‘Realised I couldn’t be without you, Charlie.’
‘Oh? And when did this realisation suddenly hit you? When you were at home with your wife? While you were buying ice creams for your kids? When you were in the middle of a Sainsbury’s – oh, sorry, you only ever went to Waitrose, didn’t you – shop? When you were taking the bins out in – where’s that place you were holed up in? – Haslemere, that’s it…?’
‘Aw, come on, Charlie, I know what I did was dreadful, but it’s all in the past. I’ve left Arabella…’
‘… or was it when you took my designs for the Islington job and passed them off as your own in order to win that award?’
Dominic bent down, wrapping his arms around me tightly, stopping my ranting with a long kiss. I vaguely heard the sound of a car pulling into the drive and, as I struggled to pull myself free, saw a little face peering out of its passenger window at me and the car swing round and head off at speed the way it had just come. And then Daisy descending on us, her face a mask of anger, her voice furious.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, Charlie? Corey’s just arrived with Milo and driven straight off again. He’s seen all of that.’ And then turning her anger on Dominic, she punched his arm, shouting at him as she might Malvolio with a rabbit. ‘Put her down, you wanker. Down, this minute. Drop!’
35
‘Come on, Charlie,’ Dominic’s voice was languid. ‘Take me somewhere for a drink – if there is anywhere in this backwater – and we can talk.’
‘What you can do, you moron,’ Daisy was still wild, ‘is bugger off back down the M1 where you came from and leave my sister alone.’ She turned on me. ‘Or did you know he was coming? You did, didn’t you? That’s what the lipstick and the Jaffa cakes and the posh pong in the Portaloo were all about?’
‘Posh pong in the Portaloo?’ Dominic gave a bark of laughter.
‘Jo Malone, actually,’ I snapped. ‘And no, Daisy, I didn’t know he was coming. If you must know, both of you, I’m waiting for the judges of a rather prestigious design award to arrive. I didn’t want to say anything, but I’ve been nominated for best newcomer to the industry, Yorkshire region.’
‘Oh, Charlie, that’s wonderful.’ Daisy’s eyes gleamed. ‘Just get rid of this person here.’ She turned and gave Dominic such a withering look, he actually began to, well, wither. ‘Go and get your lippy back on – it does seem to have disappeared, for some reason – and then you’re good to go.’
‘Er, actually, you can’t get rid of me.’ Dominic had never withered for long. He folded his arms and smiled. ‘I am the judge. Or at least one of them. I got here early to explain… you know… about what happened in London. Come on, sweetheart, we’ve half an hour or so before Petra arrives.’ He turned his back on Daisy and said in a low, caressing voice, ‘I’ve missed you so much, Charlie. Forgive me?’
I stared at him. Oh, but he was so good-looking with his dark curls, his green eyes and long black eyelashes and olive skin. But his smile didn’t quite reach those eyes, there were no laughter lines – probably because he never howled with laughter at ridiculous nonsense; probably because… I stared at his face, at his smooth forehead… ‘You’ve had Botox,’ I said finally. ‘That’s what’s different. Or is it a face lift?’ I peered up at the flawless skin, at the immaculately white capped teeth and it was like looking at Barbie’s Ken.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Charlie.’ Dominic reddened slightly and I knew I was right. ‘Come on, Charlie, this isn’t you,’ he wheedled. ‘I’m here, I’m back, let me show you how much I’ve missed you.’ He reached for my hand but Daisy glared at him and, instead folded his arms once more, obviously thinking better of it.
‘You’re one of the judges?’ It was suddenly hitting me what he’d said. ‘You are?’ I could feel my heart begin to pound once again.
‘That’s right.’ Dominic almost smirked. ‘I was invited onto the ad hoc panel a couple of years ago and when I saw your nomination, well, I obviously put myself forward to be one of the judges for your category.’
‘But you can’t do that.’ Daisy and I spoke as one. ‘That’s the biggest conflict of interest I’ve ever heard of—’ She broke off as a car came at speed down the lane and shot into the parking area.
‘Ah, that’ll be Petra. Now, don’t forget, Charlie, Petra knows you used to work for me, obviously, but not about… you know…’
‘That you used to be shagging her? That you shacked up with her? That you never told her you were married with three kids?’ Daisy was wild. ‘That when your wife threw her out of your apartment – oops, sorry, her apartment, wasn’t it – on a cold Friday night in November with just five black bin bags, Charlie also lost her job, the job that she adored…’ A diminutive woman of about Mum’s age got out of the silver BMW and walked over to where the three of us were standing. ‘… or that when Charlie’s work in – where was it, Charlie? Islington? – when that was nominated for something, you very conveniently forgot to mention that it was her work?’
‘Daisy…’ I put a warning hand on her arm but she shrugged it off. Dominic, behind his winter tan, had gone quite pale.
‘I appear to have arrived in the middle of an argument.’ The woman frowned before thrusting a hand in Daisy’s direction. ‘Petra Wilkinson, one of the judging panel for Design Today.’
‘This is the architect,’ Daisy snapped, ignoring the hand and indicating with her own that it should be me the woman was addressing. ‘And this person here, who apparently has come to judge as well as yourself, couldn’t judge himself out of a paper bag, never mind when he should lay off the fake tan.’
‘Could I possibly get one word in here, Daisy?’ I snapped. ‘Actually, several will be needed.’ I turned to Petra Wilkinson. ‘I’m so sorry, but you’ve had a wasted journey. I do hope you’ve not come far?’
‘Ramsbottom,’ Ms Wilkinson said. ‘You know, in Lancashire?’
‘Vaguely. Well, as I say, you’ve had a totally wasted journey. I’m afraid I know your other judge.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘As in the biblical sense?’
‘I’m not sure there was anything remotely biblical—’ Daisy interrupted.
‘Will you shut up, Daisy? As I was saying, Ms Wilkinson, Mr Abraham and I were in a relationship for almost a year up until November. As such, I’m sure that precludes him from any judging in your awards? But, more importantly, I have one thing to do and then I’ve got to go.’
‘Go?’ Go where?’ Daisy stared.
I turned, aimed and thumped Dominic hard, right in the solar plexus, and he jumped back with a little ‘oof’ of surprise, holding on to his toned abdomen. ‘I should have done that four months ago,’ I growled with satisfaction. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’m off to London. To find the man I’ve fallen in love with. If I’m not too late.’
I swept back into the Portakabin, gathering my bag, my warm coat and the keys to Madge’s car while ringing Corey’s number as I did so. He wasn’t answering. I pressed redial and left a message and then another.
‘What’s up? Who are all those people outside?’ Josh, Matis, Gatis and Deimante were inside, eating some little delicacy that Deimante had produced to celebrate it being Friday, and stared as I rushed round, finding what I would need for the journey. I had to find Corey. Had to explain why he – and oh God, his son – had just witnessed me kissing the life out of Dominic.
‘I love that man,’ I announced. ‘I’m going to find him and tell him.’
‘Not Josh then? He nots the ones?’ Deimante pulled a sympathetic face and stroked Josh’s arm.
‘’Fraid not. Bigger fish to fry. I’m off to London to tell him.’
‘Yous off to London to cook some fishes?’ Deimante frowned.
‘No, to tell Corey I love him. Whether I’m in with a chance any longer, I’ve absolutely no idea.’
I ran outside to Madge’s car. Daisy was still deep in conversation with Petra Wilkinson. Of Dominic there was no sign. I fastened the seat belt and turned
the ignition. Nothing. I tried once more. Still nothing. ‘For fuck’s sake…’ I jumped out, rocked the car a bit in the hope that it might dislodge something, anything, jumped back in and tried again.
‘Starter motors,’ Matis mouthed through the closed window. ‘Knackereds. No goods to mens or beasties.’
‘Right, fine.’ I jumped out in a temper and gave the car a kick. If I’d had a branch to hand I’d probably have given the car a good beating in the manner of Basil Fawlty. ‘Could one of you give me a lift to the train station? I’ll get the train instead.’
‘We takes yous,’ Deimante was at her brother’s side. ‘Gatis is promising me days in London for evers. We takes yous,’ she beamed. ‘We all goes, and Gatis and me, we goes see Jumper Boys.’
‘Jumper Boys?’ I was momentarily distracted from my mission of getting to London before Corey fell in love with someone else. Or Milo decreed me far too flaky as potential stepmother material.
‘S’right. Gatis and me, we loves Frankie Valli: “Big girls don’t cries, bi-ig girls sey don’t cry iy iys,”’ she sang, totally out of tune. ‘Yous knows the one?’
‘Yes, Deimante, I do, but, honestly, I’ll get to London much quicker by train. If someone could just give me a lift over to Wakefield to get the train.’ I was almost hyperventilating at my need to see Corey. To explain.
‘Matis and I’ll take you.’ Daisy was at my side as Petra Wilkinson drove off with a little wave in our direction. ‘Don’t worry about the award – I’ve explained everything to Petra. She’s really nice and she’ll be in touch again when she’s discussed things with the panel.’
‘Daisy, that’s great, but not the most important thing in my life at this moment. Come on, Matis. Please?’
36
The train pulled into King’s Cross station just after 9 p.m. Not having an advanced ticket, it had cost me an arm and a leg, but I didn’t care. I’d constantly tried to ring Corey during the two-hour journey but to no avail. Daisy had chatted to me on my mobile as we headed south and she too had tried to ring his number in case it was just me he was avoiding but, again, to no avail – he just wasn’t answering.
And Dominic? Dominic had had the nerve, the audacity, the conceit, not only to put himself forward as a judge of my architectural abilities but thought he could just reappear and pluck me from my new life and start again where he’d left off. I shook my head at the thought. What a total… I shook my head again… there weren’t enough expletives to describe how I felt about him.
Walking through the concourse towards the taxi rank, the irony of it all couldn’t fail to hit me: the last time I’d been here I’d been fleeing from one lover and now, here I was, four months later, running towards another. What if Corey wouldn’t see me? He had been badly hurt by Rowena and was finding it difficult to trust another woman.
The only plan I had was to make my way to Eaton Square in Belgravia. I had absolutely no idea how big it was or at which number Corey was living.
The taxi set me down at the east end of the square near a large classically built church with a clock tower. Almost 10 p.m. Surely Corey and Milo would have made it back by now? I walked, scanning the parked cars for his silver Porsche but, although there were all manner of upmarket cars, including Porsches in black and white, I couldn’t see Corey’s.
This was ridiculous. I was beginning to feel a bit panicky but I kept on walking, pulling my coat around me against the cold night air. I’d not thought to bring my gloves and the heeled boots I’d been wearing all day were starting to pinch my toes. A black cab pulled up at the side of me and, without hesitation, I accosted the elderly woman as she alighted the taxi.
‘Excuse me, I’m so sorry to bother you. I’m looking for someone who lives on the square, but I’ve absolutely no idea of the number.’
The woman looked me up and down with suspicion, as well she might.
‘James Montgomery-West?’
She stared at me and then shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, dear, I’ve really no idea.’
‘Jim West? The old MP?’ The woman’s companion touched my arm. ‘Over there.’ He pointed his walking stick. ‘The one with the dark green door.’
‘Thank you so much.’ Oh golly, what did I do now? Sit on the step until Corey’s car arrived? I walked up the steps, took a deep breath and knocked. Nothing. I took the huge metal ring held in the lion’s mouth and set it reverberating into the night air once more. A light went on behind the glass skylight of the door and, after a couple of seconds, there came a shuffling noise and then the door opened.
‘Hello?’ An old man with longish white hair, faded brown eyes and a disfigurement down the left-hand side of his face eyed me with interest.
‘James?’
‘Yes.’
‘Er, well, the thing is, I’m Madge Booth’s great-granddaughter. I was, er, hoping Corey might be at home?’
The man stared. He seemed unable to say anything. After what seemed an eternity he took my hand in both of his. ‘Yes, you are. I can see that you are. You have Madge’s beautiful face.’
‘Who is it?’ A woman’s voice reached us and then the woman herself appeared at James’s shoulder. Tall and stylish, she was probably in her mid-sixties. ‘You all right, Uncle Jim?’ She frowned, trying to work out if she knew me.
‘This is Madge’s great-granddaughter.’
‘Your Madge?’
James nodded, still clasping my hand and smiling down at me.
‘Oh, come in, come in.’ Corey’s mother smiled. ‘You must be Charlie? Corey has talked so much about you. But wasn’t he supposed to be with you? I thought he was taking Milo to see the farm?’ James finally let go of my hand and ushered me inside, pressing me forward as we followed Corey’s mother through a beautiful, classically decorated hall and into a sitting room on the right. She threw a log onto a fire that had obviously been allowed to die and I realised it really was getting quite late.
‘Is Corey not here?’ I scanned the room for signs of another man and a small boy but, apart from a cut-glass tumbler of amber liquid and a novel open and book-marked with a pair of spectacles, there appeared to be nothing that might give any clue to their being there.
‘Charlotte, do come and sit down.’ James moved the book onto the arm of the sofa and patted the spot it had vacated.
Louise Mackenzie glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece above the open fire and then looked searchingly at me. ‘No, they’re not here yet. Didn’t you see him up in Yorkshire? I don’t understand…’
The sound of a door opening and running feet had us all turning in that direction. Louise smiled and walked towards it. ‘Oh, I was getting worried.’
‘Granny!’ A small boy, blond and brown-eyed – a mini Corey if ever I saw one – shot through the door, knocked the book flying and flung himself into Louise’s arms. ‘We broke down, we were sat for ages on the side of the motorway and then the police came and it was really good and then we were pulled away and the problem was that Dad’s phone had broken down too…’ He came to a halt as he realised I was standing there.
‘Where’s Dad now?’ James drew Milo towards him and planted a kiss on his head.
‘He let me in and then he’s gone back to see the breakdown man and take the car off the van. Come and have a look, Granny. Come and look at the breakdown van.’ All the time he was speaking, Milo was staring at me, trying to work out who I was and I felt myself redden under his scrutiny.
Milo gave me one last stare and then grabbed Louise’s hand and pulled her from the room. I felt sick with nerves. What if Corey didn’t want to see me? I turned to James, suddenly shy. This was James, for heaven’s sake: Madge’s James. It was a bit like meeting someone from a novel. Or The Beatles. I was totally tongue-tied, nervous of Corey’s reaction when he knew I was here but, at the same time, vivid pictures of Madge’s stories about James were passing through my brain like an animated Victorian zoetrope, rendering me unable to make conversation with the man himself.
&nbs
p; ‘You know, I loved your great-grandmother very much. I adored her.’
James’s words seemed to break the spell and I went to sit next to him. ‘Oh, I know, I know. And she was the same. You must know that. She’s been very poorly, but now you really must come up to Yorkshire.’ From being unable to say one word, it now seemed I couldn’t stop.
James patted my hand. ‘I think I must. I’m an old crock, but I have to see her again. Just once more.’
‘Oh, it doesn’t have to be just the once,’ I warbled on. ‘You’ve both got loads of time left. Loads of years left to meet up again.’
James laughed. ‘We’ll see. Now, would you like a drink? And then perhaps you’d like to tell me what happened this evening? I think something obviously has. With you and Corey, I mean?’
*
I told James all about that afternoon and what had happened with Dominic while Louise gave Milo supper and put him to bed and Corey helped the RAC man to unchain the Porsche, made him coffee and then took himself off for a shower. The only communication between Corey and myself had been when he popped his head around the sitting-room door, nodded curtly in my direction and said he’d be down in ten minutes, before heading upstairs.
‘You have to know that Corey has been through a lot recently, motoring up and down the motorway to see Milo, changing jobs, realising that his marriage was over. When he met you, he fell in love all over again but, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, he’s put up a lot of barriers since Rowena went off with someone else. I suppose seeing you with your ex this afternoon resurrected a lot of the bad stuff.’
‘But I wasn’t with him. The moment I saw Dominic – my ex – I thought he was all I wanted. It took two minutes, really and truly, just two minutes to know he most certainly wasn’t what I wanted. He wasn’t Corey…’
I broke off as the sitting-room door opened and Corey came in, fresh from the shower. He rubbed at his wet hair with a huge navy towel, his feet bare beneath the faded Levi’s.
‘You’ll need ice with that,’ James said, as Corey poured himself a large whisky. Corey nodded, walked back the way he’d just come and James stood and smiled. ‘Just tell him what you’ve told me, Charlotte. If you’re anything like your great-grandmother you’re as honest as they come.’ He bent down and kissed my cheek. ‘I do hope you’re going to stay for the weekend. There’s still so much to catch up on.’ He reached for his stick and walked towards the door, patting Corey on the shoulder as they passed in the doorway.
Coming Home To Holly Close Farm Page 32