by Helen Warner
‘I meant what I said, Charlie.’
‘About what?’
‘That if there’s anything I can do for you . . .’
Charlie shrugged. ‘I don’t think anyone can do anything for me . . . I’m a hopeless case.’
‘You’re referring to Martha, I presume?’
Charlie stopped and gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘She’s gone. It’s over. End of story.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Me too.’
‘Will it make you feel better or worse if I tell you that she really did love you?’
Charlie smiled. ‘But not enough to stay with me. Story of my life,’ he added.
The blood raced to Liv’s cheeks. ‘You’ll find the right woman, Charlie. One day.’
Charlie looked back at her with a sad gleam in his eye, as he climbed into the car. ‘I thought I already did,’ he said through the open door. ‘Twice.’
Chapter 50
Jamie leaned back in his chair and contemplated the little black recorder sitting on Martha’s desk on the other side of the office. Martha had been busy earlier in the day transcribing her interview with Liv Mason, when Jamie had walked in unannounced to bring her a cup of tea. Martha had snatched the recorder up with suspicious haste and turned it off abruptly.
Ever since, Jamie’s mind had been whirring with possibilities of what might have been said. He got up and opened the door to the office, listening out for signs of life in the house and confirming that Martha had, indeed, gone out with Lindsay and that both children were fast asleep in their beds.
He swallowed guiltily and picked up the recorder tentatively. Almost in slow motion, he pressed the ‘Play’ button. At first he could just hear rustling, as someone, presumably Martha, turned the pages of a notebook, followed by the scratch of a pen on paper as she wrote something.
Then he heard Liv Mason’s unmistakably upmarket voice: ‘So, how are things?’ she said. ‘You know, personally?’
Jamie put a hand over his mouth and considered switching off the recorder. One of his mum’s favourite sayings had been that prying eyes were liable to see things they didn’t like. But, he reasoned, as he waited for Martha’s reply, she never said anything about prying ears.
‘Um, good.’ Jamie could tell from the tone of Martha’s voice that she didn’t want to be drawn into this conversation.
‘I’m glad,’ Liv said, followed by: ‘He’s a lovely man, Martha.’
Jamie’s heart swelled and he smiled to himself with relief as he heard Martha’s reply: ‘He is.’
‘I really appreciate what he did for me,’ Liv continued. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done if it wasn’t for him that night . . .’
Jamie sat up, suddenly alert. He hadn’t told Martha what had happened that night because Liv had asked him not to. He was suddenly worried that she would be cross that he had kept something else from her.
‘The night you went into rehab?’ Martha asked, and Jamie groaned slightly to himself.
‘No,’ said Liv. ‘That was the next day, after Charlie found out what had happened.’
‘I thought you were talking about Charlie?’
Jamie stared at the recorder in shock. So Martha hadn’t been referring to him when she’d agreed that he was a great guy. She had been talking about Charlie. The realisation hit him like a punch in the stomach.
‘No,’ he heard Liv say. ‘I was talking about Jamie.’
‘Jamie?’ came Martha’s response. ‘My Jamie?’
‘Yes, Martha, your Jamie! Didn’t you know what happened that night?’
Jamie put his head in his hands as a feeling of dread swept over him. He should turn this off now but he couldn’t.
‘I can’t believe he didn’t tell you!’ Liv’s voice echoed through the room. ‘He was such a hero.’
Jamie listened in grim silence as Liv relayed the story of Felix’s disappearance, ending with, ‘He’s a really special guy.’
Jamie waited for Martha to agree, but there was silence. He shook his head and rubbed his face as Liv continued: ‘Martha? Please tell me you guys have worked through your problems?’
‘You mean him cheating on me?’ he heard Martha snap, and he shrank a little further into his chair, unable to listen to any more but equally unable to turn it off.
‘Well, yes. I did know about that but he seemed genuinely sorry, Martha. And he really seemed to love you very much,’ came Liv’s voice.
Martha’s reply was barely distinguishable but he thought she said, ‘And I loved him.’
Past tense, he thought.
‘Past tense?’ said Liv on the recording, echoing his thoughts.
‘No, not really. I still do love him. But . . .’ said Martha, as Jamie tensed in readiness for what he suspected was coming next.
‘But you also love Charlie?’ said Liv.
‘I think maybe I do, yes.’
Jamie started to shake as the recording continued.
‘Have you seen him again?’ asked Liv, verbalising the question that was on Jamie’s own lips.
‘Yes,’ murmured Martha after an achingly long pause. ‘Yesterday. He came and found me.’
The bile rose in Jamie’s throat and he had to swallow hard to stop himself throwing up.
‘What are you going to do?’ he heard Liv ask. He closed his eyes as Martha’s answer reverberated through the room and through his brain. ‘I’m going to stay with Jamie! What else can I do? I have no choice because of the kids . . .’
Jamie leaned forward and with a trembling hand switched off the recorder. He had heard enough.
Chapter 51
It was early November and Jamie had taken Mimi and Tom to their school fireworks display while Martha wrote up a profile interview she had just done with a British TV presenter who was enjoying a resurgence in his career. Normally she could find some sort of connection with her interviewees, but this one had been difficult because she had decided almost immediately that she couldn’t stand the guy. He had been charming and friendly towards her but there was something about him that made her think he was essentially a bully who was used to getting his own way; he had what Lindsay would describe as ‘bad karma’. She had tried really hard to hide her dislike, but transcribing the interview, she realised that she hadn’t been very successful. The only answers she had been able to get from him were bland, boring and pat.
She sighed and stood up to look out of the window. The inky night sky was dappled with smoky trails, which looked like skinny ghosts when illuminated by each explosion. She used to love fireworks when she was a child, but as she got older and had her own children they had started to scare her. She couldn’t enjoy them without worrying about what might happen if one exploded in the wrong direction, so although Jamie was desperate to buy his own and have a mini display in the garden, Martha had always stopped him.
There was an almighty crack as a huge firework exploded into a cascade of white stars, like a waterfall of diamonds against the wide black sky. Martha thought about Jamie and the children, wrapped up against the cold in their brightly coloured coats, scarves and boots, huddled together as they peered up at the spectacle above their heads.
She was worried about Jamie but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why. He had been behaving oddly, almost shiftily, as if he was up to something. Whenever she tried to ask him about it, he would simply reply that she was free to check his computer, his emails, his phone if she didn’t trust him. There was an eagerness about his urging that puzzled her.
In the beginning, when she had first discovered his affair, she had taken to checking up on him anyway, but as time went on she had realised that if they were to stand any chance as a couple, she had to stop. She felt pretty sure that she wouldn’t find anything incriminating because Jamie was a whizz with the computer, and if he had anything to hide, she knew he would make sure to cover his tracks this time. And it made her feel horrible about herself, reading through his private emails and texts, so she hadn’t che
cked up on him for a long time.
The fireworks display was reaching its crescendo and Martha sat back down at her computer, listlessly re-reading what she had written already and deleting most of it. Behind her, from Jamie’s computer, came a sort of electronic grunting sound, which was the signal that he had a new email.
Martha glanced over at the screen. Jamie was downloading some photography tutorial and had set it running before he left. In the dock at the bottom of the screen, a little red circle appeared, with a ‘1’ in the middle, signifying that he had one new email.
Bored with her interview, Martha rolled her chair over to Jamie’s computer and casually pressed on the email icon. At the top of the list of emails was the new one. The sender’s name was Debra Steele.
Martha frowned as her heart began to race and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on her face. It couldn’t be.
Her eyes moved to the subject line, which read: Hi Sexy! The jauntiness of the greeting seemed grotesquely inappropriate, considering that they were the two small words that would finally bring an end to her marriage.
The screen blurred in front of Martha’s tears and she tried to blink them away as she read the rest of the email, only confirming her suspicions that he had resumed his affair.
It wasn’t the same as before, when the shock had almost killed her. This time it was a seeping sadness that there was no way back. She closed the email and stood up, brushing herself down as if that would somehow help. For a few seconds she wondered if she might faint, and she gripped the back of her chair for support. Gradually, the light-headedness passed and her balance returned.
Slowly, as if in a trance, she walked to the window and looked out. The pavement outside was full of people leaving the fireworks display. In amongst them were Jamie and the children, who peeled off from the crowd and turned into their drive.
As she watched, Jamie looked up and met her eye. The look on his face told her everything. She pressed her hand and her forehead to the glass. It felt cool under her hot palm.
Without losing eye contact with her, Jamie said something to the children, who took the key he proffered and let themselves into the house. He nodded and gave her the saddest smile she had ever seen, before he turned and walked away from their house, from their marriage, and from their life together, with his back straight and his chin lifted.
Epilogue
Dear Mimi & Tom,
By the time you read this I will be gone from your lives forever. But before I go, there are some things I want to tell you.
Firstly (and most importantly) I cannot begin to express how much happiness you have both brought me.
Mimi, from the moment you were put into my arms, all red and scrunched up, your fists flailing and your perfect little mouth opening and closing as you bawled, I fell in love with you. We had such a wonderful time together, those first few years, but it wasn’t until you, my gorgeous Tom, were born that the fun really started. It seems to me like you were born smiling and you have smiled ever since. You made our family complete and we loved you instantly and passionately.
I want you both to know that none of what happened is your fault. There is only one person to blame and that’s me. I did something very wrong and there hasn’t been one single moment since that I haven’t regretted it and wished fervently that I could turn back the hands of time and make it not have happened.
But I can’t go back and change anything. And that is why I am writing this letter to you now. Now that your mum is with Charlie, I think it would be best for everyone concerned if I was no longer here.
Losing your beautiful mum was very hard, but losing the love and respect of my two darling children has made me feel that I don’t want to be in this world if I can’t see you and spend precious time with you, having stupid debates over the breakfast table and going out exploring on our bikes like we always used to do.
I can understand why neither of you have wanted to see me or have anything to do with me, but the truth is, without you in my life, I have no purpose and no future. Don’t blame yourselves. Blame me.
So, goodbye my beautiful children. I love you to infinity and beyond.
Dad
xxx
‘And the Oscar goes to . . .’ There was an overly long pause, as the dark-haired actress in the emerald green sequinned dress tried to build the tension. ‘. . . Charlie Simmons!’
On the TV set, Charlie could be seen beaming with delight as he stood up and gave a half-wave to the applauding audience around him, before striding towards the stage at a pace that suggested he couldn’t wait to get there.
He kissed the girl in the green dress on both cheeks and took the small gold statue she was holding out to him. Then he walked towards the microphone, his eyes shining and his smile wide. ‘Thank you!’ he cried. ‘Thank you so much! I really am overwhelmed with gratitude for this honour.
‘If you’ll forgive me for bumbling through this like an idiot,’ he continued, prompting a polite but generous ripple of laughter from the auditorium, ‘there are some people I need to thank.’
He took a deep, steadying breath before beginning by thanking the cast and crew. ‘Next,’ he said, clearing his throat slightly, ‘I’d like to thank my ex-wife, Liv Mason . . .’ A murmur of surprise went through the crowd, causing him to pause momentarily with a slightly raised eyebrow. ‘Liv gave up her life here in Hollywood to move back to the UK with me, so that I could be nearer to our beautiful son, Felix. It was a big sacrifice for her to make, but I’m happy to say that her acting career hasn’t suffered as a result. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that she’s standing on this very stage next year, when she wins the best actress Oscar!’ There was another low hum of laughter.
‘I’d like to thank my parents, Mike and Jo, for their unstinting support . . .’ he continued. ‘And of course, my darling Felix, who is such an inspiration to me.’
There was another pause, and Charlie’s smile shrank as he seemed to struggle with his emotions. ‘But most of all I’d like to thank my beautiful wife, Martha, who can’t be here tonight because our baby is due imminently and she wasn’t able to fly out from our home in England.’
A wave of ‘aaahhhh’s washed over the auditorium.
Charlie’s eyes glistened as he looked into the TV camera in front of him. ‘But, darling, I know you’re watching with Mimi and Tom and I just want to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for giving me a reason to live. I love you.’ As he finished speaking, he broke into a wide smile once more and held his Oscar statuette aloft in a gesture of victory.
Jamie reached for the remote control and pressed the ‘Off’ button. For several moments he stared at the black screen in which he could see his reflection, sitting alone in the middle of a worn-out sofa, surrounded by bits of screwed-up paper. It seemed apt, somehow, and gave him a sense of grim satisfaction. A sense that justice had been done.
He looked down at the letter in his hand. He had found it earlier while tidying out one of the drawers in his small flat and had slumped down onto the floor, feeling shaken by its contents and trying to remember how he had felt the night he wrote it.
He had fully intended to end it all, but during the dark night of the soul that followed, he had sat up for hours crying, imagining the effect it would have on Mimi and Tom’s lives forever, knowing that their dad had killed himself. By the time dawn broke, he knew that he couldn’t do it to them.
And, in a twisted quirk of fate, it was that morning that Mimi chose to ring him for the first time since he had left, to tell him that she and Tom wanted to see him. He had expected their first meeting to be stilted and peppered with recriminations, but as soon as they saw each other they fell into each other’s arms, crying with relief and happiness. It was almost as if they sensed how close they had come to losing him forever. Since then, the children had kept him strong, and they had developed a new depth to their relationship now that the anger and hurt had abated.
The way their lives had worked out mean
t that he could take some comfort from knowing that he had done the right thing. He couldn’t have lived with the knowledge that Martha was only staying with him because of the children, while deep down she was in love with Charlie. But Martha would never have ended their marriage if he hadn’t set up a false account and sent himself that email, supposedly from Debra. He had given Martha the reason she needed to find happiness with someone else. Someone who deserved her.
Jamie got up and went to the tiny kitchenette, which was sectioned off from the living area by a small breakfast bar. He opened the fridge and took out the bottle of non-alcoholic fizz he had bought earlier. Charlie Simmons wasn’t the only one with something to celebrate that day. He opened it with a practised pop and took two glasses out of the cupboard. They weren’t champagne glasses but they would have to suffice.
As he filled the second glass, the intercom buzzed. Jamie smiled to himself and picked up the handset, which was mounted on the wall beside him. She was coming to help him celebrate the fact that he had finally secured a deal to write two children’s books, realising a life-long dream of his.
‘Hi,’ she said, the sound of her voice making his insides flutter for the first time in a very long while. ‘It’s me, Liv.’
Acknowledgements
I simply wouldn’t have had a clue where to start in Hollywood if it wasn’t for the help of Vickie White, Nigel Stoneman, Carla Romano and Natalka Znak – thank you all for your valuable insights.
I am also indebted to Sharon Osbourne, who was as “fabulous” as ever in LA and generously shared her experiences as a Brit living the high life in Tinseltown.
The biggest thanks goes to my old friend Jacqui Moore, who flew in from New York to act as chauffeur, chaperone, tour guide, running buddy and dining companion. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as much as I did during our time in LA. Thanks Jaqs!
