what to do. Everything’s falling apart. Ever since the lump we’ve been on different paths and look at us, at each other’s throats. It looks as if we don’t even want the same things.’
He followed her, his steps leaden and heavy, filled with anger. He was hurting and it was her fault. He’d just discovered she could die and he was probably grieving too. She needed to give him space and time to get his head around it all. ‘This is so much to take in, Charl. One minute you don’t have cancer, then you might. You wanted to wait for kids. You want them now. You won’t discuss it. You tell me what you’re going to do and expect me to follow. I can’t do this. You know? I can’t do this.’
They’d reached the car and she flicked the key into the driver’s door. ‘I want a child. I don’t want to die. Preferably in that order.’
He made no attempt to open the door. ‘But we need to think about this, not knee-jerk to it.’
‘I have been thinking about it. There’s not a lot else I’ve been thinking about, to be honest. You want to know why I’m hazy and distracted? This.’
‘Yeah. Thanks for the trust, Charlotte. Thanks for including me. Didn’t it occur to you that I might want to know? That I would have wanted to go with you? That I could have supported you?’
‘Of course it did.’ Was there no end to this guilt?
‘But even so you went with Lissa instead.’
‘Yes.’
‘As if she hasn’t got enough to worry about.’
Guilt slid into the backseat and suspicion took its place along with a shiver of ice down her spine. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing.’ He still didn’t get into the car so she stood there too, leaning on the roof, looking at the little patches of rust where neglect was starting to make its mark.
‘Nothing?’ She waited. And waited. And the thing about Ben was that he was very poor at lying. Unlike her, obviously. He had a tell. A little twitch at the top-right corner of his lip. And a way of fisting his hands over and over and over. ‘You know.’
‘Know what?’ His neck was red now too. Oh, he knew.
‘You know she’s pregnant?’
He nodded. ‘Sure.’
‘Well, wow. Since when did you have private conversations with my friend?’
‘Whatever.’ He shrugged and changed the subject. ‘When are you going to tell Eileen?’
Another strike to her heart. ‘I don’t know, it’ll break her heart… after the wedding. But wait… about Lissa…’
‘Not going there, Charlotte. But for the record, it was at the studio. She was there, I was there and she blurted it out. Nothing weird going on. I promise.’
Things were adding up. She’d complained to Lissa about his overtime, and that very night it had been magically cancelled. Maybe there was more going on here that she didn’t understand. ‘You sure?
‘Well, wow. Really. Wow, Charlotte. And here I was thinking the only issues we had were sorting out the vows and ironing out a bit of disagreement, which I’d put down to nerves about the wedding and the stress of it all. But no. There are whole levels of distrust. Of disagreement and innuendo. And on top of it all, you’ve made decisions about your life – about our life – without bothering to consult me. You… God… you could be sick already and you want me to agree to waiting. What man would agree to that?’
‘A supportive one.’
His hands flew into the air in exasperation. ‘Give me a fighting chance to get my head round it. I love you and I’m reeling. You’re going to get sick if you don’t get help, but you don’t want help. You want me to agree with you on something I don’t want. You want me to stand by and let you take risks. You want to make your own decisions without factoring me in. What kind of marriage will that be?’
‘If we carry on like this there won’t be a bloody marriage at all. One of us will be in therapy and the other in Australia or somewhere. As far away from each other as possible.’ As it was, they didn’t need to be geographically apart to have distance.
His jaw twitched and he raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘You know what? Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.’
‘What? You mean that? You want to call it all off?’
His eyes flared and he stepped away from the car, not into it. ‘I just need to get my head straight, Charlotte. To think. Thank God we’re both going away tomorrow, because maybe time away from each other is the best thing we can do right now.’
‘But wait… aren’t you getting in the car?’ There was a coil in her gut, tightening, tightening, and panic threading through her. He wasn’t just angry, he was well past that. He was confused. He was scared. He was fighting back. He was fighting.
He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and started to march away from her. ‘I’ll walk.’
‘You can’t just walk… you can’t go. Ben!’
He reeled round on his heels, his words scraping her heart. Deeper and deeper. ‘You know what, Charlotte? I can do whatever I damned well please. Just like you.’
Chapter Fourteen
Charlotte felt sick.
It was a feeling that had haunted her the whole night as she lay in bed getting no sleep at all. Tossing and turning. Panicking. Wondering.
I can’t do this.
Wondering whether it was better for her to say those words to Ben and set them both free. She was bringing them both down, making them question everything, making them argue, making them choose between their own personal desires and dreams. She wanted a family – it was all she’d ever wanted, really. Whichever way she looked at it, she wanted to be part of something, even if only for a short time – she wanted to belong. To share history with people who were like her. Who knew her intuitively. Who loved her unconditiona
lly. Who had the same blood as her running through their veins; that physical, undeniable, indisputable tie. Bound. For ever.
But he wanted her healthy. He wanted her honesty. He wanted to trust her. And she’d broken that too.
It was breaking her heart. Had already, if she was honest. As she’d watched him walk away she’d wanted to run to him and haul him to her. To clutch him to her chest and breathe him in. To forget what was happening and tell him she wanted only him.
But the problem was, she didn’t want only him, did she? She wanted more. So she’d let him go. Had sat in the car until her chest hurt from sobbing, as she hit her fist on the steering wheel too many times to count. Until she’d watched the last rays of sun die and, with them, much of her hope for a happy resolution.
They needed to talk. They needed time, which was the one thing they didn’t have. Everything was moving so quickly, rolling out of control. Mostly, what she didn’t want was for them to say I do and spend the next five years regretting it because they wanted different things, because they couldn’t agree.
She didn’t want to die unfulfilled. She didn’t want to die lonely. She didn’t want to die full stop, but she did want to hold her own baby. Couldn’t he see that? Couldn’t they do both?
But instead of sitting down with her man and nutting things out, here she was, wearing a fluorescent-pink, sparkly T-shirt and the broadest fake smile ever seen, dragging her suitcase on its tiny wheels across the departure hall of Gatwick Airport. Next to her were Lissa and Eileen, both of whom had asked if she was okay countless times in the taxi and both of whom she’d fobbed off with the excuse she’d barely slept for excitement.
Lies, lies, lies.
The rest of the hens were waiting for them at the bag drop. Mia ushered Charlotte towards the electronic check-in, stabbed the details onto the keyboard, stuck the sticky bag tag on Charlotte’s suitcase handle and hauled it onto the conveyor belt. ‘Oh my God, where have you all been? We’ve been checked-in for ages. How excited are you?’
Charlotte watched her bag disappear through the floppy plastic barrier and felt a jolt of despair. ‘Really. Very.’
‘Yessss! Right, come on. To a bar! There must be a bar somewhere here.’ With Shelley on one side and Sonja on the other, Charlotte found herself being arm-looped and marched to the nearest open bar. And while a drink might well steady her nerves, it would do little for her sickly stomach, especially at nine o’clock in the morning.
‘Down to important business. Gather round everyone! These are for you, Miss Hen. Ta da!’ Mia delved into her carry-on bag and pulled out a pair of pink feathery…
‘Wings?’ Charlotte quickly morphed her grimace into a big shiny smile of thanks. ‘You want me to wear fluffy wings? Yay.’
‘And a tiara.’ Someone… Niamh, she assumed by the accent… was standing behind her and putting something on her head. It was a bit spiky and uncomfortable… but then, when had a hen weekend been anything but?
‘Oh, and a sash.’ Eileen was in front of her, smiling her broadest, most genuine smile, and pulling something over Charlotte’s head. Bride, it read. As if the tiara and fluffy wings and T-shirt and gaggle of giggling women didn’t already scream that.
I really can’t do this.
‘I bet I look ridiculous.’ Charlotte peered down at her outfit and grimaced again. But a group of men on the next table, also Amsterdam-bound and wearing Jake’s Stag on their T-shirts… minus sparkles, but with the smiley-face emoji holding foaming tankards of beer blazoned across their chests… wolf-whistled and gave her leery thumbs-up.
Was that what Ben was doing too? Waving at women? Having a good time? What was Ben doing? Had he told his stags about last night? About her dodgy-looking future and selfish demands? They were probably right now discussing how to help him extricate himself from the relationship. If they had any sense.
Shelley waved at the guys. ‘Could be fun if we bumped into that lot tonight. A double celebration.’
Lissa laughed. ‘I don’t imagine they’ll be in the same places as us. Unless they’re the stage act. Which… looking at them… I sincerely hope they’re not.’
A shudder of apprehension ran down Charlotte’s back, along with a smattering of unease about Lissa. For too many reasons, and none of them good. This was her best friend and suddenly she felt at loggerheads with her. About Ben. About the baby. And now about the pressure of getting drunk and pretending to have fun when what she really wanted to do was hide under her duvet and sob. ‘Stage act? Oh, please. Don’t tell me… you haven’t got… we’re not going to…’
‘A strip club? Maybe. It’s just a bit of fun, Charlotte.’ Lissa briefly glared at her, then, as if realising she should be happy too, quickly found a smile. ‘And, actually, mandatory for a hen night.’
‘You can sneak home early with me if you like.’ Eileen raised her can of lemonade, because she never drank alcohol this early. Mind you, neither did Charlotte, usually. But God, she really felt like she needed it now.
Mia nudged Charlotte’s mum. ‘Don’t you bloody well dare sneak anywhere, Eileen. This could be good for you.’
‘Hmmm… perhaps for my sense of adventure, but not my blood pressure.’ Eileen shook her head. ‘What have I got myself in to?’
‘Fun. But it looks like Charlotte’s forgotten what that is.’ Lissa’s nostrils flared and she pigged her eyes at Charlotte and turned away.
More pieces of Charlotte’s heart broke. Lissa was pissed off with her now too for some reason. And her mother’s blood pressure would indeed skyrocket if she knew what Charlotte was keeping from her.
I can’t do this.
Just like the day she’d pitched up at Carol’s door, Charlotte’s overriding instinct was to run. And just like that day, she couldn’t. She had to stay here and do this, because they were all here for her. To celebrate her.
She couldn’t tell them he’d slept on the sofa and left without saying goodbye. That they were here to celebrate a wedding that might not happen. That she’d messed up. Was messed up.
That she had a very good chance of getting ill or dying before all of them. Maybe before Eileen, if she didn’t do something quick.
Time wasn’t on her side. Seemed Lissa was quickly retreating too. Seemed Ben wasn’t on her side at all. Maybe he’d see things differently when he came back.
If he came back.
There was chattering all around her but it suddenly went quiet and Charlotte wondered what she’d missed. Most of the girls were looking at her and grinning. Niamh was laughing.
Charlotte looked at them all. ‘What?’
‘Do keep up,’ Lissa said. ‘Your mum was saying how lovely this is.’
Eileen wiped a tear from her cheek with a white cotton handkerchief. ‘Oh, ignore me, I’m getting all emotional. But you know,’ she whispered, as she leaned across the table and straightened the sash across Charlotte’s aching chest, ‘I was so worried I wouldn’t get to see this when you found that lump. I can’t tell you how worried I was. Silly, I know, but you’ll know exactly what I felt when you have kids of your own. You get a bit emotional. And look at you…’ She took both of Charlotte’s hands in hers. ‘So happy. So healthy. Beautiful. If not a little… pink. I’m so proud.’
‘Oh, Mum.’ Charlotte fought to control the wobble in her voice and to swallow back the rock in her throat. But she failed miserably at the tears. One spilled over and ran down her cheek. The last two months had been a rollercoaster of discovery and worry and now she was feeling like she wanted to get off and have a lie-down in a dark room. Only, she couldn’t. She had to sit here and pretend everything was fine.
Eileen pushed some of Charlotte’s hair back from her face like she used to when she was seven years old. ‘What’s the matter, love?’
Charlotte heaved in a deep breath and blinked the tears away, wanting nothing more than to hold on to her mum and sob. To tell her about Ben, and Carol, and the blood-test results. To cry and cry and cry. But she was a big girl no
w, even though she didn’t always feel like it. Even though she didn’t want to feel like it. ‘Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just a little overwhelmed, to be honest.’
‘Aww, it’s okay. I understand. It is a bit over the top, but the girls just wanted to have fun… uh-oh, what did I say?’
‘Girls just wanna…’ Niamh, Mia and Shelley all stood up and started to sing, then sat down quickly when they spied a security guard walking over to them. ‘Sorry. Sorry. Carried away… shhhhh…’
‘Look at them. I don’t know how I’m going to keep up.’ Eileen smiled softly. ‘But it’s your hen weekend, love. I want to see smiles, not tears.’
‘Here. Get this down you, this’ll make you feel better.’ Shelley put a glass of champagne into Charlotte’s hand. ‘Bottoms up, girlfriend. Slainte. Neck it back. There’s more of that coming your way.’ She leaned closer. ‘Hey… something weird… Lissa said she wasn’t feeling great and could she just have Sprite? And when I told her to harden up she gave me a funny look.’
‘Maybe it’s too early, even for her?’ suggested Eileen, ever the optimist and oblivious to everything going on around her. ‘I mean, it’s very early for drinking at all.’
‘Ah. Well. That’s never happened before, not where Lissa’s concerned. Nine in the morning is just a regular late night for her.’ Shelley shook her head and shrugged, trying to work out this strange, unheard-of puzzle. ‘Maybe she’s still on antibiotics.’
‘And maybe it’s none of your business,’ Lissa hissed, leaning over from the other table. ‘Maybe I’ve decided to become teetotal.’
‘What?’ Niamh almost choked on her drink. ‘And maybe pigs are flying over our heads right now.’
Which both reminded Charlotte and gave her a get-out-of-an-awkward-situation card. Because even though her best friend might have told her innermost secret to Ben, it still wasn’t Charlotte’s secret to tell. ‘Oh, look, the monitor up there says Go To Gate for the Schipol flight. We’re going to be boarding soon. Come on.’
The Other Life of Charlotte Evans Page 18
