by Nikki Ashton
“Everything should be there, and signed. You can email the confirmation to me to save you calling again. I just need him to be fully covered my Monday evening.” He looked straight at Charlotte, not afraid of eye contact with her.
Charlotte, on the other hand, was afraid, but couldn’t bear to take her eyes away. She wanted to take in every detail of him, his eyes, his mouth, his everything, to keep her going in the months ahead; she wanted to remember it all.
“Fine, I’ll make sure that it’s sorted out, first thing after the weekend. Sorry to have disturbed you,” she answered, not even attempting a smile.
“No, its fine,” he said, smiling slightly, bringing momentary hope to Charlotte. His tone, however, was curt and professional. “It’s urgent so I wouldn’t have expected anything less.”
About to turn and leave, Charlotte caught a shadow behind him. Two thin, porcelain white arms entwined themselves around his waist; it was Ingrid.
“Come on darling, its cold out here. Anyway, I’m sure that Charlene has somewhere else she wants to be. I know I do.” She laughed throatily. As she kissed Niall’s bare shoulder, Ingrid's cat-like eyes flicked in Charlotte’s direction.
Charlotte thought what a bitch Ingrid was; Charlene was it well two could play that game.
“Yes, Irene is right. I do need to go. As I said, I will ensure that this is completed first thing Monday morning.”!
Charlotte turned and moved towards her car, aware of eyes boring into her back; however, she didn’t turn around. As she waited to pull out back onto the road, Charlotte quickly checked her rear-view mirror. The door was now closed, but she could see that Niall was at the window, a curtain in each hand, ready to pull them together. He paused briefly, and then he was gone.
Kerry was sitting in the caravan, watching a repeat of a sitcom’ on the portable television and popping cubes of chocolate into her mouth. The program was fairly amusing, but she was restless. Endless evenings spent alone in such an enclosed space were beginning to take their toll. She sprang up and switched the T.V. off, immediately turning it on again, then off once more, snatching a magazine from the table. She curled her legs beneath her and began to read the first page; she got halfway down and felt bored with it already. Putting the magazine down and sighed.
“Ooh, I am so bored,” she ranted at the blank television.
Kerry knew that she needed to get out of the caravan, before she smashed some plates to relieve the monotony. She looked in on Esme, pacified that she was fast asleep. Kerry put on her coat; she decided to take a short walk, just around the pasture.
Pulling the caravan door gently shut and locking it, Kerry let out a blast of air. She felt like she’d been let out of prison. It would take her five minutes at the most to walk the circumference of the pasture, but it was enough. She would be getting some fresh air and be stretching her legs. She started to walk, breathing in the cold night air, looking out on to the surrounding fields and the woods beyond. It was so quiet she thought that she almost heard the clouds move above her; that was the problem she realised, the silence. At home, she was used to all her family and friends popping in and Kelvin’s mates always piling into the house to watch football. This time had been good to get around her around the breakdown of her marriage, but it hadn’t really been any good for her sanity; she started to talk to herself in the evenings. Kerry knew that if asked Owen would have been only too happy to sit and chat with her, but something about her told her to be cautious.
As she got to the caravan, Kerry popped inside to check on Esme. Seeing that she was still sleeping peacefully, Kerry went outside and flopped down onto the caravan steps. She looked up at the sky, not a star in sight because of the clouds. She tried to remember what her dad used to say about clouds at night, whether it will mean a cold day tomorrow or not. If she thought about it, she could work it out, but she wasn’t really sure and in any case, the only thoughts inside her head were those of her dad. Kerry thought about him quite a lot while she’d been here, a positive outcome to her exile. At least at this moment in time she could recall memories of him without getting upset all the time, or being angry at him for not watching the road during the day that he died. She wished that he was here now, he would have known what to do. Kerry was sure that he wouldn’t have let her, and Kelvin get beyond this stage; he would have had something to say and do about it a long time ago.
Kerry recalled when she was about twelve and had seen three girls from school pinching an old lady’s handbag. The next day the police had come into the assembly to ask if anyone knew anything about it. She had been too scared to tell them what she knew; she didn’t want the girls to find out and then face being bullied, or worse. Kerry went to her dad; he would know what she should do. Malcolm listened intently to what his daughter had to say and then spoke quietly.
“Wouldn’t it have been awful if that old lady had been Nanna?”
He didn’t say anything else, but just walked out into the garden, leaving Kerry alone and bewildered. The next day, after school, she went into the police and told them everything that she had seen. They thanked her and said that it was okay, but one of the girls had tried it again earlier that day. This time she had picked on someone stronger and once arrested it wasn’t long before she had snitched on her mates. As a silent tear rolled down her cheek, Kerry knew that her dad would have definitely sorted them out.
She continued to sit in the darkness, her bottom getting colder, when she heard the gate leading into the pasture creak. Kerry looked across to see Owen appearing out of the darkness, as he got closer, she could see that he was actually smiling.
“I thought that I could see someone moving around out here. I decided to check that it wasn’t a burglar.” His soft Welsh lilt echoed slightly in the silence of the night.
“No, only me, I just needed some fresh air. To be honest it's getting a little boring sat inside on my own every night.”
As soon as the words tumbled off her tongue Kerry could have bitten it off; Owen didn’t react by offering his services for company.
“I suppose that it must be boring, same view every night. I know how I feel staring at Mam and Dad all the time. At least, I can have some sort of conversation with them, even if it is about big band music and Glen Miller.”
Kerry smiled, reacting to the lightness into his voice; he was in a good mood tonight, even attempting to crack jokes.
“I’m sure it must be riveting, anyway you could always go out. Surely, you must still have friends around here?”
Owen’s face clouded slightly. “No, they are all married off now. None of their wives will let them go out boozing with a young, free and single bachelor like myself,” he said, as he crouched down next to Kerry. He pushed her along as he prized his denim clad bottom next to hers. “So you thought that you would come out here and sample that lovely Welsh air then, did you?”
Kerry nodded in response to his question. “Yeah, oh, by the way, thanks for getting my wing mirror repaired,” she said looking down at the ground under her feet. She had gone on a walk one day and returned to find that Owen had been as good as his word.
“No problem, I told you that I’d sort it out.” He stared at her as he spoke, not averting his eyes for even a second.
Kerry blushed in the darkness at the strength in his gaze. “So what have you been up to over the last few days, I’ve not really seen you around that much?”
“Oh this and that, a bit of business you know,” he replied, not expanding any further.
“Right.” Kerry looked away, sensing that Owen was staring at her again. They sat in silence for a few moments.
Owen’s voice broke the stillness. “Decided if, and when, you are going home then?” he asked, now looking ahead.
“Err I don’t know. I've not really thought about it. Are you trying to get rid of me then?” Although slightly perturbed by his probing, Kerry’s tone was light, aware that his mood had a tendency to change within seconds.
“No
, just wondering.” Owen’s voice trailed off.
Kerry turned to him, realising that he seemed to have lost interest; he was rubbing his scar with his hand. As she watched for a couple of minutes, he continued to rub, his face contorted under the hardness of his fingers. Kerry took his hand away and kept hold of it in hers.
“Don’t do that, you’ll make it worse,” she coaxed, as she dropped his hand. It had surprised her how warm and safe it felt. “I’ve got some camomile lotion inside, wait here.” She stood up and disappeared inside the van.
A few moments later Kerry reappeared clutching a tube of pink cream. Sitting next to Owen, she squeezed a small amount on to the tips of her fingers and gently rubbed it into the deep redness on his face. She felt strange touching someone other than Esme again, after all this time, particularly a man. Tenderly, she smoothed his skin with her cold fingers, every touch sending an electric current through her body down to her pelvis. With the lightest of touches, she stroked his skin, until there was no trace of the cream; finally, she rested her palm on his cheek.
They said nothing, as they looked deeply into each other’s eyes, until eventually Kerry broke the spell.
“There you go, is that better?” she whispered, breathlessly.
“Yep,” he replied. Owen nodded slowly and brought his own calloused hand down over the top of Kerry’s. “Much better, thank you.”
Slowly, he lowered both their hands and moved his head towards hers. At first, Kerry shrank back, her heart pounding, her breath shallow, but Owen reassuringly stroked her smooth blonde hair with his other hand. Slowly, he moved his hand to her neck and started to caress it with his thumb, all the time moving closer. The moment that their lips met Kerry knew that it was a mistake, the build-up had been electrifying, but the kiss made her stomach turn violently.
After a few seconds of Owen’s thick, wet lips on hers, Kerry tried to pull away. He was insistent though, the hand on the back of her head urging it forward. Kerry pushed a hand against his chest to lever herself away, but he was too strong. Suddenly, his tongue was parting her own dry lips, attempting to force it into her mouth. With an almighty heave, Kerry pushed him away from her. Gasping for breath she looked to one side and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.
“I’m sorry Owen. I shouldn’t have done that, it’s not right,” she gasped.
Owen moved a hand on the back of her head, as if to start again. “Look, your marriage is over, don’t worry.”
Kerry shoved him hard this time. “No Owen I mean it. I don’t want you to kiss me anymore. It should never have happened. I’m sorry, but I don’t think of you in that way. I was just feeling down. You're a very attractive man and everything, but I can’t I’m sorry.” She stood up and tried to get up the steps, but Owen didn’t move to let her past.
“It’s not fair. You can’t just lead me on like that, rubbing your bloody cream into my face, giving me all the come on signals. You wanted it as much as I did!” he spat at her, his face white with fury, the scar red and angry against it.
“I know and I’m sorry. I thought that it was what I wanted, but it wasn’t. Please Owen let me go in. I'm getting cold out here.” Her eyes were full of tears now. She realised that she had probably just made the biggest mistake ever.
“Go on then, get back inside to your loneliness.”
“I am sorry Owen, truly I am.” Kerry made to put her hand on his arm, but then changed her mind.
Practically hurdling the three steps she got inside the caravan and collapsed against the door. Tears were now streaming down her cold cheeks. Kerry heard Owen’s footsteps brush through the grass, and then stop; she reached up and bolted the door. She sat back against it again, waiting for the knock. It didn’t come, but the footsteps resumed, until eventually she heard the house door slam shut.
Slowly, Kerry hauled herself up, all the time breathing deeply as her hearted pounded underneath her coat and jumper. She checked all the windows and then poured herself a very large glass of wine, almost knocking it back in one go.
“You really are a stupid cow at times Kerry,” she admonished, pouring herself another glass of wine, frightened at what could have happened tonight.
When Charlotte had left Niall’s house, she drove straight round to Bets’ flat, only stopping on the way to buy the biggest bottle of wine that she could find.
On opening the door Bets knew that she had been right to stay in her pyjamas; they weren’t going anywhere tonight. She took the bottle from Charlotte and trailed into the kitchen, her friend following closely behind.
“Well what’s happened then?” she asked, thrusting a large glass into Charlotte’s hand.
“It was horrible, worse than I imagined that it would be. He looked gorgeous wearing just his jeans and obviously, no underwear.” They both flopped on the sofa as Charlotte took a huge gulp of wine. “And she was there, draped around him like poison ivy. I could kill Paul for making me go over there.”
“I must say that I’m surprised that he did. Your miserable face and moodiness over the last few weeks must have given him some clue as to how upset you’ve been.”
“Have I been that bad?” Charlotte asked, as she brushed her fringe from her eyes.
Bets nodded solemnly. “’Fraid so.”
“God I’m sorry. I didn’t realise, then again, I didn’t realise that he’d had such an effect on me. It really hurts Bets.”
Bets rubbed Charlotte’s arm gently. “I know sweetheart, but it will get better. Anyway I think that he still has feelings for you.”
Charlotte’s eyes opened wide as she shook her head vigorously. “Oh no, I don’t think so. You didn’t see the look in his eyes when he stared at me; he hates me.”
“He may not think he likes you very much at the moment, but I don’t think that he hates you. Ingrid obviously thinks that there is something going on.” Bets leaned forward and refilled Charlotte’s glass.
“What makes you say that, Bets?” Charlotte asked. She took a large sip from her wine, almost emptying the glass.
“Look, Niall won’t have told her what went on, yet she still felt it necessary to protect her property when you called to the house tonight. She must have picked up from Niall himself how he feels about you.”
“Maybe, but that was before. I don’t think she has any reason to worry now. Anyway, I need the loo, be back in a jiffy.”
As Charlotte disappeared, Bets thought of her situation with Niall. Bets would put money on the fact that he still cared for her. The man was willing to give up his fiancée, who also happened to be his boss, for her. Bets thought that Charlotte was definitely a lot more than a quick fling as far as Niall was concerned.
Charlotte reappeared, and flung herself next to Bets. “Grant says that they’ve booked the wedding you know.”
“Yeah right.”
“No, really I believe him. I know when he’s lying, remember.
“It may not have been Niall’s idea,” replied Bets, trying to sound upbeat.
“Maybe, he did say that she liked to get her own way. Oh well there’s nothing that I can do about it now. Once again, I’ve fallen for the wrong person. We should give up on men Bets, let’s face it. They either die or marry someone else; we’re just not very good at it are we?” She drained her glass once more and held it out for Bets to fill it up. “Life just isn’t fair.”
Bets sighed heavily. “No, Charlotte your right, life isn’t fair. If it was lawnmowers would come equipped with vibrators.”
Chapter 30
Bets spent all day on Saturday nursing Charlotte’s hangover. She rubbed her back while she was being sick and made her drink lots of glasses of water. Charlotte finally felt fit enough to go home at around 5 p.m. Because Charlotte had taken all her time and attention, poor old Alfred had been rather neglected. This was the reason that Bets was now taking him for a long walk in the local woods. So armed with a flask of tea and biscuits for herself, and a ball and dog chew for Alfred, Bets was determined to wear
him out.
As she wandered through the woods, Bets began to think about where she was in her life and what, if anything, she had achieved. Yes, she had a nice car and flat and had her own business; however, they were only material things. They weren’t what she truly wanted out of life; what she actually wanted was a good man who loved her. She had always fought against a serious relationship, mainly because she was frightened of being abandoned. Lately, though she had begun to realise that being hurt was all part of life, it helped to make you the person you were. Probably, why, Bets realised, that she was usually so bad at being around those that were upset. She couldn’t handle it and never knew what to say. Bets knew that she had supported Charlotte over the last couple of weeks, but somehow that had been easy, she’d known what Charlotte needed, with anyone else she was hopeless.
When her dad had died, Bets hadn’t known how to cope with her grieving mother, she’d had her own feelings to deal with. Hence they had hardly communicated for six months. Friends and neighbours were there to help her mum through the bad times, but not Bets. At least, they had become close again before her mum had died, although when she did pass away Bets hated her for a short time; she’d left her all alone.
For years, right from being a teenager, Bets had acted hard and controlled, but that was wearing a little thin now. What she really wanted was someone around who would love and cherish her, open doors for her, someone who would rub her aching back and tell her how beautiful she was but also tell her when she was wrong. Bets was tired of being strong and feisty with only Alfred to care about. Maybe Stuart was the one to fulfil all those things, but look how that turned out. She hoped that he wasn’t, otherwise all she had to look forward to being years of spinsterhood.