Her first thought was the cup of tea she needed. Parking near the marina she walked along the cobbled harbour side. Boats rocked at their moorings as the cold wind blew through. The air smelled briny and damp. Looking up she noted the threat of rain in the brooding clouds and kept walking toward the little coffee shop. Her head down, she allowed the tiny silver fish attached to the cobbles to lead the way.
Taking the seat by the window, she looked out.
What if we'd gone to a different one that day? Would he still have found us?
A young waitress approached her table, dragging her from her thoughts. Once she'd ordered she turned and looked back out of the window, tears pricking at her eyes.
“Thank you,” she muttered as the waitress placed her tea on the table.
Why was she feeling like this? They had a whole new life ahead of them as a family. In a place where she had no real friends. No job, not that she needed one for anything other than her own sanity. She had a wedding to look forward to. A wedding that didn't have to be the elaborate display she'd feared.
You've dreamed of this for years. What are you so scared of now?
Not finishing her tea, she paid for her drink and walked out into the cold, harsh wind. Rain spattered her face and she huddled deeper into her coat.
I haven't missed this weather. Money. I need money and boxes.
Heading for the cash machine she wondered how she was going to cover the bills until she finalised everything.
If I'm at zero I'm in trouble.
“Jees Callan,” she hissed at the screen as she took in the obscene amount of money that had been deposited in her account.
That's dealt with that. I'll kill him!
With lidded boxes stacked, essential items for the fridge and wine for that evening stuffed onto the back seat, she felt her mood lift slightly and drove home.
Chapter 19
I hate packing. Hate it!
Having gone through all the cupboards and drawers down stairs, she'd managed to create a mountain of black bags of rubbish to take to the dump. Out of all the things she'd amassed over the years she had three large boxes to keep.
Walking around the silent house, she lifted frames down from their hangings and from the various chests and tables they sat on. Carefully, she cleaned and wrapped them in newspaper, placing them in another large box. All the memories they'd made. None of them with Callan. All the baby boxes she'd gone through with him, the photo albums, she carefully wrapped separately. She came to the bottom of her wardrobe. A small mahogany chest, untouched for years, stared at her.
Mum's stuff.
Carlie's words flooded her thoughts. Pushing them away she lifted it out. Heavy for its size, she wrapped it carefully in an old fleece blanket and left it on top of a large box.
Oh, I've had enough.
After calling Ferne and arranging a time to go to her house she called Callan.
“I checked my bank, I'm not happy,” she grumbled into the telephone.
“Did you at least buy wine?” he asked, dryly, she knew he was smirking.
“Of course, I bought wine!” she laughed. “Are they okay?”
“Perfectly happy. Alayna took them back to the toy shop. They came back with the pram Enya was eyeing and a Castle and soldiers for Zander.”
“They're spoiled rotten, Callan. It isn't good for them.” She tried to sound annoyed.
“I did warn you,” he said in a sing song voice. “How are you? You don't sound happy. Do you need me to come over?”
“I've just been packing some bits. It's not fun. I'm going over to Ferne's shortly. I'll drive there and get a taxi back.”
After very brief conversations with Enya and Zander, mostly about the new toys they couldn't wait to get back to, she ended the call.
Miss you too!
With a brief glance in the mirror she grabbed two bottles of wine and drove to see Ferne.
Curled on the sofa, wine in hand, Ferne wasted no time in extracting as much information as she could from her about Callan.
“Wow! Engaged?” She didn't try to hide the surprise.
“I was surprised myself,” she laughed. “Nothing's planned. I haven't given him chance to buy a ring or anything, but his parents know and seem okay with it.”
“And the kids?” Ferne asked.
“They're thrilled. They're really taken with him. It's like he's always been there,” she shrugged.
“Wow. So, he lives on that little island? What's it like?”
A smile lit up her face, as she said, “Beautiful. It's all quaint little villages and country roads. Zander loves it. It's a bit like here but…”
She didn't go any further. She was afraid of saying too much. “What about this new bloke of yours, anyway?”
Her eyes glazed over, “He's perfect, Lottie. We like the same things, he took me to a music festival last weekend, it was amazing!”
“Do I know him? How old is he?” she knew it was a mistake to open that line of questioning, she couldn't really tell her much about Callan, but she'd asked before she'd thought.
“About thirty,” she shrugged. “We don't really talk about him much. He's coming around later, he can't wait to meet you. I've told him all about you and the kids.”
“Can't wait. Can we order? I'm starving, I didn't have lunch, too busy packing.” She asked, trying her best to ignore her growling stomach.
“You're really going, aren't you?” she asked, frowning as she tapped on her phone. “Okay, massive pizza and chips, forty-five minutes.”
Nodding, she said, “I'm really going, but you can come up for weekends. His house is massive, no shortage of bedrooms.” Sadness settled over her again.
A bottle and a half of wine, and far too much pizza, later there was a knock on the door.
“That's him!” Ferne jumped off the sofa and skipped to the door.
Someone's smitten.
There was murmured conversation in the hallway before they came into the lounge. “Lottie, this is Bobby. Bobby, Charlotte.”
His dark, wavy hair was lightly styled back from his face. He had a day's stubble growth and brown eyes. “I've heard a lot about you, Charlotte,” he said in a gravelly voice, his half smile didn't reach his eyes. He wasn't exactly handsome, but she supposed she had become accustomed to the beauty of the fae she'd shared the last month with.
Smiling warmly, she answered, “And you, Ferne's been singing your praises all night!”
Ferne blushed and offered to get more drinks.
While she was in the kitchen, Bobby sat on the opposite sofa and said, “She says you've moved away recently?”
“Yeah, I've moved in with my boyfriend on Arran.”
“Arran? That's a bit out of the way,” he mused.
She laughed, “Just a bit. It's really… well it's lovely there.”
“Magical,” he muttered.
“Yes! That's the word for it.” She couldn't hide her enthusiasm. “I've never been anywhere like it. I went there on holiday when I was a kid. It feels like home somehow.”
Ferne returned with a beer for Bobby and their almost empty wine bottles. “She's invited us up once she's settled,” Ferne exclaimed, filling her glass.
“Sounds great,” he grinned at Charlotte as Ferne cuddled into his side.
“We should go out tomorrow night, Lottie. It's been forever since we had an actual night out,” Ferne said, bored with the subject of Arran.
Groaning inwardly, she smiled, “I don't mind a few in town. I go back on Sunday morning so I can't be out till silly o'clock but, yeah, it's a great idea.”
There's no such thing as a few with Ferne. That's going to get messy!
They chatted for a while longer. Bobby didn't say much but she supposed they weren't well enough acquainted for him to join in the conversation.
“I need to go. I'll nip to the loo and ring a taxi,” she said getting up.
“Don't be silly, Bobby's only had one, he'll drop you off,” Ferne offer
ed.
“Yeah, you'll be waiting forever for a taxi now,” he agreed.
“Shall we go into town tomorrow? Find something to wear? I'll bring your car up at twelve, lunch and shopping?”
“Sounds good, here,” she took her house key off the key ring and passed the bunch to Ferne. “I'll see you tomorrow.”
They drove in silence. She hated silences.
“How long have you lived up here?” she asked.
“A couple of months. Work,” he offered.
Not the idle conversation type then…
“It's just here, on the left. Thank you for dropping me off. Will you be out tomorrow?”
“No problem. I've got something to sort out but I'll find you later,” he offered with a brief smile.
“Okay, see you then,” she smiled, trying not to jump from the car.
“Yeah, tomorrow,” he muttered as she closed the door.
He waited until she was safely inside before driving away.
Bed! You always go too far on the wine!
Bang on twelve, Ferne pipped the car horn. They swapped over and Charlotte drove into town.
“I thought we could eat at that little pub on the harbour side?” Ferne suggested.
“You know better than I do,” Charlotte shrugged, unbuckling her seatbelt.
Once they were seated and they'd ordered drinks Ferne asked, “How's Zander? He's never really been one for change. Is he taking it okay? I'm sure Enya's in her element, people fussing over her.”
“It's really funny, actually. He's taken to everyone so well. Especially Callan's brother. The change in him is unbelievable.”
“In what way? Thank you,” she asked, breaking to thank the waitress as their drinks arrived.
Ice clinked against the glass as she took a sip and shrugged. “He's in full sentences for a start. I know! And he's eating much better, it must be all the fresh air and open spaces.”
Ferne knew Zander as well as she did. She'd been there for every hospital trip, every appointment. “Well… shit!”
The conversation was lighter for the rest of the meal.
I hate lying, she's my best friend. But, I suppose, she wouldn't believe it anyway.
“Okay, let's find you something slutty to wear,” Ferne laughed as they walked down the high street.
“How about we find me something I won't freeze to death in?”
“Whatever,” she said, dismissively. “Let's try in here.”
Everything Ferne suggested was unsuitable. Shoes too high, she'd learned that lesson at the ball. Skirts too short. Tops too low cut. In typical Ferne style, she picked a red choker neck playsuit that barely covered her and skyscraper heels. “Bobby likes me in red,” she said, giggling.
I bet…
Charlotte chose a strappy top and black skirt with peep toe boots, that were a little too high, but they were very nice. Ferne was pleased, and smiled, “You look gorgeous. You don't get to dress up often.”
I wish you'd seen me in that gown.
A quick stop at the make-up counter saw her spend a fortune of Callan's money, it felt wrong but she was enjoying herself. Then, she spied a lovely little bag that would just about hold a key and money. Ignoring the guilt, she bought that too.
“Are you going to get ready at mine?” Ferne asked. “I can do your hair?”
“May as well. I need to ring Callan and the kids so I'll drop the car off, have a quick shower then we'll get a taxi to yours. I need the car there in the morning.”
It was like old times. A glass of wine, music blaring, they styled their hair, put on their makeup, and dressed.
It's only seven, this is going to get very messy!
The first bar they went to was packed. Ferne went to the bar while she found a table.
“What the hell is that?” she gasped, staring at a big bowl of green liquid with two straws stuck in it.
“Cocktails! Drink up!” she said as she flashed her most dazzling smile.
Ferne had no shortage of male attention. For the first time in her life, Charlotte watched her brush it all off as they drank their sweet, green concoctions.
I'll pay for this tomorrow.
They drank. They danced. They laughed. She hadn't been out in such a long time, she felt like a new person.
After their fifth bar, and who knows how many of those big bowls of sweetened hangover they'd shared, they were moving on again.
“I need food, Ferne, I'm hammered,” Charlotte complained as they swayed up the high street.
“My feet are burning.”
“Okay, chips and cheese then we have to go in there.” She pointed to a bar not far away, and grinned. “You'll love it!”
They sat on a low wall and ate.
If your Prince could see you now, stuffing your drunken face in the street.
Checking her phone, Ferne frowned, “Bobby isn't coming. He says he'll see me tomorrow.”
“Oh well. I'm done. Where's this bar I'm going to love?” Charlotte said, throwing her wrappers in the nearest bin.
Everything was lit up in neon. Strobe lights distorting her vision, lights flashed, she could barely focus. Her head was spinning, she was so drunk, but Ferne kept the shots coming. Everything the DJ played was from back when they were eighteen. Young and free. They danced for hours.
“Nope, no more, I can't!” she shouted over the music shaking her head and singing for time out.
Ferne agreed and they made their unsteady way outside to find a taxi. “I don't want you to go,” she whined as they leaned on a wall waiting for their turn at the taxi rank.
“Oh, don't Fe, I'm really happy! We'll see each other soon. Callan can bring me down whenever I want. You can visit us any time,” she said, choking back tears.
Ferne nodded, her eyes swimming, “Can I be a bridesmaid?”
Charlotte laughed, “You can be the bridesmaid. I only have you, Enya will be all frilly and pretty being a flower girl. Come on, our turn.”
Ferne fell asleep on the way home. “Will you wait while I get her in? “Charlotte asked the driver, dragging her from the taxi. It was a fight but she got the door open.
“Shit you're heavy!” she huffed, lugging Ferne through the house.
Managing to position her friend on the sofa, she kissed her on the head and made sure the door clicked securely as she left. Climbing back into the waiting taxi, she gave her address and settled back in the seat.
You're so drunk!
Certain she was going to be sick, she stuffed a note into the driver's hand as soon as it rolled to a stop outside her house, and staggered from the car. It pulled away as soon as she pushed the door shut.
After a few deep breaths, her stomach settled.
“Okay, where's your key…” she mumbled to herself.
Leaning on the door frame, squinting in the dark she fumbled to open her front door.
Come on, in. Get in the bloody hole!
The key tinkled as it hit the step. “Shit.”
“You took your time,” a rough voice said from behind her.
What the fuck?
She staggered trying to stand up from fumbling on the floor. “Bobby? I left Fe at home…” Sagging into the door frame she faced him.
“I'm not here for her,” he growled as his hand came up and slammed her head back into the glass panel.
Chapter 20
Pain throbbed in her head, trying to lift it was agony. Panic and fear flooded her as her brain caught up.
He hit me!
The smell of damp filled her nostrils, turning her stomach. Something scratched at her legs as she shifted.
I need to move.
Groaning, she forced her head up. Sharp pain shot behind her eyes as she tried to open them.
Oh, god I can't see. Why do my wrists hurt?
Wincing, she forced her eyes open and raised her hands. Angry red weals marred the skin of her wrists.
What…
“Wakey. Wakey.” The low, guttural sound of his voi
ce shook her from her thoughts.
Bobby! Bastard!
She cried out as pain rattled through her head, forcing herself to sit. Bile rose but she choked it back, assessing the room. It was dimly lit by a small camping lamp that stood on an old table in one corner. Windows covered with filthy old sheets were positioned on two sides of the room. Looking down she was on a dirty, bare wooden floor, her legs cut and bleeding. Her shoes were missing.
He was leaning on the far wall, staring at her. At the sight of him the fear switched to fury.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she screamed at him.
“Taking back what's mine,” he answered, simply.
“What? I don't have anything of yours you mental bastard!”
He stalked over and crouched in front of her. “You wouldn't be here now if she'd just let me take it,” he growled. He grabbed her face, his rough nails digging into her cheeks. “So, the sooner you work out how you're going to give it to me the sooner you get to go home to your fairy Prince.” His face twisted as he spat the last two words at her and pushed her back. She crumpled in a heap on the cold floor.
Oh, shit. How does he know? What does he want? Stop talking.
He strode away, to the small table, fists clenched. The room grew brighter.
Fear gripped her stomach tight and she felt bile rise again. She couldn't stop the contents of her stomach emptying on the floor beside her, the pain in her head swelling with each heave. Certain she had nothing more, she shuffled to the wall and huddled there watching him.
Her mind raced, snippets of conversations forming in her head.
Bobby, Robert, Dad. No, no. I have to get out!
The wall was cold and damp, it's exposed brick rough against her bare shoulders. She could barely feel her toes she was so cold.
“How did you find me?”
“You left this with Ferne,” he said, smirking. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small wooden key ring her mum had given her years before.
He must have taken it from my car keys.
“She had you hidden wherever you went. Until you gave it away. Silly, silly girl,” he sneered as he shook his head.
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