By My Side

by Alice Peterson

  I shake my head. ‘No. I’m a disaster in that area.’

  ‘You and Charlie will work it out.’

  ‘Pass the milk, would you?’

  Jamie slides the jug across the table. ‘So why’s his bonkers sister driving all this way to see you? Mum said we had to be out of the house or something.’

  I decide to tell Jamie everything. ‘Jeez,’ he says at the end, ‘you heard all that.’

  ‘Exactly. I’m dreading seeing her.’

  ‘It’ll be all right. I hope she’s bringing one mega box of chocolates to say sorry,’ he adds.

  When Anna arrives, Ticket greets her in the drive. ‘Aren’t you handsome,’ she says.

  As I watch her stroking him, I’m overwhelmed by her presence. She is stunning. Her cropped hair is now dyed back from blonde to its original brunette and she looks chic even in cropped jeans and a simple navy jacket.

  ‘What a lovely home,’ she remarks, following me into the kitchen. She looks out of the window to the view of horses in a field. ‘It’s beautiful countryside down here.’

  I turn on the kettle. Anna talks about her journey from London and how she got stuck behind a tractor for what seemed like hours.

  ‘Have your parents lived here a long time?’ she asks, when I hand her a mug of tea.

  ‘Since I was sixteen.’

  ‘Charlie and I worry about Mum and Dad, you know, that they’re getting old and the house is too big for them, but …’

  ‘Would you like to sit down,’ I suggest.

  She takes off her jacket and pulls out a chair.

  When I join her, she now comments on the grey day. As she continues to moan about the British weather, all I can think of is: when are you going to get to the point? I gulp down some tea, burning the roof of my mouth. ‘Anna …’ I say, stopping her mid-flow.

  ‘No, wait, Cass. Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m nervous,’ she confesses, fidgeting with the strap of her handbag. ‘You know why I’m here.’

  ‘Not really,’ I admit, ‘although I know it’s not to talk about the weather. Does Charlie know you’re here?’

  ‘No! He’d kill me. Please don’t tell him, Cass.’

  I twist my hair round and round, waiting for her to say whatever she’s come here to say. It takes some time.

  ‘I should have come sooner,’ she says finally. ‘I haven’t stopped thinking about what I said. I can’t imagine what it must have been like hearing us arguing over you.’

  ‘It wasn’t nice.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say except Mum and me, we didn’t mean to hurt you.’ She chews her thumbnail, taps her foot against the stone floor. ‘Seriously, Cass, I can’t defend myself except … I do love Charlie and want him to be happy.’

  ‘That’s all I want too,’ I say, raising my voice. I stop playing with my hair; I try to compose myself as I ask, ‘How is he?’

  ‘Terrible,’ she says. ‘He’s staying late at the office most nights, eating takeaway at his desk. Rich is worried about him. So am I. He still won’t talk to Mum.’

  ‘I think what upset me more than anything was your mum suggesting that I was holding Charlie back, sort of trapping him.’

  ‘Stop!’ Anna says. ‘What Rich said was true. We behaved badly. I was prejudiced, and Mum and I hadn’t given you a chance or really seen you and Charlie together. I’d swanned back from New York and had no business to poke my nose into your relationship with my brother.’

  I can almost hear Rich saying that.

  ‘I’m selfish and vain and ignorant and have never had to deal with anything serious or had to show any kind of strength, and you are a million times the person I am.’ She looks at me with genuine remorse. ‘The list goes on, according to Rich.’

  ‘You care about what he thinks, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t blame you. He’s lovely.’ I’m touched by how much Rich has been a true friend to me despite the long history he has with Anna and his strong bond with their family.

  She leans towards me. ‘I want to put things right. I don’t want to be that person Rich described. Do you think you can ever forgive me, that maybe we could become friends?’

  ‘I was about to take Ticket for a walk. Would you like to join us?’

  She smiles. ‘I’d love to.’

  49

  I take a break from studying at the kitchen table. I hear the familiar sound of hooves. I look out of the window, wave at Emily riding past. On our walk yesterday, Anna had asked me if I’d call Charlie. ‘He misses you.’

  ‘I miss him too, but it’s complicated.’

  ‘That’s what Rich keeps on saying. Charlie doesn’t want to hurt you again, but Cass, clearly he loves you and you love him.’

  ‘So he hasn’t called then?’ Mum says, entering the kitchen.

  I look away from the telephone. ‘Who?’

  ‘Charlie Chaplin.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sorry, darling.’ She turns the kettle on. ‘I’ve just been talking to Mrs Henderson.’ Mrs Henderson has become a close friend and neighbour of Mum and Dad’s. She was the one who asked me to type her memoirs. I wrote her a postcard from Colorado, telling her what her wages had paid for. ‘She’s in a right old twit because her basin’s blocked.’

  ‘Oh, great.’

  ‘I told her Michael would go round later with his plunger and sort it all out.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘And I’m going to jump off a cliff right now. With Ticket.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  Mum sits down next to me, scratches her arm. ‘Cassandra Brooks, you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.’ Pause. ‘Cassandra!’ Mum prods my arm.

  ‘Ouch! What?’

  ‘You’re in the clouds again and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out why.’

  ‘I was … er … thinking about lunch. I’m starving.’

  ‘Sometimes you are so like me,’ Mum says, crossing her arms with resignation. ‘You act all tough and pretend nothing’s wrong, but inside it’s a whole different story. Everyone thinks I wear the trousers in this family.’

  I raise an eyebrow.

  ‘It took me a long time to admit I needed your father, that it’s OK to be vulnerable. I know you miss him like mad, I know you love him.’

  ‘I didn’t think time apart would be this hard,’ I confess, wondering how people survived during the world wars. Edward tells me I was right to break up with him.

  Mum nods. ‘You did the right thing though.’

  Here we go again. ‘Did I?’

  ‘You stood up for yourself. That takes courage.’

  ‘Yeah, but maybe I’ve lost him.’

  ‘Cass, you had to have this time apart,’ she says. ‘What’s that saying?’ She pauses. ‘If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they’re yours.’

  *

  In the afternoon Ticket and I go for a walk. On our way home, my mobile rings. When his name appears on my screen, I freeze.

  ‘How are you?’ he says.

  ‘I’m good, thanks.’ My heart is thumping. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m good too.’

  There’s an abnormally long silence between us.

  ‘I’ve wanted to call for some time,’ Charlie says. ‘There are things I need to say. Can we meet up?’

  50

  Sarah and I go to an exhibition at the V&A on Saturday morning. We then attempt to go clothes shopping in High Street Kensington, but quickly give up as it’s too crowded with aggressive shoppers and mums pushing twins in giant buggies. We end up having lunch in a crowded wine bar instead. We talk about my returning to King’s. Sarah fills me in on year four and five, those sleepless nights close to exams, and sore backs after lugging heavy library books home. ‘Oh but, Cass, it’s worth it,’ she assures me. ‘Gibraltar was one of the friendliest places I’ve ever been to, such a strange little “British” paradise where everybody speaks this mix-up of Spanish and English, and the
weather was glorious except that thanks to the rock the sun sets on one side of the territory at five in the afternoon, and then there’s this strange cloud that settles over everything when the wind blows east …’

  I push my plate aside, distracted.

  ‘Are you listening?’ she says, sounding like my mum.

  ‘Sorry. What were you saying?’

  Sarah looks at me with disapproval. ‘Never mind. I saw that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Giving Ticket your lunch. No man is worth starving for. Besides –’ Sarah gestures to the menu – ‘it’s a rip-off this place. About a pound a mouthful.’

  ‘I’m nervous.’

  ‘Oh, Cass, don’t be. This is good. One of you had to make the first move, and I’m glad it was Charlie.’

  *

  I’m outside the Serpentine Gallery. I’m developing Dad’s habit of arriving early. My mobile vibrates and for a moment I dread that it’s Charlie cancelling. ‘Good luck,’ Sarah texts. ‘Thinking of you. Call me later. X’

  As I wait with Ticket, I think about the time when Charlie had taken me on our scooter ride through the mountains. I smile, picturing us fooling around on his parents’ lawn, Charlie carrying me in his arms, pretending to be a horse in the Grand National. Then I see us at the sink, when he’d burned his hand.

  I think about the way Charlie hadn’t hesitated to pick me up from Sarah’s boyfriend’s party, when he could have easily said, ‘I told you so.’ But that isn’t Charlie’s style. Carefully he’d carried me downstairs, Ticket behind us. ‘It’s all right, Cass, we’re taking you home.’

  When I see him approaching, carrying his old leather rucksack, Ticket rushes towards him, wagging his tail. ‘Hello, Ticket!’ I watch Charlie stroking him, grateful how Ticket always breaks the ice. He looks up and we both smile. ‘Cass,’ he says, taking my hand, ‘it’s so good to see you.’

  ‘You too.’

  ‘Shall we walk?’ he says.

  *

  Charlie asks me how I feel about returning to King’s. ‘Good,’ I say. ‘And how have you been?’ I ask, when all I want to do is talk about us.

  ‘I’ve signed up for a photography course.’ He glances at me, warmth in his eyes.

  ‘Maybe you’ll become the new Mario Testino,’ I say.

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘You’re very talented, Charlie.’

  As we head towards the Serpentine Lake, Charlie digs his hands deep into his pockets. ‘The house feels quiet without you and Ticket,’ he says, staring ahead.

  I’ve missed you. Why can’t I say that?

  ‘You were right,’ he continues. ‘We needed time apart. What I said that morning, about life being easier if I was with Jo … I didn’t even realise I felt that way, until I’d said it. Does that make sense?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I say, fighting back the tears, fearing it’s over between us.

  He turns to me. ‘You see, the thing is our family has led pretty sheltered lives. I’m not saying we’ve had nothing to deal with, but … well, all Mum has had to put up with is a rebellious daughter and a useless son. I’m not making any excuses for her, or for myself, but Mum didn’t set out to hurt you.’ He pauses. ‘Nor did I.’

  ‘I know that, Charlie. I do, but—’

  ‘Cass, wait. Let me finish. I know I said I’d rather go out with someone who wasn’t in a wheelchair. That might sound hurtful, and I’m sorry, it just came out that way because I was angry.’ He kneels down beside me. ‘I wish you could walk and run and do all those things that most of us take for granted.’ He gestures to an ancient-looking man practising some kind of Tai Chi under a tree, a group of cyclists riding past, a woman jogging with her dog alongside her. ‘Sometimes I get so angry that I can’t do more, that … I’m still not making any sense, am I?’

  I shake my head.

  He unties his rucksack, where he normally keeps his camera, and hands me a small parcel wrapped in brown paper.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Open it.’

  Charlie watches as I unwrap it. The sound of paper rustling brings Ticket by my side, thinking it could be treats. ‘A first-aid box?’ I say, even more confused now.

  ‘Carry on.’

  I open the box. The first thing I see is a Starbucks card.

  ‘I figured when you’re a student again, it might come in handy.’

  I pick up a photograph of Charlie in between his mother and Anna, with a small dart attached to it. I look up at him and smile. Beneath that is a photograph of me in Colorado, skiing without my reins. ‘Earplugs?’ I say.

  ‘When I’m annoying you, or snoring.’ He raises an eyebrow.

  There’s a bag of mint fresh treats for Ticket.

  Finally, there’s an envelope. I open it, aware of Charlie so close to me. ‘Dear Cass,’ he writes. ‘I miss not eating spaghetti with you at our local and I miss my copy of the Big Issue. But most of all, I miss you.’

  ‘Oh, Charlie,’ I say.

  ‘That morning, when you walked in with Rich,’ he says, ‘you didn’t hear what I was going to say next. You missed the “but” part.’

  ‘So tell me now,’ I ask gently.

  ‘I was going to say how much I loved you and that I hadn’t felt this way about anyone before.’

  I watch as he digs something out of his jacket pocket. He hands me my old keys to his house. I wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my cardigan. ‘Please come home, Cass.’

  I throw my arms around him.

  ‘Don’t cry, Cass,’ he says tearfully, holding on to me.

  ‘I can’t help it.’

  ‘Is that a yes?’ he asks, brushing a strand of hair away from my eyes. ‘You’ll come home?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘A million times, yes.’

  51

  Two weeks before Christmas

  Dear Cass, I read at the kitchen table. Happy Christmas! All our love, Dom, Miranda, and Lucas Guy. PS. We’re all sleep deprived but doing well and little LG would love to see you soon to show off his impressive vocal cords. Love to Charlie too – hope all is Ticketyboo between you (sorry, dreadful joke).

  Charlie enters the room as I open the next envelope. ‘It’s like a card shop in here,’ he mutters, heading straight for the coffee machine. ‘By the way, we need to get going pretty soon.’ He looks at his watch; it’s early on a Saturday morning. ‘You know what Mum gets like if we’re late for lunch.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ I say. ‘Frankie and Tom have bought a dog!’

  Tom and I went round Battersea Dogs Home and fell in love with her. She’s a bit of this, bit of that, but she’s perfect and we’re calling her Bean, because she jumps up all the time. I’ll have to train her in the New Year not to pull me out of my wheelchair! Lots of trips to the park with Ticket in 2013!

  ‘That’s great,’ Charlie says, the coffee machine gurgling.

  Captain and I are off to my sister’s in Cornwall, writes Jenny. I hope it snows, because Captain has a whale of a time, we love building snowmen.

  Happy Xmas! Cilla sends her love to Ticket. Thanks for visiting me last month with Medalman.

  ‘She means Edward,’ I say, when Charlie sits down next to me and reads the card. ‘Have you packed?’ He asks.

  ‘Yep. All I need to do is get your mum some flowers or something, then I’m ready,’ I say, gathering my handbag and Ticket’s lead.

  ‘I thought you’d bought Mum the scarf?’

  ‘This is a tiny extra. Give me twenty minutes.’

  Charlie grins. ‘That means at least thirty.’

  *

  ‘Hello, my friend! Where have you been?’ Big Issue man asks me outside Sainsbury’s, stroking Ticket. He’s wearing a dodgy woolly Christmas reindeer hat that he tells me was a present from his two girls.

  ‘Well, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in months!’

  ‘I asked you first,’ he says with a broad smile.

  I f
ill Big Issue man in on everything that’s been going on in my life in the past eight months, including my break-up with Charlie and moving back to Dorset.

  ‘But we’re back together,’ I say. ‘In fact I’m going down to stay with his parents this weekend, before Christmas.’ I gesture to the box of Belgian chocolates in my shopping bag.

  ‘It sounds like a soap opera, man!’ He laughs. ‘But seriously, I’m well pleased for you. You deserve to be happy, my friend.’

  ‘Your turn now,’ I say, aware a queue is forming behind me.

  ‘I’ve been on a different patch, not nearly so friendly as here but someone took this spot for a while.’ He shrugs his shoulders. ‘Also been sorting out my kids. I’ve been talking to the council, to see if we can get a bigger flat. It got too cramped so Mum’s been looking after them, but I want to have them back at home full-time. I miss them, man.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘It must be hard.’

  He nods. ‘I’ve been taking my girls to church every Sunday. I’ve been saying a few prayers to the good Lord.’

  Quite a crowd are now lining up behind me. ‘You have fans. You should be on stage. You should sing,’ I say, remembering his version of Louis Armstrong’s ‘Wonderful World’.

  ‘You think? I haven’t thought about that.’

  I buy two copies of the Big Issue. ‘Well, maybe you should. Happy Christmas …’ I pause, realising after all this time I don’t know his name.

  ‘Patrick,’ he says. ‘Happy Christmas to you too, my friend.’

  *

  It’s Sunday morning and Charlie and I are in bed. ‘We need to get up,’ I say sleepily.

  ‘In a minute,’ he says, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing me. ‘I wish we could stay in bed all day.’

  ‘So do I. But your mum might have something to say about that. And Ticket.’

  ‘Just ten minutes longer then?’

  We kiss again. ‘Ten minutes couldn’t hurt,’ I say.

  After our time is up, ‘Another five minutes,’ he suggests. Charlie lifts my face to his. ‘I’ve never been so happy,’ he tells me.

  ‘Nor have I.’

  *

  ‘How’s the studying going, Cass?’ Mary asks me in the kitchen over breakfast, pouring the coffee. I catch her stroking Ticket under the table, and feeding him a toast crust.