Chasing Charlie

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Chasing Charlie Page 22

by Linda McLaughlan


  Sam worried the side of a finger with her teeth, her face scrunched up in tired confusion.

  ‘What was Charlie’s reaction to her storming off?’ I asked her.

  She rubbed her face and I saw just how miserable she was. It wasn’t just a case of being in a hungover grump – the poor old thing was obviously raw about this Charlie character. I finally felt something click into place and I was brought into the moment.

  ‘Did he seem upset or dismissive or what?’ I asked.

  Sam’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘That’s the thing I don’t understand, Claud. He was gutted. He looked so forlorn, and so . . . lost!’

  ‘Wouldn’t that be normal though, Sam? He’s just been dumped.’

  ‘Yes, but—’ Sam wiped away an escaping tear crossly. She hated showing emotion in public or indeed in private. She liked the wider world to believe she was fearless. She sure had it bad for this guy.

  ‘I thought he might be relieved, that it would mean he could spend time with me and not feel guilty,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Aren’t you really talking about yourself?’

  Sam sighed. ‘Oh you’re probably right, Claudia. I’m going to go and sort myself out in the loo. These tears are really starting to ruin my breakfast. And we haven’t talked about you at all yet.’

  When she returned, she launched straight back into Charlie and Lucy’s break-up again, turning it over and over, examining it for every crack, every blemish. How upset Charlie was and how this didn’t fit the scenario Sam had in her head, ready and waiting for just this opportunity. When he finally dumped Lucy he was supposed to run joyfully into Sam’s arms. It was never meant to be the other way round.

  ‘What if he pines after Lucy forever?’ she asked me, her face white and not at all pretty.

  Breakfast came as a welcome distraction and we moved onto some perfunctory conversation about friends and family, but Sam’s heart wasn’t in it. Any subconscious wish to share my news with her had dropped out of my handbag when she’d started banging on and on.

  Finally it was time to pay and just when the teenager returned for our payment – or should I say my debit card – Sam pinged her head up like she’d just seen the light.

  ‘I’ve got it!’ Her face flooded with colour, a maniacal grin fixed on her face. ‘Don’t you see, Claudia, he’s forced her to dump him. Without knowing it, he’s subconsciously pushed her away.’ She gesticulated wildly, unable to get her words out fast enough. ‘The relationship was doomed but he couldn’t initiate anything upfront so he was just enough of an arsehole to finally push her away – that’s it! That’s why she’s dumped him. It was him all along; he just doesn’t know it yet. I’ve done that countless times. Claudia? Do you know what I mean?’

  And suddenly I’d had enough of her and her two-penny analysis. She was being a self-absorbed bore. All I wanted was to get away from her endless Charlie talk.

  ‘No, I don’t actually.’

  ‘Haven’t you ever done that? You know when things are out of your control, and you’re not aware that you’re doing it, but before you know it you’re getting dumped and you’re free? It’s great!’

  ‘Actually, if something isn’t working, I usually just tell them.’ Adding in my head that I didn’t usually go far enough for something not to work. I stood up and pulled on my coat. I really had to get out of there and I could feel frustrated tears welling up inside. Why were we even friends? She hadn’t asked me a single question about myself.

  She was still talking out on the street. ‘But that’s brilliant, isn’t it? He won’t realise it straightaway but in a day or two he’ll be feeling on top of the world. And he’ll be free.’

  ‘To be with you?’ My tone was harsh and I heard Sam take a sharp breath.

  ‘I hope so,’ she said quietly.

  I was scanning the street for a cab but forced myself to turn back to her. She looked pathetic, chewing her lip like a twelve-year-old.

  ‘Well, don’t throw yourself at him whatever you do,’ I said.

  ‘Of course I won’t! I’m not silly!’ And she punched me playfully on the shoulder. ‘Anyway, I’m quickly learning to lure them in, Claud, thanks to your excellent tuition.’

  ‘Well, if you say so.’

  I waved at a cab, with no luck.

  ‘Damn.’

  There was another one sitting at lights in the distance. I strained to see if its for-hire light was on. We didn’t speak. In my head I was already in the cab, not talking to anyone.

  In the silence between us Sam finally twigged that perhaps I wasn’t the most cheerful person on the block just then.

  ‘Is it something I’ve said?’

  ‘No.’ I paused. It wasn’t something you said, Sam – it was everything.

  ‘We haven’t really talked about you, have we?’

  ‘No, we haven’t. But now I’ve got to get to my parents’ for lunch.’

  The cab pulled over. I hugged her quickly and got in, not even asking her if she wanted a lift somewhere, and I realised that what I’d needed all morning was a hug myself.

  41

  CLAUDIA

  I took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell – brass, polished twice weekly. The door opened immediately, almost as if Mother had been hovering behind it.

  ‘Come in, come in, we haven’t seen you forever!’ She reached up on tiptoe to kiss my cheek before marching down the hall. ‘It’s been too long, darling, too long,’ she called over her clip-clopping court shoes.

  I followed her, muttering I’d been flat out with work.

  ‘Oh you girls, such high fliers,’ she said in a voice leaking polite disapproval. When Sabrina and I were growing up, Mother had made the same noises as my father about how important it was for us both to succeed. But when it came down to it and we were eventually achieving greatness out there in the shiny corporate world of her dreams, she couldn’t understand why we were too busy for ‘family time’. She felt, if she was honest with herself (which she didn’t generally make a habit of), somewhat miffed.

  Sabrina crossed her eyes at me from her perch in the kitchen. I smiled in relief. I hadn’t been sure if she was going to make it today and I was grateful for the extra buffer. It was the first time in as long as I could remember that I wasn’t looking forward to a family meal. Even while living a life they couldn’t possibly understand, I never once felt distanced from my family. But now I did; now I felt like a usurper.

  No one seemed to notice my reticence to start with. Mother burbled small talk over her Aga, as if she had been wound up and set off like a small toy. A little bird with excellent manners, I thought. Sabrina provided most of the required noises, dotted with frequent winks in my direction.

  ‘I can see you teasing me, you know.’ Mother looked sternly at us as she carried a steaming dish to the table. ‘Now it’s time to sit up.’

  I took a step towards the dining room and I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. Marco! Not now, not while I was here. But in a moment of recklessness I pressed the call button and motioning to my mother that I’d be one minute. I stepped quickly out of the back door.

  ‘Marco.’

  ‘Oh, lovely lady, nice to hear your voice.’

  ‘Same here but I’ve got to make it quick, my family are waiting for me to sit down for lunch.’

  ‘Of course, of course! I have good news for you though. My results are back and I’m all clear, baby.’ Marco’s syrupy voice, which had the ability to become so thick and sticky it could shut synapses down, suddenly became the most beautiful thing in the world. I felt relief whoosh from my stomach to my toes.

  ‘Oh, that’s great news!’

  ‘Well, I hate to disappoint the ladies and all. But go and eat, see you at the club sometime, OK?’

  ‘Yes, OK. Bye then.’ Brilliant – that narrowed things considerably. And before I could change my mind, I called David. Maybe he’d have his results too. He answered after two rings and this time knew exactly who was calling.

>   ‘Claudia.’ His voice was hard.

  ‘Hello, David.’

  ‘I’m glad you’ve called. I’ve had the test results back.’

  ‘Yes?’ I felt sick – it had to be bad news, he sounded so angry.

  ‘They’re negative.’

  ‘What?’ Did I just hear him right? His words jarred – they didn’t sound right.

  ‘I said the tests were negative.’ He slowed the last word down as if I was very thick.

  ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘So that’s that then. I don’t wish to have any more contact with you, Claudia . . . Claudia?’ I stood stock still, looking down the pared-down winter garden, its edges butting the neatly clipped grass, a large grey bird bath pulling the whole gorgeously designed thing together.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I finally whispered and hung up before the odious creature could say another thing.

  ‘Fuck me,’ I whispered to the garden. So it was John who had given it to me all along. And I was in exactly the wrong place to process this information. I took some deep breaths and then went back inside, steeling myself for lunch.

  After lunch, the women cleared the table. I was about to continue into the kitchen to wash up, but my father called me to join him in the sitting room instead. I paused momentarily before joining him on the sofa. He was so good at prising things out of me and today wasn’t the day for sharing. But of course I joined him, the pull to obey him as strong as it had ever been. I sat next to him on the sofa so I could look at the fire, rather than at him. That was the problem with him – he always knew when I was unhappy, which was fine when I could confide in him but excruciating when I couldn’t.

  ‘I saw a friend of yours the other day, what’s her name, the GP,’ he began.

  ‘Lily.’

  ‘Yes, that’s it, lovely girl.’

  ‘Woman.’

  ‘Yes, yes, you’re right.’ He smiled.

  I waited for him to come to the point.

  ‘She had her husband with her, a well-spoken chap, very confident.’

  ‘He’s a builder.’

  ‘Yes, he was telling me about a house he’s working on at the moment in Berkshire, has a green oak frame or something.’

  I turned and looked at him, suddenly feeling cross. He was pushing tobacco into his pipe, an indulgence that no one could dissuade him from.

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’

  He looked up from his satisfying little activity, a poorly executed ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ look on his face. ‘Just making conversation, Snooks,’ he said.

  Using my nickname failed to placate me. I kept staring at him hard until he crumbled. He shrugged.

  ‘She just seemed really happy, that’s all,’ he conceded, bringing the pipe to his mouth and starting the protracted huffing and puffing required to light the smelly beast. Eventually he added, ‘And it made me think of you, that’s all.’

  ‘Right.’ I sat back. ‘In what way, exactly, did it make you think of me?’

  Papa’s pipe crackled as it finally took light. He exhaled the smoke in a sigh.

  ‘I was wondering if there was someone in your life, that’s all.’

  I stared at the wall opposite the sofa, at the fireplace and tasteful paintings, placed just so, and I pictured John, his handsome, earnest face as he sat across from me in that lovely restaurant and asked me if he was seeing anyone while I had sat opposite him, leaden with self-loathing.

  ‘No,’ I replied in a small voice, and then was suddenly swamped by anger at my father, at his too-high expectations of me, at the bar he had set for me to aim for. All for what! So I fell short of it just when I met a man I could see eye to eye with?

  ‘It’s not as if you’ve encouraged me either,’ I spat at him.

  ‘Excuse me?’ he spluttered, pulling his pipe out in a quick, shocked movement.

  ‘Nothing.’ I crossed my arms. What was the point anyway? Like he’d understand. No one in this too-good-for-everyone-else family would ever understand.

  There was a silence, filled with anger as far as I was concerned. But when Papa broke it, his voice was full of love.

  ‘Tell me what’s on your mind, Claudia, please.’

  And then, out of nowhere, I felt tears spilling down my cheeks and I covered my face with my hands. Papa shifted closer and put his arm around me.

  ‘It’s all right, darling, we love you. There there.’ As if he could read my mind and knew that was the only thing I really needed to hear.

  I leant against him, his spiky beard poking into my head while he held me, waiting for the tears to stop.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I finally managed, sniffing and wiping my face.

  ‘That’s OK. You’re right anyway. I know I’ve been pretty strict in that department. Maybe part of me didn’t want to see you grow up. Maybe—’ He paused and smoothed my hair off my forehead. ‘Maybe I’ve never wanted to see you settle for second best,’ he added, passing me a box of tissues. ‘Here, you can stop sniffing in my ear now.’

  ‘Well, I’m not bloody perfect, you know. Why should someone else be?’ And I blew my nose noisily.

  ‘You’re right, darling. Of course you are but can you blame me for wanting the best for my girls?’

  I folded my tissue into a wet square. ‘What if what you think is the best for us might create a mountain that’s just too high to climb?’

  Papa slapped my knee. ‘Well, Snooks, how about throwing the hiking boots away and not worrying about climbing any mountains?’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Definitely.’ And he hugged me tight against his smoky chest.

  Oh Papa, I thought, if only it was that simple.

  42

  ED

  I sat back in my seat with relief. I didn’t expect to be so pleased to be leaving London. I thought I’d feel a bit sad about the prospect of no Sam for three weeks but now I couldn’t wait to get away from her. The whole thing had made me feel exhausted and more than a little disgusted. Charlie’s party had been an endurance test, putting up with Rebecca as she flirted with her plastic smile, angling for any interaction she could get with Charlie, and making sure her fingers or head were on my arm whenever Sam was in the vicinity. She was witty, I had to give her that, but her humour was invariably patronising, sarcastic, caustic or all three at once and always, always delivered with her Cheshire-cat smile. It made my skin crawl, recalling it. And out of the corner of my eye, dear old Sam, tottering around looking peaky, trying so hard to ignore Charlie and then looking so lost and bewildered after the big scene. It was all a pile of meaningless bollocks.

  I stared out the window, watching the last of London dissolve into countryside. She hadn’t even remembered to say goodbye to me last night. I’d told her I was off early on Monday morning but she was too busy mooning over that drunken fool of a man.

  No more, I thought to myself. No bloody more. It was time to get away, move on, maybe even meet someone who actually cared about me. It was time to leave her and all her pettiness behind me.

  43

  SAM

  A cold wind whipped down the street, made even colder, I thought, by the imposing buildings that seemed to be looking down at me in contempt. What are you doing here, you pathetic, scruffy excuse for a human being? they seemed to say. I scowled back. I was there on an important mission. Something that really mattered. This was about love! One human concerned about another. Something you’d know nothing about, you . . . you . . . buildings. Ha! I told them, all right. I am on a mission. I am chasing Charlie, no less. Operation Chasing Charlie. I liked that. I smiled and then stopped. Focus, focus, focus, girl. My eyes were glued to the main entrance of the hospital, a revolving door simultaneously sucking people in and spitting others out.

  Just to be clear, I wasn’t chasing him – I just wanted to see his face. It had been three days since his party and he hadn’t been in touch. So far I had successfully resisted contacting him but my will was being gnawed away by an impatien
t and hungry heart. If I could just glimpse him I would be able to get through another twenty-four hours without calling him, through til Wednesday, perhaps even Thursday. But then it would be almost a week since it had happened and surely he’d have been in touch by then?

  I needed to see his face for myself. Even a fleeting glance would do. Would he look drawn or happy? I was hoping for happy but, then again, if he had reached that point after the break-up, why hadn’t he called? And if he was still depressed – well, I had to hope he wasn’t pining after Lucy. A biting wind whipped around my legs and I dug my hands further into my pockets.

  After waiting for twenty-two cold minutes he finally left the building. He strode out and turned left, and I felt as if my gaze was somehow glued to him, so intensely was I looking at him. Surely he would feel it and turn my way? But he strode off and turned left towards the nearby Tube – which I dared not follow him on – and was gone. That was it. I’d seen him. And he looked, I thought, decidedly unhappy.

  44

  MARA

  After a cup of tea, and a few minutes lost in Review, left over from the Saturday paper, I opened my laptop. I rarely used it, especially during the week. I felt like I got plenty of screen time during the day, thank you very much. But I really should check my bank account to make sure everything was ticking over as it should. While Ed had been around I’d forgotten to look as often as I usually do, letting it lapse for at least two weeks, which was most unlike me. I pride myself on keeping everything very neat and tidy in that department, always putting a little aside for emergencies. I was most definitely not interested in living in a reactionary fashion when it came to money.

  So when I saw that my bank balance was in the red I gave a yelp of surprise. George looked at me, confused. He didn’t normally hear me yelping, in surprise or otherwise. I scrolled down the history and frowned, then stood up and fetched the calendar from the kitchen wall, placing a finger on the last three Thursdays one at a time, and searching for the corresponding date. The twenty-fifth – nothing. The eighteenth – nothing. The eleventh – nothing.

 

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