Chasing Charlie

by Linda McLaughlan

  Lucy snorted. ‘That I do believe.’

  The shuttle bus pulled in and the waiting gaggle of people shuffled forward. Lucy was pushed closer to the bus by the firm, polite queue.

  ‘It was nice to meet you again,’ I said stupidly, self-consciously, as the doors opened and Lucy moved towards the steps. She turned before she boarded and called to me, ‘One thing – what were you doing in our flat that day?’

  The people waiting behind us sighed a collective sigh of impatience and I scrabbled for an answer.

  ‘We were catching up, nothing more!’ I called brightly, willing myself not to blush or look away, and Lucy held my gaze for a brief moment then turned with a wave and got on the bus. I watched her walk down the aisle inside and take her seat. She sat on the side closest to me and was busying herself with her bag. I kept half an eye on her – not wanting to look like I was staring – willing her to acknowledge me – please don’t let our talk end like that. The door closed and I looked up one last time to wave. Lucy was inserting earphones into her little ears and she looked down at me, an infinitely more guarded smile on her face. The sort you make out of habit.

  ‘Crap,’ I muttered to myself, watching the bus creep out onto the drive and head off to the station. I felt like a dog.

  65

  SAM

  If I hadn’t had such an intense day, I would have gone straight home to see Mara. But instead I got off the Tube early, telling myself I needed a drink at the Cock & Bull. Of course I could have had a drink at my local in Queen’s Park or picked up a bottle on the way home. But it had to be at the Cock, I told myself sternly.

  Sure it does, my voice of reason snapped back. And you’re not hoping to check up on him or anything.

  I ignored it and entered the pub with my head held high. I spotted him almost immediately, my heart doing a little flip, but I pretended not to see him and walked coolly to the bar.

  Ooooh look, here he is before you for a change. When he’s not expecting you. Interesting.

  Shut up.

  From the corner of one eye, I saw he was with a couple of men, who were all braying and doing an awful lot of backslapping. My stomach untwisted a little. So far, so good. After my disturbing day working with Lucy I had prepared myself for seeing him with another woman.

  The bar was busy and I had to wait for service but I doggedly avoided looking his way. I concentrated on making my lips look ever so slightly pouty, in what I desperately hoped was a natural-looking way, and waited for him to notice me.

  I smiled at the barman. ‘A pint of Ringwood please.’

  I hadn’t thought through what I would have done if he’d been with a woman. Make a scene? Leave straightaway? I took a sip of my ale and turned slightly away from the bar, still studying my phone. The full liquid slid down my throat. After all, this was why I was here at the bar – I had to admit it to myself. I was checking up on him. But! I took another self-conscious sip. I was also a sophisticated, grown-up woman, completely at ease with my own company. I must remember that.

  I was halfway through my pint when he finally came over. I was getting worried – would I have to take more direct action? I hoped not. I was fairly sure a sophisticated femme fatale wouldn’t actually have to bump into the object of desire. He would be drawn to me, his senses overriding his brain . . .

  ‘Saaaaaaam’ – kiss, kiss – ‘how lovely to see you, what are you doing here?’ He seemed pleased to see me.

  ‘Oh!’ – surprised face – ‘Hello, Charlie. I’m good, thanks. I was just passing, popped in for a vino. Well’ – I lifted my glass and looked at it, widened my eyes in a goofy self-parody – ‘you know what I mean.’ And I laughed a suitably grating hee-haw laugh to add to the goofiness.

  That went well.

  Charlie chuckled politely with me.

  I tried again. ‘Had a huge day. Actually’ – like I just remembered – ‘I spent the day with Lucy.’

  Charlie’s usual composure fell off his face momentarily and he hastily replaced his smile to cover his shock.

  ‘Why would you want to do a thing like that?’

  ‘I was working with her.’ And there it was again, a flicker of shock across his face, plus confusion.

  ‘Working with her? I . . . don’t understand.’

  ‘She acted in a commercial I was working on.’

  ‘Acted?’ Charlie squinted in concentration and then his brow cleared. ‘Oh, she’s actually doing it. I remember her wittering on once about earning some extra money doing TV stuff. I thought it was all pie in the sky. I hope they didn’t get her to talk. She was an extra, was she?’

  ‘She was the presenter.’ I didn’t like his tone.

  ‘Christ – really?’ he spluttered into his lager.

  ‘She was playing a doctor, talking about the benefits of . . . a product . . .’ How much should I say? Oh fuck it. ‘She was advertising a drug that helps with erectile dysfunction.’

  ‘Oh that I must see.’ Charlie shook his handsome head and then took another sip, finishing his glass.

  ‘Another?’

  ‘Why not, I think I’ve got time. I can’t stay for long though, I’ve got somewhere else to be soon,’ I said, hoping like hell that sounded like the truth.

  Charlie grinned at me and leant over the bar to order the drinks.

  ‘So have you had a busy week?’ I asked him, feeling more confident with most of a drink on board.

  ‘I suppose I have, you?’

  ‘It’s just that you haven’t been in touch so I guessed you were flat out,’ I said lightly, tilting my head to one side, the way I’d seen Drew Barrymore do in 50 First Dates, trying for a gosh-aren’t-you-cute-but-I’ll-forget-about-you-tomorrow delivery. Not where-the-hell-have-you-been-don’t-you-care-any more voice. Not that – a million cute miles away from that.

  Charlie eyed me for a moment as if he was double-checking my intent. ‘Well, I have been pretty busy, you’re right.’

  I lifted one shoulder and let it drop. ‘I don’t mind, I’ve been busy too. Visiting Mara a lot.’ After playing cute, there was always guilt tripping.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I should have asked. How is she?’

  ‘She came home yesterday actually. She’s going to be fine. Her collarbone will take a while to heal but everything else is fine. I think she’ll take a while to get another bike though, her confidence is pretty dented.’ As I spoke, Charlie made a discreet investigation of his watch. Which reminded me: I was busy I’d better leave.

  ‘Anyway I’ve got to get going, I haven’t seen her all day.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘You don’t seem upset I’m leaving.’

  Damn, that was too much.

  ‘Of course I am, babe,’ Charlie said smoothly, running a finger along my jaw.

  ‘You’re not seeing someone else, are you?’ There, I’d said it. No taking it back. I studied his face. His eyes widened with . . . surprise? Denial? Acknowledgement?

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I don’t know, sorry, it’s my big day talking, I’d better get home.’ I started bustling about locating my handbag and shucking on my coat, wishing I could keep my feelings to myself for once.

  Then I felt my hands being caught by his insistent fingers.

  ‘I love the times we have together, babe.’

  OK, that was present tense – I could work with that. But was there a but?

  ‘And you have nothing to worry about.’ He cupped both hands around my face and drew it towards him for a kiss.

  66

  SAM

  Kate had a small patch of concrete and weeds outside her front door, on which lay two wet odd socks, a squashed ball, a twenty-pence piece, a blue pen, a pink hair tie and several pieces of junk mail being whirled around by a bitter wind. Ed and I, our hands buried in our jacket pockets, studied them as we waited for the door to open.

  ‘Hi, sorry, come in. ’Scuse the mess.’ Kate opened the door to complete chaos inside. But despite the mess �
� or possibly because of it – Kate looked amazing, dressed in a dark blue jersey dress ending at her knee that showed off her calves and ankles. Luke came running down the hallway, pursued by Rosie.

  ‘Nee naw, nee naw! I’m a fire engine, watch out!’ Luke tried storming between us to get out the front door and Ed grabbed him and held him upside down.

  ‘Luke, if you don’t behave, there will be no ice cream,’ Kate said sternly.

  ‘Ice cream? Are you crazy?’ Ed gestured to the freezing air outside the front door. Luke giggled and ran away from him, somehow turning up his fire-engine siren by at least fifty per cent.

  ‘Luke, too loud!’ Kate shook her head and led them to the kitchen, shouting over the noise. ‘He eats ice cream all year round – they both do. It’s like they don’t feel the cold. Luke!’ She shooed both kids into the living room and then joined us in the kitchen.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘What for?’ I said.

  ‘Luke, he’s . . .’

  ‘A six-year-old boy.’

  ‘A flippin’ loud one.’

  ‘We’re used to it, aren’t we, Ed?’

  ‘You should hear Mara’s fire-engine impression.’

  Kate gave her brother an ineffectual shove in the arm.

  ‘Thinks he’s a funny man. But really you do need to keep an eye on him, he’s becoming a real tearaway.’ Kate looked towards the living room, where they could hear a fierce squabble escalating. Her face flickered with unease.

  ‘He’ll be fine, stop worrying.’ I put my arm on Kate’s.

  Kate took a quick breath and nodded briskly. ‘You’re right. Of course you are! I worry too much about them. How’s Mara doing today?’

  ‘Bossing us both around already, isn’t she, Sam?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Yes. It’s only been three days and we’re thinking of sending her back.’

  ‘Oh, that’s great. I just hope she doesn’t do too much too soon.’

  ‘I’m sure she will. More importantly, little sis, tell us about this man then,’ Ed asked from his customary spot, leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms folded.

  ‘Well . . .’ Kate glanced at Rosie, who had reappeared and adhered herself to her mother’s side. ‘His name is Ben Garcia.’

  ‘You’re dating an Italian?’

  ‘His father was Italian I think,’ Kate mumbled as she rooted around in her handbag.

  ‘Needa date, Mummy,’ Rosie piped up.

  ‘No you don’t, Rosie, you’ve just had some food.’

  ‘Needa date!’

  Kate sighed. ‘Ask nicely.’

  ‘Pease.’

  ‘He’s a friend of Olivia, you know, the girl I used to work with.’ Kate took some dates from a container and passed them to Rosie and then to Luke, who had materialised at the mention of food.

  ‘Would that be anorexic Olivia or bulimic Olivia,’ I couldn’t help asking.

  ‘Funny ha ha.’ Kate sighed. ‘Not all models are like that. I wasn’t.’

  ‘Much,’ I replied, and Ed sniggered.

  ‘You guys!’ Kate sighed.

  ‘Sorry,’ Ed and I said at the same time, pulling a ‘whoops!’ face at each other. We both knew perfectly well how Kate disliked that joke. She’d heard it too often for it to be funny any more but for us it was like an itch that just had to be scratched.

  ‘You’re right, we’re not funny, Kate. Very good babysitters, shit comedians.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Kate smiled.

  ‘And you should go, you’re going to be late. We can manage the little tykes, can’t we, Luke?’ And Ed growled at Luke, advancing his big tickling hands towards him. Luke screamed, delighted.

  At the playground, both kids quickly ran off to get on with the serious job of playing. With the coffee having passed Ed’s critical scrutiny on our last visit, he was happy to nip into the park café while I perched on a bench to watch. The playground was crowded, the happy energy of kids outside filling the air. I took a deep, cold breath and let my eyes linger on the bare-limbed trees, starkly silhouetted against the blue sky. Soon Ed was there beside me with hot coffee.

  ‘Perfect!’ I smiled at him.

  ‘You’re in a good mood.’

  ‘It’s a lovely day, isn’t it? And I love being with the kids.’ I turned to find them in the playground, almost getting panicky when I couldn’t see them straightaway. So many children. But there they were, by the sandpit, digging away industrially in the soggy white sand.

  Sitting there, I was reminded of the last time I was at the park and realised I hadn’t told Ed.

  ‘I bumped into Rebecca here last weekend.’

  ‘What was she doing in the park?’

  ‘Stalking you, I think.’

  ‘Really?’ Ed turned to me, his voice sharp.

  I nodded. ‘Pretty sure. She wanted to know if I knew when you’d be home.’

  ‘What a pity I wasn’t in.’

  ‘She seemed to think so.’

  Ed shook his head to himself, chewing something over in his mind. I waited for him to say something else but he didn’t offer anything.

  ‘Do you like her?’

  Ed threw back his head and laughed, and I felt something strange – excitement? nerves? I didn’t know – spike through my belly.

  *

  Luke hoped they’d get an ice cream. Rosie would drip hers everywhere but he knew how to lick it all up quickly. There was the playground – what to do first? Slide, then train, then climbing rope, then swings, then . . . he ran around. Come on, Rosie. Their hair whipped around in the wind, and soon their hands were pink and frozen, smelling of the metal of the slide, the chain of the swings. Mummy was going out with a new friend, she said, which meant he and Rosie were out with Uncle Ed and Sam. And they would have ice cream – they promised. He looked over to them. They were talking again. Not looking his way. They were always talking. Luke could feel the unfamiliar weight of the big-boy coins in his pocket.

  ‘Look after this carefully, and you and Rosie will get an ice cream.’ Mummy had put the money in there. He wanted to go now. They were still talking. They could go now quickly and come back. Luke knew the way.

  *

  A boy in the sandpit let out a long wail, his sandcastle crushed by another kid. Ed and I glanced up, looking for Luke, expecting him to be the culprit. No Luke, no Rosie.

  ‘Monkeys, where are they?’ I got up and started walking over to the other equipment, with Ed following close behind. Not at the swings, not on the slide, not on the rope, not in the tunnel. Our heart rates increased.

  ‘Luke! Rosie!’ we called, glancing feverishly around the playground.

  ‘Ed, they’re not here!’

  Ed was white. ‘You ask around the mums, I’ll have a look on the street.’

  The mums all shook their heads at me, looking concerned, checking on their own children.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, where are they?

  *

  Down the street, they turned towards what Luke thought was the ice-cream shop. It was quiet. A big building ran down one side. Luke slowed down. He wasn’t sure he could remember that. The wind blew an empty crisp packet past them, turning over and over, almost flying. It made Luke feel uneasy.

  ‘Let’s turn around, Rosie.’ Luke tried to take her hand but a little orange cat bounced after the crisp packet. Rosie loved cats.

  ‘Cat!’ Rosie pointed excitedly.

  ‘Rosie!’ Luke shouted.

  The cat bounced off ahead of him, turning into a door. Rosie ran after it, her nappy wobbling from side to side. ‘No, Rosie, that’s the wrong way!’ Luke shouted again but she kept chasing it, through the door. And she was gone. Luke looked behind him for a second and then ran after her.

  Inside it was dark. There were stairs going up and it smelt funny. Rosie was clambering up the metal stairs – clang, clang, puff, puff – after the cat.

  ‘Rosie!’ Luke followed her up, up, up. Rosie was fast when there was a cat to follow. Every now and then there
was a window, small and dusty. Through the third one he could see the park. He looked for the sandpit but the view was blocked by trees. He could hear mewing. There at the top of the stairs, next to a closed door, was Rosie, squeezing the cat.

  ‘Cat!’ Squeeze. ‘Cat!’ Squeeze.

  ‘Come on, Rosie, say bye bye, cat.’ He remembered Mummy saying that lots. Mummy. He wanted to be outside, at the park again. Rosie finally let go of the cat and they started down the stairs. But then there was a loud bang that echoed up the stairwell, and it was a little darker inside and much quieter. Luke tightened his grip on Rosie’s hand and tried to hurry her down the stairs but she was slow and uncertain going down, taking them one by one. Finally they reached the bottom. He reached up and tried to open the door. It was locked.

  67

  CLAUDIA

  After much searching, I found the thick woollen hat that had been given to me in good faith by the stolid Tante Helga ‘für za English vinter’. It had been languishing unused in the bottom of a blanket box. Far too lumpy and practical for me, scoring a zero on my style scale. As I was rummaging I wondered if I’d actually been brave enough to throw it out but no, there it was. I tucked my hair up inside the hat and then wound a scarf around my neck. Right. Mirror time. I was amazed. I really did look like someone else, plain and tired. I wrestled with myself as I eyed my make-up for the briefest moments, then opened my compact and dabbed a little foundation on. That was a bit better. Still plain but at least I didn’t look completely knackered too. I just couldn’t bring myself to go out without any make-up on at all.

  I dug out an old black coat from the cupboard and pulled it on over the top of my jeans and checked again. Not bad. I looked tidy but nondescript. Most importantly not like my usual self. Exactly what I was aiming for. Stuffing keys and wallet into my pockets, and putting on dark glasses, I pulled the door to the flat closed.

  I couldn’t contain my excitement. I felt it welling up as I trotted along the road towards the Tube, like it did when I was a child and was being taken out. I checked my phone again. John would be in position now, in a café diagonally across the road from the restaurant where Rebecca was meeting her date for lunch. He would call me as soon as he saw her arrive, at which point I would make sure I was at the window. I had done an extensive recce the day before and discovered a clothes shop opposite the café that was perfect. It not only had the right sort of clothes for a nondescript sort of woman to idle endlessly looking at but upstairs there was a window overlooking the street and the restaurant! Brilliant. With any luck they might even dine in the window – even better. At the very least I would see her enter with her lover or at least leave with him.