by Nikki Ashton
With the pub lights, fifty yards ahead of her, Bets pulled into a lay by, hoping to gather herself together, and turn around and go home.
“Shit, what am I doing here?” she gasped, as she slammed her hand against the steering wheel, so hard that there was a short blast on the horn.
For a split second, she closed her eyes, hoping that it wouldn’t bring people running from the pub to see what was going on. Then she opened them, realising it would take a lot more than a quick toot of a horn to stop people drinking.
“God, you stupid woman, just go home,” she chastised herself. “Right drive past the pub, turn around and go home.”
Turning the engine back on she sped off past the pub, not even giving it a sideways glance, finding a farm driveway to turn around in. As she reached the pub Bets curiosity, and stupidity, got the better of her; she had to see if she could see Tom, but couldn’t risk him seeing her.
Sliding down in her seat, she turned off the car headlights, and coasted slowly past the pub. Carefully Bets lifted her head up slightly, so that she could see through the passenger window, and gazed inside the pub. As she drifted past one window, there was no sign, she passed the pub door, followed by the next window, easing her head a little higher to get a better look.
“Shit!” she cried.
There sat behind a window table, with a dark-haired girl, was Tom. He was laughing, as was the girl who had a hand resting upon his arm. Bets ducked quickly, hoping that he hadn’t seen her, desperate to remain anonymous. She didn’t notice the car about to pull off from the car park, and then just in time she looked ahead as the headlights of the Range Rover caught the corner of her eye. Quickly, she sat bolt upright and spinning the steering wheel round about nine hundred degrees, manoeuvred her car across the road and into the opposite lay by, hammering her brakes down hard to stop her car slamming into the hedge. The unhappy Range Rover driver gave a two-fingered gesture and sped off home, with more than the legal limit of alcohol inside him.
Physically shaking, beads of sweat on her top lip, Bets rested her head against the steering wheel. How could she have been so stupid, what had she hoped to gain, except death by dangerous driving?
Breathing heavily, Bets slammed the car into gear and sped away from the scene, back to the safety of her flat.
Inside the pub, oblivious to what was going on outside, Tom was chatting to Karen, his date.
“Look, I am sorry but I thought it best to be straight with you. It wouldn’t be fair to go out with you, not when I have feelings for someone else,” he said rather sadly.
“But I have a boyfriend, and it doesn’t worry me,” his date responded.
Tom frowned at her, rubbing a hand through his hair and sighing.
“Yeah well maybe you don’t love him then.”
Chapter 36
The next few weeks of February went slowly for Charlotte. She felt as though she was constantly treading water, getting nowhere fast. She knew, however, that once she got her promotion, and Niall was married. She would feel better; she would be able to get on with her life once more. Charlotte had thought that things would improve after she’d returned from Kent. She’d had a wonderful night with Niall, but it was a chapter of her life that she had to close. However, as the days had gone on she realised that it was still unfinished business, and would be until he had Ingrid’s ring on his finger. She had also been worried about Bets, who didn’t seem herself at all. Only last week the three of them had gone out, as a mini celebration for Kerry’s return, expecting to get absolutely plastered, but Bets had drunk diet coke all evening, and the very occasional brandy, leaving her sober as a judge.
“What’s wrong Bets, you look totally miserable, doesn’t she Charlotte?” shouted Kerry, who by way of contrast, was extremely jolly and rocking unsteadily on her feet.
Charlotte equally drunk, nodded solemnly. “Yup, whaas up buddy?”
Bets held out a steadying arm to Charlotte, and gently leaned her against the taxi rank sign.
“Nothing, I’m fine honestly. I've just had a hard week at work,” sighed Bets, wishing that she was at home, tucked up in bed.
“Phurgh, it must be catching, Mum says that Tom hasn’t spoken for nearly a week, reckons he’s just tired; hey, quick here’s a taxi…TAXI.”
Luckily, Charlotte and Kerry were running out into the middle of the road, and didn’t see the uncomfortable look on Bets' face.
Kerry and Kelvin were the total opposite, very happy and behaving like love’s young dream. They had realised what they'd almost lost, and had no intention of letting anything like that happen again. It hadn’t all been sweetness and light however, once after a counselling session, the recriminations had started. Kerry accused Kelvin of neglecting her, and he in turn had accused her of trying to be everything to everyone, except him. But, they stopped shouting and realised that they should be talking.
One terrible day they had received a letter from the Welsh Police, seeing an official envelope Kerry had opened it with trepidation. She thought that it would be to inform her when the trial was, a reminder of that dreadful night, but it wasn’t, the letter was to let her know that there would be no trial. Owen committed suicide whilst on remand; he had decided to take the coward’s way out and had hanged himself in his cell, with a sheet. Kelvin had been surprised at her tears, but as Kerry explained, they were through a mixture of relief and pity for Mrs Llewellyn at the loss of her son. They agreed to send the Llewellyn’s a condolence card, the final action in what was a nightmarish time during their lives.
On the whole, life was good for them, and getting better, even better than it had been before. The main thing was they were working hard at being a couple as well as being Esme’s parents, making sure that they made time for each other.
Niall, like Charlotte, was also struggling to get through the days, unable to get Charlotte out of his mind. It was a cold blustery day, and he had arranged to meet Paul, desperate for any form of contact with her.
Paul walked to meet him with his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, battling against the cool wind that blew furiously around him. He sighed deeply as he spotted Niall, in the distance, sitting on the bench where they had arranged to meet. Niall’s shoulders were slumped and his chin was pushed deep against his chest, as he stared out, unseeingly, at the boats fighting their way across the river. Paul wanted to slap him around the back of the head, and tell him to go to Charlotte, sod Ingrid, but somehow he knew that it would be futile.
“Hello Niall,” he announced himself, almost in a whisper, afraid of startling him.
“Oh, howyer Paul thanks for coming. Sit down, sit down.” Niall moved down the bench slightly, allowing room for Paul.
“So what can I do for you? I presume it’s not business, or you wouldn’t have arranged to meet me here.”
“Sure you’re right,” sighed Niall, “although even if it had been business, I’m not certain that I would have come into the office.” He paused as he rubbed a hand against his dark rimmed eyes. “I don’t know whether I could stand seeing Charlotte.”
“Did something happen in Kent, only she hasn’t said anything, except to scold me slightly for setting you both up?” Paul asked, smiling half-heartedly.
Niall also smiled. “Yes, don’t think that I’ve forgotten that you crafty bastard. Well, whatever your plan was it worked. We had a fantastic time together.”
“So what happened?” enquired Paul, stretching his legs out in front of him.
“Ingrid being pregnant is what happened.” Niall noticed the look of horror on Paul’s face, “Don’t worry, I told Charlotte straight away, I couldn’t lie to her.”
“Oh dear,” sighed Paul, “is there nothing that you can do? I mean can’t you tell Ingrid that you can’t marry her, but you’ll support the child?”
Niall shook his head vehemently. “No I refuse to repeat history. My da was constantly leaving my ma, pregnant usually, so I couldn’t put my ma through that. I couldn’t stand it
if she saw da in me, I’ve always looked after the family, always been the responsible one, and I would find it hard to change now.”
“But surely your mother would understand Niall?”
“Maybe, but would my kid when it grows up?” Niall looked at Paul earnestly, daring him to disagree. “I need to ask you something anyway.”
“Yes, what is it?” Paul asked, smiling kindly, suddenly noticing that Niall looked drawn and thinner.
“I have something that I want to give to Charlotte, but I’m not sure that I should.”
“What is it, a letter?”
“No,” said Niall, dropping his hand into his coat pocket, “this.” He pulled out a black box, and slowly opening it, showed it to Paul.
“Oh Niall, it’s beautiful. She'll love it. Of course, you should give it to her.”
“I’m glad you said that, because I so want her to have it. I think that I’ll send it to her. I have a feeling that Grant has mentioned that it’s her birthday soon. I'll send it then.”
“No,” Paul gasped. “I don’t think that you should.”
“Why, you just said…”
“I know it’s just that, well my dear chap you are getting married on her birthday.” He paused staring at the look of disbelief on Niall’s face. “So sending it then, well perhaps wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“You are joking, aren’t you? No you’re not are you? Shit, what an absolute arse I am.” Niall shook his head, laughing emptily. “God, why is this happening to me? I tell you Paul, I must have been some real shit in a past life. I love her so much, and I know that she loves me, but I’ve got to marry someone who I’m not really sure I even like any more.”
Paul looked at him quizzically. “What makes you say that?”
“Oh Ingrid has suddenly turned into the bitch from hell. Nothing I do is right, nothing I say is right; she does nothing but snipe about everyone and everything. She’s even talking about getting an interior designer to redecorate my cottage, if I insist that we live there when we are married. All the work that I’ve put into it, it would be heart breaking. She’s always been strong minded, but she seems to have got worse since she’s been pregnant.” Niall sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes again. “I shouldn’t moan about her. She's probably not feeling too well, and her hormones will be all over the place. Since the night that Ingrid conceived we’ve not even slept together, when she does stay over, which isn’t often we lie on opposite sides of the bed, or she goes into the spare room “so she can sleep better.” I hate it Paul. I only want to be with Charlotte, and my heart aches for her every minute of every day.” Niall dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his face. “God why is this happening?” he cried.
Paul looked at his sad, pale face and knew that he would have to try to meddle one last time, he couldn’t bear to see anyone this unhappy.
“Niall, why don’t you take the gift to Charlotte, go around to her house. Perhaps you could have a talk, you know one last time, just to tell her how you feel. End it as friends.”
Niall shook his head. “I don’t know Paul it would be too difficult, for both of us. Besides, I’m not sure I can cope with being just friends. I think her leaving Kent in the early hours of the morning means that she’s said her good-bye; I don’t think I could handle it again. I don’t think that she could.”
Paul placed a hand on Niall’s shoulder. “Just let me give you her address, then you can think about it.”
Niall fished into his jacket pocket for his mobile, and entered Charlotte’s address as Paul gave it to him.
“Thanks, I’ll think about it, and it would be nice to see her.” He smiled dreamily, thinking about their night together. “Shite, fancy getting married on her birthday. I bet that she thinks I’m a real piece of work.”
“No she doesn’t,” soothed Paul. “You weren’t to know, and Charlotte is aware of that. So, what next?”
“Well there are a few last minute things to do for the wedding, but to be honest my heart isn’t in it, and I need to think about what I’m going to do about this.” Niall closed his hand over the box.
“Well for what it’s worth I think you should go and see her with it. You do understand why I can’t come to the wedding, don't you? My loyalties have to lie with Charlotte?”
Niall smiled warmly at Paul. “Of course I understand. I'd rather not be there myself,” he laughed feebly. “But, there is one thing Paul.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“You will look after her for me, won’t you? She’s so precious, and I want her to be happy.” Unshed tears now glistened in Niall’s eyes, as he looked at Paul.
Paul smiled, and gently laid a hand on Niall’s hunched shoulder.
“Of course I will, but who will look after you Niall?”
As she sat at her desk working, Charlotte didn’t notice Laura approaching holding a parcel. She carried on, clattering away at her keyboard, until Laura coughed nervously.
“Huh, huh.”
At first, Charlotte thought that it was Bobby and didn’t look up as she answered.
“What is it Bobby, only I’m a little busy?” Bobby luckily wasn’t in the office as Laura began to giggle. “Oh sorry Laura, I thought that you were Bobby.” Charlotte too started to laugh.
“Erm sorry. Someone left this for you while I was talking to Deb in reception.” Laura handed over the brown jiffy bag to Charlotte.
“Who was it, do you know?” Charlotte asked as she looked up at Laura, who shifted around uncomfortably on her feet.
Laura didn’t speak at first, but realising that she’d better before Charlotte beat it out of her, she blurted out the name. “Mr Devine.”
She quickly took a step back, afraid that Charlotte may punch her on the nose at the mere mention of his name. No one knew exactly what had gone on between Charlotte and Niall, but everyone who worked with Charlotte had a gut feeling that it was a bad move to mention Niall Devine. Charlotte, however, didn’t punch Laura on the nose, but smiled and held out her hand to take the parcel.
“Thank you Laura, so how long ago was that?” She placed the parcel on her desk.
“About ten minutes ago, he asked me to wait before I gave it to you, I’m sorry,” Laura spluttered, taking an even longer step back this time, but Charlotte just smiled sadly.
“Thanks Laura, I’d better open it.”
She paused, waiting for Laura to go back to her own desk before picking the parcel up with shaking hands. Her trembling fingers carefully opened the package and reached inside for the contents. Inside was a square, black velvet box and cream envelope. She tore open the envelope first, desperate to get some sort of contact with Niall. She stared at the page for a few seconds, the words swimming before her tear filled eyes, and blinking them away, she began to read.
Darling Charlotte,
I know that we promised not to make contact with each other, but I couldn’t let your birthday go by without something (I know that it’s a little early)…
Charlotte glanced at the calendar on her desk, the 2nd of March, nearly three weeks early.
…I didn’t feel that it would be appropriate to send anything nearer the time, for obvious reasons, but I wanted you to know that I’m thinking of you – God, how I’m thinking of you. I find it hard to believe what happened in Kent, it all seems like a dream now although I have to say that it’s the best dream that I’ve ever had. I have often found it difficult to put into words how I feel. My ma used to say I was a locked book never mind a closed one, so I hope that the gift illustrates to you what I’m feeling, because to all intents and purposes the real one belongs to you anyway, and always will. I wish that things could be different, but who knows maybe in the next life.
Angel, you are my darling, and I adore you. Take care, you are forever in my thoughts and heart.
All my love always, Niall xxx
With tear pricking her eyes, Charlotte carefully folded the letter and hugged it to her chest. She didn’t know how it made her feel, hap
py that he had been in contact, but sad that his words of love made things seem much more final. How had he known that it was her birthday on his wedding day? She assumed that was what he meant, by not being appropriate to send the gift nearer to her birthday. Probably, her Fairy Godmother Paul let it slip, this time she may forgive him, although he had got off fairly lightly when she had come back from Kent. Suddenly, Charlotte remembered the box she carefully picked it up from the desk, and slowly opened it up, gently peering inside as she did so. This time she couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks, she put a hand to her mouth to stop the sob from escaping. Lying in the middle of the box, on pure white satin, was a silver heart on a delicate chain. It was not a solid one, but the outline of one and as Charlotte lifted it tenderly from the box, she gasped. She recognised it instantly. It had been made from the silver thumb ring that Niall had wanted her to have. There were no defining marks, but she knew. She had stared at it long enough during their night together, when it had been on her own thumb. As she held it in her hands, Charlotte noticed a small piece of paper tucked inside the lid to the box, she freed it and unfolded it.
You’ve probably guessed by now what this once was. I hope you like it. I do understand that one day you may not want to wear it, but until then I hope it makes you feel close to me and remind you, of how much I love you.
Niall xxx
Holding back a sob, Charlotte reached behind her head and fastened the silver chain round her neck. She looked down on the perfect heart, shining against the black of her blouse. He was right. It did make her feel close to him, but she would never take it off. This was a part of her life that she always wanted to remember and be proud of; no matter where she went, or what she did in the future.