I mean, that’s not my Charlotte.
I’m going to the counsellor tonight for myself and I’ll speak to her then.
For now, I have to get back to my list.
I actually enjoy my job. Okay, I don’t want to do it forever, but I’m enjoying it now. I like shopping when it’s for other people. There is no real pressure, you don't have to think what's for dinner and have I got eggs, or, but we had chicken last night and the night before… there’s none of that going through my head.
I just have to choose the best.
And I do.
There are regular customers that ask for me - or rather, they ring customer service and ask if the lady they had this week can do them from now on, but unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that.
I like the peek into other people's lives too.
I play a little game with myself with each list, I try to work the person out and then I check to see if I’m right at the end.
I never really got into the VAT on sanitary products debate, but I’m starting to now – this one I can’t work out, it must be for a school nurse, or someone who had female sextuplets 13 years ago and they all menstruate at the same time, but don’t like the same things.
There are tampons and pads with wings, thick ones, thin ones and pads without wings and night time pads (four packets). I wonder if I should add some iron vitamins as the free bonus. There’s half a trolley of chocolate, hot chocolate and chocolate biscuits – I choose her bonus present, because she’s spent (well) over a hundred pounds, as carefully as I would if I was choosing for myself.
School nurse, I’ve decided and I check to see if I’m right. But my shoulders sag when I see it’s Geraldine Field’s order (Brown Owl) and I realise she must be taking them camping.
Why didn’t I think of that?
But aren’t Brownies a bit young to be menstruating? Though I suppose Brown Owl, of all people, has to Be Prepared.
Maybe she’s taking the Guides camping?
Charlotte hasn’t got hers yet.
Maybe that’s it!
Maybe Charlotte’s hormonal.
Maybe that’s what’s wrong, I console myself and I get onto the next order.
Because something is wrong.
She’s not talking to me and last night she wet the bed and I just don’t know how best to deal with it.
I told her it wasn’t a problem, I told her it would sort and she told me she didn’t need any advice on bedwetting from a woman who shits herself.
Yes, she said that.
It was then that she told me to fuck off.
I’m at work now and I have to work, I can’t just fold up like I want to.
I just have to carry on.
This guy’s single – you can tell by what’s in the trolley.
Bread
Bacon
Coffee
Orange juice
Milk
Cornflakes
Frozen dinners x7
And so on, you can just tell.
Macadamia nuts
I know who this is.
I scroll through the list and there is the wine that he drinks and the deodorant he uses. I know, because I know his smell and I stand in the toiletry aisle and I squirt some into the air and I smell him again. I know that it’s Luke I’m shopping for; I don’t need to check his name.
But I do.
Jess was right.
He is out shagging for England.
Condoms X2. What the hell does he need two packets for? It’s a weekly shop!
I want to leave them off the list.
I want to ration them at least, so he only gets one packet.
I am not getting lube for him.
I AM NOT.
I look and he’s ticked the box, so I choose a suitable alternative.
Deep Heat!
If they pull me up about it, I’ll just act all innocent, I’ll tell them I thought lube was for massaging injuries.
It’s not just his favourite tipple either that he’s ordered. I put in his selection and I am savage as I add four bottles of chardonnay to his sex laden trolley– because I know he hates it.
Then it’s off to the home-wear section. I get to choose sheets for him, because he’s too lazy to wash them and probably wants nice clean sheets for his chardonnay drinking tart. I’ve just finished putting his order through when I hear my name.
‘Lucy…’ Yolanda comes over, we’ve become friends and try to get the same lunch breaks and we’re going to the pictures at the weekend. ‘You’ve got a phone call, love.’
I frown, because who’d be ringing me at work?
When I pick up the phone my frown deepens because it’s the school.
CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR
‘Luke?’ I close my eyes when I get home and the phone is ringing. I hear his voice, I’m tired, I’m upset, it’s been a shit of a morning. I’ve just sat in the headmaster’s office listening to the names Charlotte’s called Felicity and I don’t know how I’m going to face Simone. I don’t want to deal with Luke today; I don’t want to, because I might break down, I might just beg him to come over.
I might.
I can’t.
We haven’t spoken in weeks.
Make that months.
Not since I slammed down the phone that time.
‘What do you want?
‘To speak to you.’ He sounds brusque, annoyed. ‘Are you aware that Charlotte’s having trouble at school?’
‘I know.’ Bloody Facebook – Luke must have seen it. ‘I've just come back from the headmaster, apparently Charlotte’s been cyber bullying.’
‘Bullshit,’ Luke says.
‘No, I've seen some of the conversations, one of the mum’s printed it off…’
‘What about the way those girls have been to her?’ He demands. ‘What did they have to say about that?’
‘What girls?’ I say. ‘It’s Charlotte that’s doing the bullying.’
‘Hasn't she told you?’ I can hear his angry breath and it’s starting to dawn on me that he’s not ringing me to find out if she’s in trouble, he’s ringing to tell me that she is. ‘Do you not see what goes on on there Lucy?’
‘She won’t let me.’
‘Then don't let her on it.’
He doesn't get it, he doesn't have kids and it shows, but I know that he’s right too - I used to be so much more careful with it, I used to hover over her shoulder. She used to tell me what was happening, who she was talking to, what was going on.
‘What’s going on?’ I’m embarrassed that I have to ask Luke what's going on with my own daughter.
‘It’s Charlotte that’s being bullied.’
‘How would you know?’ I bristle.
‘Because I'm her friend on Facebook,’ Luke says. ‘I try not to interfere and to stay back because I know that if I say anything she's just going to unfriend me. I'd rather know and not like it, than not know at all. I know you’ve taken Jess’s side and I get that – I understand that you two are friends. Charlotte is my goddaughter though, and I'm not going to step back when I can see she's hurting.’
‘I’m trying to get on her page,’ I tell Luke – I’ve been sitting on the computer since I got home. ‘I've tried every password I could think she might use.’
‘There’s nothing up there,’ Luke says. ‘They take it down straight away, or Charlotte deletes it.’
‘So what things do they say?’
There’s the longest pause. ‘I’m on my way.’
It takes forty minutes for him to get here. I know then how much I've changed, because the old me would have rushed up to the bathroom to sort out my hair and make up, would've done a quick tidy of my already immaculate house. Instead I spend another frantic forty minutes trying to log onto Charlotte’s Facebook and going through her room, it's only when Luke arrives that I become conscious of how I look.
I know I look a mess, and I'm conscious too of the state of the house, all the breakfast things are still over the
benches and there are coffee cups and magazines everywhere. Things aren’t sliding again I want to tell him, that was because I had another row with Charlotte, that’s why the house looks like a before shot.
Except it's after.
He's not looking so hot either – he hasn't shaved this morning and his shirt’s a bit crumpled. I guess living alone, or living the bachelor life is taking its toll, or perhaps just some getting used to.
‘Make a drink,’ Luke says and I remember that I haven't had one since breakfast. ‘Then we'll talk.’
He's actually very calming, in that he doesn't dash to the computer, or blurt out what's happening. I make a drink but when I walk in the living room I can see his face is serious, really serious.
I know this isn’t good.
‘There's a girl, Felicity,’ Luke starts. ‘She posted a couple of things on Charlotte’s wall - I can't even remember what they were, but they weren’t nice - they weren’t outright horrible but a few people liked them.’ He looks at me. ‘You do know what like is?’
‘Sort of,’ I lie.
So I'm given a brief lesson on social networking - it would seem that Felicity said something a little bit mean and a few of Charlotte's friends ticked that they liked it, or gave smiley face comments - and then it got nastier. ‘Charlotte’s ponyless.’ He sees me frown and he nods. ‘Felicity did a little sad face after, so I guess, you could say, she wasn't being nasty, but she was, Lucy – because a couple of weeks ago she wrote… ponyless, fatherless, pointless.’
The posts have been taken down he tells me, they only stay up for an hour so, normally after-school. I think of her in the house alone, dealing with whatever it is they’re saying.
‘Why hasn't she told me?’
‘She probably doesn't want to upset you, or maybe she’s embarrassed to tell you.’
‘Why would she be embarrassed?’
‘Because,’ Luke tells me, as only Luke can - utterly void of emotion, he tells me what’s been going on. ‘A lot of the posts are about you.’
I flinch with every line he delivers.
Charlotte’s mum is doing my shopping
Charlotte’s mum is buying more gin
And cake
And new knickers
Hey Charlotte was your dad’s girlfriend at the funeral? Did she say hi?
Charlotte has an ambulance on speed dial
‘It must be my neighbour who’s spreading the gossip,’ my lips tighten in spite. ‘It must be her, she’s the only one…’
‘You don't know that,’ Luke says. ‘You need to speak to Charlotte but first we need to speak to the school.’
‘We?’
He nods. ‘Ring them now, tell them we’re on our way.’
I do as told, but I get through to the snobby secretary. ‘He can see me tomorrow at nine…’ I don't want this to go on for another night, and I'm not sure if Luke will take more time away from work for another of Lucy’s messes. I wait for him to nod or shake his head but instead he takes the phone. ‘This is Charlotte Jameson’s godfather here. I've got some rather disturbing information that I'm sure the headmaster would want to be informed about, so we’re on our way now.’
‘What if they don't believe you?’ We’re pulling into the school and I look a lot better this time around, because appearances do matter apparently. Before we left I was sent upstairs by Luke to change out of my supermarket gear and put some make-up on.
I feel better for it.
I feel better and just a little stunned, when Luke turns around and smiles. ‘They’ve got no choice but to believe me, I’ve got it all on my phone. I took screen shots…’
He took pictures of it apparently; I didn’t even know that you could do that. It's like having your own private detective and not even knowing that you’d hired one. ‘You need to get with the times a bit more, Lucy.’
We go in and I'm not scared, I'm angry – furious in fact, I tell the headmaster. I tell him a few other things too – like, how dare he accuse my daughter of bullying without getting all the facts? How dare he haul my daughter into the office about something so serious without speaking with me first? Oh, I say many things. To be honest, I don't think Luke said a word, well, not till the end when he stood up and shook the red-faced headmaster’s hand. He told him that he trusted it would all be dealt with satisfactorily and that he would be keeping a very close eye on things from now on.
I did a good job with the headmaster, I really did, but there is something about a man.
Or something about this one, I think, taking a sneak peek as he drives me home.
He just deals with things.
‘I'm embarrassed,’ I admit, as we pull into my drive.
‘Don't worry about what other people think Lucy.’
‘Not about that,’ it surprises me that I actually don't care. I'm not embarrassed for me, with what they were saying, I'm just appalled for Charlotte. ‘I’m embarrassed that I had to find out from you. I don't know what's going on with my daughter.’
‘You’re dealing with a lot, Lucy. Don't waste time beating yourself up, you can't afford it. Spend that time sorting things out with Charlotte.’
‘I will.’
Adele’s, Someone Like You, is playing on the radio and her voice is so beautiful it makes me want to cry. I cry a lot to Adele actually, but I don’t cry today, I swallow tears down instead.
‘I'm sorry if you thought I was taking sides, Luke. I handled things badly.’ My cheeks burn but I force myself to go on. ‘I would never keep you away from Charlotte, you can ring her any time, come over, take her out.’
‘Thank you.’
And then, just as I think I’m starting to do well with this being a grown up lark, just when I’m patting myself on the back for handling things better, it happens.
There’s a lot of thinking done in the seconds it take for his face to move to mine. I know he’s just trying it on.
I know his opinion of me.
Just lately, I’ve changed my opinion of him.
He’s not married now is he, Lucy? No.
Jess is in Wales and she’s seeing someone else, isn’t she, Lucy? Yes.
But it would hurt her wouldn’t it, Lucy? Yes.
Would she even have to know?
And then I taste him.
For a tiny second I feel his lips on mine and it’s exactly as it is in my dreams.
I want to open my mouth to him, I want to give in and for a little while I do.
I feel the cool of his tongue as it slides over mine, I feel the warmth of his hand on my waist and he moves closer to me. He pulls me in, and I could blame it all on so many things, but I don’t want to keep making excuses…
I’m not losing my best friend for a shag and a chardonnay.
He thinks I’m a slut, I know that he does, but I’m better than that, and I would never do that to Jess. I pull my head back and I slap him as I tell him the same.
I turn and open the door to get out.
Up pops my neighbour, like a Muppet over the hedge, pretending to trim it. ‘Bloody cow,’ I mutter ready to charge over there.
‘You don't know that, Lucy,’ he grabs my coat and thankfully stops me. I take a deep breath and I can see the red marks my fingers have left on his cheek. ‘Don’t march over there all angry with her, when you’re really angry with me.
And I am angry.
Boyo, I’m angry, Jess.
‘Fuck you, Luke!’
Except I don’t.
I climb out of the car when I don't want to.
I just know that I have to.
If this is the price to feel better, to be a better woman, then I’ll pay it.
Not that anyone will know.
It's better this way though.
Harder but better.
Hard to wave at my neighbour instead of accusing.
Hard to do the breakfast dishes, when I want to lie down.
Hard to tidy up the bathroom and run a cloth over the sink.
B
ut better.
I can face myself in the mirror.
CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE
‘I don't want to go back.’
Charlotte is lying on her bed face down. Everything's been sorted. Felicity has been suspended for five days, she won’t even be there, yet Charlotte can't stop crying and she doesn’t want to go back.
It wasn’t my neighbour who gossiped.
Charlotte told Felicity herself.
She knew her dad had a girlfriend.
I guess she needed someone to speak to.
A friend who would understand.
She just made a poor choice with Felicity.
‘I don’t want to go back.’
She says it again.
But she loved that school. Or was it me that loved it?
I honestly don’t know.
They teased her at the sleepover apparently and my heart aches for how badly I handled things that night and for all she has had to deal with. ‘You break up for half term in a couple weeks,’ I tell her. ‘Things will settle down over the holidays…’
‘I don't want to go back.’
My hand is on her shoulder but I can feel the resistance beneath. Maybe it's best just to leave it, in a couple of days she’ll come around. She has to go in tomorrow, or it's going to be a problem.
‘I don't fit in.’ She turns on her back and finally she looks at me.
‘Well, that’s not your fault,’ I tell her. ‘It’s hereditary.’ I get a glimpse of a smile. ‘We’ll work something out.’
I’m polite when Simone rings and apologises.
Cool, but polite.
I don’t sit all night wondering what Luke’s thinking.
I don’t start manically vacuuming either.
Or dash to the shops for a vat of ice cream.
I just go to bed with Adele and have a little cry.
CHAPTER FIFTY SIX
She's such a good girl.
She's up at seven the next morning, her face is all blotchy and red, but she's dressed and ready, just her hat and scarf to put on. We head out to the car and there's my neighbour and I give her a wave.
‘I know it's difficult now.’ We’re driving past the council estate. She doesn't understand how lucky she is, all the chances she's been given. I feel the black smoke rise inside. ‘If you don't go back today, then you won't go back…’
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