With or Without You (21 page)

‘Me neither,’ agreed Martha ruefully. ‘Listen, Linds, I’d better go. Thanks for . . . well, you know . . .’

‘I know,’ Lindsay said. ‘Love you and take care. Come back soon. I miss you.’

Tears flashed into Martha’s eyes as she hung up. She had always known that Lindsay was fiercely loyal to her, but she could actually hear the pain in her voice and it touched her deeply.
She stood up and went to the dressing room. She suddenly felt as if she needed to get out of the house and go for a run. Her head felt so crowded and muddled. She wanted to do something physical
that didn’t require any thinking; something that would block out the pain.

Although she hadn’t unpacked, her new case full of stuff that Charlie’s assistant had bought for her had been removed and all the new items either hung up or folded and put away.
That was one of the stranger things about staying here, Martha thought. She had yet to actually see any of the house-keeping staff, but they were obviously there, as things were miraculously put
away or tidied up as soon as they had been used. It was as if there was a houseful of helpful ghosts on duty.

Somewhat different to home, thought Martha ruefully, picturing her chaotic hallway, over-spilling with odd shoes and out-of-season coats, as she picked out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and
quickly pulled them on. She ran her hands through her hair and went into the bathroom, where she peered at herself in the large mirror. She hadn’t put any make-up on for more than three days
now and instead of looking fresh, she thought she looked more like an old flannel that had been repeatedly wrung out.

She had always been fairly happy with her appearance and rarely gave it much thought. But now that her husband had so effectively demonstrated that she wasn’t attractive enough for him,
she found herself scrutinising her face and body with something approaching contempt. Overnight, it seemed as if all the confidence had drained out of her, leaving her feeling like an old, empty,
ugly shell.

There was a knock at the bedroom door. ‘Martha?’ said Charlie’s voice. ‘I’ve brought you some tea.’

Martha walked to the door and opened it. ‘Come in,’ she gestured with her arm. ‘I was just thinking that I might go for a run . . .’

‘You sure that’s a good idea?’

Martha took the cup of tea he was holding. ‘I think I need to get out for a bit, clear my head, you know?’

Charlie nodded. ‘How you doing?’

Martha sat down on the bed, while Charlie sat on the chaise longue opposite. She took a long, grateful sip of her tea before she spoke. ‘Jamie called last night . . .’

Charlie’s eyes flickered and she thought that they darkened slightly. ‘And?’ he said, pursing his lips.

‘It’s just . . . hard. I hate to admit it but I miss him.’

Charlie didn’t reply and she watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallowed hard.

Martha frowned, wondering why she suddenly felt guilty. She felt as if she was betraying Charlie somehow by talking about Jamie.

‘Anyway, do you fancy joining me on my run?’ she tried to lighten the mood, which had inexplicably darkened.

Charlie smiled, his eyes shining again. ‘Sure,’ he said, standing up. ‘Can’t have you heading out there all by yourself. Give me five minutes.’

‘Charlie!’ she called, as he was about to leave the room.

He stopped and looked back over his shoulder at her.

Martha hesitated. She wanted to say so much but didn’t know where to begin. ‘Thank you,’ she said at last.

Charlie nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. Martha shook her head, trying to identify the confused emotions that were tumbling over themselves. Just then her mobile rang and
she snatched it up.

‘It’s me,’ said Jamie, sounding as exhausted as she felt. ‘I’m here. In LA.’

Half an hour later, Charlie made his way into the kitchen where Liv was sitting at the huge island in the middle of the room, staring into space. ‘Hey,’ he said,
putting his hands on his hips and looking around distractedly, suddenly unsure what to do with himself. He felt irritated and upset at the news of Jamie’s impending arrival. And inexplicably
cross with Martha, although he knew that was unfair.

Liv looked up wearily. She looked dreadful: the whites of her eyes were yellow and bloodshot and her complexion was grey and dry-looking. ‘Hey,’ she replied in a monotone voice.
‘You OK?’ she added after a few moments when Charlie didn’t say anything but continued to look around in bewilderment.

‘Hmm,’ he replied, finally coming over to join her. He pulled out a stool and perched opposite her. ‘It’s just . . . well, I think I may have made a mistake bringing
Martha here.’

‘Why?’ Liv’s dull, lifeless eyes suddenly flickered with interest.

Charlie looked up at the ceiling while he thought of the right answer. He couldn’t explain it himself. ‘Because I really like her,’ he said. ‘And it’s complicated .
. .’

Liv rolled her eyes and smiled a dead smile. ‘Isn’t it always?’

Charlie nodded his acknowledgement. ‘I know. Why do we always want what we can’t have?’

Liv’s eyes brimmed and Charlie immediately regretted his choice of words. ‘Sorry,’ he quickly tried to correct himself. ‘I mean . . . well, you know what I mean,’
he tailed off feebly.

‘I don’t think you made a mistake bringing her,’ Liv said, brushing her hand over her eyes as she spoke.

‘Really?’ Charlie looked up in surprise.

‘Really,’ Liv nodded. ‘I mean, things haven’t exactly been brilliant between you and me up till now, have they? You bringing Martha has helped us to . . . reconnect. And
I like her – even if she is a journalist!’

Charlie smiled ruefully. ‘She
is
great, isn’t she?’ he said, before he could stop himself.

Liv raised her eyebrows. ‘Wow,’ she mouthed. ‘You’ve got it
bad
.’

Charlie could feel himself blushing. ‘It’s pointless,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘She’s about to go and meet her husband from the airport. He’s just flown in
to see her.’

‘Oh . . .’ Liv replied, her forehead creasing. ‘So there really isn’t anything going on between you two then?’

‘I wish!’ Charlie cut her off, again feeling the heat in his cheeks as he realised he had said more than he should.

‘So what’s the story then? With her husband?’ Liv picked up a napkin and began twisting it around her finger.

‘The oldest story in the world,’ Charlie replied, feeling the annoyance and jealousy prickle up inside him again. ‘He cheated on her. He’s a bastard who doesn’t
deserve her. But she’ll probably forgive him and then he’ll do it all over again. ’

‘Poor Martha,’ Liv said, looking down. ‘And they’ve got kids, haven’t they?’

‘Two. Christ, I don’t know why women put up with it,’ he burst out bitterly, standing up again and throwing his hands in the air.

Now it was Liv’s turn to redden. ‘No. Or men,’ she said, dropping the napkin onto the work surface before getting to her feet. She poured Charlie a coffee and brought it over
to him. His face relaxed as he took it and smiled at her.

‘What?’ The mischievous glint in her eye had returned momentarily.

Charlie shook his head. ‘Nothing. Just a bit of déjà vu. Remembering something.’

Liv grinned back. She knew exactly what he was talking about. The day they had moved into their cottage in Surrey, they had arrived well before the removal van and had immediately taken
advantage of the fact by making love on the bare wooden floor. Afterwards, as they lay naked in each other’s arms, Liv suddenly shrieked and leapt to her feet. ‘Shit, they’re
here!’ she’d cried, scrabbling for her clothes and flinging Charlie’s at him, just as four burly removal men appeared, peering through the window. Giggling like schoolchildren,
they had managed to get dressed just in time to open the door to find the main removal man presenting them with their kettle and telling them to get the tea on. The knowing look Liv had given
Charlie as she handed him his cup still tickled him all these years later.

‘That was a good day,’ she murmured, as if lost in her own memories.

‘It was,’ Charlie agreed, before the sound of Martha’s footsteps coming down the hall brought him back to the present with a jolt.

Liv heard them too and the moment was broken. ‘How’s she getting to the airport?’ she asked briskly.

‘I don’t know,’ Charlie replied, shaking his head. ‘I didn’t think to ask.’

‘Well, she’ll need a lift, won’t she?’ A look of exasperation skittered across Liv’s brow.

‘I suppose . . .’

‘So, are you going to take her or shall I get a driver? It’s not as if she can go out in the street here and hail a cab.’

Charlie hesitated. He wanted to spend as much time as he possibly could with Martha, but he wasn’t sure he could bear to see her with her husband. What the hell was happening to him?
‘I’ll take her,’ he said at last.

‘OK. Then I guess you’d better let her know.’

‘Let me know what?’ said Martha, coming into the kitchen, her sandals making a clacking sound on the tiled floor.

‘That I’ll give you a lift . . . to the airport. Sorry, I should have thought of it before.’

‘No, no, I’ll be fine,’ Martha insisted, picking up her bag. ‘I’ll just get a cab or something.’

Both Liv and Charlie laughed. ‘I don’t think so,’ Charlie said, smiling. ‘Strangely enough, there aren’t many cabs riding up and down this road, looking for
fares.’

Martha laughed too. It was the first time Charlie had seen her properly smile since that very first day, when she had arrived at his hotel room with a giant hole in her dress and immediately
captivated him. He watched her now, thinking that she looked stunning, standing in the middle of the huge white room in a pretty blue dress.

It wasn’t lost on Charlie that for the few short days she had spent with him, Martha had made no effort with her appearance at all. It was only now that she was going to meet her husband
that she had put any thought into how she looked. He knew when he was beaten.

Martha wasn’t the type of woman who would be impressed by fame or money and he knew that however hurt and broken she was feeling, she wouldn’t throw in the towel on her marriage
without a fight. She was too devoted to her children not to try to make it work. But, glutton for punishment that he was, there was still something about her that was pulling him towards her.

‘Let’s go,’ he said.

Jamie walked out of the wide glass doors of the Tom Bradley terminal at LAX and squinted down the parking lot, unsure what sort of car he was looking for. He felt dehydrated,
sick with exhaustion, but all of those feelings were over-shadowed by the panic he felt at seeing Martha again. It had only been five days since he had last seen her but it felt like an eternity.
And the look she had given him before she drove away would stay with him forever.

His phone beeped. He pulled it out of his jeans pocket and glanced at the screen.
Call me when you’re here and we’ll drive round to the front. Martha.

No kisses to end the text, Jamie noted, an ominous feeling taking root in his stomach. And who was ‘we’? Charlie Simmons? Jamie hoped not. He knew he had absolutely no right to feel
anything approaching jealousy but he couldn’t help it. Charlie Simmons was richer, better looking and more successful than him. If there was now some kind of competition between them, Jamie
was certain Charlie would win. Except for one thing. Jamie’s trump card was the children.

He dialled Martha’s number and she answered immediately. ‘OK, we’ll be round in a few minutes,’ she said, without giving him a chance to say anything. ‘Wait
there,’ she added, before hanging up.

Jamie clutched his sports bag closer to him, suddenly feeling unsettled and inadequate, and distractedly watching the succession of cars and shuttle buses arriving and leaving the undercover
arrivals area, trailing behind them a fug of diesel fumes in the heat.

He had never been to LA before but already he could tell that everything was on a much grander scale than at home. Looking out of the window from his cramped economy-class seat just before
landing, he could see the network of roads stretching for miles in a neatly ordered, giant grid formation. He had expected the houses to be dotted about but they were spread thickly over the
landscape like a carpet.

After a few minutes, a sleek black Range Rover pulled up to the kerb beside him. Martha lowered the tinted window and locked eyes with him for a second. His heart began to hammer.
‘Hi,’ he murmured, unable to look away from this woman who had shared his life for so long and given birth to his two children, yet now seemed like a stranger he was meeting for the
first time.

Martha’s dark eyes flickered. ‘Are you getting in then?’

Jamie reached for the back door and pulled it open. He swung his bag onto the tan leather seat and climbed in behind it. Sure enough, Charlie Simmons was in the driving seat, causing
Jamie’s heart to sink with disappointment. He didn’t look round or acknowledge Jamie’s presence at all, and the tension began to fizz almost immediately.

Jamie caught his eye in the rear-view mirror. ‘Thanks for picking me up.’ He was unable to keep the grudging tone out of his voice. He felt like a child in the company of two
adults.

‘It’s fine,’ Charlie said in a pissed-off voice.

During the awkward, heavy silence that followed, Jamie took a surreptitious look at Charlie, as he negotiated his way out of the chaos of the airport and onto the main road into central LA. Even
from behind he could see that he was a breathtakingly good-looking man, with dark, glossy hair and a strong, square jaw. His perfectly manicured nails and beautifully cut white shirt made Jamie
feel cheap and scruffy in comparison.

As if he could sense what Jamie was thinking, Charlie caught his eye again and Jamie quickly looked away, reddening as he did so. He hated this man already, with his money and his success and
his ridiculous good looks. But most of all he hated him for being here with his wife. Jamie wanted to be alone with Martha, not with some bloody celebrity making him feel even more crap about
himself. He wanted to talk to Martha, but there seemed to be an invisible wall around her and she certainly didn’t seem to want to break the deadlock. In the tense silence, he stared out of
the blacked-out window as the car sped along, marvelling at the number of cars and wondering how Charlie seemed to be such an expert driver when he didn’t even live here.