A Passionate Love Affair with a Total Stranger (31 page)

BOOK: A Passionate Love Affair with a Total Stranger
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I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

At two o'clock that afternoon, I walked slowly down the aisle of the crematorium chapel behind Mum and Dad, who had their arms around each other. Nessie, Katy and I had copied them and I felt strong and protected with my beautiful sisters on either side of me.

We sat down on the pew and I felt someone squeeze my shoulder from behind. It was Hailey. ‘Love you,' she muttered, a tear rolling down her face.

Sam, who was sitting next to her, smiled kindly at me. ‘I'm so proud of you Chasmonger,' he whispered. And it was then, looking at his lovely green eyes – so full of
understanding and compassion – that I let go and started to cry. I cried and cried and cried.

Today was one of the saddest days of my life but it also felt like one of the happiest. However uncertain the future felt right now, I knew I was ready for the challenge. Ready for the unknown. Ready, finally, to find out who Charlotte Lambert really was.

Chapter Eighteen

‘What the hell are you doing here?' I mumbled, sleepy but very amused. Malcolm looked round to check that no one had detected him, then wagged his tail. ‘Malcolm, if they find you upstairs, you're in a world of trouble.' He wagged even harder, grinning at me as if I were the most beautiful and amazing woman on earth. ‘Go downstairs before we get rumbled,' I told him. ‘Go on, you great big fool.'

Malcolm rejected this plan, opting instead to trot over to my bed where he stuck his nose joyously into my duvet.

‘No!' I jumped out of bed and, scanning the landing for signs of human life, ran him down the stairs. ‘You are a very bad boy,' I told him, as he head-butted the door to the cupboard where his food was kept. I measured out his meal and added a bit of water, trying but failing to get the bowl on to the floor before he shoved his head into it.

I sat at the kitchen table and watched him eat, smiling fondly. It was cold and beautiful outside. Sharp winter light punched through the bare branches, illuminating tiny cobwebs and old dust on the kitchen window. A cat sat on our gatepost, watching a solitary bird chirping from Dad's apple tree. There was a lovely stillness, broken only by a column of steam coming from the boiler vent. It snaked up into the air and quickly fluffed out into nothing.

I walked over to the kettle where last night's glasses
were still piled, grainy red stains sitting in the bottom of well-fingered wine glasses and Scotch tumblers full of melted ice. It had been a good send-off. After an awkward, sombre start, we had all relaxed and shared our Granny Helen tales, most of them very funny. My aunts, uncles and cousins, a small handful of neighbours and also Hailey, Sam and Sarah had stayed until the bitter end and now they were all asleep, dotted around our house and Granny Helen's cottage next door. Malcolm and I might be the only ones up but I still had the sense of security I'd felt yesterday, of being surrounded by people who made me safe.

‘I don't have a job,' I told Malcolm, as the kettle boiled. He cocked his head comically to one side, licking the remains of his breakfast from his nose. ‘Oh, Malcolm, I do love you,' I told him. Needing no further encouragement, he jumped up and stuck his face into my belly.

‘Morning,' a sleepy voice said in the doorway. It was Sam. His hair had taken on a very amusing triangular wedge shape after a night on the sofa and he had one of our old blankets wrapped around him. ‘I wouldn't say no to a tea,' he announced. He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and yawned, running his hands through his hair.

I lined up two mugs, thinking how nice it was to have Sam at my parents' house. I'd been looking forward to bringing John here some time but had also felt that I'd probably have to come in first and clean up a bit. There were no such worries with Sam, who, until recently, had had the domestic habits of a farmyard pig. And with whom I felt very relaxed.

It occurred to me that I was comparing my housemate to my ex-lover, so I moved my focus elsewhere. ‘Why are you up so early, Bowes?' I asked.

There was a pause.

‘I have to get back to Edinburgh pronto,' Sam said eventually. He appeared to be concentrating hard on the bird on the gatepost outside.

I sat down and slid a mug of tea in front of him. ‘What's going on?'

Sam didn't reply for a while, but when he did his voice sounded different. ‘Chas,' he said. I looked up sharply. ‘Yes?'

‘I got the job.'

For a moment, I had no idea what he was talking about but it came eventually. The acting job, of course. The
London
job. The definitely-not-Edinburgh job.

I knew I should feel happy but I didn't. Why was Sam being taken away from me now of all times? I'd just quit my job, for crying out loud – now was the time for us to start out together as a business! Scrap that: now was the time for us to start out together as human beings!

I forced myself to remember what he'd said about the acting job being pretty much the gig of a lifetime. ‘Congratulations!' I said shrilly. ‘Did you get the part you wanted?' I tried to look happy.

He nodded, barely able to contain his smile. ‘For real. I got one of the main bloody parts, Charley!'

I was gutted. ‘Oh, my God!' I said emptily. ‘Wow! That's amazing! I'm SO pleased for you!' I clasped his arm miserably. ‘So happy, Bowes! And proud,' I added. I
was
proud. But with this came sadness of a severity that confused me.

‘Thanks,' Sam said bashfully. ‘It's probably the best news I've ever had. Eleven years of nothing and then – boom!'

I made a face that was meant to show awe and delight.

But I was not delighted. I was sad and also quite afraid. Part of the reason I had felt relatively secure about marching out of Salutech and into a new life was that I knew Sam would be there with me, doing exactly the same thing. It was unsettling to think that I now had to do it alone, particularly if Sam was going to be moving on with his life down in trendy London, surrounded by beautiful people.

‘Does that mean you're leaving soon?' I asked.
At least give me a few days,
just to get myself started. I need you!

But I knew it wasn't going to happen. It was written all over his face. ‘Actually, I'm leaving today,' he said awkwardly. ‘Sorry, Chas. I got the call yesterday and we start rehearsals on Monday. I was going to stay another day but that'd only give me Sunday to find somewhere to live in London.'

I nodded in what I hoped was an understanding manner as Sam explained that they would run from mid-December until February. My heart sank further when he admitted that he wouldn't make it back to Edinburgh at all because it played on weekends – and that there was even a chance of the play extending into the summer if it went well.

‘You may decide to move to London properly,' I blurted out, hoping he'd deny it.

He didn't. He just nodded reflectively. ‘If things go well, then, yes, I suppose I might.'

There was a silence during which Malcolm started munching loudly on his balls.

I sipped some tea and smiled brightly. ‘Well, Bowes, I'm absolutely thrilled. Cheers!' I shoved my cup rather forcefully at him, slopping a lot of tea on to his nice shawl-collar jumper. ‘Oh, fuck! Sorry!'

‘Ah, whatever,' he said easily, mopping it up with a tea-towel. ‘It's exciting, isn't it?' He paused. ‘I'm so grateful to you, brother.'

I watched him guardedly, waiting for him to expand.

‘I'd never have done this without your emails,' Sam said. ‘I'd have just carried on lying around eating junk and doing nothing. I owe this job to you.'

Exactly!
I thought.
We're a team! Don't do this!

Sam finished his tea and stood up. ‘We should say goodbye,' he said to the window. ‘It might be a while. Although with all your free time maybe you could come down to London for a weekend and we could party?'

‘Sounds good,' I replied. We both knew this would never happen.

I got up. ‘Well, bye, then,' I said, giving him a quick hug. ‘And congrats.'

‘I hope your dad's OK,' he said, making for the door. ‘And that you take some proper time off, Chas. I know you're planning to get back into First Date Aid but, bruv, you need rest. Even with a broken leg and pelvis and whatnot you didn't take it easy.'

‘I will. But I'm looking forward to taking First Date Aid forward with you,' I added hopefully. I prayed Sam wouldn't ditch that too.

To my great relief he nodded emphatically. ‘Absolutely!
Actors have an easy life, Chas. I'll have plenty of time to do it. We'll probably speak every day!'

I was feeling really miserable now. Of course we wouldn't speak every day. He'd soon get dragged into his new life and I'd spend my days sitting around in silence emailing total strangers on behalf of total strangers.

‘I
hope
we speak every day,' Sam added, after a pause. His face had clouded over and I saw that he was actually quite sad himself. A proper lump swelled in my throat. This shouldn't be happening.

‘What play is it?' I asked, as Sam hugged Malcolm goodbye.

Sam smiled.
‘The Tempest
.'

I gasped. I knew nothing about Shakespeare but I knew
The Tempest
all right. Sam's time-honoured chat-up line, the one he'd been using since the first day I'd met him at Glasgow University, was from
The Tempest.
I didn't know why but I began to experience a strange emotional shift as I looked at the boy standing before me. ‘Wow, Sam! Who are you playing?'

Sam grinned even harder. ‘Ferdinand!'

‘Don't tell me he's the one who uses that line?'

‘Yeah! Jackpot!'

‘Brilliant,' I said, now genuinely entertained. ‘Well, let's hope the girl playing Miranda will be fit and then you'll really mean it when you say that line!'

Sam laughed uncomfortably. ‘Er, yeah, let's hope so.'

We were standing in the doorway now, cold air seeping hungrily into the kitchen. Sam smiled a final farewell. ‘I'm so glad everything happened as it did,' he said. A small blush was appearing on his neck. ‘You've basically changed my life, Chas.'

And then he went, disappearing round the corner towards the square with his hands in his pockets and the collar of his coat up against the stiff wind.

‘CHARLEYPOPS?' I came to with a start. Hailey was standing behind me in the kitchen with Malcolm exploding excitedly around her. She looked worried.

‘Hi,' I said. My voice sounded woolly.

‘Are you dead? I just said your name three times before you heard me.'

I smiled. ‘Not dead. Just …' I trailed off.
Just absolutely gutted
, I thought.

Hailey gazed suspiciously at me. ‘Why are you standing in the doorway? You're not seeing ghosts, are you?' I couldn't help but laugh. She looked not dissimilar to Sam, rucked up and spiky after a night sleeping on the other sofa with three sleeping bags piled on top of her.

‘No. I was letting Sam out. He had to go back to Edinburgh.'

Hailey nodded sagely. ‘Yes. We had a good old chinwag when everyone went off to bed last night. Fucking amazing he got that part, eh?'

I nodded and a silence sprang up between us. We'd behaved ourselves yesterday but the situation had demanded it. Now, though, there was nothing between us and last week's awful phone call. Even though I wanted to get angry that she'd accused me of sleeping with Matty, it was hard to feel anything other than fondness for Hailey as she stood in front of me, hair sticking out in a bad halo round her head, my old pyjamas struggling to meet round her newly rounded belly.

‘I'm not pregnant,' she said, following my eyes. ‘I'm fat.'

I hovered by the front door, unsure what to say. Fortunately Hailey had decided to run this conversation. ‘I've been comfort eating,' she announced. ‘Or comfort bingeing, more like. I've suspected Matty of playing around for a long time.' She stared at me defiantly, daring me to contradict her. I said nothing, but sat down slowly at the table and gestured to her to do the same.

She pulled a sleeping bag over her stomach, something I'd never seen her do. Hailey had an amazing body, all padded curves and wobbly bosoms, and she'd always been justly proud of it. Now she was not. She was hiding herself. The day of twenty sausages made a lot more sense.

‘And before you ask,' she said, ‘it had never even crossed my mind that Matty and you were messing around. But I
knew
he'd been somewhere on Wednesday night and I was going through his phone when you called … In my mad state I thought he must be shagging you if you were calling at nearly eleven the next night.' She pulled the sleeping bag round her more tightly. ‘I'm sorry,' she said, embarrassed. ‘You were trying to help me and I acted like a psychopath.'

I couldn't bear to see Hailey so broken and ashamed. ‘No,' I said softly. ‘
I
'm sorry. I was drunk. It was inexcusable to call at that time of night.'

‘But you were calling Matty, not me!' she said, eyes flashing. ‘You were doing the right thing! How could I ever have suspected you? I … urgh,' she said, obviously disgusted.

‘Stop it, Hails,' I said. ‘Stop beating yourself up. You're the innocent party here. It's Matty who's in the wrong.'

She nodded thoughtfully. ‘Can I make some tea?' she asked eventually. Her voice was wobbling.

‘Of course.'

A tear fell down her cheek. ‘Actually,' she said, ‘can I have a hug?'

After a very long hug, during which both of us cried a little, we got dressed, took Malcolm out for a walk and Hailey told me what had been going on.

From the moment she'd moved in to Gore-Tex Towers – and thus been with Matty a lot more – she had noticed that his behaviour was often rather erratic, coming home late with a series of weird excuses and spending far too much time on his iPhone. ‘Remember how we thought it was amazing that he was online when he was working in a remote garden?' Hailey asked. ‘He fucking well wasn't. He works in a bloody
office
, Charley!'

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