by Daisy Tate
Emms gave her the type of nod Freya imagined she would give a patient who was in denial about a hip replacement. ‘Yes, you do. C’mon. Rip off the plaster. The sooner you talk, the sooner it’ll all be over and done with.’
Charlotte started to protest.
Emily cut her off. ‘You know how I am about feelings.’ She shuddered to illustrate her point then said, ‘But until we know what that husband of yours has done, we’re just going to sit here and stare at you … wondering. Your call.’
Charlotte squirmed in the limelight. ‘I’m not sure what you want me to say. That I’m furious? Heartbroken? In pieces? All of the above?’
‘If that’s what you’re feeling.’ Izzy was clearly much more au fait with the American style of spilling ones guts freely and openly to anyone who would listen.
‘Oliver wants a divorce,’ Charlotte said simply. ‘And he’s fathering a child with his lover. Xanthe.’
They all repeated the name like it was a bad word.
‘Shithead,’ Emily added.
Izzy was looking bewildered. ‘I thought at your birthday you said he wanted to make a fresh start.’
‘He did. We did.’ Charlotte worried at Bonzer’s forehead fur, which kept flopping back over his eyes. ‘I carried on as usual … no.’ She corrected herself. ‘That’s not right. I actually took up Lady Venetia’s suggestion to apply myself to something outside the home. Build up a bit of confidence.’
‘The Sittingstone Larder,’ Freya explained, when Izzy and Emily looked confused. ‘Charlotte’s turned it into quite a money-spinner for the estate. Waitrose featured it in their weekly magazine!’
Freya hoped she didn’t sound jealous. It wasn’t as if Waitrose would ever feature a woman who made ‘I’m a Polyamorous Unicorn’ T-shirts for a living. A woman who made honeysuckle ball gowns to save the rainforest on the other hand … She forced herself away from the insane daydream and tuned back in to Charlotte.
‘As wonderful as it’s been, the truth was it was helping me turn a blind eye to the fact that Oli had never stopped seeing her.’
Izzy sucked her teeth.
Emily muttered something in Mandarin.
Freya gave Charlotte a sympathetic nod. ‘Did he tell you as much?’
‘He told me he was trying to end things with her, but that with the baby situation it was a delicate matter and that he needed to tread carefully. Then a few days ago, Oli came home from the office, I’d cooked us both a nice supper and, over pudding, he announced he was leaving me.’
No one said a word.
Charlotte leant back in her chair, a philosophical look replacing the lost, hurt one. ‘The funny thing was, I wasn’t even surprised. I was just waiting for it really. I’m not sure who I feel more sorry for.’
‘Not him, surely?’ Emily made another round with the Prosecco bottle.
‘No, but … I’m not entirely sure this is what Oli wants. I think he feels a bit trapped by the situation.’
Freya almost spluttered her Prosecco back into its glass. ‘Charlotte. You shouldn’t be wasting even a moment’s compassion on that man. He’s lied to you.’ So had her husband. ‘And cheated.’ There. No comparison.
‘The guy’s a total douche,’ Izzy said. ‘Throw him to the sharks, babes.’
‘Let Charlotte speak, people.’ Emily held up her hand to quell their babble and they instantly fell silent. Mrs Cheung was right. Emily definitely could’ve been the UN Secretary General if she’d wanted.
Izzy clapped her hands for Bonzer, who boinged over to her and engulfed her lap. Dumbledore wandered over and took his place by Charlotte’s knee. She was clearly sending out dog-cuddle vibes.
Izzy asked Charlotte, ‘Do you know what you’re going to do?’
‘Not really. It’s obviously all very new, but … of course there are the children to think about.’
‘Are they okay?’ Freya’s children would murder her if she left Monty. They adored him, with a capital A. There was a good reason for that.
‘They don’t know. Oli intentionally waited until they’d gone on their school trips to tell me.’ Her eyebrows lifted. ‘He’s asked me to come up with a “party line” for their return.’
‘He did not.’ Freya wished she’d thrown all three cakes at Oli now.
Charlotte nodded then admitted, ‘I actually agree. The children don’t need to get caught up in all of this. They’ll be off to boarding school in the autumn anyway, so it won’t be as if the whole sordid mess will be playing out in front of them, but …’ She pressed her fingers to her mouth as if stemming a silent sob. ‘But they are getting older and we mustn’t treat them like small children.’
‘How do you think they’re going to take it?’ Emily asked.
Charlotte tipped her head from side to side, as if letting each of her children’s perspectives slip into place. ‘Well. Jack is a typical boy and rarely externalizes any of his feelings – but he worships his father. Poppy is a different kettle of fish. She’s been quite withdrawn lately. Ever since she’s been boarding. I’m worried about her and yanking the one stable thing in her life out from under her …’ Her voice caught in her throat.
‘Hey.’ Freya gave Charlotte’s knee a rub. It was awful knowing your kid was hurting. Doubly so if you were the reason why. Well … if your jackass of a husband was the reason why.
Charlotte teased the hair away from Dumbledore’s eyes, the way she might have her daughter’s thick fringe. ‘I’ve always hated sending the children to boarding school. I wish I’d made that clearer. Pressed my point. Especially in Poppy’s case. They’re my children every bit as much as they’re his and if I thought for one minute being there was hurting them, I’d—’ The sob that had been trying to work its way out finally came.
Her friends instinctively reached out to her, Izzy putting her arms around her in an uncomfortable hug, Freya stroking her leg; even the usually undemonstrative Emily patted her hand a little. They all made soothing noises, assured her that her kids loved her, told her how brave she was and that she was holding it together brilliantly.
‘I’m not so sure about that.’ Her face crumpled again. ‘If you’ll just …’ And then she bolted off towards the campsite.
‘Hey! Lotts!’ Emily had to run to catch up to Charlotte. ‘Hang on.’
Charlotte didn’t say anything, her eyes glued on an unveering path towards the compost loo hut.
Emily tried again. How the hell she’d ended up being the only one running after Charlotte was beyond her. ‘Do you, um, want to talk about it?’
Charlotte wheeled on Emily as if she were brandishing pepper spray against a rapist.
They stared at one another, panting. It felt like a scene from a Western, but one in which painful, core-deep emotions stood in for bullets. Ridiculously uncomfortable terrain.
Charlotte jabbed her finger into the air between them. ‘Do. Not. Be. Nice. To. Me.’
‘Okay. Well. In that case …’ Emily countered, ‘Stop crying.’
‘I’m not crying,’ Charlotte said, swiping away about a million tears. ‘I’m fine!’
‘No, you’re not!’
‘I am. I’m fine.’ She swept some more tears away and inhaled deeply. ‘Look. Obviously life isn’t ideal right now, but the last thing I need is to have the most put-together person in the universe offering me advice. Okay?’ She turned to go.
What?
Charlotte thought Emily had her act together?
‘I do Nordic cuddling!’ Emily shouted.
Charlotte stopped. If she’d been a dog, her ears would’ve twitched upwards. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Nordic cuddling,’ Emily repeated, suddenly feeling as if the admission had cut the restrictive ribbons of her emotional corset. ‘I pay someone money, cash usually, to hug me.’ She shrugged. ‘They also take PayPal.’
Charlotte digested the revelation in her usual way, silently, and then, rather unexpectedly, began to laugh.
‘Why didn’t you say if you wanted a hug?’
Charlotte’s tear-flow increased. Nice one, Emms. First her husband, then her children and now Emily was throwing her love back in her face as if it were useless.
‘It’s nothing to do with you Charlotte. It’s my weird upbringing, parental expectations and … other stuff. Besides. I was hardly going to confess to you – the person I think has it all together – what a shambles of a life I lead.’
‘But …’ Charlotte looked genuinely shocked. ‘There’s no need to impress me. Or pretend. After all, I was pretending my life was perfect.’
Emily couldn’t bear it. Charlotte didn’t have to take the fall for her. Had this been what her marriage had comprised of? Taking the bullet for everyone? ‘Okay, look. I was being an idiot. You, on the other hand, were making the best out of a very bad situation. How many people go ahead and have their birthday party when they’ve just found out their husband is cheating on them? You should win a prize. You are awesome at pretending your life is perfect.’
‘Thank you!’ Charlotte looked strangely pleased. ‘You are, too.’
Emily made a face. They were at risk of going overboard here.
Charlotte squinted at Emily then did one of those awkward forward-backwards moves that meant she was thinking about giving Emily a hug.
Emily raised her hands. If they started hugging this out, who knew where it would lead? ‘No consolation necessary. I’m not telling you this for sympathy. I’m telling you because I want you to know there’s no one out there who’s perfect.’
Charlotte didn’t look entirely convinced.
‘Did you know, back in uni, we all wanted to be you?’ It was true. She, Freya and Izzy would often sigh and wish aloud that they had a soupçon of whatever it was that made Charlotte such a kind, smart, generous, humble friend.
‘Me?’ Charlotte looked gobsmacked. ‘I thought the only reason you let me be your housemate was because I found Holly House.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘And organized the rotas and made cake.’
‘Let you? We didn’t let you be our housemate. We wanted you to be our housemate, Charlotte. Depended on it! You’re a thousand-billion times better than cake. And that’s saying something, because the cake is amazing.’
Charlotte threw her a bashful smile. This whole giving and accepting compliments thing was tough for both of them.
Emily tried to pull a leaf off the hedge and ended up pricking her finger. She sucked the blood off it and stared at the minuscule puncture wound. It would most likely go septic and require amputation with the luck she was having this week. ‘Lotts. Look. I am truly sorry things didn’t work out with Oli, but … he didn’t adore you. You deserve to be adored.’
‘I don’t think my children like me very much either.’ Charlotte sounded as if she was admitting to mass genocide of baby bunnies.
‘Lotts! I’m sure they love you.’ She wasn’t. They seemed like unappreciative little shits, but … she was trying to be nice. ‘Look. They probably don’t know you. The real you that we know. They’re kids. Teens. Their worlds revolve around hormones, acne and growth spurts, not being besties with their mum. Whatever it is you think you’ve failed at – it doesn’t matter. We’re all a jumble of imperfections. And there are people out there who will love you anyway. Like us! So, how ’bout we concentrate on that, instead of shitty husbands who impregnate their secretaries.’
‘She’s a junior partner.’
‘Whatever. The point being, you’re free to live your life on your terms now. All you have to do is pick what it is you want to do and go for it.’
Charlotte smiled that gentle costume-drama smile of hers that made you pray for her happy ending.
‘Right then,’ Emily pointed up to the campsite. ‘Shall we go and give your face a wash then head back to the beach? Get something to eat? We could ask Izzy to make her gooey grilled-cheese sandwiches.’
‘Oliver hates cheese sandwiches.’ Charlotte’s lips were beginning to twitch into a smile.
‘All the more reason to do it!’ Emily grinned.
‘Do what?’ Freya, Izzy and the dogs came up behind them on the path, arms and shoulders weighted with towels, bags and the huge frying pan that went atop the tripod.
‘Make grilled-cheese sandwiches,’ Emily said, as if it had been the plan all along.
‘Grilled-cheese sandwiches!’ Izzy crowed, as she did an about-face then began whistling the seven dwarves song as they all headed back to the beach.
‘What you really need is to get a good lawyer,’ Emily said, polishing off her sandwich. ‘I hope you’re taking him to the cleaners.’
Freya was about to throw out an ‘amen’ when Charlotte shook her head. ‘Anything like that leaves me in a cold sweat. The whole idea of having to negotiate … No. I couldn’t do it. I don’t want to do it.’
Freya shot help! glances at Izzy and Emily. Charlotte didn’t have anything. The last thing she should do was leave her ‘departure package’ up to Oli’s discretion.
‘I’ve got some good contacts. Let’s talk when we’re back home.’ Emily had her ‘I’m not taking no for an answer’ face on.
‘Please, let’s talk about something else.’ Despite the cheese sandwiches and supportive chitchat, Charlotte suddenly looked ground down by it all. Freya gave her knee a squeeze. Oli certainly had a lot to answer for.
‘No Callum this weekend, Emily?’ Freya proactively changed the subject for Charlotte.
Emily waved her hands. ‘No. Nope. I don’t want to talk about him either.’
Charlotte looked confused. Izzy was about to answer for her, but Emily put a hand over her mouth and explained: ‘Callum’s just asked me to move out, so I’m a bit stressed.’
A chorus of ‘Whats?’ And ‘No!’ circled round their group.
‘Look, it’s not what you think. I’m okay.’
Freya threw a look at Izzy, who arced an eyebrow. Perhaps she too had had suspicions about Callum. Whose team he was on, and all.
‘I’m so sorry, Emms. Have you split up?’ Charlotte asked.
‘No!’ Emily floundered. ‘It was never like that, we were just …’ She struggled to find the words.
‘Friends with Benefits?’ offered Freya.
‘FBs,’ said Izzy, more mischievously.
‘FBs? What’s that?’ asked Charlotte.
‘It means Fuc—’
‘It means none of your freaking business!’ Emily interrupted, before Izzy could articulate the ruder version of Friends with Benefits. ‘Look it was never like that, we were just friends. The man is as gay as Paree.’
‘I knew it!’ Freya crowed, then remembered they were meant to be upset because he’d just asked Emily to move out.
‘Is it a recent thing? Since the bank holiday?’ Charlotte looked utterly befuddled by the revelation.
Izzy drowned her sniggers in Bonzer’s furry bonce.
‘What are you sniggering about?’ Emily snapped at her best friend.
‘Sorry!’ Izzy put up her hands, not looking all that sorry.
‘Anyway,’ Emily jabbed a finger at her, pulling a classic turn of the tables, ‘you need a plan to get out of that hellhole you’re in, missus.’
‘What’s wrong with your cottage, Izzy?’ Charlotte asked. ‘You got in so late last night I didn’t get to ask.’
‘It’s falling down around my ears and full of toxic mould,’ Izzy answered easily. ‘That, and Luna doesn’t seem to be fitting in at school. I can’t find a job. Plus we’ve got no friends anywhere near us, it’s a forty-minute drive to the nearest town and I can’t even get a signal on my mobile. Other than that?’ She flashed a bright Izzy smile. ‘Life is peachy.’
‘It sounds like all our lives are a bit pants,’ Freya said.
‘Cheers to pants lives!’ Emily slopped some of her drink onto her wrist then sucked it off.
‘Cheers to good lives!’ Izzy countered. They all toasted to that.
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‘Okay.’ Freya stuck the flowers she’d been weaving together into a bouquet atop a stick, as if it were a magic wand, then fastened them on with a hairband she’d had around her wrist. ‘I grant each of you a wish.’
She waved the wand at Emily. ‘Go. Make a wish.’
‘I wish …’ Emily looked as if she were going to say something flippant, then suddenly turned serious. ‘I wish I had more time off to see you all more.’
Izzy grabbed her heart and made an ‘awww, that’s sweet’ noise.
‘Charlotte? You’re next.’
‘I wish …’ Charlotte scrunched her eyes tight, as if she were a little girl about to blow out her birthday candles. ‘I wish I could leave my marriage without taking any of Oliver’s money.’
‘It’s not about taking Oli’s money, though,’ Freya jumped in. ‘It’s about fairness. He should be made to pay!’ Why couldn’t Charlotte see this? Emily was right, she needed a good lawyer.
‘It’s her wish, not ours,’ Izzy reminded them.
Izzy was right, of course. Charlotte was finding her voice. It was hard to hear … but it was in there. They all told her that it was a very good wish but Freya was pretty sure they were all thinking the same thing: Fleece him till his bank account bleeds.
Charlotte took the wand from Freya and put it on Freya’s shoulders, as if she were knighting her. ‘What’s your wish?’
‘I wish … so many things.’ Freya looked at her friends’ expectant faces. What she was about to say felt like a confession. ‘I wish I could make a living out of the clothes and art I really love making.’
Everyone cheered and told her it was a fabulous wish. Freya’s heart skipped a beat. Awwwww.
Charlotte swished the wand in Izzy’s direction. ‘Just you left, lovely. What do you wish?’
‘I wish …’ She hesitated. ‘I wish …’ She made her decision then said, ‘I’m gonna keep this one to myself for a bit.’
‘Hey, that’s not fair!’ Freya said.
‘Wishes are meant to be secret until they come true,’ Charlotte pointed out.
‘Exactly, I don’t have to tell!’ Izzy gave Freya a Meaningful Look then, as a concession, ‘I’ll tell you when it happens.’