by H S Chandler
‘Life’s too short to be serious all the time,’ he replied. ‘I learned that the hard way.’
His voice had changed. Lottie was unused to hearing much except wisecracks from him. She sat up again and looked over the table top at his face.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
‘I lost someone I loved. Cancer. She was too young, didn’t deserve it – all the traditional clichés.’ He turned his head and shielded his eyes to look at Lottie. ‘Let’s not ruin the afternoon. The sun’s out and I want to enjoy it. What’s your take on the case? I want to know why she did it.’
‘The defendant?’ Lottie asked, wanting to know who Cameron had lost and when, aware they were questions it was wrong to pursue when he had deliberately changed the subject.
‘Maria,’ he said. ‘I’m making myself use her name. She’s a person, not a thing. The prosecutor does that all the time, have you noticed?’
‘We probably shouldn’t discuss it,’ Lottie said. ‘I feel as if breaking the rules will result in some buzzer going off when I walk into the courtroom tomorrow.’
‘That’s just Tabitha getting to you,’ Cameron said. ‘I think they should hold the trial outside. We could sit on the grass and drink cold beer, get some perspective and take the drama out of it, although I’m not sure even that would be enough to mellow the haters.’
‘The haters?’ Lottie asked, as Cameron sat up and took a sip of his beer.
‘Gregory, Agnes, Tabitha, even tattoo-man seems to have joined their clan and that’s an alliance I wouldn’t have bet on.’
‘I think they’re just shocked by what they’re seeing and hearing,’ Lottie said. ‘Aren’t you?’
He didn’t answer, running his glass over his chest instead, sending rivulets of water trickling down towards his stomach. Lottie caught a group of girls at the next table staring open-mouthed.
‘I think you have some admirers,’ she said.
‘I’d prefer it if there was no one here except you and me. I’m tired of sharing you.’ He reached both his feet forward beneath the table to trap one of hers. Below the table her phone did a triple buzz in her bag, stopped, buzzed three more times. That was the alert from Zain’s mobile, sending her a text. In less than a second she’d compiled a mental list of the possible subject matter of the text. Suggestions for dinner. A date for the calendar. A request to perform a specific domestic task. That was about it. There would be no declarations of love, or expressions of gratitude. Not that he didn’t love her, or wasn’t grateful to her. Deep down she knew that Zain hadn’t changed, but she had. She needed more than he was giving her. Lottie considered checking the text, knowing that whatever the content, the mood of the afternoon would be broken and she didn’t want that. If all she had was a few seconds to feel alive and wanted, why would she destroy them?
Gently, slowly, but deliberately, Lottie pushed her other foot forward to grip Cameron’s. They sat like that for several minutes, listening to the gulls screech overhead and watching day trippers on the sands below. Lottie wanted to stop time. She was content. She’d not yet done anything wrong, although she wanted to, more than she was comfortable admitting to herself. The desire to reach across the table and touch Cameron’s hand was almost overwhelming. It was late though. Within the hour she’d have to be at Daniyal’s childminder to pick him up.
‘We should go back,’ she said with a sad smile. ‘I can’t risk being late.’
‘Ice-cream first, though,’ Cameron said, handing her a twirling shell that gleamed pink inside. ‘We’ll stop off in Portishead on the way.’
‘There’s always time for ice-cream,’ Lottie agreed, standing up.
Cameron held his hand out for her to pull him up off the bench, keeping hold of the very ends of her fingers as they made their way back to his van. Lottie considered pulling her hand out of his, but didn’t. It was a gift, she thought, to feel so adored, and it was harmless. A sunny afternoon’s toying, nothing more.
A few miles back up the coast Portishead was busy with tourists, bustling enough that neither of them worried about seeing anyone else from the jury. Bristolians knew better than to brave the seaside in the middle of the school summer holidays. Cameron detoured to a cash machine as they talked ice-cream flavours and chocolate flakes.
‘Bollocks,’ he said, banging the keypad, then ripping his card back out of the slot.
‘Hey, I can pay for the ice-creams. It’s not that big a deal,’ Lottie joked.
‘I don’t need you offering me money,’ Cameron snapped. ‘Leave it, okay? This is none of your business.’
Lottie moved backwards, wrapping her arms around her waist, feeling the sting of his reaction as if he’d slapped her. For once, he wouldn’t meet her eyes as she sought answers in his face. The heat had turned oppressive. Her skin was prickling uncomfortably and sweat was making a waterfall of her spine. ‘All right,’ she said slowly. ‘I think I’d like to go home now.’ She turned around, taking small, unsteady steps in the direction they’d come.
‘Lottie,’ Cameron said. ‘Lottie, wait.’ She carried on walking. ‘Oh for God’s sake, hear me out, would you? I didn’t meant it. I never do.’
‘We’ve been here before. You didn’t mean it before, either. I don’t need this. If I’m going to let a man to speak to me like that, it might as well be my husband, thanks.’
She kept going, increasing the length of her paces until Cameron had to jog beside her.
‘Shit, I would never … I’m not him, Lottie. I’m not some bloke who sees you as a trophy to be taken out and polished occasionally. You’re worth so much more. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. It’s not because I feel entitled to, okay?’
‘I’m not listening to excuses. You’re right. I am worth more and however great your body is, and however much you make me laugh, it’s not enough to make me hang around while you unleash your temper. You need to drive me home now. We’re done.’ She kept walking. Cameron jogged a few paces to block the pavement in front of her.
‘Listen to me, would you? The person I lost – to cancer – was my fiancée,’ he said. Lottie stopped. Cameron put his hands on his hips and glared at the ground. ‘I missed a lot of work while she was sick. We got behind on the rent, and I was messed up for a while after I lost her. I was just getting back on my feet financially when I got called for jury duty, so now I’m not working again and, well, it’s just a vicious circle to be honest.’
Lottie breathed in. It took her a while to figure out that she hadn’t breathed out again. She was crying before she could reach out to hug him.
‘I wish you’d told me before now,’ she said. ‘No one should have to cope with so much on their own. I’m so sorry.’
‘A few months ago I realised I had to start again. Going out, making friends. It’s scary getting close to new people when part of you is convinced you’ll end up losing them, too. The last thing you want to do is freak people out talking about what you’ve been through.’
‘You have to keep trying,’ Lottie said.
‘Forgive me?’ he asked.
‘Forgive you?’ Lottie said. ‘Are you kidding? I never even gave you a chance to explain. I guess it’s not only Tabitha who judges too quickly.’ She took his arm. ‘Let me buy the ice-creams,’ she said. ‘Not because of the money, but because I need some sugar. Okay?’
‘Sure, but next time’s on me,’ Cameron said. They walked arm in arm around the quayside to the ice-cream stand. ‘Do something for me? Wear that blue summer dress tomorrow, the one with the buttons and the white straps. It’s stunning on you. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.’
‘I’m not sure it’s even clean,’ Lottie said, knowing it was in her washing basket. Knowing she would take it out as soon as she got home, wash it and tumble dry it. She would find time to iron it in the morning.
Cameron tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as they reached the van, other hand on her shoulder. He smiled sweetly, looking at his feet before he spok
e.
‘You’re kinder than you should be,’ he said. ‘It’s one of the reasons people underestimate you. That, and your face.’
He leaned closer, taking care not to touch her body with his, brushing her cheek with his own so slightly that all she could feel was the day’s stubble taking hold. He kissed her where her cheekbone met her hair, releasing her shoulder immediately. It was a gesture of apology, Lottie thought, a suitable ending for an afternoon of contradictions. Or a beginning, the unstoppable voice in her head insisted. The end of flirtation and the start of something else. That moment when the slow dance ended and the boy asked you to go outside to catch some air. She had always known what it meant. Why was she trying to pretend it was any different this time?
She should be thinking about her husband, Lottie thought, as Cameron started the engine. She should be planning activities to do with her son at the weekend. Perhaps she should even be thinking about the court case. But the only thing on her mind was Cameron’s words. Next time, he had said. There would be a next time to go out and enjoy each other’s company, just the two of them. As Lottie considered all the reasons why it couldn’t happen, she wondered how long she would have to wait until it did.
15
Day Six in Court
Lottie tried not to look at Cameron the next morning. She hadn’t slept well and the lack of rest was revealed in shadowy half moons beneath her eyes. Every thought had been of him. As she had dropped her bra into the washing basket, he had been whispering to her. Whilst washing the dress Cameron had asked her to wear, she’d imagined his eyes on her body.
‘Everything okay?’ Zain had asked, catching her staring, lost, out of their bedroom window.
‘Yeah, of course,’ she’d said, forcing a smile to negate the rush of guilt at where her mind had been as she busied herself collecting stray items of discarded clothing from various corners.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen my blue shirt with the double cuffs?’ Zain said, as he laid his trousers across the end of the bed rather than hanging them up.
‘Have you looked in the laundry basket, or would you like me to do that for you?’ Lottie asked.
‘Is this about that dinner? Look, I’m sorry. I could have handled it better. There was just a lot riding on it and you were …’ his words faded into a mumble.
‘I was what?’ Lottie asked. ‘You might as well just say it.’
‘Well, you were rude. Don’t get cross again,’ he said. ‘I know you hate those evenings and it was a shame we were on that particular table, but I’ve never seen you quite like that.’
‘Yeah, well, I’ve never been made to feel quite that inadequate and I didn’t notice you rushing to defend me,’ she said, picking up an abandoned pair of shoes and throwing them into the bottom of the wardrobe.
‘They’re my bosses, Charlotte. Could you not have just tried to brush it off? You know what, forget it, we’re going round in circles. It looks as if my promotion’s going ahead, so no harm done.’
‘No harm done?’ Lottie asked, dropping the gathered washing onto the carpet. ‘Is that all you care about? No harm done to your promotion prospects, that’s great. I’m so pleased.’
‘Don’t snap at me. One of us has to earn the money. It’s not optional.’
‘Did you ever stop to think that I’m capable of earning a wage too? Or that I might get bored here all day?’ she asked, softening as she saw the confusion on his face. Zain had always taken care of her. Life wasn’t exactly luxurious but she didn’t want for much from day to day. She sank onto the edge of the bed, head in her hands. ‘Listen, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry too. I know you work hard for us. I’m tired and … I don’t know … maybe I had a bit of PMT at the dinner or something.’ She gave him a weak smile.
Zain laughed and patted her shoulder. ‘That’s so funny,’ he said. ‘I was thinking that was probably the cause. Bit more evening primrose oil next month maybe, or we’ll have to make sure we don’t have any plans to socialise.’
Lottie stood up, holding in the response she wanted to spit at him. Was that it? She expressed displeasure at being humiliated and talked down to, and her husband’s only thought was PMT.
‘I’ll find your shirt,’ she managed, setting one foot in front of another until she could bolt the bathroom door and let loose her silent rage into the mirror.
She’d left the argument there. Zain had been oblivious to her fury for the rest of the evening. Lottie had played at domesticity in the kitchen. Only reading a bedtime story to Daniyal had made her feel calm. Even then, she’d barely slept.
‘Good morning,’ Cameron said to Lottie as he walked into the jury room. ‘How was your evening?’
As normal as that. Easy as pie. And yet, Lottie thought, nothing was easy for him at all. A year or so ago Cameron had lost the woman he’d planned to spend the rest of his life with. It hardly seemed fair that he’d had to perform jury duty. She was sure that if he’d explained to the judge … but how could he have done? It wasn’t the place to bare one’s soul and reveal financial hardships. Then she’d never have met him at all, of course, and however sympathetic Lottie felt for his plight, she couldn’t regret that. Imagine sitting in that room with those people, with no Cameron there to make it all bearable.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Yours?’
‘Jack and I went out for a drink,’ he said quietly.
Jack looked up from his cryptic crossword and smiled. ‘We did,’ he smiled. ‘Not that it’s easy being in public with him,’ he told Lottie. ‘I swear there were a couple of women actually drooling next to him. It was embarrassing.’
‘Ah well, you’ve either got it or …’ Cameron announced.
‘Was he this insufferable last night, Jack, only I’m thinking that maybe those women were about to vomit rather than drooling over him?’ Lottie interrupted.
‘Have you noticed the Tabithas this morning? They’ve been in a huddle since I arrived,’ Jack whispered.
‘You’re just changing the subject,’ Lottie grinned.
‘Maybe a little,’ he smiled back, ‘but they must be up to something. None of them even bothered glaring at Cameron when he walked in, and that’s a first. I’m getting tea. Either of you want anything?’
Jack was livelier than Lottie had seen him since the trial had begun. They both declined the offer of a drink. She leaned over to whisper in Cameron’s ear as Jack crossed the room. ‘He seems chirpy. Did you put something in his drink last night?’
‘He just needed someone to talk to. His parents are, you know, old fashioned, so his home life’s not that much fun, and now he has to turn up to this mausoleum each day.’
‘So you stepped into the breach and did the whole big brother, broad shoulders thing?’ she smiled.
‘Something like that,’ Cameron replied, shifting his legs so that one of his thighs pressed against Lottie’s.
She tensed to move away, stopped herself, and relaxed against him. His eyes met hers and for a few seconds neither of them spoke, both looking down as if the heat between them was a physical object that others might spot.
‘It’s okay, Lottie,’ Cameron said quietly. ‘Let me be what you need. I need you, too.’
The oxygen went out of the room. Caught in the chasm between ridiculous denial and the finality of acceptance, she stayed silent.
‘This is enough for me. A friendship. The knowledge that perhaps, if you weren’t married there might have been something more. I don’t want to put you in a difficult position.’
She gulped air then did her best to speak, her voice husky with sudden dryness.
‘I know,’ she muttered, any hope of pretending confusion or ignorance evaporating into the heat. ‘I never thought you’d try to take advantage.’
‘Don’t make me out to be too much of a hero,’ Cameron winked. ‘You can’t expect me to behave myself forever. I’m only human.’
She was at a tipping point. For a second Lottie blamed Zain for what she was about to do
. Insensitive Zain who had laughed and agreed when she’d mentioned PMT. Self-obsessed Zain who never thought to look for his own shirt when she could do it for him. Reliable, predictable, safe, she reminded herself; dull, her serpentine inner-voice hissed. Then there was Cameron. He was everything else.
‘I don’t recall having asked you to behave yourself,’ Lottie said, standing to put away her magazine, ready to go into court. ‘And I’m not sure it would make any difference even if I did.’ Leaning down low in front of him, she picked up her bag from the floor, watching Cameron’s eyes follow the bead of sweat running from her throat to her breasts. ‘To be honest, I’m not even sure I want you to.’ She walked out, knowing how that particular dress would swish around her legs if she worked her hips, knowing it was just short enough to tantalise, and in absolutely no doubt that Cameron was watching.
Her Honour Judge Downey glared at both Miss Pascal and Mr Newell.
‘The prosecution calls Detective Inspector Anton,’ Imogen Pascal said.
Anton was in the witness stand in a heartbeat. The jury had seen him in court every day, sitting behind Miss Pascal, whispering to her, handing over notes. Lottie thought she had seen an emotion flash in Miss Pascal’s eyes just once, when DI Anton had left a hand on her shoulder fractionally too long, under the guise of getting her attention. It had looked like mild irritation with a hint of get-off-me-right-now.
No time wasting in court today, Lottie was pleased to note. If they finished early enough perhaps she and Cameron would have more time together. Just to talk, she told herself. Just to finish talking where they’d broken off yesterday.
‘Could you describe the scene when you arrived at the Bloxhams’ property?’ Imogen Pascal asked the policeman.
‘The defendant was standing on the front driveway with the chair leg at her feet. She’d been unwilling to put it down initially but had complied upon being asked. Mrs Bloxham seemed calm, almost surprised there was so much fuss. I asked her if she needed medical attention and she said she didn’t. When I went into the kitchen …’ he paused. ‘I’ve been a police officer for fifteen years and I’ve never seen anything like it.’
