With or Without You

by Helen Warner

  Liv tutted despondently to herself and looked out of the large, plate-glass window at the powder-blue sky and relentless sunshine. She even missed the rain, and suddenly felt a deep yearning to go out and get absolutely drenched in a downpour – not that there was much chance of that here. She and Charlie had both been winter people, happiest when it was cold outside and they could snuggle up together on the sofa in front of the blazing fire at their sweet little Surrey cottage.

  Charlie. She wondered what he was doing right now, eight hours ahead of her in the UK. They spoke all the time on the phone and by Skype because of Felix, but their conversations were never very long or overly friendly. She could well understand his coldness towards her. She deserved it. She had humiliated him and, worse, she had broken his heart when she took his son to live thousands of miles away from him. But it still stung Liv when he made it clear he didn’t want to speak to her.

  He was the toast of Britain right now, and if the stories were to be believed, he would soon become the toast of Hollywood too, thanks to the recent Oscar nomination. A big part of her was pleased for him and proud of him, but a smaller, meaner part of her was secretly glad that he hadn’t actually won the Oscar, although she suspected that it was only a matter of time. She felt jealous and a bit embarrassed at their extreme reversal of fortunes. Now it was his career that was on the up, while hers floundered.

  Sighing deeply, Liv typed ‘Charlie Simmons’ into the search box. Immediately, pages and pages of sites appeared. She scrolled casually through the regular fan sites and Twitter stories, then frowned and squinted as a new story caught her eye. It was freshly posted, featuring a picture of Charlie. In it, he could be seen leaving his London hotel with a very attractive woman, who was obviously wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants, along with a pair of perilously high gold platform sandals. They weren’t holding hands or showing any obvious signs of being a couple, but they were laughing at something together in a way that made Liv’s heart constrict and her breath catch in her throat.

  In the picture, Charlie looked happier than she had seen him in years. He looked like a man in love, she thought. But who the hell was this woman? She wasn’t an actress as far as Liv could remember, but there was something familiar about her. Maybe it was the fact that she looked like a young Julia Roberts, with her dark hair, dark eyes and full, sexy mouth. The caption simply described her as a ‘mystery woman’ and was accompanied by a gushing article suggesting that Charlie’s new love meant that he was finally over his ex, Liv Mason, who had ‘heartlessly dumped him for her Hollywood lover’.

  Liv swallowed hard. She had indeed dumped him for Danny. But that didn’t mean she no longer had feelings for him or could help the jealousy that was welling up inside her now. On the contrary, she was certain that a part of her would always love him.

  They had met when they were both still very young. In Liv’s case, she had been just twenty-one, straight out of university and starring in a British TV series as the beautiful daughter of an unconventional but close farming family, set in the idyllic countryside of the 1950s. The series turned out to be a surprise smash hit and was recommissioned, with Charlie Simmons cast as her love interest.

  At twenty-five, Charlie was a few years older than her, and Liv could hardly conceal her delight when she was first introduced to him. He was over six feet tall with a wiry, firm body and wild, dark curls that dropped casually over his dark, brooding, long-lashed eyes. He seemed dangerous and arrogant, but his looks, she quickly discovered, were deceiving. Unlike every other actor she had ever come into contact with, Charlie was totally lacking in vanity, saying he preferred to secure roles based on his acting ability rather than his appearance.

  Not that he was unaware of the benefits his looks could bring him. Charlie had already dated some of the most beautiful up-and-coming actresses of the time, and he was savvy enough to know that being described as a heart-throb and being seen with a succession of gorgeous women would certainly do his career no harm. But aside from getting his hair cut occasionally and running when he got the chance, he wasn’t prepared to put much time or effort into maintaining his God-given gift.

  And as for being dangerous, Liv soon discovered that he was actually surprisingly conventional. He came from a stable, middle-class family in Wales, with one younger sister and parents who were still happily married, and he made it clear that he wanted the same for himself one day.

  Liv’s background couldn’t have been more different. Her mother, Mariella, had been a wild-child of the Sixties, who had made sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll her mantra. As a result, she had had two daughters by two different men, neither of whom was involved in their lives, mainly because Mariella wasn’t entirely sure which men they were from the long line of lovers she had enjoyed.

  Liv and her older sister, Sierra, often entreated Mariella to track down and identify their fathers, confident that they would turn out to be the offspring of rock royalty. But Mariella would give a knowing smile and insist that it was sometimes better to ‘imagine what you want your truth to be’. That put either of them off finding out for certain.

  Mariella had never needed the security of marriage because she was part of the famous Mason acting dynasty and, as a result, was independently wealthy. Liv’s upbringing had been unconventional and nomadic, as she and Sierra were trailed around the world by their mother, never quite sure who they would be living with from month to month, yet always surrounded by an array of loving but eccentric aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents.

  But Liv had grown tired of the endless upheaval and had yearned for some structure in her life, so it was a surprise to everyone except herself when she got married at the tender age of twenty-three to sensible, conventional Charlie Simmons, who also wanted nothing more than to settle down and have a family. On her wedding day Mariella had muttered darkly that Liv was a Mason and would soon tire of being a housewife, but Liv had laughed and shaken her head. She knew what she wanted.

  For the first year of their marriage, Liv had been deliriously happy. Charlie was her soulmate, the love of her life. Despite both of them working in a precarious profession, they seemed to bring luck to one another and neither of them was ever out of work for a day longer than they wanted to be. They were able to pick and choose their roles and opted for those that meant they were able to spend as little time apart as possible.

  Although Charlie was working with some stunning actresses, Liv never once had cause to doubt him. She trusted him implicitly, knowing that he felt fidelity went hand in hand with marriage. He simply wasn’t interested in anyone but her and she felt the same about him. With hindsight, she realised that that was because she hadn’t yet met anyone else that she felt as attracted to. Mariella’s warning that she was a Mason and therefore incapable of settling for one man should have been ringing loudly in her ears. But it wasn’t. Yet.

  They hadn’t planned to have children immediately, but when Liv discovered that she was pregnant with Felix, both she and Charlie had been thrilled. After the birth, Charlie was so smitten with his new son that he suggested that he take on the bulk of the childcare while Liv kept on working. Liv was equally in love with her baby boy, but she agreed on the grounds that they could swap roles if she found it too difficult being away from him during the day.

  Yet to her surprise, she enjoyed being able to go to work and feeling like a person in her own right, rather than just a wife and mother. She was gaining a reputation as an actress and it was obvious to everyone that she would soon be getting the call from Hollywood. Sure enough, legendary film director Eric Summers had seen her latest drama and had asked her to audition for his next film.

  Liv had felt nervous about broaching it with Charlie, worried that he may feel upstaged or jealous, but he reacted to the news with typically generous jubilation, telling her how proud he was of her.

  ‘Don’t get too carried away,’ she had laughed. ‘I probably won’t even get the part.’

  ‘You will,’ Charlie
had replied emphatically, kissing her lips and beaming with pride. ‘You definitely will.’

  He was right, and a few weeks later the three of them had set off for Hollywood and a six-month adventure, full of excitement about what the future might hold for their little family.

  The first thing that Liv hadn’t bargained for was the incredibly long working hours in LA. Because budgets were being squeezed, as the big studios demanded more than ever for their money, film sets operated seven days a week and often involved night shoots.

  Liv also quickly discovered that acting was only part of the job. In addition she was expected to do a daily workout with a personal trainer, due to several scenes in which she was either semi-naked or wearing only her underwear. She had tentatively suggested, in a very polite, British fashion, that maybe the director could employ a body double. But Eric had flashed her his beaming Hollywood smile and told her matter-of-factly that body doubles were only employed for ‘the really big names’.

  Another thing she hadn’t reckoned on was her leading man, Danny Nixon. She had expected him to be slightly put out that the role had gone to some relatively unknown British actress, but he had been charming to the point of flirtatious from the moment she had been introduced to him.

  Danny Nixon was a heart-throb in every sense of the word. He looked as if he spent every spare moment on a surf board, with his shining, wavy blond locks, lean tanned body and piercing bright blue eyes that smiled even when he didn’t. He had been linked with all of his leading ladies to date and seemed unconcerned with his reputation as a lothario.

  Liv could tell that there was a connection between them from the moment they shared their first screen kiss. In the past, love scenes had been perfunctory affairs – except of course with Charlie – requiring all her acting ability to make it look as though she was quivering with passion. But she didn’t need to act with Danny. As the director shouted ‘Cut!’, Danny slipped his tongue into her mouth and continued to kiss her deeply for a couple more seconds.

  Liv didn’t know why but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away from him and instead found herself responding. Eventually, they pulled apart and Danny looked at her with a curious expression. ‘Wow!’ he mouthed.

  Liv’s cheeks blazed with embarrassment and shame. She glanced around the set and caught the eye of one of the make-up artists, who smiled knowingly. Liv guessed that she had seen this trick of Danny’s many times before. ‘Please don’t do that again,’ she told him curtly, before marching off to her trailer.

  After that, Danny became transfixed by her. No woman had ever turned him down before and Liv could tell he was puzzled by her reticence. But she had Charlie and Felix to think about, and a womaniser like Danny Nixon wasn’t worth risking her marriage for.

  But the truth was, thanks to the rigours of the filming schedule and the necessity to keep in shape, she barely saw Charlie and Felix any more. Felix would be asleep in his cot by the time she arrived home and he wouldn’t have woken up by the time she left the next morning. She could already feel herself becoming distanced from him and she didn’t like it.

  Charlie’s wide, generous smile began to grow tighter as the weeks passed. He was miserable sitting at home in their rented house, waiting for Liv to appear late at night for five minutes before slumping into bed, exhausted. He became more remote every day and Liv started to lose patience with him. ‘Why don’t you just bloody well go home then if you’re so miserable?’ she had barked during one particularly heated row.

  Charlie had looked at her in disgust. ‘Maybe because I want our son to have at least some contact with his mother?’ he had snarled sarcastically.

  Liv had recoiled in horror. Charlie had never been aggressive towards her before and she felt sick with guilt that he was right. ‘Well, what do you expect me to do?’ she had yelled, her voice quivering. ‘Do you think I should walk out on the film? I’d be sued for millions and my career would be over.’

  Charlie had closed his eyes and sighed. ‘No, no, of course not,’ he had said in a more conciliatory tone. ‘It’s just . . . well, this is pretty miserable right now.’

  Liv had softened and wrapped her arms around him. ‘I know, baby, but it’ll all be over in a couple of months’ time and we can get back to normal. I know how hard it is for you, but I love you and appreciate what you’re doing. Really I do.’

  For the next week or so, things were better, but gradually Charlie retreated into himself again. ‘I’ve been invited to the Baftas,’ he said as they lay in bed one night. ‘I think I’d quite like to go.’

  Liv turned to look at him in alarm. The Baftas were held in London, which would mean Charlie leaving LA for at least a couple of days. ‘What about Felix?’ she asked.

  In the semi-darkness, she could see him shrug. ‘How about you take him onto the set with you? It’s only for a few days. A week, max.’

  Suddenly, Liv saw the solution to their problem appear like an oasis before her. ‘Oh my God!’ she cried in delight. ‘Of course he could come on the set with me! Why didn’t I think of that before?’ Despite her tiredness, she was tempted to scramble out of bed and go and get her baby boy there and then.

  So the next morning, while Charlie packed his bag and headed for home, Liv excitedly took Felix onto the set with her for the first time, to be greeted by nothing short of rapture from the cast, crew and most of all, Danny. And that’s when she discovered that she was more like her mother than she would ever have cared to admit. That’s when she fell in love with him.

  Liv closed her laptop and spun on her chair thoughtfully. Felix was a lucky little boy, she mused, having two dads who adored him. No, she corrected herself quickly, not two dads. Charlie would kill her for even thinking such a thing. One dad and one step-dad who thought the world of him. Danny had taken to step-fatherhood with incredible gusto and he seemed to really love Felix. She just wished she could be as certain of his love for her. She glanced at her watch. It had just turned midday. Perfect, she thought, heading back towards the kitchen. Time for a large glass of wine.

  Chapter 6

  ‘Time for a large glass of wine!’ Martha declared, slumping down at the table with a dramatic groan.

  ‘Don’t panic, it’s coming!’ Jamie poured red wine into two glasses for him and Martha, before settling down across the table from her and looking at her expectantly. ‘So how did it go with the famous Mr Simmons then? Tell me all.’

  It was one of the things Martha loved so much about Jamie. He was such a great listener and never seemed bored or disinterested in her stories.

  ‘Oh, it was bloody awful!’ Martha cried, taking a slurp of her wine. ‘You do know that you burnt a huge great hole in my favourite dress this morning, don’t you?’

  Jamie frowned. ‘Did I?’ he looked upwards, as if wracking his brains to retrieve the memory.

  ‘Yes!’ Martha replied. ‘You did! Haven’t you wondered why I’m wearing these clothes?’ She gestured down at the navy blue t-shirt and grey sweatpants she was still wearing.

  Jamie raised his eyebrows as he noticed her unusual outfit for the first time. ‘Oh!’ he exclaimed in surprise. ‘Where did you get those?’

  Martha tutted in mock frustration. ‘Honestly, Jamie! I sometimes think you wouldn’t notice if I came in wearing nothing.’

  ‘I’d definitely notice that,’ Jamie cut in.

  ‘Stop it!’ she chided, secretly delighted that he still fancied her after all these years.

  She proceeded to tell Jamie the whole sorry story of her disastrous first meeting with one of the biggest names in British films.

  Jamie roared appreciatively with laughter. ‘Oh my God,’ he said, shaking his head, still smiling broadly. ‘Was he a bit of a twat then?’

  ‘No!’ Martha protested. ‘He was great, actually. He even offered to lend me something to wear.’

  Jamie’s smile narrowed slightly. ‘I bet he bloody did!’

  ‘Hey!’ Martha replied with her best coquettish look. ‘You kn
ow I only have eyes for you . . .’

  Jamie fixed his deep blue eyes on her and blinked extra slowly, in the way he always did when he was feeling horny. ‘And you know I only have eyes for you, even if you have come home wearing another man’s clothes . . .’ He stood up and came round to Martha’s side of the table, then knelt down on the floor beside her and carefully removed her gold platforms, before gently massaging the ball of her big toe with his thumb. Martha grinned down at him, feeling herself beginning to melt. He knew every inch of her body intimately and could bring her to orgasm by stimulating the strangest parts, just as he was doing now with her toe.

  Without taking his eyes off hers, Jamie lifted her foot to his mouth and began to suck the toe he had just been massaging. Martha wanted to protest that she needed to wash her feet after her day running around London, but she couldn’t. She was enjoying the sensation too much.

  After a minute, Jamie stood up, and as he did so he pulled Martha to her feet in front of him. He picked up a glass of wine from the table and took a sip, before bending to kiss her and releasing some of the wine from his mouth into hers. By now, Martha was aching for him, but she knew Jamie would take his time and bring her to boiling point before he would finally allow himself any pleasure. He was without doubt the best lover she had ever had, even after all these years.

  ‘Let’s go upstairs,’ she whispered, as his fingers explored her, sending her into shudders of ecstasy.

  ‘No,’ he said, gruffly. ‘Let’s not.’ He lifted Charlie’s t-shirt over her head, before unclipping her pink lacy bra and beginning to lick her nipples.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Martha gasped. ‘Jamie . . .’

  ‘I love you so much,’ he whispered into her ear, lifting her up as if she weighed nothing and laying her down on the table. Slowly, he removed her sweatpants and knickers so that she was naked before him. He gazed at her adoringly. ‘You are the sexiest woman in the whole wide world,’ he said, before unzipping his jeans and kicking them off, along with his boxers, and sliding into her.