‘Didn’t grab you?’ Lydia’s politely sarcastic tone completed my slide. ‘Sometimes it’s just about knuckling down, doing what has to be done. I doubt Charlie would be where he is now if he’d just told himself it didn’t, how did you put it? “Grab him.”’
Lydia smiled a thin smile. I could feel her inverted commas digging into my face. What could I say to that?
‘I . . . I guess I was too young, or something,’ I stuttered. ‘I needed some action, some real work.’
‘And now?’
‘Now?’
‘Do you ever think of returning to your studies now you’ve had some . . . action?’ Lydia looked at me with raised eyebrows.
‘Absolutely not!’ Suddenly I didn’t feel like I was bottom of the food chain, after all. If Lydia thought I was inferior just because I didn’t complete my degree then I didn’t care. I grinned at her, to show her that she couldn’t just press me down into the floor with her pointy questioning.
‘Why would I waste money when I’ve got a good job? So many people go to university not really knowing what they want to do and end up wasting loads of money and time. OK, so it took me a little while to find something I liked doing but I didn’t cost my parents any money while I was finding my way. . You were lucky that Charlie loved what he did right from the beginning.’
Lydia gave me an inscrutable look. ‘I suppose that’s true. I hadn’t thought of it like that. Still—’
‘Anyway, it isn’t like I had the luxury of my parents backing me. They could’ve helped me a bit but I would’ve walked away with a whopping big debt if I’d done a whole degree, or more than one or whatever.’
I wanted to press this home to her, shake her out of her comfortable bubble, remind her that not everyone could just do something because they wanted to, or thought it was the done thing. That some people – most people! – have to actually plan things, weigh things up, and a lot of the time decide that, on balance, they can’t actually afford to do it. Not that I was thinking about money at the time I dropped out of uni. I left because I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t settle; I had itchy feet and something else – oh yes! My thoughts clarified as I watched Lydia sip her tea thoughtfully. Something about feeling wretched from being dumped by your son early on in the year had something to do with it. Didn’t it?
It was about then that the yellow walls ceased to feel cheerful and started to make me feel a little ill. Lydia and I continued to chat about this and that. I was blethering on, filling her in about my family when all of a sudden I lost my train of thought. My head felt woolly, confused.
‘Are you feeling OK? You don’t look very well.’ Lydia put her hand out and for the second time in an hour I had my forehead felt. ‘I think you may have caught a chill.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said but I didn’t feel it. I felt hot and buzzy and all . . . swimmy again. Again? Oh yes, that’s right. ‘Actually I think I might be feeling a bit poorly. I wasn’t feeling well last week.’
Lydia sighed. ‘And I thought it was just my young men who can’t look after themselves. Obviously you women are just as hopeless.’
‘Sorry.’
Lydia smiled quickly and stood up. ‘You look like you need a rest. Those boys aren’t going to be back inside for a bit yet so why don’t you go and put your head down for a bit? I’ll dry your clothes for you while you sleep and then you can stay for some supper.’
‘Oh no, that’s too much trouble.’
‘Don’t be silly, of course it isn’t. Anyway, Charlie will want to see you.’
I caught Lydia’s eye briefly and I saw the scepticism I was feeling myself at this idea reflected in her eyes. Part of me just wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as possible but most of me had already decided that going to sleep right then was the only thing I was capable of.
‘Thanks.’
*
When I woke again it was dark. I fumbled around and turned on the light and took in the pretty bedroom. When I remembered I was at Charlie’s house I sat upright in a panic and reached out for my phone. It was six o’clock! I must have been asleep for a couple of hours, maybe more. My afternoon came back to me, a series of embarrassing moments jangling for first place in my head. I groaned.
At the foot of the bed were my clothes in a neat pile. Lydia must have dried them for me and returned them as I slept. The idea of her quietly laying them there didn’t half make me feel uncomfortable, like I was living too much on display. It felt like everyone – Mara, Claudia, Kate, Rebecca, Mum and Dad, even Ed – knew how I felt about Charlie, how ardently I was waiting for him to whisk me away. And now his mother had me turn up sopping wet on her doorstep, rescued by her husband, for Pete’s sake, and I was so fragile I had to be put to bed and even have my clothes dried for me. This is too much, I thought. I wanted my heart plucked off my sleeve and stuffed into a box, somewhere dark where no one could see it. And to not be lying in bed at Charlie’s house where anyone could wander in and see me sleeping!
I dressed and was about to go downstairs when I remembered about Mum and Dad. I grabbed my phone. They’d be worried sick about me. The phone rang and rang; no one was there.
‘Mum, Dad, it’s me. Just to say I’m at Charlie’s. I got wet and ended up staying here for a bit, and fell asleep. I haven’t seen Charlie yet. I’m going to see if they can give me a lift home. I’ll call you later.’ I tried Dad’s mobile, and then Mum’s. Both went straight to voicemail. For a moment I imagined them driving around the countryside, looking for me in a panic. And then I remembered. They weren’t even home! They’d gone to visit Mum’s friend in Wales for the night. I let out a sigh of relief. Guilt trip averted.
‘Here she is!’ Charles Snr announced my entrance in a jolly boom.
I stood in the doorway. Charles Snr was next to the fire, a drink raised in my direction. On the sofa next to him sat Charlie and I met his eye briefly. He smiled politely at me. I pulled my tummy in and smiled back. And then, rising out of his chair, was his brother. I coloured. I’d completely forgotten about Jimmy. He turned and held out his arms.
‘Sam! What a lovely surprise!’
I hugged him in a daze.
‘Jim . . . you’re . . .’ I looked him up and down, taking in his strong frame (more solid than Charlie’s leaner version), his hair (still blonde), his fully formed features. ‘A man!’
‘It’s nice of you to notice, Sam.’ And he wiggled his hips a little as Charlie and Charles Snr laughed.
A man maybe but still the puppyish little brother beneath it all.
‘Come and sit down, Sam. You can’t stand in the middle of the room ogling my brother all night,’ Charlie said.
‘I’m not ogling,’ I said, feeling myself blush some more. ‘I just can’t quite get over how different he looks.’
I tried to smile what I hoped was a natural smile as I crossed the room. As I walked past Charlie, he got off the sofa to greet me and I tried desperately to pull my tummy in further.
‘Hi.’
‘Fancy meeting you here, Sam.’ Charlie bent and kissed each cheek. I felt a shiver pass over me, although I wasn’t sure if it was him or the lack of oxygen from pulling my stomach up to my lungs. Charlie was dressed in casual country attire – jeans, an old shirt and sweater, his hair ruffled by the fresh air, pink spots on his cheeks, and somehow – how this was possible was beyond me – he looked even more sexy than he did in a suit.
‘What can I get you, Sam? A gin and tonic? Or would you prefer wine?’ Charles Snr smiled warmly at me.
‘A gin and tonic would be lovely,’ I answered. A gin and tonic was, of course, the last thing I actually needed. I felt light-headed, and out of my depth. But I had a whole painful evening to get through with Charlie here in the bosom of his family. A well-supported bosom that definitely didn’t include me. Oh God, I needed that G&T more than anything else.
‘What are you up to now, Sam?’ Jimmy asked me, his eyes bright and friendly.
‘What, other than cr
ashing your family weekend?’
‘Don’t be silly, it’s lovely to see you again.’ Jimmy nudged his brother. ‘Isn’t it, mate?’
Charlie was staring at the fire. He had the look of someone who had been doing that rather a lot. His tease about me ogling Jimmy just now had obviously been a short break in some serious introspection. Jimmy looked back at me and made a face. There was an awkward pause as we both tried to think of something to say.
‘Here we are!’ Charles came back into the room, with a drink for me and another one for himself. ‘Cheers! Here’s to long-lost drowned rats.’
‘That’s not very nice, darling.’ Lydia followed him, with a bowl of fat olives in her hand. She set them down on the coffee table in front of the brothers and sat delicately on a pretty upholstered stool next to the fire.
‘Help yourself, Sam,’ she said. ‘Jimmy! Save some for other people.’
‘Sorry, Ma,’ Jimmy winked at me.
‘Talking of long-lost people in our lives, I saw Bunty the other day at tennis. Did you know her Sarah is just back from Kilimanjaro? Such a marvellous girl, and squeezing it in with her career. Do you ever see her, Charlie? Charlie?’
‘What?’ Charlie looked up from the fire, bewildered. ‘Sorry, Ma, I was thinking about something else.’
Sure, I thought, I knew exactly what he was thinking about.
‘Sorry darling.’ Lydia looked at him with concern. ‘I’ve got terrible timing sometimes. Here I am talking about women when they are really the last thing you need in your life right now. They’ve caused enough trouble for the time being.’
‘They certainly have. One in particular,’ Charlie muttered.
‘Well, she obviously has her eye on other things; you’re better off without her.’
Charlie looked at his mother in pain, as if she held the answer to all of his problems. I had never seen him look so vulnerable.
‘Do you think she’s seeing someone else?’ he asked.
I was sure that if I hadn’t been there, Lydia would have crossed the room and gathered up Charlie in a big hug. She certainly looked as if she wanted to.
‘I don’t have a clue what she’s up to, darling. But if she’s not there for you, then she isn’t worth clinging on to. A man needs a woman who will be there for him. Isn’t that true, Charles?’
Charles Snr made a noise that signalled agreement and Charlie sunk back into the sofa, apparently satisfied with her answer. It was quite shocking how much he looked up to Lydia. I just couldn’t imagine turning to my own mother for comfort like he did, or respecting her opinion on things as private and as precious as heartache. I doubt I’d turned to my mum with real problems since I was about twelve. But perhaps I should? Perhaps that would bring Mum and I closer? Yet when I tried to picture it, all I could see was Mum giving unwanted advice in breathy tones. It was always too much. Lydia was too restrained for my taste; my own mother was too eager. Something in the middle would be quite lovely.
‘You’re welcome to tell me all about her.’ Jimmy gave Charlie a playful whack on the arm and winked at me. I tittered back nervously.
Lydia looked in mock despair at Jimmy. ‘I’m sure you’re quite capable of reeling in the women by yourself.’
‘I don’t know, he might not have any that climb mountains for kicks,’ Charles Senior cut in. He seemed keen to change the subject. Throughout the strange interaction between Lydia and Charlie, he’d been very busy eating nibbles, with occasional apologetic glances in my direction. Now he turned to me pointedly.
‘Sam, what news of your parents? I hope they’re not wasting time trying to set you up with people.’
‘They wouldn’t get a very good reception if they did,’ I admitted.
‘See?’ Jimmy joined in. He reached out and grabbed another olive. ‘We are perfectly capable of running our own love lives, aren’t we, Charlie?’ He nudged his brother again, who just grunted.
‘You’re quite right, you’re all obviously doing an excellent job. I’ll be quiet,’ Lydia said and laughed, and her boys loyally joined in.
The conversation moved on to the day’s shooting and I was glad to be left to my own thoughts again. I’ve got what I came for, I thought. I wanted to see how he was, and admittedly, coming within spitting distance wasn’t the plan, but I knew now. He was, quite simply, crushed. Nothing I could do would change that. I’d just have to wait.
But for how long? my anxious side clamoured.
Oh just shut up, I answered. I took a deep glug of the G&T Charles Snr had given me, almost finishing it in one. It slipped down, heat exploding into my gut and almost instantaneously spreading out through my limbs. Ahhhh. I took another sip. Drink gone. I sat in the soft chair, listening to, but not following, the conversation, feeling warm and adrift, almost as if everything was out of my control now. When I next glanced at the table beside my chair, my drink had been replaced with another one. I smiled in delight and brought the cold crystal to my lips, vaguely aware that they had turned to rubber and were not quite in sync with the few words I had to contribute, but I tried nevertheless, as I suddenly had something hilarious to add.
*
The atmosphere in the kitchen the next morning was confusing, at best. I felt like I’d been run over by several large trucks, consumed by my pounding head and aching joints, and everything felt blurred, as if I was looking through muslin. Most disturbing of all was the feeling I had missed out on something extremely important.
But Charlie gave me a warm grin as I joined him at the kitchen table, looking like he’d just been told an extremely good joke. He was a different man from the sad sack on the sofa last night.
‘Well, that was a first.’
‘What do you mean?’ I felt a sinking feeling as the mirth bubbling behind Charlie’s mouth prepared to spill out. His perfect lips, usually so collected, were having great difficulty staying together. They were wriggling all over the place, desperate to smile or even jump right off his face and dance a jig in his cornflakes. I shook my head. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d never known a hangover like it. ‘How much did I drink?’
‘Well, that’s the strange thing, I didn’t actually see you drinking much at all.’
‘Strange thing?’
‘Well’ – his lips contorted some more – ‘for someone who hadn’t drunk much, you were certainly the chief entertainment of the evening.’
‘Entertainment?’ That didn’t sound good.
‘Oh, you were in full flight, on your soapbox, railing against everything from public schools to the bankers – it was like having our very own socialist campaigner in the room.’
‘That must have gone down well.’
‘Oh brilliantly. We were all very amused, except for the bit about Sarah.’
‘Sarah? Who the hell is Sarah?’
‘You don’t remember?’ Charlie chuckled. ‘She’s the daughter of Ma’s bridge partner. Just back from climbing Kilimanjaro?’
‘Ah . . .’ Faint bells were ringing in my head.
‘You went completely off on one about her, suggesting she sounded like she’d make a good debutante for Country Life, that a pretty, privileged girl like that deserved to be celebrated, how fabulous she must be, how perfect, and on and on from there really.’
I sank my head into my hands. ‘Don’t tell me, all delivered with lashings of sarcasm.’
‘Oh, you didn’t mean it?’ Charlie chuckled again. ‘You don’t think the Hugh-Barringtons should spend – now how did you put it – the money an average family might spend on a car and all go for a jolly jaunt together with Sarah to Ascot this year?’
‘Fuck.’
‘Oh there was plenty of that thrown in for good measure, just so we’d understand how fervently you felt about things.’
I shook my head. Please let this be a joke. Having opinions about things was one thing but I didn’t usually make a point of shoving them rudely in the faces of the generation above me. People my own age, that was game on, but not my
parents’ generation. Not people hosting me, people who – it was finally dawning on me – had been nursing me. But the dread that had sat in the pit of my stomach first thing that morning now leached into my whole body. I knew Charlie wasn’t making it up. I was unwell, I drank too quickly on an empty stomach and my manners had obviously flown out of the window.
Lydia chose that moment to make her appearance, clipping in wearing a pale-blue linen suit. I flushed as I made eye contact.
‘Good morning, Sam.’ Her voice was cool.
‘Good morning.’ I paused, my heart beating in my throat, but ploughed on, desperate to smooth over some of the damage done. ‘Ah . . . Charlie’s been filling me in on my behaviour last night. It sounds like I was a right pain in the . . . bum,’ I said, just catching myself in time.
‘You were fine.’
Lydia had her back to us and was looking through a stack of papers on the dresser using small, careful movements but her words didn’t fool me.
‘Well, it sounded like I was a complete idiot, I’m sorry.’ I watched Lydia’s tiny shoulders relax slightly beneath her jacket and she turned to look at me.
‘I think, Sam, you probably have the flu and we’ll drop you home on the way to church. We’re leaving in ten minutes.’
‘Oh. Thank you, thank you very much. I’d completely forgotten about my bike!’ I giggled awkwardly and caught Charlie’s eye. He gave me a small grin and stood up to start clearing things from the table, obviously finished with teasing for the moment. He certainly wouldn’t joke around like that in front of Lydia. Just like that, he was back to being the perfect son, the one who had come home for the weekend to have his wounds tended from the nasty woman whom Mummy didn’t think was good enough for him. I went to find my coat, glad to be getting out of that kitchen and out of this house where everything felt so loaded and I felt so out of place. It crossed my mind that, on balance, this family might actually be more screwed up than my own.
Chasing Charlie Page 24