by Helen Warner
‘And how would you know that, I wonder?’
Jamie sighed, regretting that he had brought the subject up. He could almost see the hostile vibes now swimming in the air around Martha.
‘Wow. Ironic, isn’t it, that you’re the one checking up on me?’
‘I know,’ Jamie muttered, looking down. ‘But still, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been following his every move.’
There was silence for a while before Martha finally spoke. ‘He was very kind to me, Jamie, when I desperately needed that. And if I’m really honest, I do miss him.’
Jamie felt himself bristling. Charlie had really worked a number on Martha when she was at her most vulnerable. And yet, though he felt jealous, he knew in his heart that it was all his fault. Martha would never have opened herself up to Charlie if she hadn’t discovered what Jamie had done.
‘And it feels like things are still unresolved where he’s concerned . . .’
Jamie looked up, feeling a little jolt of alarm.
‘Doing his memoirs was such a great opportunity for me,’ Martha continued, with a nervous bite of her lower lip. ‘And his agent called me yesterday, saying they hadn’t been able to find anyone else at such short notice. She asked if I would still like to do it . . . and the fact is, I would.’
Jamie swallowed hard. It would mean her having regular contact with Charlie again. Yet what right had he to stop her?
‘I know that it would be very hard on you,’ Martha interrupted his thoughts, ‘so if you really don’t want me to, I won’t.’ She gazed up at him with a pleading look in her eyes.
Jamie pursed his lips together, thinking. He desperately didn’t want her to see that slimy bastard ever again, but if he stopped her she would resent him forever and their relationship wouldn’t stand a chance anyway. ‘No.’ He tried to sound more upbeat than he felt. ‘If it’s what you want, you should do it. I won’t stop you.’
Martha’s eyes lit up in a way that made Jamie’s stomach churn. ‘Really?’ She leapt up and planted a kiss on the top of his head. ‘Thank you!’ she said, before skipping out of the kitchen and upstairs to the office, no doubt to email Charlie.
Jamie watched her go. He had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.
Chapter 41
Charlie’s phone made an off-key sound, which signified that he had a new email. He picked up the phone and waved it at his mum, Jo. ‘OK if I go and take this call?’ He didn’t bother explaining that it was an email as his mum wouldn’t know the difference and wouldn’t much care either. Jo was an artist who didn’t have time for modern technology.
She pushed back a strand of her shoulder-length, wavy grey hair and beamed at him from the kitchen table where she was showing Felix how to paint some famous cartoon characters. ‘Ay, go ahead,’ she motioned with her hand, speaking in her lilting Welsh accent.
Charlie smiled his thanks, enjoying watching his son and his mother deep in concentration for a few more moments before heading out of the room into the bright, airy hallway. They had been staying at his parents’ modest house for nearly three weeks now and Charlie marvelled at how easily his mum and dad had adapted their lives to accommodate their only grandson. They had seen him just a handful of times in his short life, but over these last few weeks they had developed such a strong connection that it seemed as though they had spent every waking minute of his six years together.
They would take Felix to play pooh sticks in the stream that ran under the pretty little bridge in the dappled woods that backed onto their house; they would roll down the steep sand dunes at the beach, making them all dizzy with laughter; and they would sit for hours playing Scrabble, with Charlie’s parents squealing with delight at the American words Felix conjured up, while teaching him some new Welsh ones in return.
They would have to leave to go home that weekend, as Charlie started shooting his next movie in LA shortly, and he was dreading the wrench of saying goodbye. Liv would be out of rehab within a few days and it wasn’t fair on Felix to tear him away from everything he knew for too long. But it had been an idyllic summer for both of them and he already felt that it was one they would never forget. More than once he had said a mental prayer of thanks to Liv for unwittingly giving him the opportunity to spend so much time with his son.
In the past, his mum had been extremely frosty about Liv, ever since she had dumped Charlie so publicly, but these days she seemed to have softened her opinion of her. ‘She’s done such a good job with Felix, and she’s obviously got her own demons to fight. I can’t go on being angry with her. It’s time we all forgave and forgot,’ was all she would say when Charlie asked her about it.
And Charlie could feel that he was starting to forgive Liv too. He had to admit that although spending time with Felix was wonderful, it was also tough going at times, even with so much help from his parents. Liv had done it more or less alone for four years. Yes, her own mother visited, but Mariella was as much of a handful as Felix sometimes and Charlie knew that she wouldn’t have given her daughter much help or guidance. Liv’s breakdown had shown him that although she had always tried to keep it hidden from him, she had clearly been finding life a struggle. Her guilt over leaving Charlie had tarnished everything for her, meaning that she had never really been able to kick back and properly enjoy her supposedly charmed life.
Charlie climbed the stairs to the bedroom he had had when he was a child and which his parents had kept more or less untouched since he had left home. On his wall were still the oh-so-cool film posters he used to collect, along with the Arsenal paraphernalia that his father, an ardent Swansea City supporter, had been so disgusted by. Charlie smiled as he sat down on his old single bed, waiting for the shocked twang of the spring that had been broken since he was seventeen, which duly came as it absorbed his weight. Despite the fact that he was now a wealthy man, Charlie found comfort in the familiarity of his old home and was grateful that his parents had politely but firmly refused his offer to buy them somewhere bigger and more glamorous.
He scrolled through his email folder. He had several from his personal assistant, Jess, who was busy organising the itinerary for his up-and-coming film shoot, plus two from Louisa, his trusty, long-suffering publicist. He opened Louisa’s first email.
Hey Charlie
Just had an email from Martha Lamont saying she would be happy to finish your memoirs if we still couldn’t find anyone. What do you think?
Lx
Charlie felt a spike of excitement at the sight of Martha’s name in print. Why had she emailed Louisa? Her next message contained the answer:
OK, so I called her anyway when you couldn’t be bothered to answer my email . . . It turns out she would agree to finish your memoirs but was nervous about how you might feel (anything I should know btw!???). I told her that I would speak to you and get back to her.
So . . . What are your thoughts?
Lx
Charlie re-read her emails twice to make sure that she was saying what he hoped she was saying. He had missed Martha desperately since she had left LA and had thought about her constantly. He had promised Jamie not to get in touch with her and although he wasn’t bothered about keeping that promise, he had also promised Martha that he would leave her alone to give her enough time to get her head together.
He stared out of the window as his mind whirred with possibilities. He couldn’t work out if this meant that she had split from her husband and was letting him know via Louisa, or whether she had managed to work it out with Jamie so that it wasn’t an issue if she saw Charlie. Suddenly, he was desperate to hear her voice and see her face again. He needed to know if he had imagined what he thought they had between them.
With a dry throat, he scrolled through his contacts list until he came to her name. He could feel himself grinning stupidly as he looked at it, remembering her dark eyes and wide smile; her full, sensual mouth as he kissed her. His thumb hovered over the number, making him feel about fifteen again. It was just
a friendly call. No big deal. So why was he trembling with nerves as his thumb made contact with the screen?
‘Charlie!’ she cried, answering almost immediately. ‘Oh, how lovely. I was hoping you would call. Did Louisa get in touch?’
Her voice seemed to ooze like melted chocolate down the phone line, causing Charlie’s stomach to turn somersaults. He could tell she was gabbling, that she sounded nervous, and it made him feel even more tense.
‘Yes, she emailed me.’ He tried to picture Martha as she sat talking to him. ‘So . . . I hear you’re thinking that you might still finish my memoirs after all?’
‘Um, yes.’ Martha sounded embarrassed. ‘But I would understand if you don’t think it’s a good idea . . .’ Her words hung in the ether for a few seconds before she spoke again. ‘So, how would you feel about it?’
‘Well now . . .’ Charlie leaned back against the wooden headboard of his childhood and instantly remembering how ineffective and uncomfortable it had always been, ‘I think maybe a more pertinent question would be, how does your husband feel about it?’ He held his breath as he waited for her answer. When it came, it felt as though the air had been knocked out of his lungs momentarily.
‘We’ve talked a lot and he’s fine about it.’
‘Oh.’ Charlie tried not to sound too deflated. If Jamie didn’t see him as a threat any more, it must mean that he was fairly confident that Martha didn’t have feelings for Charlie.
There was an awkward silence. Charlie wanted to see her so badly, but at the same time he knew that he had to protect himself from getting hurt. If she had worked things out with Jamie, it must mean that he didn’t stand a chance. Maybe he needed to cut his losses and move on before it was too late.
‘Charlie?’ Martha prompted.
He coughed. ‘I don’t really know, Martha. Maybe it’s not such a good idea . . .’
Now it was Martha’s turn to sound deflated. ‘Oh,’ she said, as if he had somehow wounded her with his words, before lapsing into a hurt silence. ‘I understand,’ she added, after several seconds.
‘Do you?’ Charlie shot back quickly.
‘Yes,’ Martha replied, with a slight break in her voice that suggested she didn’t understand at all.
Charlie sighed deeply. ‘Look, Martha, I would love to see you again. But I can’t risk—’
‘No, it’s OK,’ she interrupted him, and he could hear that she was trying to sound stoical. ‘I get it.’
‘I’m not sure you do . . .’ Charlie began.
But Martha was clearly desperate to get off the phone. ‘It’s fine, really!’ she trilled. ‘Look, I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’m . . . well, I’m sorry about everything, Charlie. But maybe you’re right and it’s best to leave things be.’
Charlie could feel a lump forming in his throat. The last thing he wanted to do was to say goodbye to her for good. But at the same time, she had made her decision and chosen her marriage and children over him. As he had always known she would. The realisation only made him want her even more. ‘I’m going back anyway,’ he managed to croak, trying to salvage some pride. ‘This weekend.’
There was a pause before Martha replied, ‘To LA? Are you moving there permanently?’
‘I think so, yes.’
‘Well, I guess that’s that, then,’ she said, with another catch in her voice.
‘I guess so.’
‘Well, thank you, Charlie,’ she said quietly. ‘For everything. You were there for me when I needed you. I don’t know how I would have coped without you.’
‘Glad to have been of service,’ he replied, wishing he didn’t sound so bitter but unable to help it. Why was it that he was the one who was always so loyal and faithful, and yet it was cheats like Jamie and Danny Nixon who ended up getting the girl? It seemed so unfair. Maybe he needed to rethink the way he treated women. Maybe if he was a bit more of a bastard himself, he wouldn’t keep finding himself in this situation.
‘Charlie?’ Martha jolted him out of his reverie.
‘Hmmm,’ he replied in a gruff voice.
‘If things had been different . . .’ she began.
‘No, don’t,’ he cut her off. He couldn’t bear to listen to her platitudes. Whatever she was about to say, she would only be saying it to try to make herself feel better. Well, he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. ‘I’m fine, really,’ he lied. ‘And I wish you all the best. I hope you’re happy.’ He wanted to add a warning that if Jamie had done it once, he was more than likely to do it again, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything that would hurt her feelings. She had decided to take a leap of faith and trust him, so he needed to back off and let her find out for herself if she had made the right decision.
‘Goodbye, Charlie,’ she said, with a longing in her voice that was unmistakable.
The urge to relent and to ask her to meet him was almost overwhelming, but Charlie swallowed back the words. ‘Goodbye, Martha,’ he said, before quickly pressing the ‘End Call’ button.
He leaned his head forward onto his chest, feeling drained. He allowed himself to dwell on his misery for a while before telling himself crossly that he needed to get a grip and stop being so negative. He had so much that was good in his life. He was rich, famous, and he had a wonderful son who brought him more joy than he ever thought possible. In time, he would meet another woman and he would be happy again. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, feeling like a giant as his frame dwarfed the small room.
He walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain to look out at the pretty garden, now bursting with all the colours of the summer flowers his parents had lovingly planted. A small fence separated it from the moss-green woods beyond, which nestled under a low blue sky scuffed with puffy white clouds. It was so different from the vast haziness of LA, which looked as if someone had taken an eraser to a watercolour and rubbed out some of the intensity.
He had loved being back here. It was good for his soul. He loved spending time with his family, he loved the lilting accent of the locals in the village and he loved the slower pace of life. But it wasn’t his home any more and he knew that he didn’t belong. LA had its faults but it was where his future lay.
He took a deep, soothing breath and smiled to himself. For the first time ever, he felt something approaching a thrill of exhilaration at the prospect of going back. It felt as though he was being given the chance to build a new life. He would throw himself into his work and focus on Felix and, with a bit of luck, he would meet someone else and forget about Martha Lamont altogether.
Chapter 42
To Liv’s delight, Charlie brought Felix with him to collect her. She ran towards them and scooped the little boy up in her arms, savouring the smell of his hair and his skin – a smell she had dreamt of for the past eight weeks – whilst smothering his face in kisses. Felix giggled and squirmed with delight and hugged her tightly, wrapping his skinny legs around her waist to get a better grip.
Over the top of his head, Liv locked eyes with Charlie, who was watching them with a sad expression that made Liv tremble with fear.
It felt like such a long time since she had first come here, railing at Charlie’s cruelty and desperate to escape. She could see now that he had been right, that she had had a problem. But now that she was finally free to leave, the outside world suddenly seemed like a big, scary place and she didn’t know if she would be able to cope out there, especially if Charlie went through with his threat to go for custody of Felix. One thing she knew for absolute certain after her enforced separation from him was that she couldn’t live without him.
‘Come on,’ Charlie said, reaching down to pick up Liv’s case. ‘Let’s go home.’
‘Are you . . .?’ Liv began, wanting to ask if they would all be going home together. But she stopped mid-question, as she realised that she was too scared of what his answer might be. It occurred to her in a horrified flash that maybe Charlie had found himself somewhere else to live and had alre
ady taken Felix with him.
‘Am I what?’ Charlie looked back at her curiously. Liv thought distractedly how handsome he looked, with his crisp white shirt emphasising his tanned skin.
‘Are we going home together?’ she asked, as she pressed her face against Felix’s curls.
Understanding dawned in Charlie’s eyes and he nodded. ‘For the time being.’
‘Thank you,’ Liv mouthed over the top of Felix’s head.
Charlie half smiled and gave a curt nod. ‘Come on, Felix, you can walk to the car, buddy,’ he said, as he turned and headed out onto the gravel courtyard where he had parked.
‘No!’ Liv cried, tightening her grasp on her son’s body. ‘It’s fine. I’ll carry him.’ She had no intention of letting him go for as long as possible.
Charlie smiled and rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
Liv sat in the back seat with Felix for the hour-long journey home as the boy talked non-stop about his trip to Wales to see his grandparents. Liv tried to smile but felt her stomach knotting with concern. Was this part of Charlie’s grand plan to have Felix living with him permanently? Could he be thinking of taking him back to Wales? Even the thought of it made her feel nauseous. She caught Charlie’s eye in the rear-view mirror but couldn’t read his expression.
As they pulled up outside her home, Charlie pressed the remote control for the gate and it swished open. Liv’s heart began to pound as she remembered with horrible clarity the last moment she had been in this house, and instinctively she put her hand to her head. The wound had healed but the scar still remained in a faint rubbery line. Charlie leapt out of the car and took her bag from the boot, before opening her car door. ‘You coming then?’ he asked, holding out his hand for her to take.
Liv reached out a shaking hand and put it in his. It felt smooth and cool and reassuring.
‘It’ll be fine.’ Charlie gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Everything’s going to be OK.’