‘Thank you,’ Charlie said. ‘It was definitely the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. God, it all happens so bloody quickly, doesn’t it?’
‘One moment they are here, the next they are gone.’
‘Life can be so tragic.’ He shook his head, still finding it hard to believe that his brother was really dead.
‘It’s amazing how we forget just how mortal we all are.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Charlie said, staring blankly out of the window.
When they pulled up on Havers Street Tasha glanced across the road, noticing the lights were on. Back inside they paid Emily, thanking her for looking after the children, who were all tucked up in bed. She left, telling Tasha she would see her in the morning.
‘Right, I guess I’ll be off,’ Charlie said. He looked comatose with exhaustion.
Tasha’s heart fell. She couldn’t bear the thought of being on her own after the harrowing events of the past few days. And she didn’t want Charlie to be alone either. Part of her had been hoping the total agony of Andrew’s death might have brought Charlie back to her. That he might stay with her that night. She swallowed and nodded. He was probably going to meet Sophia, who would no doubt be waiting for him with open arms. At this the tears welled up once again, but she fought them back.
He looked at her and she turned away, not wanting him to see just how desperately she still missed him, when he was so clearly moving on. ‘I’ll call tomorrow,’ he said, ‘to speak to the kids.’
She nodded again.
They checked on the children, who were all fast asleep, and then Charlie left, closing the door quietly behind him. Tasha walked into the kitchen. She opened a bottle of wine, poured herself a glass and sat down. She stared at the wall, at a framed photograph of them all, taken two years ago in Dorset. She felt numb from pain and loss. She howled as she let the tears fall freely, crying for Andrew, for Becca, for Daisy and Fergus, for Charlie, and for their children. In that moment she knew that Charlie had truly gone, that he was never coming back.
Chapter Forty-six
Tasha didn’t know how long she had been sitting there. She felt as if her heart had been ripped from her body. She didn’t know how she was going to continue, how she could possibly rebuild her life without Charlie by her side. She wiped her tear-stained cheeks and marvelled at the power of love, how it could make you feel the dizzy heights of elation and joy whilst also, when taken away, the very darkest despair. She felt quite light-headed. Looking at the bottle of wine, she realised she had drunk over two thirds without really noticing. And she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.
A storm was brewing. Tasha listened to the sound of the wind as it whipped against the window, lost in her thoughts. The windows rattled. There was a light tapping sound. She strained her ears. It came again, just as it had on Friday night. Tasha got up from her chair and walked into the hallway. Suddenly her heart was pounding. Maybe Charlie had changed his mind? She stumbled to the front door and pulled it open, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Javier was standing there. ‘Oh!’ she said, trying not to show her disappointment. ‘Hi.’
‘Tasha. Are you OK?’ he asked. She had clearly been crying: her eyes were puffy and swollen, her face blotchy and red. ‘I saw the children earlier on their way back from school. They told me about your brother. I’m so sorry.’
‘Thank you.’ She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘It was my brother-in-law actually, Charlie’s brother.’
‘What a terrible tragedy. I saw Charlie leave…’ He paused. ‘He doesn’t live here any more, does he?’
Tasha suspected he had wanted to know the answer to that particular question for some time. She shook her head, unwilling to elaborate.
‘I thought I’d come over to see if you were all right. If you want some company? I know how it feels to lose someone close to you…’
Tasha wondered what he meant, who he had lost. She took one look at the sympathy in his eyes and collapsed into tears once again. He took a step closer to her and embraced her in a heartfelt hug.
The hum of an engine approaching caught her attention. She opened her eyes.
Charlie’s face was staring at her through the rain-spattered window of a taxi. He had come back! As she broke away from Javier’s arms, realising with utter panic how it would look to Charlie, she saw him say something to the driver, who pulled away, driving off down the road. The hurt in Charlie’s eyes had been unmistakeable.
‘CHARLIE!’ she shouted, running down the street. But it was too late. He had gone. How would she ever explain what she had been doing in Javier’s arms? ‘Shit!’ she shouted.
‘Charlie?’ Javier repeated, his voice revealing his confusion as he followed her out onto the street.
‘He just pulled up… he’s driven off. He must have seen us hugging. Oh, for Christ’s sake!’ Tasha put her head in her hands in exasperation. How typical that he would turn up at that bloody moment. She took a deep breath. ‘Look, Javier, thank you for coming to see if I’m OK. I am fine. I promise. But, I’ve got to go…’
She ran up the steps and into the house, closing the door behind her, leaving Javier looking at her somewhat bewildered. She sprinted into the kitchen and grabbed her phone, calling Charlie on speed dial. It rang straight through to his voicemail.
‘Look, Charlie, it’s me,’ she said. ‘I promise that wasn’t what it looked like. Please, you have to believe me. He rang the bell, I thought it was you. I was praying it was you. I opened the door and he was just standing there. He asked me about the funeral – the kids had told him about Andrew. Before I knew it, I’d burst into tears and he had hugged me… The next thing I know I open my eyes and you are right there in the taxi. I promise nothing happened! He’s gone now. Please, come back…’ She ended the call, pacing around the kitchen. She could scream with frustration. Of all the things to have happened, that was the worst possible scenario she could imagine. What had he been coming back for? What if that really had been him deciding to give her another chance? There was no way he would now he’d seen her with Javier. She crumpled onto the floor and stared at her phone, willing Charlie to call her back. She sent him messages and called him again and again but there was no answer. It was too late. She had ruined her last chance. Perhaps it was no more than she deserved. After all, if Becca and Andrew couldn’t have a happy ending, why should she?
Chapter Forty-seven
The next evening Charlie called to speak to the children. He hadn’t replied to her voicemail, or any of her texts that day. ‘Did you get my messages?’ she asked, having raced to pick up the landline before one of the children got there first. ‘I’ve been trying to explain about what happened.’
‘I did. It doesn’t matter.’ Charlie’s voice was clipped and curt. It was as if he had finally given up caring.
‘I promise, what I said in the voicemail was all true… It was nothing, just the worst possible timing. What were you coming back for?’ she asked.
‘Nothing. Like I said, it doesn’t matter.’
‘But it does!’ She felt desperate for him to tell her.
Charlie interrupted her. ‘Look, Tasha. Can I speak to the children? I haven’t got long.’
She realised it was no use. She went into the sitting room and passed the handset to Flora, who was in the middle of building a tower out of matchsticks for a DT project. Tasha slumped on the sofa next to Max, who was watching Paw Patrol. Bella was dutifully practising her recorder, the slightly wobbly notes of Silent Night echoing down the stairs from her bedroom. Tasha knew she had blown any chance she had of getting him back. He was probably in a rush to go and meet Sophia. Seeing her in Javier’s arms would have pretty much given him the green light to pursue his new relationship without so much as a backward glance. She felt sick to her stomach. Now she would never know what he had been going to say to her.
‘Mum, Dad says he’ll get our Christmas tree this weekend,’ Flora said, turning away from the receiver. ‘He wants to know if that’s
OK?’
‘Tell him I say thank you,’ Tasha said. She didn’t feel particularly festive, but she knew that she needed to at least attempt some seasonal cheer for the children’s sake. Perhaps once they had decorated the tree she would start to feel a tingle of Christmas spirit once again. Everything just seemed so depressing. First her marriage break-up and then Andrew’s death. She couldn’t imagine how their lives had got to this point.
Before she knew it, it was Saturday morning and she was standing in an empty house staring at a six-foot tree, undecorated and taking up a large proportion of the sitting room. They had all walked to the park first thing to choose it. Charlie had carried it home, installed the tree in its stand, and then disappeared promptly with the children. There had been minimal conversation between them; the intimacy that they had shared in the wake of Andrew’s death seemed to have evaporated. Tasha had promised the children fervently that she would wait until they got back the following afternoon to decorate the tree. She trudged upstairs to locate the Christmas decorations that were tucked away somewhere in the loft, before spending the rest of the afternoon in a mountain of wires on the sitting-room floor trying to detangle the fairy lights.
In the evening she went for a Christmas drink with Rosie and Flo, an annual event that had started twelve years ago when they were her bridesmaids. They had treated Tasha to champagne at the Ritz, deciding it was such a wonderfully festive experience that they would maintain the tradition each year, taking advantage of the huge tree and the live music to plunge themselves into Christmas spirit. Tasha hoped it would have the desired effect and lift her out of her gloomy mood. Perhaps everyone else’s festive cheer would somehow rub off on her. She wore a sparkly black top and some bright red lipstick, in an attempt to bring some colour to her pale face. She dabbed concealer under her eyes in a bid to disguise the bags. She hadn’t slept much since Andrew had died. Part of her felt it was wrong to go out and celebrate so soon after his death. But another part of her knew both he and Becca would want life to carry on as normal. And she knew how much Flo and Rosie were looking forward to their annual catch-up. Tasha was the middle link between them; they wouldn’t see each other without her there.
Surprisingly, she found she really enjoyed herself. There was something uplifting about being in such opulent surroundings, with so many joyful people out for Christmassy cocktails after a busy day shopping. Flo and Rosie were both in remarkably high spirits. Rosie was just high on life full stop these days, thanks to Josh, and Flo was making the most of an evening out of the house, having left Mark in charge of the kids. They raised their champagne glasses in a toast.
‘Cheers!’ Rosie said.
‘Cheers!’ Flo and Tasha replied.
‘To Andrew,’ Rosie added. They chinked their glasses again, pausing for a moment to think of him, and Becca.
‘How was the funeral?’ Flo asked. Tasha filled them in, telling them about the funeral, the wake, and the incident with Javier and Charlie upon their return.
‘God, that is just typical,’ Rosie said.
‘Isn’t it?’ Tasha laughed in bitter disbelief at the bad timing.
‘I wonder what Charlie was going to say?’ Flo asked.
‘I know. I’ll never know, now. That’s for sure. He’s clammed up again. I really thought we were beginning to get somewhere after Andrew…’
‘Such bad luck, Tash,’ Rosie sympathised.
‘Has Mark heard any more news about Sophia?’ Tasha asked Flo.
‘Still nothing. Look, the more I think about it, the more I’m sure it was just a rumour,’ Flo said.
Tasha knew she was just trying to make her feel better.
‘Mmmm,’ Tasha said. ‘He always seems to be dashing off somewhere or other. It would certainly explain a lot if it was true.’
‘What are you going to do for Christmas?’ Rosie asked.
‘We’ll be at my parents’. Charlie is going to stay with Becca and the kids, with Caroline and Stephen. On Boxing Day he’ll come and pick them up and take them for a few days, so I’ll be at home with Chloe and Ella. At least I won’t be on my own…’
‘Thank God for that,’ Flo said. ‘When is Ella back?’
‘Tomorrow!’ Tasha said. ‘She’s been away for so long, I can’t believe it.’
Tasha steered the conversation away from herself and onto Flo and Rosie. She didn’t want to wallow in her misery, knowing the best way to avoid it was to focus on their news, their happy lives instead. They ended up finishing the bottle of champagne and then ordering all sorts of weird and wonderful cocktails. The bill was extortionate, as always, but they declared it worth every penny as they stumbled onto the Tube home, Flo and Tasha heading west, and Rosie heading east.
The next day, Tasha hit the shops to get some much-needed Christmas shopping done, trying her best to ignore her throbbing head. She piled up the boot of her car with bag after bag of gifts, stocking fillers, wrapping paper and ribbon. Normally she was much more organised than this, but her return to work seemed to have made her woefully behind schedule. She stood by the car with her shopping list and pencil, crossing off all the purchases she had made: gardening gloves for Caroline, golf balls for Stephen, a cashmere shawl for Becca, stacking blocks for Fergus, a Frozen doll for Daisy, a saucepan for Bertie, an art book for Lizzie, a frame for Ella and pyjamas for Chloe.
The last item on the list read ‘Charlie?’ She had left it blank, having no idea what she could possibly give him. She wasn’t even sure if it was appropriate to get him anything at all. Did separated couples buy each other gifts? Suddenly an idea sprang to mind. An album. She could choose a selection of her favourite photographs of the children, of the family altogether, from the past ten years, and make him an album. It might seem odd if she chose photographs of them as a couple, especially from before Flora was born, but he couldn’t think it strange to be given pictures of his family, could he? Perhaps it would make him miss their life so much he would come home? It was a long shot, she knew, but it must be worth a try. Pleased with her idea, she darted back to Paperchase to find something suitable.
Back home with her laptop in front of her, she scrolled through hundreds of photographs, searching for her favourite snaps. Her mobile rang, interrupting her search. As always, she hoped it was Charlie, and was disappointed to see her mother’s caller ID on the screen.
‘Hi, darling!’ Lizzie’s cheerful voice sounded in her ear as she answered the call.
‘Hi, Mum,’ Tasha said. ‘How are you?’
‘All well here, thanks, darling. We’re just on our way to collect Ella from the airport. The flight was delayed by three hours so we’re much later than we would have liked to be, but at least if we go and pick her up we can make sure nothing else can possibly go wrong! Otherwise you never know, she’d probably catch the wrong bus or miss her train station and end up in Land’s End!’ Lizzie laughed in exasperation.
‘Good point. I can’t believe her trip is finally over.’
‘Thank the Lord!’
‘It’ll be great to see her.’
‘That’s what I want to talk to you about,’ Lizzie said.
‘Ah… Christmas?’
‘Well, yes, that, and exactly what you need from me in terms of the children…’
‘Right.’ Lizzie had kindly offered to help with the children for the few days between the end of term and Tasha finishing work. Emily was going to Rome with her boyfriend, so was unable to take on full-time babysitting duties.
‘The kids break up next Friday, so they’re fine for the first two days as it’s the weekend. Then I’ll need your help from the Monday to the Wednesday when I get home from work. If that’s still OK?’
‘OK. I’ll see if I can persuade your sisters to come and help!’ Lizzie said. ‘All three of them for three days might be a bit much for me. And Bertie needs to stay with the dogs so he’s no use.’
‘They’d love to see Chloe and Ella, great idea,’ Tasha said. ‘I’ll send a WhatsApp on the fam
ily group now.’
‘OK, darling. And then you’ll be with us from the twenty-second on?’ Lizzie asked.
‘Yes.’
‘What about—?’
‘Charlie? He’s going to be at Becca’s with his parents. He’ll pick the kids up on Boxing Day and they’ll spend a few days with him.’
‘Right. So… you’re definitely spending Christmas apart?’ Lizzie confirmed.
‘It certainly looks that way,’ Tasha said.
‘OK.’ Lizzie was being as supportive as she could be given the circumstances and the little information she had been given, and Tasha was grateful for the fact her family had stopped trying to find out every detail of their separation. She no longer had to fend off the endless invasive questions; it seemed that her family had finally accepted the separation as the new norm, even if she hadn’t.
Chapter Forty-eight
It was a strange, unsettling Christmas without Charlie. He was notable in his absence every second of the day. He hadn’t been there with the children to put treats out for Santa and the reindeer, he hadn’t helped her hide the stockings bulging with presents at the foot of their beds, he wasn’t there on Christmas morning sporting his musical tie and festive socks, nor was he there by her side in church. She could feel the rest of the congregation’s stares as they gossiped about her, the space next to her conspicuous in its emptiness.
Her heart went out to Becca. If she dared feel sorry for herself for even one second, she thought of her friend and got a healthy dose of perspective. Charlie might not be with them, but he was still alive. And he was offering Becca some much-needed support. She just wished she could be there with her too. She hadn’t seen Becca since the funeral, having been busy at work before plunging into Christmas activities with the children. When she had suggested meeting up the day before Christmas Eve Becca had been meeting the solicitors to discuss Andrew’s will, and the accountant to go through their finances. There was so much to face, so much to deal with, it must be impossible for Becca to feel as if she was keeping on top of it all. She knew from her messages how grateful Becca was for Charlie’s help. He was never more than a phone call away, offering his advice and trying to take as much of the burden off her shoulders as he could.
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