by Helen Warner
Liv grinned back. She knew exactly what he was talking about. The day they had moved into their cottage in Surrey, they had arrived well before the removal van and had immediately taken advantage of the fact by making love on the bare wooden floor. Afterwards, as they lay naked in each other’s arms, Liv suddenly shrieked and leapt to her feet. ‘Shit, they’re here!’ she’d cried, scrabbling for her clothes and flinging Charlie’s at him, just as four burly removal men appeared, peering through the window. Giggling like schoolchildren, they had managed to get dressed just in time to open the door to find the main removal man presenting them with their kettle and telling them to get the tea on. The knowing look Liv had given Charlie as she handed him his cup still tickled him all these years later.
‘That was a good day,’ she murmured, as if lost in her own memories.
‘It was,’ Charlie agreed, before the sound of Martha’s footsteps coming down the hall brought him back to the present with a jolt.
Liv heard them too and the moment was broken. ‘How’s she getting to the airport?’ she asked briskly.
‘I don’t know,’ Charlie replied, shaking his head. ‘I didn’t think to ask.’
‘Well, she’ll need a lift, won’t she?’ A look of exasperation skittered across Liv’s brow.
‘I suppose . . .’
‘So, are you going to take her or shall I get a driver? It’s not as if she can go out in the street here and hail a cab.’
Charlie hesitated. He wanted to spend as much time as he possibly could with Martha, but he wasn’t sure he could bear to see her with her husband. What the hell was happening to him? ‘I’ll take her,’ he said at last.
‘OK. Then I guess you’d better let her know.’
‘Let me know what?’ said Martha, coming into the kitchen, her sandals making a clacking sound on the tiled floor.
‘That I’ll give you a lift . . . to the airport. Sorry, I should have thought of it before.’
‘No, no, I’ll be fine,’ Martha insisted, picking up her bag. ‘I’ll just get a cab or something.’
Both Liv and Charlie laughed. ‘I don’t think so,’ Charlie said, smiling. ‘Strangely enough, there aren’t many cabs riding up and down this road, looking for fares.’
Martha laughed too. It was the first time Charlie had seen her properly smile since that very first day, when she had arrived at his hotel room with a giant hole in her dress and immediately captivated him. He watched her now, thinking that she looked stunning, standing in the middle of the huge white room in a pretty blue dress.
It wasn’t lost on Charlie that for the few short days she had spent with him, Martha had made no effort with her appearance at all. It was only now that she was going to meet her husband that she had put any thought into how she looked. He knew when he was beaten.
Martha wasn’t the type of woman who would be impressed by fame or money and he knew that however hurt and broken she was feeling, she wouldn’t throw in the towel on her marriage without a fight. She was too devoted to her children not to try to make it work. But, glutton for punishment that he was, there was still something about her that was pulling him towards her.
‘Let’s go,’ he said.
Chapter 25
Jamie walked out of the wide glass doors of the Tom Bradley terminal at LAX and squinted down the parking lot, unsure what sort of car he was looking for. He felt dehydrated, sick with exhaustion, but all of those feelings were over-shadowed by the panic he felt at seeing Martha again. It had only been five days since he had last seen her but it felt like an eternity. And the look she had given him before she drove away would stay with him forever.
His phone beeped. He pulled it out of his jeans pocket and glanced at the screen. Call me when you’re here and we’ll drive round to the front. Martha.
No kisses to end the text, Jamie noted, an ominous feeling taking root in his stomach. And who was ‘we’? Charlie Simmons? Jamie hoped not. He knew he had absolutely no right to feel anything approaching jealousy but he couldn’t help it. Charlie Simmons was richer, better looking and more successful than him. If there was now some kind of competition between them, Jamie was certain Charlie would win. Except for one thing. Jamie’s trump card was the children.
He dialled Martha’s number and she answered immediately. ‘OK, we’ll be round in a few minutes,’ she said, without giving him a chance to say anything. ‘Wait there,’ she added, before hanging up.
Jamie clutched his sports bag closer to him, suddenly feeling unsettled and inadequate, and distractedly watching the succession of cars and shuttle buses arriving and leaving the undercover arrivals area, trailing behind them a fug of diesel fumes in the heat.
He had never been to LA before but already he could tell that everything was on a much grander scale than at home. Looking out of the window from his cramped economy-class seat just before landing, he could see the network of roads stretching for miles in a neatly ordered, giant grid formation. He had expected the houses to be dotted about but they were spread thickly over the landscape like a carpet.
After a few minutes, a sleek black Range Rover pulled up to the kerb beside him. Martha lowered the tinted window and locked eyes with him for a second. His heart began to hammer. ‘Hi,’ he murmured, unable to look away from this woman who had shared his life for so long and given birth to his two children, yet now seemed like a stranger he was meeting for the first time.
Martha’s dark eyes flickered. ‘Are you getting in then?’
Jamie reached for the back door and pulled it open. He swung his bag onto the tan leather seat and climbed in behind it. Sure enough, Charlie Simmons was in the driving seat, causing Jamie’s heart to sink with disappointment. He didn’t look round or acknowledge Jamie’s presence at all, and the tension began to fizz almost immediately.
Jamie caught his eye in the rear-view mirror. ‘Thanks for picking me up.’ He was unable to keep the grudging tone out of his voice. He felt like a child in the company of two adults.
‘It’s fine,’ Charlie said in a pissed-off voice.
During the awkward, heavy silence that followed, Jamie took a surreptitious look at Charlie, as he negotiated his way out of the chaos of the airport and onto the main road into central LA. Even from behind he could see that he was a breathtakingly good-looking man, with dark, glossy hair and a strong, square jaw. His perfectly manicured nails and beautifully cut white shirt made Jamie feel cheap and scruffy in comparison.
As if he could sense what Jamie was thinking, Charlie caught his eye again and Jamie quickly looked away, reddening as he did so. He hated this man already, with his money and his success and his ridiculous good looks. But most of all he hated him for being here with his wife. Jamie wanted to be alone with Martha, not with some bloody celebrity making him feel even more crap about himself. He wanted to talk to Martha, but there seemed to be an invisible wall around her and she certainly didn’t seem to want to break the deadlock. In the tense silence, he stared out of the blacked-out window as the car sped along, marvelling at the number of cars and wondering how Charlie seemed to be such an expert driver when he didn’t even live here.
‘Where are we going?’ Jamie asked at last, when he could stand it no longer.
Martha glanced towards Charlie and raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m not sure, actually. Charlie, where are we going?’
From his position in the back seat, Jamie could see Charlie’s expression soften as he looked at Martha. ‘I thought I’d take you to the Four Seasons. We were booked in there anyway, so they’ll presumably still have availability . . .’ He tailed off and deliberately caught Jamie’s eye in the mirror again. Jamie couldn’t be sure but he thought he detected a glint of triumph in Charlie’s gaze this time.
So, Jamie thought jealously, Charlie Simmons had booked himself and Martha into one of LA’s swankiest hotels. It didn’t take a genius to work out that he was obviously trying to get her into bed – assuming he hadn’t already. Immediately, he wondered if Charlie had booked
one room or two. He couldn’t imagine how he would feel if they arrived to find it was one.
‘OK, this is it,’ Charlie said, after about thirty-five minutes, as he pulled onto the paved driveway of the Four Seasons hotel, which towered above them in pink-gold splendour. Jamie suddenly felt scared about getting out of the car. The hotel looked grander than anywhere he had ever been before, with a wall of bell-hops ready to open the doors of the cars pulling in and help their well-heeled inhabitants with their expensive luggage.
But he didn’t have time to worry, as both his and Martha’s doors were swung open simultaneously and he was invited to get out of the car by one of the bell-hops, who was dressed smartly in a black suit and white shirt.
‘It’s OK.’ Charlie leaned over Martha to speak to the bellhop. ‘I’m just dropping someone off.’
The man nodded. ‘No problem, Mr Simmons, sir.’
Jamie’s feeling of inadequacy grew as he grabbed his shabby bag and clambered out of the car, looking back at Martha, who was talking to Charlie.
‘Call me if you need anything.’ Charlie was looking at her in a way that made Jamie’s insides curdle. Martha nodded and leaned over to kiss Charlie on the cheek. ‘I will,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much.’ She swung her legs to the right to get out of the car and Jamie put his hand out to help her down. She pointedly ignored it and climbed out herself, giving Charlie one last lingering look and a quick wave before she turned and made her way into the palatial lobby of the hotel, escorted by a bell-hop who pulled her suitcase. Jamie trailed nervously several steps behind her, struck by how well suited she already seemed to this kind of lifestyle – unlike him, who felt awkward and out of place.
To his relief, when they checked in, he discovered that Charlie had booked two rooms. ‘We’ll be needing both after all,’ Martha told the smiling receptionist, putting an end to Jamie’s short-lived jubilation.
As they walked towards the lifts, Jamie threw Martha a sideways glance, to try to gauge her expression, but her face was impassive. The bell-hop pressed the button and the lift doors swished together. Jamie suddenly felt terrified at being in such close proximity to Martha. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he muttered, trying to lighten the mood with a slight laugh. ‘I feel so nervous.’
Martha’s lip curled slightly and she looked away.
‘You look amazing, by the way,’ Jamie added, wondering where she had got the blue dress. He was fairly sure he’d never seen it before.
‘Shame you didn’t think so earlier . . .’ Martha muttered.
Jamie’s eyes shot towards the bell-hop, whose face remained neutral. He must have seen it all before, he thought. Especially in LA.
They arrived at the room and the bell-hop let them in. ‘Wow!’ gasped Jamie, looking around him and again feeling a stab of discomfort as he realised that this was the sort of luxury that someone like Charlie Simmons would be used to. ‘It’s fantastic!’
‘I suppose so,’ Martha replied, looking pointedly at the man who had just deposited her bag on the luggage rack.
Jamie followed her gaze for a few seconds before realisation dawned. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a bundle of dollars, tearing off first a five, then adding a ten.
‘Thank you, sir,’ the bell-hop smiled, discreetly pocketing the money and leaving.
Jamie and Martha stood awkwardly for a few seconds, before Jamie spoke: ‘Great room,’ he croaked.
Martha looked around dispassionately, before putting her handbag on the floor and kicking off the wedge sandals she was wearing. She padded over to the mini bar area of the suite and poured herself a glass from the bottle of still water provided. ‘Do you want one?’ She finally looked at Jamie, who was still clutching his holdall as he stood in the middle of the vast room looking lost.
‘Don’t suppose they’ve got anything stronger?’ he tried to joke, before seeing from Martha’s face that she was in no mood. ‘Er, yes, water would be great.’ He dumped his bag down and slumped onto one of the plump beige sofas.
Martha brought the glasses over to the coffee table and put them down carefully. Then she sat on the other sofa and curled her feet underneath her. ‘So,’ she began, fixing him with a cold stare, ‘what do we do now?’
Jamie picked up a glass and took a long, thirsty gulp. ‘I know what I want to do,’ he said, when he felt that his throat was no longer too parched to speak.
‘Let me guess. You want me to forgive you and forget that it ever happened. Forget that you slept with some whore behind my back while our children were at school and I was working hard to provide a roof over our heads. Am I right?’
Jamie shook his head, unable to bear her cold assessment. ‘Don’t . . .’ he pleaded.
‘How would you rather I put it? Because I’m right, aren’t I, Jamie? That’s what you’ve come here for, haven’t you?’
Jamie took a deep breath. ‘I’ve come here because I couldn’t handle another second of being apart from you. I couldn’t cope with you being on the other side of the world hating me. I don’t blame you for one minute. But Martha, I promise you one thing. However much you hate me right now, it’s only a fraction of how much I hate myself. I will never, ever forgive myself for what I did, but equally, I will never, ever stop trying to prove to you that I love you . . . and I . . .’ He stopped for a second as the tears threatened to overwhelm him. When he felt that they had subsided enough, he continued, ‘And I love our two gorgeous kids so much. It will never happen again.’ He finished speaking and leaned forward, beseeching her with his eyes to understand how much he meant what he was saying. ‘Please, baby . . .’
Martha put her hand up to stop him talking. ‘Shut up!’ she cried. ‘The only reason you’re in such a state is because you’ve been caught. If you hadn’t been caught, you would have carried on the minute my back was turned. If you really loved any of us, you wouldn’t have dreamt of cheating on us.’
‘It just wasn’t like that!’ Jamie protested, shaking his head.
A giant shudder passed through Martha’s body and she hugged herself as she started to shake.
‘You’re cold!’ Jamie leapt up and pulled one of the sumptuous cashmere throws off the bed. He draped it around Martha’s heaving shoulders and sat down beside her, leaving one arm across her back. When she didn’t shake him off, he ventured further and pulled her towards him in an embrace.
They sat for almost half an hour, both lost in their own desperate thoughts, each of them crying sporadically, before Jamie spoke again. ‘I am so, so sorry, Martha,’ he said.
Martha nodded sadly. ‘I know. But I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive you, Jamie.’
Jamie’s spirits, which had risen slightly when she had allowed him to hug her, now dropped again. ‘I know I’ll never be able to forgive myself. But if there’s anything, anything at all that I can do to put this right, please tell me. Because I am going out of my mind and I just don’t know what to do.’
‘The only thing you could do to put it right is to not have done it in the first place,’ Martha replied. She looked up at Jamie and her expression hardened with contempt. ‘I bet you and her were laughing your heads off at stupid old me, weren’t you? I bet you were—’
‘No!’ Jamie gasped, squeezing her shoulder. ‘It wasn’t like that at all.’ But this time Martha shook his arm off angrily and moved away from him, pulling the throw around herself protectively.
‘I feel like such a fool! I’ve read all the stories in the magazines I write for, about husbands who spend their days shagging anything that moves behind their wives’ backs, and yet never once . . . never once,’ she repeated, ‘did I think it might apply to you. Oh no . . . not wonderful Jamie who’s so helpful down at the school. Christ, I bet you’ve even slept with half the mums on the PTA!’
Jamie jumped up, alarmed at the way she was working herself into a frenzy again. ‘No!’ he shouted, loud enough to make Martha stop talking mid-sentence. ‘There have been no other affairs! I’m not trying to dodge
what I have done, Martha, but I’m not going to take the blame for things I haven’t done either.’
‘Think about it, Jamie. What you’ve done has shattered my confidence far more effectively than if you’d beaten the shit out of me. I can’t look at my face and body now without thinking about how it wasn’t enough for you. About how you weren’t satisfied with our sex life, so you chose to go out and find someone else to have sex with . . .’
‘But you were enough for me!’ Jamie cried, desperate for her to believe him. ‘I think you’re the sexiest woman alive. I love what we do together . . .’
‘Well here’s the thing,’ Martha said in a cold voice. ‘Men who think their wives are the sexiest women on earth don’t sleep with other women behind their backs. Men who are happily married and satisfied with their sex life, don’t sleep with other women behind their wives’ backs. Men who—’
‘OK!’ Jamie cut her off, too weary to fight any more. ‘I can’t explain it. I am more ashamed than you will ever know, but you have got to believe me that it had nothing to do with you.’
Martha snorted. ‘Nothing to do with me? I think it had something to do with me, Jamie, that I caught you red-handed having an affair.’
‘I meant that it was nothing to do with the way you look or how I feel about you. It was separate. It was as if I was able to disconnect from reality. But the truth is, I am as crazy about you as the day we first met. I think you’re beautiful, funny, sexy and clever. I am a shit for ever putting what we have in jeopardy, but it will never, ever happen again and I am going to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.’
Martha reached over and pulled his hands away from where he’d placed them over his eyes, so that he had to look at her. ‘Aren’t you just sorry that you’ve been caught?’ she said, blinking away the last vestiges of tears.
Jamie looked into the dark pools of his wife’s eyes and tried to find some kind of solace or hope there, but all he could see was despair. ‘I’m not sorry I was caught,’ he said, meaning it. ‘I’m glad.’