A Passionate Love Affair with a Total Stranger

by Lucy Robinson

  ‘Charley!’ she cried, bounding over and kissing me. ‘Oh, my God!’

  ‘I know,’ I said ruefully, as she squeezed my hand. ‘This is what happens when someone my height suffers the misapprehension that they’re athletic.’

  ‘No!’ she protested. ‘You’re super-athletic! You put me and Nessie to shame with all that running.’ She peered into the box of chocolates and I took a quick look at Sam who was, as usual, eyeing her up fairly unsubtly. He caught my frown and held up his hands. Quite apart from the fact that Sam no longer had any business perving at girls, I had told him a few years back (when I’d caught him using his infamous Shakespearean chat-up line on Katy at my birthday party) that I would personally cut off his scrotum if he so much as touched her arm.

  Katy, unaware of my fatwah, flopped down on Sam’s knee. ‘Hi, babe,’ she said, patting his leg. Katy was enviably aware of her own sexuality and Sam peeped out at me from underneath her arm, powerless and afraid. I raised a warning eyebrow.

  But I knew it was OK. Sam was in love. He was getting married. The impossible had happened.

  ‘Sorry, Charley, I look like a Blitz prostitute,’ Katy said, pulling off her painful-looking vintage heels. ‘I haven’t been to bed. Gig till three a.m. and then I got Nessie’s messages about you being here. There wasn’t anyone sober enough to drive me up to Edinburgh so Ruben and I waited at King’s Cross for the first train.’

  ‘You didn’t need to do that!’ I said, coughing. Christ, the pain in my throat. ‘And who’s Ruben?’

  ‘Oh, he’s our temporary bassist. We’re having a bit of a fling – it’s nothing.’ She turned round and squeezed Sam’s nose. ‘I heard your news!’ she said. ‘Fucking mental, Sam!’

  Sam looked pleased and embarrassed. I tried to shift slightly up the bed, to check that he wasn’t enjoying having Katy on his knee too much, but was met with a stab of pain from my pelvis so acute that I whited out for a second.

  When I came to, Hailey was standing over me, frightened, and Matty was dragging Moody Nurse in. ‘She just sort of sank,’ he was saying anxiously.

  ‘What happen?’ the nurse asked, looking irritably round the cubicle.

  ‘I tried to move and it really hurt,’ I said faintly.

  Moody Nurse tutted. ‘Girl, don’t move. We told you that. Don’t you move an inch, hear me?’

  I closed my eyes, exhausted. ‘I increase your painkillers,’ she said. ‘The CT-scan results arrive. The doctor come and talk to you soon.’

  She shuffled out. Katy was appalled. ‘Blimey, Charley, are you OK?’ she said, visibly shaken.

  ‘Yes, great!’ I said weakly. I didn’t fool anyone, least of all myself. I felt terrible, mentally and physically. I was frightened by the amount of pain I was in and terrified of being there for ever, rotting away in the evil clutches of Dr Nathan Gillies, while back at Salutech Margot stormed my office and took over my job. And far worse than any of this was the pain of John having got engaged. That was the end. I had no fight left; I was spent.

  ‘John got engaged,’ I blurted out. ‘To Married Woman. Who isn’t married any more, apparently.’

  There was a silence.

  Then: ‘Fuuuuuuuck,’ Hailey said quietly. I felt my face disintegrate and tried once again to keep it together.

  Sam, who felt comfortable with emotion only when it was his own and he was on stage, scratched his head. ‘I brought you a present, Chas,’ he announced. The others looked at him, awed as ever by his timing.

  ‘Um, thanks,’ I mumbled, grateful for the distraction. I smiled bravely at the Christmas wrapping paper. Sam had cocooned it in Sellotape, so tightly that Matty had to step in with his sixteen-tool Swiss Army knife. My hands were pretty much lifeless.

  ‘Wow,’ I said, surprised, as something smooth and shiny fell out of the wrapping paper. It was a brand new generation-something iPhone. ‘Sam … You haven’t got the money to be buying things like this. What … ?’

  Sam smiled in a saintly way. ‘You were carrying your phone when you came running down the hill,’ he explained. ‘It smashed to pieces. I bought you a new one with some of my money from that clinical trial work you got me. Look – it’s all ready to go, your numbers are there and everything. Your network even threw in a load of pay-for apps free of charge as a get-well-soon present!’ He beamed, delighted with himself. In spite of my suffering I smiled, enjoying his pleasure at having achieved something reasonably adult. The atmosphere in the cubicle lightened a little and Hailey inched back to my chocolates.

  ‘Come here,’ I told Sam, giving him a big kiss on the cheek. ‘You are truly precious. Thank you.’

  ‘Er, there’s a maximum of three visitors per cubicle on this ward,’ said a nasal voice.

  Hailey froze, strawberry cream hovering centimetres from her mouth. ‘It’s Dr Nathan Gillies,’ she said slowly, eyes widening.

  Dr Nathan Gillies looked irritated. ‘I’m a surgeon, Hailey, as I’ve pointed out before,’ he said. ‘Quite a senior one, in fact. So it’s Mr, not Dr.’

  ‘Still a cock, though,’ Hailey muttered loudly. Katy laughed and I blushed. Dr Nathan Gillies had my fate in his hands: I did not want to piss him off.

  He looked round the rather busy cubicle. ‘Could we have a bit of privacy, please?’ he said peevishly. Hailey, an ominous expression on her face, jerked her thumb at the others. They left and the curtain closed behind them.

  I smiled: four eavesdropping pairs of shoes stood stationary on the other side of the curtain.

  Dr Nathan Gillies cleared his throat. ‘Charlotte, I have some rather bad news. The CT scan is back and it appears that the fracture to your pelvic bone is as we suspected. Which does mean your recovery time will be longer.’

  A large swell of panic rose up inside me but I feigned calm. ‘How much longer?’

  ‘It’s impossible to say at this stage,’ he said, sounding bored.

  I breathed slowly. ‘You must have some idea?’ I asked, with as much patience as I could muster.

  A phone was ringing; I realized it was the new iPhone sitting on my stomach.

  ‘I doubt you’ll be back at work until probably October,’ Dr Nathan Gillies said smoothly.

  I did a brief mental calculation. He must have made a mistake. It was the end of June. ‘No. That’s three months,’ I said, in as level a tone as I could muster. ‘You’ve got it wrong.’

  The phone stopped ringing and Dr Nathan Gillies shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Charlotte, it’s going to take a lot of time to mend all the damage. I’ll come and visit you tomorrow.’

  As he swished the curtain open, I saw four horrified faces. When the curtain closed behind him, no one moved. Four pairs of feet remained rooted to the spot.

  My phone started ringing again and I looked at it numbly. Then I jumped out of my coma. It was John. ‘Sam,’ I called urgently. ‘How do I answer this thing? SAM.’

  Sam bounded in. ‘You slide your finger along this bi– Maybe you should just get some rest, Chas,’ he said, seeing it was John.

  I ignored him. ‘John?’

  ‘Charley. How are you feeling?’

  My heart broke just a little bit more. John really was engaged if he wasn’t calling me Lambert. ‘Bleugh.’

  He paused. ‘I know this isn’t great medical protocol but I heard about your pelvis. Er … bad luck, eh? Look, Charley, I’m at the airport so I can’t stay for long but I wanted to reassure you about your job. I’ve decided to move Margot Pearson up to your position until you come back, so as to keep outsiders out and maintain continuity. And I’m not letting you anywhere near the building for at least three months. You need proper rest, OK?’

  I reached for the chocolate box and stuck something large and square into my mouth, ignoring Dr Nathan Gillies’s pre-surgery orders. Of all people, please, not Margot. Seriously, God, I repeated, please not Margot. I would never see my job again if she took it over.

  ‘I think I should be fine to work from here, John,’ I said, without convicti
on.

  ‘No,’ John said briskly, raising his voice to combat a departure announcement in the background. ‘No, you’re far too weak to be working. Margot may not be a patch on you but she’s familiar with the brand, the corporate protocol and all of your contacts. I have no choice.’

  I said nothing. I felt like someone had turned a light out.

  ‘Well, Charley, I just wanted to let you know. I thought you’d be pleased we’re keeping it internal –’

  ‘Anything else you wanted to tell me?’ I interrupted.

  There was a brief silence. ‘This is the final boarding call for flight V6000 to Los Angeles LAX,’ said an impersonal voice in the background.

  ‘Yes, Charley, I …’ John was speechless for once. Then: ‘I thought you’d be pleased to hear that I got engaged,’ he said lamely.

  My first tear in six years began to slide down my nose. ‘Wow,’ I whispered. ‘I’m delighted. Absolutely delighted.’

  ‘I, um, wanted to let you know in person,’ John muttered. He didn’t sound far off tears himself. ‘But you had your accident and … Look, I have to go. Susan and I are going to go and get married on a wine estate in California. Just a quick, quiet affair. Not a big deal. Another reason why I want Margot to take the reins. I need to be able to go away knowing the company’s in the hands of someone who understands and cares about our corporate profile.’

  I nodded, tears falling silently down my face. ‘Bye, John.’ I ended the call.

  Matty and Sam left first. They exchanged a look that said, This is not a place for a man. Matty kissed Hailey quickly and slid out; Sam gave me a lopsided smile and waved formally at Katy, just to be on the safe side.

  Hailey was clearly stumped by the wreck that quivered before her. For what seemed like eternity, she stood by my bed, blotting tears as they fell, holding my hand and saying nothing. I howled all the louder. If Hailey couldn’t solve this, no one could. But, after a long and painful interval, during which I thought I would never recover, I made a decision and signalled to Hailey to hold a tissue over my nose.

  I had decided to get a to-do list going. Organization was the only way I knew how to claw back control when the world around me went mad: it gave me certainty, calm and purpose. ‘Right,’ I said, sliding wearily into Business Charley mode. ‘Katy, go to my house and sleep. Actually, no, go to Ness’s. I don’t want Sam molesting you. And, Hailey, I need you to help me clear my diary.’

  Hailey nodded, relieved. ‘Excellent plan,’ she muttered, getting my Moleskine off the bedside table. ‘Although, God knows, Chas, it’s going to be quite a job.’ We both smiled bravely.

  Katy gathered up her stuff. ‘I’ll come back later, sis,’ she said tiredly. ‘You’ll be OK. I only met John once but I thought he wore terrible middle-aged clothes. Chinos. I mean, Christ.’ She kissed me and wandered out.

  Hailey, viewing my diary with alarm, pulled up a chair next to my bed. ‘Bloody hell, Chas,’ she said, gazing at the boxes filled with neatly written appointments. ‘I feel dizzy just looking at this.’

  For a few minutes, it went well. Hailey copied down several phone numbers and agreed to call several people: the dog kennels where I volunteered; the chef at the French bistro on Broughton Street, who was going to teach me perfect pastry; the little woman who taught me Mandarin; and the noisy multi-bangled girl who waxed my muff. The decorators, who were booked in throughout July; my personal trainer; the man I’d approached about starting piano lessons. And many more. When we got to my gym membership, though, things got harder. ‘Well, presumably I should cancel it ASAP,’ Hailey said, scribbling something.

  ‘No! Absolutely not!’

  Hailey looked pointedly at my broken leg and I implored her silently not to say anything. I couldn’t give up the gym. It would mean defeat. I simply had to know I could go back there one day and, if I wasted four months’ subscription in the meantime, then fine. Hailey, watching my face, said nothing but crossed out ‘cancel gym membership’ from her to-do list. I felt a fleeting moment of gratitude for my bosomy friend.

  ‘Tuesday, video conference with the German office at seven thirty a.m., catch up with John at ten, meeting with Edward from the BMJ at one o’clock, French reps at three, board of directors at six. What the fuck? Who has meetings after the working day has finished?’

  ‘The working day has not finished at six,’ I muttered. ‘Don’t worry about the work meetings. Margot will no doubt be hacking into my Outlook diary already. Just concentrate on the extra-curriculars.’

  ‘With a schedule like this you should not have fucking extra-curriculars, Charley Lambert,’ Hailey said.

  There was an uncomfortable pause while I tried and failed to come up with a defence. She doesn’t understand, I told myself. She may want to spend her Tuesday night sitting on the sofa with Matty, but I want more than that!

  And then I felt a sudden stab of panic. I had no option but to spend the next few months sitting on the sofa on a Tuesday night. How the fuck would I do this? WE WERE LAUNCHING SIMITOL! I HAD TO BE THERE! I eyed up the controls on my drip and wondered if I could make myself unconscious.

  ‘OK, Chas, what’s left?’ Hailey asked, a few minutes later.

  I thought about the lonely desert of silence and inactivity that stretched ahead of me, hours, days, weeks and months. No projects, no appointments, no warm glow of satisfaction as I crossed something off my to-do list, no building adrenalin as the Simitol launch got closer.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said softly. ‘Nothing’s left.’

  ‘Oh, Charleypops,’ Hailey said, reaching out to touch my hand. ‘Don’t say that! You needed a break! We could hang out for once. I miss you,’ she added pointedly.

  I tried but failed to resist asking her what she meant by that.

  ‘I mean that every time we arrange something you either arrive at, like, midnight or something … or you cancel,’ she replied. ‘Which means I’m in a good position to tell you to rest.’

  ‘I don’t want to,’ I muttered as Ness slid quietly into the cubicle. The very sight of her made tears spring from my eyes again. ‘I’ve just got too much to do. You don’t understand. I’ll take a rest next year …’

  Ness jumped over and kissed my forehead. ‘Rest sounds like a lovely idea,’ she said gently. ‘But, oh, poor old Charley, I’m so sorry you’re having to rest in, um, these sorts of circumstances.’ She grimaced, guessing correctly how much pain I was in.

  ‘I don’t want to rest,’ I told her. My breath caught in my throat and it came out in a sob that sailed out way beyond the confines of my cubicle.

  ‘Here we fuckin’ go,’ muttered a man in the one next to mine. He sounded like an early species of caveman.

  ‘Fucking shut up,’ Hailey replied to the curtain between us.

  Ness took the tissues from Hailey and dabbed at my cheeks. She looked beautifully healthy in her high-waisted shorts and stripy vest. I felt vast and lumpen. ‘Charley, you need to take a rest!’ she protested. ‘You’ve got a broken leg! My love, you –’

  But I wasn’t having it. ‘You just don’t understand,’ I cried, knowing how juvenile and horrid I sounded, but finding myself strangely unable to stop. There was a terrible panic welling in me and it was gaining momentum every second. ‘You don’t know what it’s like to be as busy as me. Fine, maybe I do do too much and, fine, I’ll maybe look at that in the future, but for now, Nessie, I have to work. I – Ah, God, it’s pointless –’ I broke off, agonized. What was the use in trying to explain or justify my schedule to someone who had the luxury of working an eight-hour day? Who was able to sit in the bath and cook dinner and play board games? Jesus! If only!

  ‘Being busy is a choice,’ Hailey said mildly, as if reading my mind.

  I ignored her, crying with renewed despair as I caught sight of my diary, every appointment now scored through with Hailey’s pink pen. ‘I literally cannot do this,’ I sobbed. ‘I can’t. If you don’t understand, fine, but you’ll have to believe me when I tell you this is
an absolute disaster.’

  Hailey’s face suggested she wasn’t very interested in believing me. Ness tried a bit harder than Hailey, but I could tell she, too, was struggling. And so, feeling completely alone, I gave up. I covered my face with my hands and wept. And wept and wept, not pausing even when the drunk next door started yelling about me being a ‘fuckin’ loser’ and Hailey stepped out to deck him and Ness had to drag her back into my cubicle.

  At first I cried out of sheer frustration at being trapped in plaster for an interminable length of time, but then further causes for despair erupted brilliantly into my head like a toxic cabaret show. I cried over the agony of handing my precious job to Margot Pearson, at the loss of my independence, at the possibility of permanent damage to my leg. And then I found myself crying for the years I’d wasted trying, with futile desperation, to reel in John. All that brown rice, all those expensive haircuts, all of those painstakingly composed witty emails. All for nothing! John had opted to propose to a married woman he’d started an affair with soon after kissing my bosoms in the cleaning cupboard three years ago. You idiot! my head crowed, delighted. You could have got married in the time you’ve wasted following him around! Had a child. Learned to play another instrument. Been happy! I wept for all this and more.

  I wept until, after half an hour, my best friend and my sister gave up. They called the nurse in. ‘Any chance you could knock her out?’ Hailey asked politely.

  The nurse was only too happy to oblige.

  At some point in the night, I woke up, my strange dreams interrupted by the persistent ring tone of the hospital phone beside my bed. It swam into focus as I opened my eyes; a red light flashing benignly above the receiver.

  For a second or two I considered ignoring it. Nobody called in the middle of the night. But what if it was John, calling from California to tell me he’d made a mistake? That was a call I’d be glad to take, I reflected, reaching out and picking it up.

  ‘Hello?’ I whispered furtively. I did not under any circumstances want to wake up the caveman in the cubicle next door.