Chapter 37
I have never been so happy at the prospect of seeing Vince. Seeing Vince means seeing Charlie and April.
The last week has dragged by in slow motion. I’ve had an ache in my chest that just won’t go away and I can hardly believe that they’re staying with me for the weekend at my flat. I’ve borrowed a travel cot from one of my friends and made up the bed in the spare room.
Charlie drives down on Friday night – late to avoid traffic – so April is fast asleep when they arrive. I’ve been longing to hold her again, but Charlie wants to transfer her to her cot as quietly and quickly as he can. She opens her eyes and looks straight at me as I stand by Charlie’s side, so I hurry out of the room and leave him to get her back to sleep. Perhaps she’ll think she dreamt me.
Charlie emerges from the bedroom and smiles as he quietly pulls the door to.
‘Now we can say hello properly,’ he says. I step forward into his arms and he rocks me back and forth, holding me against his broad chest for a very long time. It is the most beautiful feeling, being in his arms. God only knows how much serotonin is being released by this one.
‘We’ve missed you,’ Charlie whispers into my hair.
‘I’ve missed you both, too.’ I reluctantly withdraw. ‘You look shattered,’ I say, gazing up at his weary face. ‘Do you feel like a nightcap or do you want to head straight to bed?’
‘I’ll have a quick one.’ He follows me into the kitchen. ‘Nice place.’ He’s looking around slowly, taking everything in.
I live in a middle-floor apartment in a terraced house, a ten-minute walk away from Chalk Farm underground station. There are two medium-sized bedrooms, one bathroom and a light, airy, open-plan living room and kitchen. My favourite thing about my place is the large sash windows that look straight out onto a couple of mature trees. The best time of year is spring, when the leaves start to bud. Sadly, they’ll all be gone soon, but autumn brings with it its own rewards.
We take our drinks to the sofa and sit side by side, facing each other.
‘Have you spoken to Vince?’ Charlie asks.
‘I’ve emailed him,’ I reply. ‘He said I can go and see him at eleven o’clock on Sunday morning. He’s given me his new address.’
‘Is that wise, meeting him at his house?’ He seems worried. ‘Couldn’t you have gone to a café or somewhere more public?’
I shrug. ‘To be honest, I thought he’d be tricky to pin down so I would’ve said yes to anything. He won’t kick off,’ I say assuredly, although I don’t really know. ‘He might not be happy about me writing about him, but it’s been years – he should be over it by now. Anyway, you’ll be waiting outside in your pickup if it all goes wrong. My escape vehicle.’
‘I’m just nervous about April if he does start anything. I won’t be able to leave her.’
‘To come inside and be my knight in shining armour?’ I tease.
He stares at me, deadpan.
‘He won’t kick off,’ I assure him again, brushing the subject off. ‘But I’m still really glad you’re here.’
He nods at the necklace dangling from around my neck.
‘Do you like it?’
‘I love it,’ I reply, my eyes shining as I smile at him with affection.
He smiles back at me and then shifts in his seat. ‘So, I have some news. . .’ His sentence trails away, along with his eye contact.
‘What is it?’
‘I’ve just received Nicki’s royalty statement for The Secret Life of Us. She’s already earned out her advance.’
This means she’s sold so many books that she’s now being paid extra money on top of her initial payment.
‘That’s fantastic!’ I exclaim.
‘Bridget, her royalties are crazy,’ he says quietly, disbelievingly.
‘Oh, Charlie, I’m so pleased for you both.’ I know how much easier that will make things for him and April.
‘I’m thinking about joining you in Thailand.’
My jaw hits the floor. ‘Are you serious?’
He nods.
‘No! You are kidding me!’ My happy balloon is threatening to burst right out of my chest. ‘Oh, my God! That’s amazing!’
He smiles at my reaction. ‘I’m glad you’re pleased.’
‘Of course I am! I can’t stop talking in exclamation marks! Look at me!’
He laughs.
‘Oh, my God.’ I clap my hands against my cheeks, stunned and a little beside myself as I let it fully sink in.
‘So, if Elliot comes, I’ll get to meet him, after all,’ Charlie says pointedly.
Now why does that idea make me suddenly feel so cold?
Charlie hasn’t been to London in ages, and April has never been at all, so the next day we go into town to do some sightseeing. April likes the lions in Trafalgar Square and the guards in their red uniforms outside Buckingham Palace, and afterwards we head to Regent Street and go into Hamleys. I buy April a bubble machine for her to take back home with her, remembering how much she liked the music man’s bubbles.
Charlie wants to nip into a clothes shop, so I tell him we’ll meet up in half an hour. In the meantime, I go and buy April an ice cream, because what the hell, I want to spoil her.
We wander into the White Company so I can check out swimsuits for April – I’d like to get her one for Thailand. Whether or not they still have them at this time of year is another matter, but I can pick up some PJs for her if not – I’ve bought them for other friends from here before.
We make it to the back of the store before a sales assistant greets us.
‘Good afternoon,’ she says brightly, looking from me to April. Her mouth gapes open and the blood drains from her face.
‘Oh, no,’ she says with horror. ‘No, no, no, you can’t eat in here.’
Another sales assistant spies us and hurries over, just as I crane my neck over the pram to see that April’s face and hands are covered in chocolate ice cream. Oops.
‘No food in here!’ the other sales assistant calls, beckoning madly to a third person.
Together the three of them shepherd us out of the shop, their eyes wild and their arms locking us in like a jail, making sure there’s zero chance of April’s sticky fingers reaching out to brush chocolate goo over their pristine, perfect, immaculate white clothes.
I make it out of the shop and almost keel over with laughter on the pavement.
I’ve sobered up by the next day. I’m nervous as Charlie follows my directions to Vince’s house. We’ve timed it well with April’s nap – she’s fast asleep when we arrive in New Barnet, north London, where Vince lives. His house is a tan, pebble-dashed semi next to a brown brick apartment block. There’s a white van parked in the front drive with the name of his landscape-gardening business painted on the side: ‘GARDENS BY VINCE’.
He’s not what you’d call inspiring.
Charlie pulls up outside the house and looks out of the window. I follow his gaze. Eventually, he turns to me. He stares straight at me, but doesn’t say a word.
I still haven’t made any move to get out of his pickup.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ he says at last.
I shake my head and jolt into action, opening the door and climbing out onto the road. I can feel Charlie’s eyes tracking me as I walk around the front of his vehicle and up Vince’s drive. I knock on the white, plasticky-looking door.
Through the two frosted panes of seventies-style etched glass, I see the bulk of Vince’s frame approaching from down the corridor. He’s in no hurry.
He opens the door and regards me coolly. He’s broader – fatter – than he used to be, with a bit of a potbelly around his middle. His dark hair is even blacker than it used to be, the tell-tale sign of a war against grey.
‘Hello.’ I force a smile onto my face, which isn’t returned.
‘Bridget,’ he says in a low, unpleasant voice, stepping back to let me pass. I cast one last look at Charlie over my shoulder. He’s staring through his side window, reminding me of a lion about to pounce.
‘Who’s that?’ Vince notices who has my attention and pauses in his move to shut the door.
‘A friend,’ I reply.
‘One of your many men?’ he asks nastily, not expecting a reply.
The door closes with a light click, rather than a heavy clunk, but it feels just as threatening.
My head is spinning slightly as he motions for me to go into the living room. At least I can see Charlie from here, I note, albeit cloudily through the muslin curtains. I drag my eyes away from the window and they land on toy boxes. I glance up at Vince with relief.
‘You have children?’
‘Two,’ he replies, curtly.
‘So you’re married?’
‘Four years.’
‘Congratulations.’ My smile is genuine, but he seems intent on making this painful for me. ‘Where’s your wife?’ I ask.
‘She’s taken the kids to her mother’s,’ he replies. ‘Do you want a drink or will we be making this quick?’ His tone is frosty and abrupt.
‘I don’t need a drink.’ My earlier trepidation returns in force as I perch on the edge of his battered, stained sofa. I try to steel myself and remember my lines, but it’s hard to concentrate. ‘Vince,’ I say calmly, ‘do you know why I’ve come?’
‘I’ve got a pretty good idea,’ he sneers. ‘The missus saw you on the telly a couple of weeks ago, recorded it for me.’ That probably means he’s ranted to her about me in the past. ‘I can’t believe you’ve actually got the nerve to come here.’
‘I need to ask you for the piece of my heart back.’
The words have never sounded more foolish. I just want to be done with it so I can get back to Charlie and April.
He hoots in my face. ‘Have you got any idea how ridiculous you sound?’ His bitterness runs deep.
‘Can I have it or not?’ I snap.
He sniggers and relaxes back in the sofa, folding his arms.
‘You know what?’ Suddenly I see red. ‘You’re right. This is ridiculous. You never had a part of it in the first place. I was just devastated by Freddie and you were. . . Well, you were just there, weren’t you?’ I get to my feet, but he’s faster. He looks stunned, as if I’d hit him. As I try to leave the room, he grabs my arm hard and drags me to a halt.
‘Get your hands off me or I’ll have you for assault,’ I warn, meeting his furious glare head on.
‘If you dare write about this, I’ll sue you,’ he threatens in return, practically hurling my arm away.
I back towards the door, then hurriedly open it. I know he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on – I change all the details of the men I write about – but I don’t bother pointing that out. As I say, he never had a piece of my heart anyway. We’re down to eleven.
‘Slag!’ he calls as I hurry down the path.
Charlie gets out of the car.
‘No, don’t,’ I say firmly, shaking my head at him. ‘April,’ I remind him. ‘Come on. I just want to go.’