The Waiting List (Strong Women Book 5)

by Sarah Till

  I blushed bright red. Jenni stubbed out her cigarette. “Eeew. You hardly know him, Clem. You didn't, did you?”

  I looked at my feet.

  “No. No, I didn’t.”

  Charlotte smirked.

  “I rest my case. I could have accepted it if this had just all been one unhappy coincidence. Which I now accept it was, at first. But what about today, you fucking slapper? You fucked my boyfriend. You fucked your sister’s boyfriend.”

  She ran at me and grabbed my hair at either side of my head. I screamed, trying to justify my actions.

  “Like I said. He wanted to, but I didn’t. He told me it was over with you, Charlotte.”

  “Caroline. And we were on a fucking break.”

  Jenni chipped in.

  “Like in Friends? You know where Ross and Rachel were on a break?”

  I grabbed her hair now, struggling to get her off me. She screamed, then shouted back at Jenni.

  “Yes, yes. Like Ross and Rachel. I've been with him a long time.”

  I let go and so did she.

  “But you cheated on him! You moved another man in.”

  She laughed loudly.

  “Is that what he told you to get you into bed? That's what he thinks, and what Timmy thinks in his jealous little mind isn't always what's actually happening. No. I wanted Timmy to move in but he was too busy looking after his loopy mother.”

  “That's not very nice, is it? She's got a personality disorder. How could you be so cruel?”

  “Is that what he told you? That's bullshit. She's never been diagnosed. He just likes living there because she cooks for him and washes his clothes. Does everything for him. I put up with it for as long as I could but he drives me mad. His problem is not being able to fucking commit. He’s a mummy’s boy, and that’s how they both like it.”

  She sat down heavily at the table and smoothed her hair.

  “So, when were you planning to sleep with him again then? Tonight? Tomorrow?”

  “How did you know about him being here today?”

  “I was driving up the road and he was there, walking along looking at the photos. I picked him up and I could tell. I could tell he’d been with you.”

  It didn't make sense. She would have had to be driving fairly near my house to pick him up before he got to the bus stop.

  “So, what were you doing round here? And how do you know where I live?” She stared at the table and gripped her hands together. Jenni looked at me as we realised the same thing at the same time. “You've been here before, haven't you?”

  Charlotte looked sideways at me.

  “A few times. I just wanted to see what you were like.”

  I sat beside her.

  “What about Mum and Dad? Did you go to see what they were like?”

  “No. Never. I don't want to know them. They couldn't be bothered with me, could they? Too busy with themselves. Too busy.”

  I touched her hand and she quickly drew it away.

  “I know what happened. I worked it out.”

  “Well done. Except you worked it out sixteen years too late. That girl’s grown up without a family. Just me and that piece of shit you've been screwing.”

  “But she had her Dad, didn't she? Doesn’t she see him a lot?”

  “You've done your homework, haven't you? Yep. She does. But it's complicated. She's got a brother and a sister there who she's grown up with. I've thought about just walking away and leaving her there, but I can’t. Anyway, why should I? I just couldn't bear to think of her ignored the way we were. Me, anyway.”

  I scoffed at her.

  “So you think you've had it hard? Mum's had more surgery than Michael Jackson and she's convinced, even now, that you’re buried on the moors. Since the day you went out, as she calls it, she's hardly said a nice word to me, except lately when she thought I'd found you.”

  Charlotte screwed up her face.

  “Aw. Poor you. Having to live here and do your sanitary towel job for no doubt megabucks with the full support from Mum and Dad whenever you wanted it. I feel for you, I really do.”

  “Well, I didn’t walk out, did I?”

  “And what do you think would have happened if I had stayed? They would have made me have an abortion, if I’d told them early enough. They would have made me have her adopted. Or some freaky plan of Mum's to bring her up and take over, as usual. She would never have let me forget about it. And Dad would have stood there tutting and silently disapproving. So, I went. I did intend to come back at some point but then I realised that the police were after me and I was in trouble, seeing them crying on TV, wanting me back. It was just for their own sakes. If I’d have come back, they would have whipped Amy away from me faster than I could blink. No one even thought about how I would feel. So, I guess you were right with your little euphemism. There is more than one way to skin a cat. I decided my way forward was to survive, and only just sometimes, on my own. Did then, still do. I'm a loner.”

  Jenni had sat mesmerised by Charlotte, momentarily looking from me to her and back again. She lit another cigarette and sharply drew in a breath.

  “All this is very well, Caroline or Charlotte or whoever you are, but what has Clem done? Surely you didn't expect her to know that you were expecting? She was only fifteen at the time?”

  Charlotte looked at me and sighed. Her eyes were dark and heavy with shadows.

  “No. I suppose not. But there were clues. I left sanitary towels out unused so you'd tell Mum and she would turn the eyes of fucking Mordor onto me. I dropped hints into the conversation about babies. I wore loose clothing. But you were too obsessed with your fucking list.”

  Jenni laughed loudly.

  “Not much changes there, then? Sanitary products and lists.”

  I tutted.

  “How did you know? How did you know about the list?”

  Charlotte smiled.

  “You’re not the only fucking sneak around. I was going through your things before you even dreamed about it. I knew everything you had in that little file of yours.”

  “So what? It was my blueprint for the future.”

  “Yeah, well, you always were bloody obsessed with men. Perving at me and my boyfriends from behind a curtain. We all used to laugh at you, say you were oversexed, probably messing with yourself. Looks like we were right. Couldn’t get enough of Tim, could you? Even though he was mine. Or was that the point? Still want what I have? Still jealous? Still not the bride? Still going after the tall dark handsome stranger, Clem? Is that why you picked Timmy?”

  “He picked me, Charlotte. He picked me. And, yes, I was jealous of you. But only because you took everything for yourself. You made me believe that I couldn’t have what you have. You bullied me into thinking I was second best. And yes, tall, dark, and handsome. Seeing as you went for blond men, I thought I might be in with a chance. Not that it got me very far back then because you had already monopolised all the men in a fifty-mile radius.”

  “Was your next line going to be 'no wonder she got pregnant'? See. That’s why I never came back. I'm not putting myself up for the fucking X Factor vote for worst mum ever. Anyway. You won. You won. Does that feel good? Does it?” She pushed her face inches away from mine. “All this is just ridiculous. I'm off.”

  She snatched the photos off the table.

  “Actually, I was going to ask you about Tim. Are you going to stay with him? Or are you going to finish with him?”

  “Why, so you can fuck him again?”

  “No. I'm just concerned you're staying with someone who can cheat on you so easily. And lie about you. He told me you were a complete nightmare.”

  Her features hardened now and I saw Mum mirrored in her face.

  “I am a nightmare. But I don't deserve this. I don't know if we'll stay together. Not after this. But who does? Who knows fucking anything in this life, Clem?”

  “Will I see you again?”

  My eyes filled with tears and I felt a huge lump in my throat.r />
  “Keep away from Tim. Don't come to the house. And keep those two fucking lunatics away from me and Amy. Understand?”

  She barked at me but there were huge tears in her eyes. Pulling on her hat, she strode through the hallway. I heard the door slam. Jenni stared at me.

  “So, did you? Eew, Clem, how could you? When you knew he'd been with your sister? How could you, anyway?”

  I tried to smile through my shock.

  “Oh, who cares about that? It's just unbelievable. She's been around all this time, living nearby, all the time this has been weighing down on me, and I've never seen her. Never noticed. How have I not noticed? She lives in the same town. Have I been living in a little bubble?”

  Jenni stared at the table.

  “To be honest, Clem, you have been preoccupied. As long as I’ve known you, it's all been about you and who you meet. You didn't even realise I had kids, did you?”

  I was horrified. It was true. I'd even thought that Johnny fancied me.

  “Oh my God, Jenni. I'm a horrible person.”

  She ran round the table and held me.

  “No, no. Don’t be silly, girl. You're lovely. You’ve been through a lot in your time, you’ve had a lot on your plate, so who can blame you? You just need to loosen up a bit. Starting with the list. Bin it, Clem. Get rid.”

  I knew I wasn't ready. I thought about the complete history of my love life in the file in the freezer, along with the hairs from Tim's hat and the current, amended list. I just couldn’t face throwing it all away right now.

  “I will, in time, but not right now.”

  She stretched and smiled.

  “OK. You and your lists. Oh, and Johnny said to give you this.”

  She fished around in her pocket and eventually held a shiny new penny between finger and thumb. It loomed before me and I spun into a complete panic. She held it in front of me and I dithered over whether or not to take it.

  “Oh. Just put it on the table, will you? And tell him thanks.”

  “But he specifically told me to give it to you.”

  “I'm not sure I want it.”

  She looked offended.

  “He said it would be lucky for you.”

  “He was wrong. I think he was wrong. I collected all those pennies for all those years and look. I'm still alone.”

  Jenni dropped the penny on the table and it spun and spun and spun. When it stopped, the Queen’s head looked up at us.

  “You're not alone, Clem. Look around you, for God's sake. Just look around you.”

  She picked up her coat and bag and left. The door slammed for the fourth time today and now I really did feel alone.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I was reeling as I sat alone at the kitchen table. My sister had just been here, the sister who I hadn’t had any contact with for sixteen years. She hadn’t changed all that much. In fact, she was much harsher and more bullying. I tried to update the visual image of her in my mind’s eye but it kept defaulting between sixteen-year-old Charlotte and the digitally enhanced version of her. The real Charlotte looked older. Her face was lined and pale and she had dark circles underneath her eyes. She’s worn trainers and her hair looked uncombed. Her voice had been gritty and she looked like she had been crying. I remembered that she had, after all, just discovered that her boyfriend had been seeing her sister.

  I pictured us on the Jeremy Kyle Show, Tim sitting between Charlotte and I, the audience booing us all. Except, to everyone else, it looked like Tim and I were the wrongdoers. Once again, it appeared that Charlotte had merely been a pawn in our game. I looked like the mad, sex-starved sister.

  “Oh yes, she used to watch me and my boyfriends having sex.”

  No mention of the terrible name-calling and ridicule that she had put me through. It was my fault, my reaction that was lacking in control.

  “She slept with him even though she knew he was mine.”

  It almost seemed like a headline. Slutty Sister Stole My Man. Except I didn’t steal him. He came voluntarily. Just like no one took Charlotte, she went of her own free will. Now she was making out it was my fault because I didn’t tell Mum.

  I was sick of it. The whole episode was making me feel ill. But she was right about one thing – I did like sex. I recognised her going on at me about me being some kind of harlot as an extension of her ‘don’t do what I do’ mantra that I was so used to. After all, it was her who got pregnant and had a baby, not me. It was her who had underage sex, not me. It was her who was being cheated on, not me. Even after all these years, she still put herself on an untouchable pedestal where only she was allowed the wedding dress, the bouquet, the man. I would just have to make do with whatever she didn’t want.

  Whichever way I looked at it, Tim had been lying. He said he wanted me and at the same time wanted her. So, rather than me doing anything wrong – after all, I was single – it was Tim who had been the wrongdoer, playing two women against each other until he was busted. A familiar chill ran through my body and I asked myself a familiar question: why had I gone along with it for so long? What had fuelled my hopes, even against the odds I faced with Tim – him loving someone else? It was the same as with Lenny, but worse. I recalled my last conversation with Lenny where he had dumped me. Even as he told me that he would send his people to collect his things, I was still considering how I could fix things, how I could change, how I could fit in with his life. Our life had been far from perfect and I'd recognised the danger signs early, but I'd continued in hope beyond hope that one day he would love me. I sniggered a little now at the thought of Lenny loving me. Lenny, with his huge sexual appetite and penchant for clean, he’d probably never been in love with anyone except himself.

  I wondered now if it was the sex. I would openly admit to anyone that I love sex. I love it with a boyfriend and I love it with myself. I’d never been trapped in a small-minded world of guilt, I'd always been full on, liking to experiment with new positions. In girly chat, I prided myself in trying almost anything once. Now, though, Clare’s words sprung to mind again. She had asked me, right at the beginning, if I'd slept with Tim on the first night. I hadn’t, of course. But I had missed Clare’s initial insinuation that he was after sex. With hindsight, I knew that she knew the background. She knew that he was newly single and that he was in a to-and-fro relationship with the mysterious Caroline. She didn’t want to tell me outright but the hint should have been enough. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I take these cues like everyone else? Why was I so fucking desperate?

  The immediate answer that came to me was that it was because I needed someone to be with. I craved a boyfriend for the company, for the love, and yes, for the sex. The elusive conversation I had with myself whilst lying in a stranger’s bed came flooding back to me and I felt like I was filling in some of the gaps. The one that disappeared with the daylight and lay hidden until I'd just had sex with someone I barely knew. I needed someone I could be on a level with, someone who would finish my sentences, someone who I could spend my life with. Like Jenni and Johnny. Even after barely a week, I could picture them feeding each other chocolate and touching each other as they passed, a never-ending lovemaking cycle that began with a touch and ended cuddled up in bed. Not just sex. Shit. Was that where I was going wrong?

  My natural thought progression wandered through the last few days and rested on a mug of drinking chocolate. I'd watched in mortified horror as Tim and his mother smacked their lips after slurping their chocolate on that first night. It had all seemed surreal and whilst the discovery of the Caroshrine definitely was, I'd lumped poor Mrs Rosklyde and the odd drinking chocolate experience in with it. It was only when I saw Tim and Charlotte through her window, staring at each other appreciatively whilst clutching the mugs, that I realised they had the ambience I craved so badly. With each other. They were in love. They had mirrored each other that evening, eyes flashing as they slurped and licked their lips. A shared experience. One from which I was terminally excluded.
Shit. Shit. Shit.

  My focus moved to that scene and to me sitting in the bushes. And to me in Tim’s house, a random one-night-stand, a stand-in Caroline. The cogs turned again and I suddenly realised that perhaps my own behaviour left a lot to be desired. Perhaps? Like Dad said, I'd been frequenting strange men’s beds. I'd blinkered myself with a list of must-haves and failed to notice the world outside as other people’s relationships ebbed and flowed around me. Of course, I could blame my childhood problems with Charlotte or my parents, but I knew at some point I had to take personal responsibility for what I had done. I'd been stalking someone. Mum and I had watched her, admittedly me more than Mum, and I had even stared through Charlotte’s window. Of course, I had an interest of my own in Tim, but this didn’t forgive the fact that I'd acted bizarrely.

  On deep reflection, I had to admit that I had, somewhere deep inside, known that Charlotte didn’t want to be found. I knew now that I'd probably walked past her on the street, probably seen Amy, most likely ignored them. I hadn’t been looking for her. I'd been looking for my teenage sister who ran away and made me feel scared. I'd kept her alive with the list, a sort of protest against the pressure she put on me to not be like her.

  I’d carefully collected all those pennies, put them in our wish jar, which was really mine as she had gone and left it, but I insisted on calling it ours. I'd adhered to the life I'd decided on as a teenager to spite her. Now, I was finding it difficult to recognise the thirty-something woman who had just been in my kitchen, to recognise that we had somehow attracted the same man and that she had once again won. I'd kept her teenage-self alive through Mum, too. Instead of challenging her and helping her to move on, I’d purposely kept away from both her and Dad so that I could preserve them in my memory. I hadn’t seen their marriage crumbling or Mum’s growing obsession. I hadn’t bothered to speak to them individually because I knew that they too were using Charlotte’s disappearance as a boundary for what I could say to them. We had this shared ball that we kept throwing to each other, but we never went beyond the game of catch into the reason we kept playing the same game over and over and over again.