‘Earth to Charlotte… Hey… are you listening? This is your kind of subject. You should ace this question. TV and films is what you’re usually good at.’ Niamh nudged Charlotte from a reverie she hadn’t realised she’d been in. The sharp dig in her ribs made her blink her mind away from the appointment tomorrow that Lissa had made for them both and brought her back to…
The pub quiz.
God. Seemed most of the time these days she was hardly aware of her surroundings. The last few weeks had been a fog and even she had to admit it was starting to affect her life a little more than she’d anticipated. Like right now, when she was supposed to be on their weekly night out with friends and family, her head was somewhere else, wondering. Was Lissa pregnant? What would she do? What would be in Charlotte’s own DNA? What would she find?
Should she tell Ben what she was going to do?
No. Because he’d probably try to talk her out of it. And because Lissa had asked her to keep the missed period a secret.
All around her there was hushed chatter as huddled groups debated the answer to a question she hadn’t heard. Her team’s eyes were all directed at her in frustration, including Ben’s.
Hot damn, he had an idea where her mind had been and he didn’t seem very happy. He was right; the last thing they needed before a wedding was a family feud – between the bride and groom. She shook her head and determined to focus. ‘Oh God. Sorry. What’s the question again?’
Niamh sighed theatrically and whispered across the table, loudly. ‘What was the name of the dance group on Top of the Pops between 1976 and 1981? Gee, I wish Eileen was here – she’d know. She was a little goer, that one, in her youth.’
Charlotte laughed. That was so far from the truth, except for playing truant that one day. And thank God she had, because otherwise Charlotte wouldn’t have had those parents, and who knew where she’d have ended up. ‘Well, I don’t have a clue. I wasn’t even born in 1981.’
‘Me neither, but you know dance-y things. Surely? I mean, if it was a medical question I’m sure Senior Staff Nurse Sonja would know the answer.’ Niamh’s frown hadn’t gone away and Charlotte suspected it had less to do with Charlotte’s birth year and more to do with the fact she’d gone temporarily mentally AWOL.
Ben leaned back in his chair and stretched his lovely long legs under the table, hands clasped behind his head, a smug look washing over his face. ‘I know.’
‘You know something about a dance group from the Dark Ages?’ This was news.
His hand crept onto her thigh and squeezed. The tension left his eyes as he smiled. ‘Yep. I’m eight years older than you… let’s just say I was an early starter when it came to appreciation of the female form.’
‘Ha! You mean, you fancied half of them… whoever they were. Well, tell us then, quick, before the next question.’
He leaned in across the sticky, beer-stained table. ‘Legs and Co. Or… actually, no… was it Pan’s People? No, it was Legs and Co. Definitely.’
‘Okay, clever breeches.’ Niamh didn’t look convinced but wrote down the name anyway. ‘Hush now for the next question. And concentrate. Yes, you, Charlotte – I’m looking at you.’
‘Aye aye, Captain.’ Suitably admonished, Charlotte sat up straight and focused, looking round at the group of six in her team. Ben and his two sisters. Niamh’s husband, Dermot. Sonja’s girlfriend, Jaz. The Murphy clan, all with their dark eyes and pale complexions. The ease with which they finished each other’s sentences. The closeness they’d always had – first growing up in Ireland, then each in turn moving to London, sleeping on each other’s couches, making friends with their sibling’s friends until there was a rent-a-crowd on most nights out. They’d welcomed her into the group and she’d immediately felt at ease, but always an outsider because… well, because she wasn’t one of them. Even when she became a Murphy she wouldn’t exactly be one, just wearing a borrowed name.
Which was highlighted by Niamh’s continuing irritation. ‘Charlotte, are you with us?’
‘Yes, of course.’ They all took the quiz so seriously. And rightly so, given they’d been quiz champions three times this year, beating rivals Team No Clue every single time. It was a Big Deal, apparently.
Next to her, Ben’s fingers played across her thigh and he gave her a wink as their eyes met. She let out a big breath. Things had been so stressful the last few weeks, but now, as he nuzzled a kiss behind her ear, he was trying to make life better. He did. She curled into his touch and kissed his cheek.
‘Ahem.’ It was Sonja. ‘Get a room, guys.’
‘Hush.’ Niamh threw her pen onto the table. ‘Next question.’
The question master spoke into the microphone. ‘Right, last question for this round: who was the first male professional dancer to win Strictly Come Dancing in 2004?’
Ben’s shoulders rose. ‘What’s with all the dance questions? It’s supposed to be general TV trivia, isn’t it? Not sure how we’re expected to know that. Charlotte? This question has your name all over it.’
Charlotte smiled. This was something she didn’t even have to concentrate on. ‘Finally, something I can actually answer! Brendan Cole. It was the lovely Brendan. And… do we need to say who his partner was?’
Niamh frowned. Again. ‘Did you not hear the question?’
Whoa, the atmosphere was decidedly frosty. ‘Yes. I did. And the answer is Brendan Cole.’
‘Right, that’s that.’ Sonja, this time. ‘I’ll hand this paper in. Who’s turn is it for beers?’
Charlotte sighed. Something she could do to make peace all round. ‘I think it’s me. I’ll get them.’
‘I’ll come with you. Give you a hand.’ Ben followed behind her to the bar. He squeezed through the crowd and shuffled her in front of him. His body tight against hers. The closest they’d been in a while. She felt a thrill through her veins, down low. Hopeful. Sexy even. The stirrings of something she hadn’t been feeling for a while. Or at least she had, but hadn’t acted on it because, for the first time in their relationship, she felt out of kilter with him. Off balance.
Maybe things would be better, later. When they were alone. She could make a start on building a bridge back to the closeness with him that she’d always loved. He lowered his voice. ‘Are you okay, Charlie? You don’t seem to be here today.’
‘Absolutely I am. I just answered the Brendan question and I know one hundred per cent that I’m right. I’m fine.’
‘Really? Because from where I’m looking your head’s somewhere else.’
‘It’s not. Honestly.’ It was. She knew it. Everyone knew it. And she felt guilt ripple through her, overpowering the sexy, which fizzled and flickered out. They were cramped in and she couldn’t even turn to him properly to answer.
It didn’t seem to matter to him. ‘Last week I asked if you’d got the flowers ordered and you nodded. Then, yesterday, you rang me in a panic to say you hadn’t sorted the flowers. Now you’re not even trying to concentrate on being here. Being with us. With me. And, to be honest, I’m getting frazzled with having to bring it up.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m just a bit overwhelmed.’
‘Then ask me to do more. Or Eileen, Lissa… ask them to weigh in on decisions… things I don’t know about or understand, like what type of wedding favours we should have. Because I have no idea what one is.’ He paused. Shook his head, and pretended to be sad. ‘I don’t think they’re what I’d like them to be.’
‘I’ll give you a wedding favour, matey.’ She leaned in to him, wriggled her hips against his. Tried to find that feeling she’d had only moments before. Tried to make him laugh. Make everything right again. ‘I’ll give you a Tuesday Quiz Night favour later if you like.’
‘I do like. I like a lot.’ His hand ran down her spine. His fingers stopped in the small of her back and she felt the warmth of his hand there. Protective. Possessive. The person next to them took his drink and left, leaving a nice gap that Ben sidled into. He looked at her, pensive but more relaxed. ‘Hey, can we talk just for a minute?’
‘Sure. Is there more? What’s wrong?’ Charlotte’s heart began to beat faster. What had she done now? She seemed to be rallying in and out of everyone’s good books faster than a tennis player at Wimbledon.
But Ben’s eyes dimmed. ‘Look… the thing is… I’ve got a bit of a confession.’
Her heart rate tripled ‘Why? What have you done?’
He looked down at the floor then back at her. ‘Just… I don’t want there to be any secrets between us… and I did something I shouldn’t have.’
The guilt intensified. Because she was the one with the secrets.
There was a scrummage further down the bar, a bit of shouting between two men. Banter, perhaps, that ended with a handshake. It took both their focus away, but she drew him back by tugging on his arm. ‘What’s going on, Ben? You’re making me nervous. What did you do?’
He swallowed. Paled a little. ‘I ran a check. On your mum. On Carol.’
‘You did what?’ Charlotte stepped away from the heat of his hand. Preferring instead to feel the cool whip of disbelief. ‘Isn’t that against all your rules?’
He nodded sheepishly. ‘A sackable offence. Yes.’
‘Wow. That’s so unlike you. Why would you do something like that?’
His palms raised, trying to calm her. ‘I wanted to be sure she was legit.’
‘You don’t think I can judge someone’s character?’ What did you find? She was horrified that the thought ran through her head. ‘That was well out of order, Ben. You know that.’
‘I know.’
‘You really shouldn’t have done that; jeopardising things just to see if she is who she says she is. Don’t you trust that I can judge for myself?’
His voice was sullen when he responded, defensive, on guard. He knew he was in the wrong. ‘I was just trying to help.’
What did you find? ‘I didn’t ask you to.’
‘You know, that’s the problem these days. You don’t ask me for anything. You just bumble ahead without talking things through. I wanted to help you.’ Ben shook his head. ‘I’m trying to understand why you want to find your birth mum when you have a lovely mum in Eileen already. And why the need for the blood test, when you’re absolutely perfectly healthy? But every time I ask, you say it’s something you need to do. That’s not really helping me understand.’
‘So you just went ahead and did your own thing instead?’ Keeping things to herself was something she did. Self-protection. Don’t rock the boat.
He shrugged in reply. ‘D’you want to know what I found out?’
‘No. I do not. Not if you got the information illegally.’ She tapped her fingers on the bar. Gave the order to the barman. Hell, Ben shouldn’t have done something like that. What the heck had got into him? ‘Don’t ever do anything like that again. You could lose your job.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’
She couldn’t let it go. ‘I can’t believe you did that.’
‘I thought you’d want to know about her. I thought you might want some support, but clearly not. ‘
‘Not like this, Ben.’ She looked at his glum face and thought about the secret she was keeping from him, the appointment for the blood test she’d promised not to have, and felt a hundred times worse. He’d always been a source of support, had only ever helped her and encouraged her, and now he was trying to protect her. Her stomach clenched tight. It had been a tough few weeks and reacting like this wasn’t going to make anything better between them. ‘Okay. Well, I know you had good intentions. But please don’t risk your job again. We’ve got too much depending on it. Never mind the fact that you love it, you’ve got good promotion prospects. Please don’t put all that at risk for me.’
His eyes darkened. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t. And definitely not now I’ve seen your reaction.’
‘Can you blame me? What would you say if I’d done something like that?’
‘You mean, gone behind people’s backs? Done something everyone knew you shouldn’t? Taken a risk?’ He shook his head as if disappointed.
Her gut contracted into a tight, hard ball. Not only had she done it, but she was planning to do it again.
But the fact he had information niggled at her. Here was a link to her past, even if it had been acquired by dodgy means. ‘Okay. So what did you find?’
He breathed out. ‘You really want to know? Even though I broke a zillion rules?’
‘Yes. Yes, I do.’ Cold, hard fact.
‘It looks like your mum had a few run-ins with the police in her youth for shoplifting, but nothing for years.’ His eyebrows rose. ‘The rest of the family, not so much; she has a couple of brothers who’ve been done for a bit of petty theft. One of them paid a hefty fine for doing dodgy MOTs, that kind of thing. Hardly bad-ass gangsters, but not blemish-free either.’
Relief was sweet. ‘So, she was honest about her background then. She wasn’t trying to hide anything, I don’t think. She seems to be trying hard to get on, with her café and everything. She seemed so proud of where she’d got herself to.’
‘Good. Because you have to be careful. You don’t really know who you’re dealing with. Not really. People aren’t always what they seem and I don’t want you to get hurt.’
She slid her palm over his hand. ‘I’m pretty sure I won’t. I think I’ve got it in perspective. I know you don’t understand and how could you?’ She pointed over to the gaggle of Murphys laughing and teasing each other and tried to explain. ‘Look over there, Ben. There’s your family, right there. You have all that Murphy DNA in one room, and a whole lot more back in Ireland. I have nothing. And it feels like I’m losing out.’
‘Trust me, you’re not. I hope you haven’t said that to Eileen.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, of course not. I just have to do this… okay? I’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine, it won’t change anything.’ Although she had a feeling it already had. That things were changing, like the way she regarded her mum, and between Ben and her as she pursued this path. Things were becoming fractious and fragile. But she’d come so far she wasn’t sure she could end it right now.
‘Well, it’s my job to make sure you’re okay.’ He tugged his hand from under hers and gave it a squeeze. ‘Maybe, after the wedding, you could take me along to one of your meetings with Carol.’
‘Thanks. Yes. That would be nice. Maybe, once we’ve reached some sort of rapport. It’s early days.’ An olive branch. He was good at that; at reaching out and making things right between them. Now it was her turn. ‘Hey, as you’re on another early tomorrow, why don’t I get some steak and we can forget the decorating and the wedding and have a date night? Just sit and chat like we used to?’
His eyes narrowed a little. Something flashed cross his irises. Unease? Weird. Then it was gone. He shrugged. ‘Ah, sounds lovely. But I can’t tomorrow night; at least I’ll be late home. I’ve got to work an extra half shift.’
‘Oh? You never said. We were going to choose the door handles. Weren’t we?’
‘It’s okay. You said you liked the chrome ones. We’ll just get them.’
She knew him well enough to know that, despite the olive branch, things were still off kilter. ‘When did you find out about the extra hours?’
Another shrug. ‘Oh. This afternoon. I thought I’d said.’
‘No.’ Strange. He usually knew about overtime in advance. He definitely always mentioned it. It was usually written on the calendar stuck on the fridge. She shook it off. She was just being sensitive. ‘Well, if you show them how flexible you can be, it can only be a good thing.’
His eyes widened. ‘What?’
‘With the shifts. You know. It will put you in their good books.’
There was an audible breath as he smiled. Not one of his glittery, make-her-weak-at-the-knees smiles. Actually, more a fake one she’d seen him use with the rowdy neighbours when they’d tried to make amends for a particularly late party. ‘Yes. Of course. And we know what that means.’
She nodded. Repeating their mantra at the same time he did, but not feeling anywhere like as much excitement as usual. ‘One step closer.’
To their plan. Work hard now and reap the rewards later. One step closer to promotion for him. More money. More chances of choosing his hours. And eventually, a family.
Only right now there was something weird going on and she wasn’t sure what it was. No secrets? ‘Are you sure you’re okay? We’ve got over our fight?’
There was a brief frown as he shoved his wallet into his pocket, then picked up three glasses. ‘Sure.’
‘But you’re still not yourself.’
‘Well, let’s be honest, Charlotte, that makes two of us these days,’ he muttered and started to walk away.
Across the room she could see Niamh gesticulating for them to hurry back. The quiz master was picking up the microphone. And there was no more time to talk this out.