Tell me more about you . . . where’s your favourite place to visit? I love Italy, pretty much any part of it.
Andrew
I froze as a jolt of pain passed through my chest. Not only had I betrayed Megan’s trust and hurt her, I’d also formed a bond with Andrew under false pretences and was about to sever that too, after all he’d been through. I pictured his beautiful face washed with the same anguish as Megan’s. I was a monster.
I put my head in my hands and allowed hot tears to streak down my face. The ugly, smudged make-up all over my skin served to mark how repulsive I’d become on the inside. I felt like I was losing all sense of control, and control was what I did best. I was calm in a crisis; I always knew what to do in a situation. I didn’t cause the situations, for goodness’ sake.
The sound of the front door slamming made me jump. James? I quickly rubbed my face with the sleeve of my dark sweater and closed the screen of my laptop as I heard heavy footsteps plod into the kitchen. It was gone ten, and I’d presumed James was working upstairs when I’d come in. I came over all panicky and picked up a golf umbrella that stood next to the French doors of the orangery. Slowly, I crept through the lounge towards the kitchen and peered around the doorframe, relaxing when I saw that it was James. Something stopped me from walking in and greeting him. His slow, clumsy movements looked odd. Then it hit me – he was drunk. I placed the umbrella down and walked in.
‘James?’
He looked up slowly from a piece of bread that he was buttering. His tie was loose around his neck and the top button of his shirt was open. It was very un-James. ‘Charlotte,’ he mumbled, taking a bite.
‘Have you been drinking?’ I needn’t have asked; the closer I got to him, the stronger he smelt. ‘Have you been smoking too?’ I asked before he had time to answer.
‘I’ve been for a drink with some of the guys from work,’ he slurred.
‘On a Saturday?’ It struck me as odd they’d meet up on a weekend when they spent so much time together during the week. Thursday drinks happened occasionally but James usually grumbled about them.
‘The case is all coming together well, so we wanted to celebrate.’
I was confused. ‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’ We weren’t the kind of couple who just went out without telling the other where we were going.
‘You were out; you’re always out,’ he said, in a bitter tone that took me aback. James never spoke to me that way.
‘I . . . I shouted up to you. I told you I was going to Megan’s.’
‘Whatever.’ He shoved the last of his bread into his mouth and walked out of the room shooting a look that impaled me.
I’d never seen James that way before. It must be stress – the case and everything must have finally got to him and the best thing to do was to let him cool off and sober up. It would all be better in the morning.
Things were always better in the morning.
Chapter Eight
I woke with an odd sensation in my stomach. James had slept in the guest room, and I hadn’t objected. He’d needed time to cool off and think – we both did. But once the sun came up, the little tiff, or whatever it had been, felt silly. I pulled my dressing gown tightly around me as I went to see if he was still sleeping in the spare room. Strangely, the bed was made. Not ‘James’ made, but fifteen-pounds-an-hour ‘maid’ made, with perfectly placed scatter cushions that James would never have thought to put back on. Yet, Janine hadn’t been few a few days. How odd. Perhaps he’d ended up crashing on the sofa. I went downstairs to investigate. There was no sign of him there either, so I went to put on some coffee and spotted a note on the breakfast bar.
Gone for a run then popping into work. Needed to clear my head – we’ll talk later. J x
A run? With a hangover? I shook my head. Despite everything, I had to admire that. With all that had gone on, I’d neglected my own exercise routine. Once he’d had his space, he’d be fine. The whole Megan thing was concerning me more. The image of her contorted face was ingrained in my mind and I couldn’t shake the guilt in knowing I’d caused that. She didn’t deserve the betrayal I’d caused and I didn’t deserve a friend like her.
I couldn’t manage breakfast so had my coffee then busied myself with household chores to take my mind off the whole Megan, Sam, and James thing from the night before. As I went to shove some washing in the machine, I noticed a load already done. I was surprised James could even work the darn thing – I’d seen no evidence in the past – but since I’d emptied it the day before, it must have been him. I pulled out the washing. ‘Black and white – together. James, you idiot!’ I mumbled. Just as I was sorting what it was, the intercom went. ‘Bugger.’
I threw the pile down and answered it. It was James’s mother. Double bugger.
‘Frances, how lovely of you to drop by,’ I said sweetly as I opened the door.
She looked me over disapprovingly and I bristled. ‘Not dressed yet?’ She shook her head as she barged past. ‘Where’s James?’
‘He’s gone out for a run, then he’s popping into work.’
She didn’t reply, but instead gave an irritating smirk that said it all – she might as well have said ‘that’s ma boy’ and punched the air. She made me feel sick, or perhaps I actually just felt sick. I wasn’t sure. ‘I was just catching up on some washing,’ I said.
‘Don’t let me stop you.’ She shooed me towards the kitchen and followed behind me to the utility room. ‘Oh, Charlotte, you’ve put a white shirt in with blacks!’ she said, incredulously.
I started to separate them to see why on earth James had mixed the washing like that. ‘Actually, it wasn’t m—’ It wasn’t just any old collection of black and white clothing; it was one of his dry-clean-only Hugo Boss suits. Why the hell had he thrown all his clothes in the washer? He must have thrown up all over himself.
‘Well, that’s ruined,’ Frances said disapprovingly, holding up the crinkled, crisp jacket; its arms now hanging shapelessly at different lengths. ‘A powerful man needs a powerful suit.’ She tutted. ‘It’s merely your job to deposit and collect it from the dry-cleaner’s.
She made my blood boil. I’d had enough. ‘Well, maybe a powerful man shouldn’t stagger home in a drunken stupor and throw his vomit-stained, dry-clean-only clothes in on a sixty-degree wash!’ I threw my hands in the air. ‘And, besides that, it isn’t my job to take your son’s suit to the dry-cleaner’s, Frances, it’s not nineteen-bloody-fifty!’
Frances looked a little taken aback. After a moment, she took a deep breath. ‘I’ll catch James on his mobile phone since you’re a little out of sorts today.’ And with that, she left.
I slumped against the washer; my whole body was shaking. I’d never stood up to Frances before. I’d always bitten my tongue to keep the peace. It didn’t feel as good as it should have. With everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, I could have probably powered a small village with the energy generated from the turning waterwheel in my stomach. I took a deep breath. I needed to compartmentalise my brain. I marked Megan as ‘urgent’, Frances as ‘to deal with at a later date’ and James, well, had some explaining to do when he got home.
I threw his misshapen suit and now-grey shirt on the draining board and continued my chores. As the day passed, I checked my phone frequently to see if Megan had been in touch but she hadn’t. At quarter past three, just as I was making a cup of green tea, my phone buzzed. I dashed to it like a child to a Christmas present. My chest thumped. To my surprise, it was James.
What on earth did you say to my mother?
My heart rate picked up until it reached my ears, deafening me with each beat. It wasn’t the conversation I was expecting to have and struggled to decipher my emotions. I wasn’t sure if I was angry, shocked by his tone, or scared I’d upset him. I wasn’t sure of anything at all other than the fact I suddenly felt very sick.
I ran to the downstairs loo and managed to get there just in time before I vomited. When I sat ba
ck down shakily at the breakfast bar, I took deep breaths, gathered my thoughts, and calmed myself down. It was almost funny really like fate had been tempted because my life had been so blissful for so long. Maybe it was a test, a hurdle to overcome and then things would go back to normal. They would definitely be back to normal soon.
I had two options. Option one: storm down to James’s office and give him a dressing-down about his attitude and behaviour and tell him I’ve had enough of his working all hours and enough of his bloody mother. Or there was option two: go down to his office with a peace offering and put the whole sorry affair behind us. Only one of these options would restore normality quickly.
After transforming myself into a presentable state, I spent an hour on the internet arranging a special something for James before printing it off and setting off to his office. On the way there I felt much better, excited even. I’d apologise, he’d apologise, and then I’d whip the surprise out of my bag and he’d be so ecstatic. Maybe things would even get a little steamy if nobody else was about, since the office was technically closed on a Sunday.
Once I’d parked and made my way to the Emsworth, Haiden & Haiden offices, I tried the door and was surprised to find it unlocked so instead of buzzing the intercom, I just made my way inside. It would be a better surprise.
The place was deathly silent, and I made a mental note to remind James to lock the door when he was there alone, otherwise anybody could walk in, a robber, a drug addict! Who knew? It was the centre of town after all. As I approached his door, the strong sillage of an unmistakable scent hung in the air – Creed Aventus. He was definitely there. Bubbles of excitement fizzed and popped in my chest. I couldn’t wait to give him my surprise. I placed a hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath.
‘Surprise!’ I said, waltzing through the door with a huge smile on my face that I knew he’d find hard to say cross at.
James’s face fell as he looked up from whatever he was doing on his phone and my stomach sank. That wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for. Perhaps he was still mad.
‘I’ve . . . come to say sorry . . .’ My words faltered a little as his reaction caught me off-guard. I closed the door behind me in case anyone else was in the office and stepped forward.
‘It’s fine. Look, Charlotte, I’m busy here. Can we talk later? I really must get on.’ He spoke quickly and his tone was icy.
I was taken aback; I hadn’t expected him to still be angry – it was just a silly tiff. ‘Of course, I just have something for y—’ The door burst open and cut me off.
‘I’m ready for you to check my clauses—’ a breathy voice said as a flash of flesh and hair burst in. Legs strode apart and not a stitch of clothes, aside from a mac – which she was holding open – and a pair of stilettoes.
‘I think you have the wrong office!’ I blurted at her, shocked. How dare she? ‘Well, does this look like a brothel? Get out!’ I shrieked, glaring at her, but she didn’t move. That’s when I looked at her properly and then at James as the pair of them stared at each other. Blinded by her nakedness, I’d missed her face.
‘Samantha?’
Clasping my hand to my mouth before a scream could escape, I scurried past her, accidentally knocking into her naked frontage as I did. I needed air and there didn’t seem to be any in Emsworth, Haiden & Haiden. I had to get outside.
‘Charlotte!’ I heard James yell, but I carried on. I was practically running at that point and I didn’t look back until I was in my car with the doors locked. Safely alone, I heaved out a flood of tears. My sickness re-emerged as I desperately tried to open the window. I vomited between sobs, but this time nothing came out. My chest felt tight and I was finding it hard to breathe as the image of Samantha’s flesh appeared stage-front in my mind. I could still feel her on me after knocking into her; it was nauseating. The air was hot, and I couldn’t seem to get enough of it into my lungs. It felt like I was going to pass out.
I was having a panic attack. I heaved at the air whilst clutching the steering wheel. I hadn’t had one since I’d sat my exams at university and back then, I’d had a technique taught to me by a lecturer. I tried to remember the method. List five things you can see. My eyes darted about; cars – breathe; lights – breathe; people – breathe; shops – breathe; and a naked fucking bitch . . . Gasp, gasp, gasp.
There was a loud banging sound. Someone was knocking on the window. It was a man, and he didn’t look like an axe-wielding maniac so I let the window down a little further. The fresh air felt good.
‘You okay, love?’ he asked.
‘I will be, thanks,’ I said, waving him off. Can’t a girl have a panic attack in peace?
I got back to my technique. Four things you can touch. The leather seat – breathe; the dashboard – breathe; the walnut panelling – breathe. And the mother-fucking-steering-wheel – I punctuated each word by banging my head against it.
Three things you can hear. The engine noise – breathe; the street noise – breathe; and her honeyed voice – ‘I’m ready for you to check my clauses.’
Two things you can smell. Creed Aventus and some awful floral crap, which still lingered in my nose.
One thing you can taste. Rejection.
Eventually, my breathing slowed and I started the engine and drove home; it was time to prepare dinner.
Chapter Nine
James arrived home about an hour after me. I assumed he’d seen to his needs before locking up. The very thought made my stomach churn. Flashes of imagination kept bursting into my head uninvited. No amount of veg-chopping had managed to keep them at bay but it wasn’t for lack of trying – I’d amassed enough chopped carrots to supply a school canteen.
‘I have some explaining to do,’ he said, keeping a safe distance from me as he entered the kitchen. His head was lowered but he managed to look me in the eye for a moment.
‘We’ll eat first.’ I placed a steaming plate of lamb chops and vegetables down in front of him. He eyed it with suspicion. ‘It’s okay, I haven’t laced it with cyanide or anything.’
‘I didn’t think that you would have, I just . . .’ He didn’t finish whatever it was he was going to say. It didn’t really matter. Lamb chops were on the Sunday menu this week so lamb chops were served.
We sat at opposite ends of the dining table and ate in silence. I found the meat hard to swallow; it was as though my throat had narrowed, closed up almost, and its walls had turned to Velcro, clinging desperately to everything I tried to force down. I sipped my water, pushed my plate to the side and watched him tuck in heartily. Listening to him chew grated on me. Every mouthful he took, I found myself wishing would choke him. I took a breath and carried my plate to the bin where I scraped in the lot, knowing full well it would rattle him. He hated food waste and always loved an extra chop. He remained silent.
‘Charlotte, we should get this out in the open now. This . . . silence, it’s juvenile. We should address the situation at hand like adults.’
‘Address the situation at hand? What situation might you be referring to? It appears you’ve been “addressing situations” that are a little beyond your remit recently,’ I hissed. ‘Do you even have a big case on or was that a lie?’
He swallowed hard enough that I could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down, but he didn’t speak. I huffed. ‘You don’t even have an excuse!’ I shook my head. ‘That was Sam’s wife! He suspected she was having an affair – not with you, mind. The poor man has been out of his mind with worry.’
‘You’ve just caught me cheating and you’re bothered about Sam?’
I glared at him. ‘I’m not the type to wallow in self-pity. You know that. Sam will be distraught, but you don’t care about him, either of you – you’re just out for yourselves. No wonder you were too tired to try for a baby. You disgust me!’ I barricaded my tear ducts with a force I didn’t know I had. James would not see me cry.
‘There it is,’ he said, almost smugly, as though my anger would in some way be a step towar
ds putting this little hiccup behind us.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to react. I’d seen movie reactions and I’d read books about scorned lovers, but my instinct wasn’t to throw plates or slap him across the face. I didn’t know how to react because I felt numb. Was it even real?
‘I can’t deal with you right now. Why don’t you go and call your mother back? Tell her what you’ve been up to,’ I said with a sideward glance, before heading up to the master suite and locking the door.
As I lay on the bed, my stomach was still knotted. Perhaps I’d known all along, subconsciously or something. Or perhaps it was the prospect of telling Sam about my discovery. I needed someone to talk to. Usually, that would be Kate or James, or more recently, Megan. Since Kate was still on her romantic break in Paris, I had no choice. I pressed Megan’s name on my phone’s screen and let it ring. With each ring that went unanswered, I thought about hanging up. Megan wouldn’t care about James’s cheating – she’d probably think I deserved it. But I convinced myself she’d want to know for Sam’s sake and that’s what stopped me cancelling the call.
‘What is it, Charlotte?’ she answered wearily, but at least she’d answered.
‘Megan, I don’t know where to start.’
‘How about starting with an explanation. Why did you lie to me?’
I didn’t even know. All I knew was that at the time, I’d genuinely thought it was the right thing to do. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered, before managing to find some strength in my voice. ‘I thought it was better to find out for yourself because I thought it would save you the embarrassment of others knowing your business and give you the chance to process it all and tell people when you were ready.’
‘Or you could have saved me from seeing them together. You could have prevented that pain by letting me down gently.’
‘I know.’ My whisper of a voice faltered. She was right. There was no way I’d be able to shake the image of Samantha’s naked body from my mind for a while.
Who Needs Men Anyway? Page 11
