by Helen Warner
And being with Charlie had been strangely comforting, considering they didn’t really know each other and that he was such a star and she was just a jobbing journalist. It was as if the shared experience of heartbreak had given them the sort of connection that other couples take a lifetime to find.
Other couples? Martha pulled the plump white duvet up to her neck to keep out the chill from the air conditioning and rolled onto her side, shocked that she should even be thinking about her and Charlie in such terms.
Not that she didn’t find him attractive. Charlie was a gorgeous man inside and out, and she couldn’t understand how Liv had ever thought that she would be better off with the womanising Danny Nixon than the devoted father of her only child.
Martha’s musings were interrupted by the sound of Felix laughing as he ran past her door with Charlie, clearly having just roused his dad and demanding that he get up and play with him. ‘I’m gonna thrash you!’ he squealed, to which Charlie calmly replied, ‘Oh yeah? Well we’ll see about that, my little buddy!’
Martha smiled to herself. Charlie seemed like a wonderful dad and she could see how deeply it had affected him to be parted from his beloved son.
Like so many people, Martha had followed the lives of Liv and Charlie through the countless articles and gossip columns she had read over the years and felt as if she knew them. But the truth was, while they might seem to be perfect people living perfect lives, they were really no different to anyone else, with all the same problems and traumas.
Liv, in particular, seemed to be just as lonely and vulnerable as Martha at that moment. She had drunk heavily again last night, but worryingly, she didn’t seem to get drunk. Despite her petite frame, she had managed to polish off several large glasses of wine and a couple of gin and tonics without any apparent ill-effects.
To Martha’s surprise, not only did she relate to Liv, she also felt desperately sorry for her. Despite everything Liv had done, Martha wondered if she now regretted the turns her life had taken. Should she have ignored her feelings for Danny and made it work with Charlie? Could she have ignored how she felt about Danny? Maybe not. Maybe it was just too strong.
As for herself, Martha was proud that she seemed to be just about holding up, despite the constant, gnawing pain in her stomach and the squeezing sensation in her chest. Her heart literally felt as if it had broken in two, but she had managed to continue to function, albeit in a robotic fashion. Her senses were dulled, the way that she imagined you felt when you were on anti-depressants. Maybe that was yet another of the physical symptoms of heartbreak.
Being in LA with a famous film star, having been flown there first class and taken to some lovely places, as Charlie had done yesterday when he took her and Felix out for the day, ought to have felt glamorous and exciting, but Martha could just as easily have been in Clacton. She’d felt numb to the whole experience and wasn’t able to embrace it with her usual enthusiasm, thanks to the huge rucksack of misery it seemed as if she was carrying around on her back.
She had brought her notepad and recorder with her so that she could use the time with Charlie to push on with her research for the book, but Charlie had seemed surprised, even slightly offended, when she had first pulled them out of her bag. She had told him, not realising until she said it how true it was, that work was ‘distraction therapy’ for her.
Reluctantly, Martha threw off the duvet and climbed out of bed. Her eyes felt as if she had rubbed sandpaper over them during the night and, as she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, she saw that the circles beneath them had darkened.
She stepped into the shower and let the stinging jets of hot water pummel her skin for several minutes, enjoying the sensation as the warmth seeped into her chilled body. Once she had finished, she stepped out and wrapped the fluffy white robe that was hanging on the door tightly around her body. She picked up her phone and noticed with alarm that she had several missed calls, but as she scanned her ‘recent calls’ list, she could see that they were all from Lindsay.
She hadn’t been able to face calling Lindsay yet. Although she loved her friend and knew that she would always be there for her, she didn’t want to disillusion her about Jamie. Since her own marriage had collapsed, Lindsay had held Jamie and Martha up as role models for the perfect relationship. Many times she had said that she would never settle down again, unless she believed that there was a real chance her relationship could be like theirs. If she didn’t see that potential within the first three dates, she ended any burgeoning new romances.
Martha looked again at the calls list and bit her lip guiltily, as she realised that Lindsay had tried ringing her almost fifty times. She would be going out of her mind with worry; Martha had to return her call.
Lindsay picked up immediately. ‘Jesus, I was imagining for a while there that you must be dead!’
‘Sorry,’ Martha said, feeling sheepish. ‘It’s just that it’s been a bit of a hectic few days and—’ she started to gabble her excuses.
‘I know,’ Lindsay interrupted her.
‘Yes, so I had to come to LA because obviously I’m doing the book and I’m on a deadline and if I don’t get on—’
‘I know,’ Lindsay interrupted her again, this time more forcefully. ‘I know about Jamie. About what he did.’
‘Oh God,’ Martha sank down onto the unmade bed, her insides immediately churning again, as the horror of what had happened washed over her anew. ‘H . . . how?’ she stuttered.
‘Jamie told me.’ The gentleness of Lindsay’s voice made Martha feel a million times worse. ‘Babes, I am so sorry you have had to go through that. I can’t bear to think how you must have felt . . .’
‘Don’t,’ Martha cried, putting her hand over her face. ‘I can’t bear it myself.’
‘You sound awful,’ Lindsay said after a pause. ‘How are you feeling?’
Martha tried to speak but her throat felt as if it had closed up. She wanted more than anything to be with Lindsay right now, to pour out everything that she was going through.
‘Oh God, what a stupid bloody question!’ Lindsay said, when Martha didn’t reply.
‘No! It’s OK,’ Martha croaked. ‘I feel really bad. I still can’t believe it.’
‘Neither can I. Oh, Martha, I nearly battered him but . . .’
‘. . . but I got there first?’ Martha finished the sentence for her.
Lindsay laughed a dry, humourless laugh. ‘Something like that,’ she agreed. ‘Martha, I just feel so helpless. Please tell me what I can do to help.’
‘You can keep an eye on the children for me,’ Martha said in a small voice. ‘I’m really worried that they’ll be thinking that I’m the one that’s in the wrong. Especially Mimi. You know how smart she is.’
‘I know,’ Lindsay agreed. ‘Did you see that you were papped again at LAX?’
‘Oh God, no!’ Martha cried. ‘The kids . . .’
‘I’ll make sure the kids know it means nothing,’ Lindsay said quickly, reading Martha’s mind.
‘Thank you,’ Martha breathed, relieved. ‘My mum’s there – apparently Jamie couldn’t cope on his own – but I’m not sure they’d take much notice of anything she says, whereas they’ll listen to you.’
‘Of course,’ Lindsay said. ‘I’ll nip round now.’
Martha felt a surge of gratitude towards her friend. The children idolised Lindsay because although she was a teacher, she was also great fun and just a little bit naughty. She smoked, drank more than she should and watched all the teen American shows that Mimi in particular loved.
‘So . . . where are you staying?’ Lindsay asked. ‘And are you still with Charlie Simmons?’
Martha sighed. ‘Well, it’s all a bit of a long story but, yes, I’m here with Charlie. We’re staying at Liv’s house.’
There was silence for a moment while Lindsay digested what Martha had just said. ‘Liv Mason’s house?’ she spluttered at last. ‘His ex-wife?’
I know,’ Martha agreed, shakin
g her head. ‘I can’t quite believe it myself. It’s all so surreal.’
‘What’s it like? Tell me everything!’
Martha laughed. She could just picture Lindsay, smoking furiously, her eyes agog, as she waited for her to impart the juicy details. ‘Well, it’s certainly an eye-opener . . .’
‘Describe the house in every detail,’ Lindsay ordered, exhaling loudly.
‘A-mazing. Huge, double-height ceilings, lots of glass and steel. Everything’s white so it looks even bigger. Fabulous infinity pool overlooking the Hollywood Hills, and when you’re in it you can see the sea in the distance once the smog clears . . .’
‘Of course! Danny Nixon’s bachelor pad – I saw it featured in a magazine just after he bought it.’
Martha grinned to herself. Lindsay had every celebrity magazine, filed in date order, from the past five years, and she had a photographic memory when it came to the lives of the rich and famous. She was momentarily sorry that her friend wasn’t there to see it for herself.
‘And what’s she like? The ex?’
Martha sighed. ‘She’s lovely but a bit of a mess, to be honest. So we have a lot in common right now . . .’
‘A mess in what way?’
Martha lowered her voice to a whisper, even though it would have been impossible for anyone to hear her from outside the room. ‘I’m pretty sure she’s got a drink problem. I’ve never seen anyone put away quite so much. And, please don’t tell anyone this . . .’
‘Who am I going to tell?’ Lindsay cut in indignantly. ‘My headmaster?’
Martha laughed. ‘Well, it looks like Danny’s dumped her.’
‘Shit!’ Lindsay gasped.
‘I know. So, as I say, me and Liv Mason have rather a lot in common right now. It’s all so weird . . .’ Martha suddenly felt all the energy draining out of her and she lay back on the bed. ‘I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.’
‘So you are coming back then?’ Lindsay said, a mischievous note to her voice. ‘You’re not staying there and shacking up with Charlie Simmons?’
Martha laughed nervously. ‘No! Of course I’m not. I’ve still got two children to think about, remember? Even if my supposedly devoted husband is a cheating shit.’
‘Oh Martha!’ Lindsay cried. ‘I really hope you work it out with Jamie. He does seem absolutely devastated . . .’
‘So he should!’ Martha snapped. ‘And he’s only devastated because he’s been caught. He certainly wasn’t devastated before, when he was shagging his mistress behind my back.’
Martha could hear Lindsay gulp. ‘I still can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘Not Jamie . . .’
‘Me neither,’ agreed Martha ruefully. ‘Listen, Linds, I’d better go. Thanks for . . . well, you know . . .’
‘I know,’ Lindsay said. ‘Love you and take care. Come back soon. I miss you.’
Tears flashed into Martha’s eyes as she hung up. She had always known that Lindsay was fiercely loyal to her, but she could actually hear the pain in her voice and it touched her deeply. She stood up and went to the dressing room. She suddenly felt as if she needed to get out of the house and go for a run. Her head felt so crowded and muddled. She wanted to do something physical that didn’t require any thinking; something that would block out the pain.
Although she hadn’t unpacked, her new case full of stuff that Charlie’s assistant had bought for her had been removed and all the new items either hung up or folded and put away. That was one of the stranger things about staying here, Martha thought. She had yet to actually see any of the house-keeping staff, but they were obviously there, as things were miraculously put away or tidied up as soon as they had been used. It was as if there was a houseful of helpful ghosts on duty.
Somewhat different to home, thought Martha ruefully, picturing her chaotic hallway, over-spilling with odd shoes and out-of-season coats, as she picked out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and quickly pulled them on. She ran her hands through her hair and went into the bathroom, where she peered at herself in the large mirror. She hadn’t put any make-up on for more than three days now and instead of looking fresh, she thought she looked more like an old flannel that had been repeatedly wrung out.
She had always been fairly happy with her appearance and rarely gave it much thought. But now that her husband had so effectively demonstrated that she wasn’t attractive enough for him, she found herself scrutinising her face and body with something approaching contempt. Overnight, it seemed as if all the confidence had drained out of her, leaving her feeling like an old, empty, ugly shell.
There was a knock at the bedroom door. ‘Martha?’ said Charlie’s voice. ‘I’ve brought you some tea.’
Martha walked to the door and opened it. ‘Come in,’ she gestured with her arm. ‘I was just thinking that I might go for a run . . .’
‘You sure that’s a good idea?’
Martha took the cup of tea he was holding. ‘I think I need to get out for a bit, clear my head, you know?’
Charlie nodded. ‘How you doing?’
Martha sat down on the bed, while Charlie sat on the chaise longue opposite. She took a long, grateful sip of her tea before she spoke. ‘Jamie called last night . . .’
Charlie’s eyes flickered and she thought that they darkened slightly. ‘And?’ he said, pursing his lips.
‘It’s just . . . hard. I hate to admit it but I miss him.’
Charlie didn’t reply and she watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallowed hard.
Martha frowned, wondering why she suddenly felt guilty. She felt as if she was betraying Charlie somehow by talking about Jamie.
‘Anyway, do you fancy joining me on my run?’ she tried to lighten the mood, which had inexplicably darkened.
Charlie smiled, his eyes shining again. ‘Sure,’ he said, standing up. ‘Can’t have you heading out there all by yourself. Give me five minutes.’
‘Charlie!’ she called, as he was about to leave the room.
He stopped and looked back over his shoulder at her.
Martha hesitated. She wanted to say so much but didn’t know where to begin. ‘Thank you,’ she said at last.
Charlie nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. Martha shook her head, trying to identify the confused emotions that were tumbling over themselves. Just then her mobile rang and she snatched it up.
‘It’s me,’ said Jamie, sounding as exhausted as she felt. ‘I’m here. In LA.’
Chapter 24
Half an hour later, Charlie made his way into the kitchen where Liv was sitting at the huge island in the middle of the room, staring into space. ‘Hey,’ he said, putting his hands on his hips and looking around distractedly, suddenly unsure what to do with himself. He felt irritated and upset at the news of Jamie’s impending arrival. And inexplicably cross with Martha, although he knew that was unfair.
Liv looked up wearily. She looked dreadful: the whites of her eyes were yellow and bloodshot and her complexion was grey and dry-looking. ‘Hey,’ she replied in a monotone voice. ‘You OK?’ she added after a few moments when Charlie didn’t say anything but continued to look around in bewilderment.
‘Hmm,’ he replied, finally coming over to join her. He pulled out a stool and perched opposite her. ‘It’s just . . . well, I think I may have made a mistake bringing Martha here.’
‘Why?’ Liv’s dull, lifeless eyes suddenly flickered with interest.
Charlie looked up at the ceiling while he thought of the right answer. He couldn’t explain it himself. ‘Because I really like her,’ he said. ‘And it’s complicated . . .’
Liv rolled her eyes and smiled a dead smile. ‘Isn’t it always?’
Charlie nodded his acknowledgement. ‘I know. Why do we always want what we can’t have?’
Liv’s eyes brimmed and Charlie immediately regretted his choice of words. ‘Sorry,’ he quickly tried to correct himself. ‘I mean . . . well, you know what I mean,’ he tailed off feebly.
‘
I don’t think you made a mistake bringing her,’ Liv said, brushing her hand over her eyes as she spoke.
‘Really?’ Charlie looked up in surprise.
‘Really,’ Liv nodded. ‘I mean, things haven’t exactly been brilliant between you and me up till now, have they? You bringing Martha has helped us to . . . reconnect. And I like her – even if she is a journalist!’
Charlie smiled ruefully. ‘She is great, isn’t she?’ he said, before he could stop himself.
Liv raised her eyebrows. ‘Wow,’ she mouthed. ‘You’ve got it bad.’
Charlie could feel himself blushing. ‘It’s pointless,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘She’s about to go and meet her husband from the airport. He’s just flown in to see her.’
‘Oh . . .’ Liv replied, her forehead creasing. ‘So there really isn’t anything going on between you two then?’
‘I wish!’ Charlie cut her off, again feeling the heat in his cheeks as he realised he had said more than he should.
‘So what’s the story then? With her husband?’ Liv picked up a napkin and began twisting it around her finger.
‘The oldest story in the world,’ Charlie replied, feeling the annoyance and jealousy prickle up inside him again. ‘He cheated on her. He’s a bastard who doesn’t deserve her. But she’ll probably forgive him and then he’ll do it all over again. ’
‘Poor Martha,’ Liv said, looking down. ‘And they’ve got kids, haven’t they?’
‘Two. Christ, I don’t know why women put up with it,’ he burst out bitterly, standing up again and throwing his hands in the air.
Now it was Liv’s turn to redden. ‘No. Or men,’ she said, dropping the napkin onto the work surface before getting to her feet. She poured Charlie a coffee and brought it over to him. His face relaxed as he took it and smiled at her.
‘What?’ The mischievous glint in her eye had returned momentarily.
Charlie shook his head. ‘Nothing. Just a bit of déjà vu. Remembering something.’