Chasing Charlie (4 page)

SAM

There is a certain kind of magazine that I often found myself reading and loathing. You know the kind – glossy, aspirational and filled with gorgeous people living amazing, fulfilling lives in beautiful homes. They never make you feel good. They make you feel like you aren't worthy of these people, in all their polished fabulousness. But the damn things are compulsive. You just can't help but pick them up. I don't get it at all. But, sucker that I am, I found myself sitting in my favourite café in Notting Hill on Sunday morning, my cheekbones resting on my cupped hands with
House & Garden
open between my elbows. I was reading about an artist in Cornwall, and the ‘light and airy space' that was her studio slash home. Apparently this woman had ‘eclectic furniture and nick-nacks gleaned from junk shops scattered randomly . . . sticking to a muted palate of neutrals with an occasional flash of crimson'. Oh please, give me a break. With great effort I pulled my head up from my hands and looked out the window onto the street. No flashes of crimson to be seen there. Just grey, grey and more grey. Oh hang on. I squinted. There, far above the shops, was a tiny patch of blue.

It was enough. The hungover shoppers shuffling along outside disappeared. In my mind, I was noodling on the beach at Studland in the middle of an endlessly sunny Sunday afternoon – yellow sand, mellow sun, seagulls wheeling and chattering overhead, fighting over the last of the fish and chips, the sharp, salty tang in the air. I wished I could be a child again, before everything got so damn complicated.

The door to the café opened, letting in a burst of cold air, eddying around the legs of those closest to the door. People shifted slightly in their seats and glanced up, waiting for whoever was coming in to close the door. Would they have to shut it? No. Good. The woman closed it firmly behind her.

It was Claudia.

She saw me and lifted her eyebrows. ‘Can I come too?' She could be scarily perceptive could Claudia.

‘To the beach?'

‘Sounds good.' Claudia took off her coat with the spiky collar. The cold had formed perfect shiny beads on the wool. Now Claudia was one person who would never feel swamped by the fabulousness of other people's lives. She slid in opposite me and grabbed a menu.

‘So . . .' Claudia said, ‘what did you do last night to put you in such a dreamy state, young lady?'

‘You mean, what was the girl who looks wild around the edges up to last night?'

‘What are you talking about?'

I groaned and she slapped the menu shut.

‘She was up to no good!' she proclaimed.

The stubble-cheeked Mediterranean waiter appeared at her elbow and she gave her order hastily.

‘That was quick,' I said.

Claudia looked at me blankly.

‘You usually string it out, you know, cos he's so scrummy?'

‘I have no idea what you're talking about. Anyway this is much more exciting, so come on, tell me.' She did know damn well what I was talking about, of course. She was the world's best flirter. Especially with waiting staff. It's a pity there isn't an Olympic event for it really – she could double England's usual medal total easily.

‘Well?' She was also persistent. Perceptive, flirtatious and persistent, a killer combination.

Well, here goes.

‘I saw Charlie.'

‘Charlie? Who's Charlie?'

‘My first love, you know, the Big Teenage Romance.'

Claudia's eyes widened. ‘Really? Isn't he the one you never wanted to see again?'

‘Yes. And no.' I avoided her eyes. ‘It's complicated.'

‘I didn't know—'

‘No one knew.'

I waited for her to say something but she didn't. And then my cursed blush began.

‘Oh, something happened!' she squeaked.

A couple of people turned their heads towards the noise and I blushed harder.

Claudia lowered her voice. ‘Was it good?'

‘I didn't sleep with him.'

‘Sure.'

‘I didn't!' I took a sip of coffee, playing for time. I still wasn't sure what to say but there was no way I could go through the day without telling someone something.

‘He did give me a lovely kiss goodbye.'

Claudia's eyes glittered with amusement. ‘That makes for a nice change then.'

‘What do you mean? I haven't been completely idle on the kissing front, thank you very much.'

‘Last year was fairly quiet, Sam—'

‘Thanks for the reminder. Anyway you're distracting me from the story!'

‘Sorry, go on.'

I took another sip of my coffee and Claudia waited.

‘It wasn't just that, Claudia, it was just that . . . we made a connection last night.'

Claudia threw back her head and hooted. ‘Ooooh, the girl's in love!'

‘Keep your voice down!' I hissed. God, she could be so embarrassing.

‘What does Mara make of it?'

‘Are you kidding? I'm not telling her. You know what she'll say, she can't stand him.'

‘But she hasn't met him, has she?'

I shook my head. That was the problem. Mara's strongest opinions were about people she didn't know.

‘It won't take her long to be on to you,' said Claudia. ‘You're not exactly hard to read.'

‘I'm not?'

‘Definitely not. But it's one of your charms, my love.' Claudia smiled kindly at me and rubbed the top of my hand. It occurred to me she had probably said this to me before but like all the little observations friends make about each other, this one felt brand new, given my new situation. If I was so easy to read, wouldn't that mean Charlie could see right through me last night and see how desperately excited I was to see him? And wouldn't that send him running?

My phone. A text.

‘See? That's probably Mara now, just confirming that when she looked in your eyes this morning, she could tell you'd been with Charlie the night before.'

I laughed and swiped my screen.

‘I didn't see her—'

I stopped. My heart stopped. It was him.

 

Thanks for a great night. It was gorgeous seeing u again. Hope we can do it again soon Cx

 

‘Nice!' Claudia pronounced. She had leant over and read it upside down.

My heart was racing and my finger was so shaky it could barely make contact with the screen to press reply.

‘Uh-uh,' Claudia said. ‘Not yet.'

I withdrew my finger. ‘Not yet?'

‘Make him wait until you've finished breakfast.'

‘After breakfast,' I murmured. I read it one more time. OK, five times.

It was
gorgeous
seeing you again.

BANG! BANG! BANG! went my heart.

But Claudia was right; she was the mistress of this stuff. So reluctantly I flipped the cover on the phone shut.

Claudia's breakfast arrived, pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup. I stared at it.

‘What? A girl can't have a little comfort now and then?' Claudia asked me, sounding slightly defensive, something she never is. Strange.

‘I wasn't thinking about your food, Claud,' I said. ‘I just don't know what to do about Charlie.'

‘What do you mean do? Just enjoy it.'

‘But what will my Mum and Dad think? They weren't exactly devastated when we broke up.'

Claudia laughed. ‘What's there to tell? You're not about to walk down the aisle – you're just having a little fun. God, Sam, lighten up.'

‘I'm not uptight!' I resented that.

‘Well, maybe not compared to your sister or Mara but, babe, you could just let yourself go and have a bit of fun without worrying about the future.' Claudia waggled a finger at me.

Rebecca. I grimaced. That mincing, eyelash-batting minx of a sister. When Charlie used to visit, Rebecca was nine and known as Becky. She would watch out for him arriving and rush upstairs to put on her prettiest dress, a pink tutu. She would then make her grand entrance, twirling into the room and ending, without fail, on Charlie's lap, her famous eyelashes going nineteen to the dozen. Those damn eyelashes – I ground my teeth – have remained the only generous thing about her. What would Rebecca do these days around Charlie? And then I smiled. Actually telling Rebecca about who I was seeing again could be fun. If indeed I was seeing him, of course . . . But even to casually mention I had been out on a date, implying there had been smooching, would be very satisfying indeed. Have some fun, Claudia said. Oh yes, I thought, I think that could just be possible.

A little later, Claudia put her knife and fork regretfully onto her plate.

‘You haven't finished!' I was shocked.

‘I know.' For a moment, Claudia looked almost . . . well, you could only describe it as sad. And Claudia was never sad.

‘Are you OK, Claud?'

Claudia took a deep breath and she straightened her shoulders.

‘Of course I am,' she said quickly, ‘I just haven't got my usual appetite at the moment. Now how was Mara yesterday?' She was changing the subject.

‘Mara?' I asked. ‘She was still jumpy yesterday. I don't know what's going on. Actually I was wondering if she isn't well and that's why Ed's home early?' I suggested, remembering the brainwave I'd had in the shower.

Claudia frowned. ‘It doesn't sound right to me. I think it's Ed she's worried about.'

‘Yes, I thought that too but now I'm not so sure.' I pictured Ed twinkling at me across the kitchen table. He didn't look like someone who needed worrying about to me.

‘Do you think it could be drugs?' Claudia asked.

‘Drugs!' I squawked, my turn this time to get people turning their heads. ‘No way, he's too smart for that.'

‘Yes, that's true . . .' Claudia paused for a moment and looked at me as if she was searching for something.

‘What?'

Claudia lowered her gaze and took a sip of her coffee. ‘Oh nothing. I just think he's lovely.'

‘You don't fancy him, do you?' Surely not. Claudia seemed so much more grown up than Ed. I couldn't imagine her ever seeing him as anything but a friend.

‘Me? No, I don't fancy him.' Claudia looked me in the eye again. ‘Do you?'

‘Ed?' My head hurt. Do I like Ed? That wasn't even something to try thinking about. ‘He's Mara's brother, and he feels like my brother too, I think,' I answered eventually.

Claudia lifted her shoulder in a tiny shrug.

‘Me too,' she said.

SAM

Who am I kidding? I wondered, as I positioned my lamp to shine more directly onto my face. It really was too late to improve my looks at the ripe old age of thirty. Why hadn't I invested more time and money in looking after my skin in my twenties? More to the point, why hadn't I invested in a lamp that stayed in one place and didn't keep falling down? Of course I hadn't given a toss about my skin until I bumped into Charlie. I have, as a rule, looked down at the sad girls who spend too much time looking in the mirror when they could be doing more important things. Playing frisbee in the park, for instance, or drinking. Or both. But overnight the stakes had escalated and I had already spent a shameful number of minutes checking out every pore and hair on my face.

Specifically I was looking for my freckles. When I came back from breakfast with Claudia, I had shut myself in my room and spent minutes, several of the bastards, looking for signs of the cute freckles I was sure I'd had once upon a time. They had to be there somewhere but, after some time, I had to admit it. They'd gone. I'd lain on my bed in despair then, and the ‘who was I kidding?' whine started in earnest in my tired, freckle-free head. That was when I spied my lamp. Sessions under a sunbed weren't an option. I couldn't even afford breakfast that morning (Claudia had paid, again). But the lamp might just be worth trying . . .

I wriggled as close as I could to the edge of the bed, my arm teetering on the side, and finally the lamp behaved itself and stayed in one place, shining directly onto my face. I was soon asleep.

*

I woke to a sharp voice.

‘What on earth are you doing?'

I sat up and my head banged into something hard, making a loud ‘clang'. Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed whatever was in the way.

‘FUCK!' My hand registered the pain from holding hot metal in the same moment I remembered what I was doing. What a nightmare, and on top of it all I was dreaming that Rebecca was . . .

In my room.

Fucking brilliant. It wasn't a dream.

‘What's that smell?' Rebecca squawked.

I shoved my hand into my mouth and then waved it in the air.

‘Fucking hell that hurts!'

‘It smells really wrong.'

She was right, of course. With the smell of burning paint in my nostrils, I gingerly reached out with my good hand and turned the lamp off. Perhaps a hundred-watt light bulb in there wasn't such a great idea after all.

‘You should really put that under water, you know,' she said. So helpful, my sister.

‘You think?'

I rushed past her and into the bathroom and thrust my hand under the cold tap. How many varieties of idiot was it possible for me to be in one day, I wondered. Damn my hand hurt. I braved looking in the mirror. I looked awful and—

‘Your face is all red and blotchy, Samantha.'

She'd followed me into the bathroom. Awesome. And she was right – I was all red and blotchy, with dark circles under my eyes and a most tragic, pained expression on my face. I looked back down at my hand. I was in pain. Stupid, stupid Sam.

‘I haven't seen you for a while, Rebecca.' I looked in the mirror again. There was a total of zero freckles.

There was a small pause as Rebecca no doubt considered whether or not to return to her original question of why I was asleep with a desk lamp pointed at my face, minutes away from burning the house down.

‘I was in the area,' she sniffed.

Good, she was dropping the lamp. But I could hear her ‘poor me' tone loud and clear. I was in the area because I wasn't with my boyfriend. If I was, I'd have no reason to come to this dump but as it is I'm terribly lonely. Yes, I could imagine exactly what was going through my sister's mind.

‘Right.' My hand was freezing cold and starting to cramp up. I had a headache. Rebecca wasn't going anywhere fast. I turned the tap off and dried my hand. That would have to do.

‘Shall we have a cuppa then?' I sighed and motioned Rebecca out of the room ahead of me. If I was sure of one thing it was that I wasn't entertaining Rebecca on my own. Mara and Ed could damn well help water her down. It was the least they could do, having lucked out so ridiculously in the sibling lottery.

The windows in the kitchen were fogged up. A cauldron of soup was simmering away on the hob, and Mara was at the kitchen bench surrounded by mounds of vegetables and dirty dishes. She withdrew her hand from inside the carcass of a chicken and waved fingers smeared in stuffing at Rebecca, who gave her a strained smile.

‘She rises,' Ed said cheerfully.

I grunted at him.

‘What happened to your face?'

‘Don't talk to me.'

Ed shrugged and turned his attention to Rebecca.

‘So what are you doing with yourself these days?' he asked her, pulling out a seat for her. I saw Rebecca relax instantly. Not a lot of course, because she never does relax like normal human beings, but Ed was definitely making her feel at home. My memory of him being a bit awkward at times really was way off. I glanced at Mara but she had her back to everyone, quite obviously trying to ignore the polite murmuring at the table while doing something complicated with the chicken.

‘I've applied for a new job, for the firm Claudia works for,' Rebecca said a little louder, glancing at me briefly to make sure I was paying attention, and added, ‘as PA to the head of marketing.'

I was lining cups along the bench with my left hand and concentrating on counting them to keep my mouth shut.

‘Sounds exciting,' Ed said, actually sounding interested.

‘Yes, he seems like a really nice man.'

‘What's his name?' I asked.

‘John Morgan.'

A snort escaped. John Morgan! I couldn't believe it.

‘What's so funny?' She honed in on me then – she would love nothing better than some juicy gossip.

‘Oh nothing.' I wasn't about to give away Claudia's connection to him. Especially not to Rebecca, who would surely manage to make it work to her advantage. She stared at me as I set her tea down in front of her.

‘Is that skimmed milk in there?' she asked.

I didn't answer her. There was an uncomfortable silence as I picked my own cup up and joined them at the table.

‘Are you staying for supper?' Ed asked her then.

I froze, my cup hovering between the table and my lips.

‘Well, I only popped by for a cup of tea really . . .' Rebecca smiled sweetly at him, more than a little expectantly.

I tried to think of something to say to put her off.

‘Well, I'm sure there's enough. Mara?' Ed bowled on. Scrap that assessment of him being Mr Social. The guy was a lunatic.

Mara paused. Please be in a straight-talking mood, I thought.

‘That's fine, there's plenty to eat,' she said curtly.

Damn.

Ed helped pass the time before supper by showing Rebecca photos from India on his laptop, which helped make up for his brash invitation earlier. Any time I tried to talk to her I ended up feeling run over. But Ed was managing her beautifully and Rebecca – who, incidentally, had never shown any interest in life outside London before, let alone in what she would call a dirty third-world country – appeared to be deeply interested. In fact, if I hadn't known her better, I may even have said she was flirting with him, leaning in close to look at the screen, her dainty ankles crossed beneath her chair. ‘Oh, she's pretty, isn't she? Those Indian girls have such lovely skin!' she cooed.

There was no way she would like him. He was too nice for her, for a start, and the guy didn't even have a job. He'd certainly never worked in the City. I watched him closely for signs of reciprocation. He was being very warm towards her, lots of smiles and charming, clever comments. I felt uneasy, remembering him remarking on Rebecca's looks the day before. But he was joking then, wasn't he? He couldn't possibly be attracted to her, could he? Not that I cared. Of course I didn't. As I sat with them, I thought about how satisfying it was going to be to wipe that pretty little smile off Rebecca's face when I told her about Charlie.

Eventually there was food on the table. Rebecca put a ridiculously small portion of everything on her plate.

‘Hmmm, delish, sis,' Ed said through a mouth stuffed with roast chicken.

Mara raised her eyebrows. She wasn't into being called ‘sis'.

Ed just grinned back, his lips oily with gravy.

Mara met my eye with a stony ‘oh my god, they're both annoying' look.

‘What did you get up to last night, Samantha?' Rebecca asked then, in-between one of her mouse-like mouthfuls.

A snuffly giggle escaped through Ed's nose.

‘Samaaaaantha,' he drawled, in a bad imitation of Rebecca's cut-glass accent.

‘Hey!' Rebecca dug him in the side.

I felt Mara flinch next to me. I couldn't believe it – they were definitely flirting. It was almost enough to put you off your food.

‘So, sis?' Yuck, now she was imitating him.

‘I was just out,' I said, fervently wishing this meal was over already.

‘Very late,' Ed added.

‘Yes, we got a bit carried away.' I felt myself blushing. Had I really just said that? I caught Ed's eye. He had gone quite still. I glanced at Mara, who had the same expression, and in that moment my glee at telling Rebecca about Charlie evaporated in front of the twins' concern. Dammit, I couldn't gloat in front of my friends, who actually cared about me, when I knew they'd disapprove.

‘We?' Rebecca persisted.

‘It was just a workmate I hadn't seen in a while. We had a lot of catching up to do,' I said quickly, willing my blush to bugger off.

‘Anyone I know?' Rebecca's eyes glittered with interest.

‘I'm not going to talk about it.'

‘Oooooooh!'

‘Just drop it, Rebecca.' I tried to give her a hard look then returned to my plate, forcing myself to eat a large piece of roast potato that took about fifty chews to get down.

‘Leave her alone, it's her business,' Mara cut across Rebecca's cackle.

Rebecca giggled and put her hand over her mouth, and tried to engage Ed in some whispered, witty banter but he just laughed politely and didn't take the bait.

I took the gap in the conversation as the perfect time to change topics. It was time to see how upset Rebecca really was.

‘So Mum told me you and . . .'

‘James,' she said, her amusement evaporated.

‘Ah yes, you and James broke up?'

‘Yes.' Rebecca looked at her hands.

I waited for her to say more but she'd gone quiet, her eyes not moving from her hands.

‘What happened?' Ed asked her.

Rebecca opened her mouth to say something but instead her hands flew to her face. Her shoulders were shaking. I leant forward in my chair and tried peering up into her face. Could it be? It was. Real tears. Impressive. I hadn't seen such a stellar performance from her for some time.

‘Amazing,' Mara muttered.

Ed glared at us and put an arm around Rebecca when it was clear that I wasn't going to. I exhaled noisily through my nose. The tears might be wet, Ed, but I'd put money on them not being real.

‘What happened, Rebecca?' Ed asked her again.

‘He . . . he . . . he says he's . . . not ready for a commitment!' she gasped in-between jagged, teary gulps. She was really laying it on nice and thick now.

‘Surely you didn't take him home to meet Mum and Dad?' I had to ask. If it ever got serious enough to meet the 'rentals, Rebecca would usually ask them up to London for lunch. She was too embarrassed to take them back to the red-brick semi we grew up in. With its small garden and lack of antique furniture, it was way off the image Rebecca had been carefully cultivating for herself since childhood.

Rebecca shot her a poisonous look. ‘Don't be a bitch!'

Bingo.

‘All right, Sam, can't you be nicer than that?' Ed gave me a stern look. I sighed.

‘Sorry,' I said. And I was. I didn't like how uncomfortable I felt when Ed looked at me like that. Like he was disappointed in me. It didn't sit right. So I tried again.

‘How long have you been with this guy anyway?'

Rebecca blew her nose. ‘Four months. I've told you about him!'

‘You did?'

Rebecca scoffed. ‘Typical. What do you care anyway?'

‘I do!'

‘Strange way of showing it,' she muttered, looking down at her hands again.

And finally one of my heartstrings was genuinely pulled, and against my better judgement, I softened. I felt the familiar, sinking feeling that always occurred when spending time with Rebecca and I knew there was no point resisting it. There was no way but Rebecca's way. I sighed.

‘Would you like to stay tonight?' I asked her.