‘It was quite.’ Charlie smiled, clearly not wishing to elaborate as to why.
‘What were you up to?’ Tasha asked, determined to try and suss out any awkwardness.
‘Oh, just a work thing,’ Charlie said. Tasha’s heart lurched with a rush of adrenaline. That could definitely be code for Sophia. She wanted to find out more, but she couldn’t figure out how to ask without revealing her suspicions.
‘Oh. Right, of course,’ she said somewhat awkwardly. ‘Well they’re all packed up and ready to go.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘They are hiding in Max’s bedroom. They want to scare you!’
Charlie played the game perfectly, mock searching for the missing children. They jumped on him with their loudest ‘Boo!’, collapsing in hysterics as Charlie faked his shock. Tasha laughed along with them, all the while trying to quell her panic that one day this family scene could play out with another woman in her place.
Before she knew it, she was alone once again in an empty house. The laughter of a few moments before seemed to reverberate around the rooms, like a distant echo. She found the weekends without the children much harder now that she was back at work. It gave her the vaguest taste of how hard it must be for Charlie not seeing them every day. At least she always saw them all first thing and was always able to do bath time and bedtime. He must miss them so terribly. Maybe the loneliness was to blame for his new relationship. Determined not to mope, Tasha set about the mammoth list of chores that she hadn’t had time to get around to in the past two months. There was enough to keep her busy all weekend, a blessing in a way, seeing as the alternative was to drink the entire booze cupboard dry whilst staring at photographs of Sophia Beauchamp.
Chapter Forty-four
Tasha was sorting through an enormous pile of clean laundry at the top of the stairs. It was nine o’clock on Friday evening, the children were finally asleep, and she was almost ready to drop. As soon as this last chore was finished she was planning on going downstairs and flopping on the sofa for some mindless television escapism. As she folded and sorted she went through her ongoing mental checklist of jobs, adding retrieving the Christmas decorations from the loft to the top of the list. She couldn’t believe it was December already. They were going to get a tree the following morning, with Charlie, who had kindly offered to carry it in and set it up in the heavy weighted stand, as he always did. Another job she needed him for. Tasha had chased Flo for further news about Sophia but it seemed there was nothing more to tell. Mark had no more information; no further digging had thrown anything else into the light. Tasha felt herself well up with tears, as she did each and every time she pictured Charlie with Sophia.
With a heavy heart she picked up the laundry basket to take it downstairs. She paused to listen, sure she had heard a gentle tap at the door. Sure enough, there was another light tap. Who could it be at this hour? she wondered. Javier? It had to be. What could he possibly want? Her mind darted over various reasons for a late-night visit as she walked down the stairs. She opened the door a crack, expecting Javier to be waiting expectantly on the doorstep.
To her surprise, it wasn’t Javier waiting for her, but Charlie.
‘I didn’t want to wake the children,’ he said. ‘And I didn’t want to let myself in… in case you had company.’
She could see instantly that he had been crying. ‘What is it?’ she asked, her pulse quickening in expectation of bad news as she held the door open for him to come in. He looked deathly pale.
‘Charlie, what’s happened?’
‘It’s Andrew,’ Charlie croaked, his voice breaking. He looked at Tasha and his eyes filled with tears; the pain in them said it all.
He shook his head.
‘He’s dead.’
His voice was barely a whisper.
‘What?’ Tasha’s mind reeled. ‘No!’ she gasped, as her eyes widened in shock. Her hand flew up to her mouth.
‘Becca rang… He was killed early this afternoon.’
‘Killed? Andrew’s dead?’ The meaning of his words just couldn’t seem to sink in.
Charlie nodded. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. He hugged her tightly, as if she could somehow help take the pain away. In his embrace it suddenly hit her. Tears coursed down her cheeks and she broke into noisy sobs as she thought of Becca, Daisy and Fergus, of Andrew’s body lying somewhere: lifeless, broken, cold.
‘I can’t believe it,’ she whispered, pulling away and looking up at Charlie.
‘I know.’ He was clearly still in shock.
‘Oh, my God, Becca… your parents… Do they know? Do you know what happened?’
Charlie shook his head. ‘Becca didn’t go into much detail. She was so upset she could barely talk. Her mum had to take the phone in the end.’
‘I just can’t bear it.’
‘She had phoned Mum and Dad straight before calling me. Mum is absolutely devastated, they both are. I’m going to drive up there now. But I had to tell you first.’ Charlie had to stop talking. Tasha had never seen him so upset. It broke her heart.
‘They’ve asked me to pass the news on to certain people, so I’ve been making some pretty horrendous calls.’
‘Oh, Charlie. I’m so unbelievably sorry,’ Tasha said. ‘I just can’t get my head around it.’
‘He was in Syria, not Iraq, as I had suspected. He was hit by an IED.’
‘Oh, my God. Poor Andrew.’ Tasha wiped the tears from her cheeks with her sleeve. She felt shocked to the core and completely shaken. All the angst she had been experiencing over the last few months, the self-pity, paled into insignificance in the face of sudden death’s brutality. How could Andrew be dead? He was such a vital part of all their lives, such a force of nature, such an incredible person. How could it be that he was no longer alive? Just like that?
They went through to the sitting room and sat on the sofa, both numb with shock. Charlie was quiet and Tasha didn’t know what to say. There were absolutely no words for a situation like this: the abrupt, cruel waste of Andrew and everything he had to offer, all the life he had left to live. There was nothing she could say that would offer any comfort. She couldn’t stop thinking about Becca. How would she go on living without him? She would have to raise the children on her own… Tasha’s heart wept for her dear friend. ‘Poor Becca,’ she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.
‘I know,’ Charlie said. Deep frown lines creased his forehead, his eyes were bloodshot and swollen with grief. She knew just how devastated he must be. Andrew was not only his brother but his best friend. How was it possible that they would never see him again? That no one would? She just couldn’t accept that it had really happened.
‘How did she find out?’ Tasha asked.
‘Some officers went to her house.’
Tasha nodded, picturing the scene, the knock on the door. The fear in Becca’s eyes as she saw the officers approach. Dread taking its ice-cold grip around her heart.
‘She’s got one of them there with her now. He’ll help us arrange the funeral.’
‘Oh, God, the funeral…’ Tasha’s eyes filled with tears once again at the thought. ‘I just can’t believe this is real. It feels like a nightmare.’
‘I know.’ A solitary tear rolled down Charlie’s cheek. He was normally so stoic, rarely displaying much emotion. It made his grief all the more heart-rending to see. Lost for words, Charlie turned towards her. She put her arms around him. His shoulders heaved as he finally broke down. She held him tightly until his sobs subsided. ‘Shall I come too? To your parents’?’ Tasha asked.
‘No, don’t worry. You stay here with the kids.’
‘What about Becca? Shouldn’t we go to her?’
‘If she wants us to. She’ll need some time…’
‘When will the funeral be?’
‘Fairly soon, I imagine.’
‘God, the thought of it… the coffin.’
‘I know… Jesus!’ Charlie stood up and walked over to the wall. He thumped his fis
t against the door frame, angry with the world for being so unbearably cruel, unable to accept what had happened. They talked about Andrew while Charlie gathered his strength for the drive to Norfolk. He was dreading seeing the look in his parents’ eyes, knowing just how upsetting it would be to see them so heartbroken. They reminisced about some of the amazing times they had all shared, laughing and crying. It was as if the earth-shattering news had drawn a temporary veil over their recent issues. Tasha was too stunned to give her obsession over Charlie and Sophia a single thought. Charlie needed her, and she needed him. Right now, nothing else mattered.
When he felt ready to leave she waved him off in their car, knowing how much Stephen and Caroline needed him to be with them. It was at times like this when family became the most important thing there was. She picked up her phone and called Becca on her mobile, sure that she wouldn’t answer but wanting her to know she was there if she needed her. She spent a long time composing a message of condolence. It was so hard to decide what to say, she knew full well that no words could bring even the slightest comfort to her. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the state of confusion, panic and despair that Becca must be in. How she would have handled telling Daisy… Fergus would be too little to understand. Selfishly she wished she could have Charlie by her side as she lay in bed later that night, staring at the ceiling, still trying to process the news, to adjust to a world without Andrew in it.
The next morning Tasha bit back tears as she showered, trying to stop her face from giving away any signs of the news she had agreed not to share until the afternoon, when Charlie arrived back. He had texted her first thing to tell her he was driving his parents straight to see Becca and the children that morning, at Becca’s request. She wanted them all to be together while they organised the funeral. Charlie would return to Becca’s house again later that evening, but he wanted to be there with Tasha when they told the children.
Their reaction was heart-wrenching. It was the first time the children had had to deal with someone they knew dying. As they tried to understand what it meant they asked more and more questions, each as impossible to answer as the last. ‘Why did Uncle Andrew have to die? What happened to his body? What will Daisy and Fergus do without a daddy? Who will look after Auntie Becca? Will he be an angel in heaven now?’
Tasha was so glad that Charlie was with her. She needed his strength and reassuring presence to pull herself together and keep strong for the children’s sake as they answered each question as best they could. It felt as if they had had too many serious talks with the children of late. She hated how much they had been through these past four months. Though it was nothing, she reminded herself, in comparison with what Fergus and Daisy would be experiencing now and in the years to come. There was nothing like the death of a loved one to give you a much-needed reality check.
She had called Becca again that morning, but she hadn’t got through. Becca had sent her a message.
Thank you dearest Tasha, for your kind words. We’re doing OK. I’ll speak to you very soon, Bx
Every time she read the text she welled up with tears. Becca always seemed so strong, but Tasha knew what must lie underneath that brave outward appearance.
‘Can we make Auntie Becca, Daisy and Fergus a card?’ Max asked.
‘That’s a lovely idea,’ Tasha said, moved by his thoughtfulness.
‘It might be nice if you can draw a happy memory to help cheer them up a bit,’ Charlie suggested.
‘I’m going to draw us all in the swimming pool playing Marco Polo,’ Bella said. ‘Do you think they’ll like that?’
‘They’ll love it, darling.’ Tasha smiled.
‘I’m going to draw a picture of us all at Fergus’s christening,’ Flora said as she fetched the tub of felt pens. ‘That was the best day ever!’
Later, as they waved Charlie off on his way to Becca and his parents, Tasha thanked God from the bottom of her heart that her family were all there in front of her, healthy and safe. Even if they were never a traditional family unit again, she could accept that if she had to, so long as they were all OK. Though she knew she would never stop loving Charlie, not even for a moment.
Chapter Forty-five
On Sunday Charlie had called Tasha to tell her the funeral would be taking place the following Wednesday. It had all happened so quickly, organised with the typical quiet efficiency of the military. In the tradition of the SAS there would be no pomp and ceremony, no parade, just a quiet local service in their village church. Charlie had stayed with Becca and his parents, offering them his support, helping with Daisy and Fergus, generally being there for them all. He had also been working on the eulogy, which Becca had asked him to give. Tasha knew how much he hated public speaking. This would be without a doubt the hardest thing he had ever had to do; so much raw emotion. Tasha was beside herself with nerves on his behalf. What if he lost control and couldn’t get the words out? It would be too heartbreaking to see. And she knew how important it would be for him to feel as though he’d done Andrew proud.
On Wednesday Tasha got the train to Surrey, having left the children in Emily’s care. The journey passed by in a total blur. She was lost in her thoughts, still trying to come to terms with what had happened. When her taxi pulled up outside the church, memories of Fergus’s christening came rushing back. It had been the last time they were all gathered there: a truly happy occasion, the opposite of what they were all about to face.
The grey stone offered calm sanctuary from the cold wind that nipped at its walls. One of Andrew and Charlie’s cousins greeted Tasha at the door, offering her an order of service. Her heart leaped into her throat as she saw the photograph of Andrew on the front page, so handsome in his uniform, so full of life. Fighting to control her emotions, she was shown to a pew near the front, behind Becca, Caroline and Stephen. Daisy and Fergus were at home, both far too young to witness such a harrowing sight. Tasha slipped into the pew, reaching forward to squeeze Becca on the shoulder. She turned to greet Tasha, giving her a glimpse of the faintest smile behind the tightly clamped mask of pain. She looked fragile and lost; a shadow of herself. Tasha kissed Caroline and Stephen, offering her condolences, furiously blinking back tears in the face of their brave smiles. They looked as though they hadn’t slept in days. A family gathering missing one vital piece.
The church was packed to the rafters with Andrew’s loved ones. The pungent scent of white lilies lingered in the air. Half-smiles of greeting flickered across faces heavy with sorrow as they caught the eye of long-lost friends. The overwhelming weight of grief was palpable.
A hush amongst the congregation announced the coffin’s arrival in the church. The pall-bearers, led by Charlie, were some of Andrew’s closest friends. As the solemn procession made their way up the aisle silent tears streamed down Tasha’s cheeks. Charlie’s eyes brimmed with tears, pain etched his features. She knew she would never forget the sight as long as she lived. Becca broke out into sobs as she saw the coffin, the Union Jack an emblem of the cause for which Andrew had so selflessly given his life, his beret and belt the poignant reminders of the beloved man to whom they had belonged. Having placed the coffin down Charlie took his seat between Becca and his parents. He turned around and smiled at Tasha, deep purple grooves under his eyes. She could feel his agony with every fibre of her being.
Soon the space was filled with voices singing, defiant, determined to give Andrew the send-off he deserved. When the time came for Charlie to give the eulogy, Tasha could barely breathe as she watched him take his place at the pulpit. He was so like his brother in so many ways, those deep blue eyes, the kindness in his face. Her heart went out to him; she was willing him on with every cell of her body. His hands trembled as he looked around the congregation, causing the paper he held to tremor against the polished wood.
He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and began to read. His touching words echoed around the church. It was beautiful, every word heartfelt. He described his brother through a series of
stories, covering each stage of Andrew’s life, eliciting several laughs amongst the multitude of tears, never more so than when he talked about Becca: how complete she had made his life, how his children were the best gift he could ever have been given, how much he adored them.
Tasha had never felt so proud of Charlie as she did in that moment, watching him standing up there, so vulnerable yet so strong. She had never felt so completely full of love.
All too soon they were standing out in the bitter cold at the freshly dug graveside, watching the coffin as it was slowly lowered into the ground. A gentle drizzle of rain drifted down as if heaven itself were weeping. Tasha reached out and took Charlie’s hand in hers, he squeezed it tightly. She looked at Becca, clutching hold of her mum; the anguish on her face was so agonising it broke her heart. She watched Stephen and Caroline, arm in arm, so frail themselves. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it must feel like to see your child buried; no parent should ever have to witness such a thing.
After the wake they drove back to London with the heaviest of hearts. Charlie was needed back at work the following day. Tasha had offered to stay instead of him but Becca had assured them she would be all right, that she wanted some time with just her and the children. Becca had been brave beyond imagination at the wake, smiling and greeting Andrew’s friends and family as if offering them comfort when it should have been the other way around. Daisy had joined them for a while, dressed in the fuchsia-pink dress Andrew had always said was his favourite, a much-needed splash of colour, resplendent in her childish innocence, unable to quite comprehend the enormity of what had happened or the loss she would suffer without her father.
‘It was a beautiful ceremony,’ Tasha said quietly as she drove. The rain had begun to fall more heavily, the wipers swept across the windscreen, back and forth in a rhythmic beat. ‘Your eulogy was perfect. Andrew would have been so proud.’
The Distance Between Us Page 25