Monday, 29 August
Charlotte was glad she’d listened to Lauren, and not rushed back to London the previous evening. Her sister was right: the bank-holiday traffic would be a nightmare. She was better off staying one more day and heading off early Tuesday morning. It also meant she could say a proper goodbye; something she would’ve regretted not doing if she’d left in a haze of anger. So, she’d spent her last day with Lauren and the kids, enjoying a picnic on the beach, followed by a game of Scrabble back at the flat. The kids were now tucked up in bed, and she was recovering from the trauma of saying goodbye to them.
‘You okay?’ Her sister was standing in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the door frame.
She stopped packing her toiletries. ‘Not really. I’m going to miss them.’
‘They’re going to miss you too. Flo’s still crying.’
The recollection of both kids hugging her and begging her not to leave would probably haunt Charlotte for the rest of her days. ‘I didn’t realise leaving would be so hard.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ Lauren moved away from the doorway and sat down on the closed loo seat. ‘When you first arrived, you hated the place.’
‘Not hated, just … I don’t know, it wasn’t where I wanted to be. I was a mess.’ Charlotte dropped her hand sanitiser into her washbag. ‘Thanks for putting up with me. I needed sorting out.’
Lauren smiled. ‘Likewise. I couldn’t have got through the summer without you. You’ve no idea how much I appreciate your support.’
Charlotte perched on the rim of the bathtub. ‘Was that the police on the phone?’
‘No, it was Yvonne from the Illegal Money Lending Team. She wanted me to know that Glenda and her sons have been bailed pending a trial. They’re not allowed to contact me. I can apply for a formal restraining order if they don’t adhere to the conditions of their bail.’
‘That’s good.’ Knowing that Lauren had someone in her corner eased Charlotte’s guilt at leaving earlier than intended.
‘She asked me if I’d reconsider being a witness.’
Charlotte looked at her sister. Lauren was painfully thin and drawn, but there were also signs of recovery. She certainly seemed less tortured than before. ‘What did you say?’
‘I agreed to do it.’ Lauren shrugged. ‘Seems stupid not to, now everyone knows.’
Charlotte took Lauren’s hand. ‘You made the right decision.’
‘Not sure Dad will agree with you.’
‘He’ll come around.’ At least, she hoped so. Surely, he’d realise that Lauren was the victim now that Glenda had been formally charged.
‘Yvonne will be my support officer throughout the trial, so that’s a comfort.’
‘For me too. I’m only a phone call away, but I’ll sleep better knowing someone’s looking out for you.’ Charlotte patted the back of her sister’s hand. ‘By the way, I’ve left some money for you in the bill jar in the kitchen. And before you jump down my throat, I won’t take no for an answer.’
‘But—’
‘No buts.’ She held up a hand. ‘You wouldn’t accept any rent money, so let me contribute something to tide you over. I’ll be seriously offended if you refuse.’ She resumed packing her toiletries. ‘Plus, it helps to ease the guilt of leaving you.’
‘You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. This is my mess. Your life is back in London. Mine is here. I have plenty of people to help me.’ Lauren handed Charlotte her flannel. ‘Like Sylvia, for instance. Did you know she left me a voicemail apologising for not realising what was happening, and vowing to support me going forwards?’
Charlotte rung out the flannel. ‘That was nice of her.’ But then, Sylvia was a nice woman – something she’d been slow to pick up on. Or maybe it was just a reluctance to accept another ‘mother figure’ into her life. Like she was somehow betraying her real mother, which was nonsense. Whatever the reason, she was glad Sylvia was in her sister’s corner.
Realising she didn’t have a plastic bag to hand, she shoved the damp flannel in her washbag. Goodness, she was living dangerously. ‘You also have Nate.’
Lauren looked down at her feet, her worn slippers suddenly capturing her attention.
‘Look, the last thing I want to do is fall out with you before I go. I know the whole Nate thing is a sensitive subject, but can I just say one thing?’ Without waiting for an answer, she lifted her sister’s chin. ‘Nate’s a great bloke. He’s funny, kind, and he adores you. He’d do anything for you or your kids. So much so, he reported Glenda even when he knew it risked losing your friendship.’
Lauren folded her arms across her chest. ‘And your point is?’
‘Do you think that maybe you’re using your anger towards him as an excuse for keeping him at arm’s length? Because if you stop being angry and forgive him, then it lets him back into your life, and that scares you?’
Tears pooled in her sister’s eyes. ‘I can’t rely on anyone else. I have to be the one who supports my family.’
‘And you do, Lauren. You’ve proved that you’re strong and capable. Letting Nate in won’t undermine that, but it might make your life easier and happier. Don’t you want that?’
‘Suppose he leaves, like Joe did? What would that do to Freddie and Florence?’
‘Lauren, I hate to break it to you, but they’re already hurting. They miss Nate, they told me tonight when I was putting them to bed.’
Her eyes grew wide. ‘They did?’
‘They don’t understand why Mummy is so angry. They think they’ve done something wrong and that’s why they’re not allowed to see Nate.’
‘Oh, God.’ Lauren’s head dropped into her hands.
Charlotte squatted down next to her. ‘You gave me some very valuable advice a while back, and I’m glad I listened to you, because you were right. So, I’m going to do the same for you now.’ She rubbed Lauren’s arm. ‘Nate is a good guy. The kids adore him. And if you’re honest, so do you. Give him a chance to make your life even happier than it already is – or was, before Glenda made things miserable. Take a risk. Live a little.’
Lauren’s head was shaking in disagreement. ‘It’s too late, I’ve pushed him away. He might not want me anymore.’
‘Only one way to find out.’
They were interrupted by a knock on the front door.
Lauren wiped her eyes. ‘God, who’s that at this time of night?’ She checked her watch. ‘It’s gone nine.’ She went to answer the door.
Charlotte checked her reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror. Her hair was wavy and relaxed, a far cry from the straightened style she used to wear. Strangely, she didn’t mind so much. She’d grown to like it.
Voices in the lounge preceded the sight of Dusty appearing in the cramped bathroom, wearing a black and white dog-tooth-check dress and white beehive wig. ‘What are you doing hiding away in here?’
Charlotte picked up her washbag. ‘I’m not hiding, I’m packing. I leave tomorrow.’
‘A fact I’m well aware of.’ Dusty looked disgruntled. ‘If you think I’m going to let you disappear without a proper goodbye, then you’re mistaken. Come on, we’re going to the pub.’ Charlotte’s washbag was removed from her grasp and slung into the bath.
‘But I haven’t finished packing.’
‘You can do it later. I won’t take no for an answer.’ Dusty stopped by the doorway. ‘You don’t mind if I steal your sister away, do you? I’m guessing you can’t join us?’
‘Afraid not, the kids are in bed. But you go. We’ve had Charlotte to ourselves all day, it’ll be good for her to say goodbye to everyone else.’
‘Exactly.’ Dusty dragged Charlotte into the lounge. ‘Where are your shoes?’
‘Do I get a say in the matter?’
‘No.’ Dusty thrust Charlotte’s jewelled sandals at her. ‘Put these on.’
With no opportunity to touch up her make-up or change out of her jeans, she was bundled out of the door and down the metal staircase towards a waiting taxi. ‘Why do we need a taxi? Where are we going?’
Dusty opened the car door, waiting until Charlotte had climbed inside before replying. ‘The taxi is for my benefit. These shoes are not designed for walking.’ She climbed in next to her. ‘It also has the added bonus of ensuring you don’t escape.’
Charlotte looked at her. ‘Why would I want to escape?’
‘Because we’re going to Smugglers Inn.’ Dusty’s beehive was so high it touched the roof of the taxi. ‘Barney’s performing there tonight.’
‘Let me out.’ Charlotte went for the door handle.
‘Drive,’ Dusty instructed the driver, ignoring her companion’s protests. When they’d pulled away, she patted her friend’s knee. ‘You can thank me later.’
‘Thank you? I want to throttle you.’ No way did she want to see Barney again. And definitely not singing. Her fragile resistance couldn’t withstand that.
Dusty’s phone rang. ‘Later, babes. I need to take this – it’s my brother.’ She turned away and answered her phone. ‘Will, honey? What’s the verdict?’
Charlotte folded her arms. She wasn’t sure what she was angrier about: being kidnapped, or being forced to see Barney again. She didn’t want to see him. It was easier to stay mad at him if she didn’t have to look at his handsome face, or succumb to his attempts to make her laugh. Distance was her only barrier. She needed to stay strong, focus on her life plan, and avoid thinking about what might have been.
Her stomach lurched as the taxi descended the hill. As they drew closer to Smugglers Inn, her reluctance to re-engage with the man who’d declared undying love for her grew. Well, perhaps not undying, but it had shocked her just the same. She certainly hadn’t seen it coming. But the exchange had forced her to reassess her feelings. And there was no denying that Barney Hubble had got under her skin. He’d shown her what was possible, in terms of physical satisfaction, but also what it was like to be … what was the word she was looking for? Adored? It was probably too strong a description, but that’s what it had felt like. He’d challenged her boundaries, stripped away her defences, and bulldozed right through her protective barrier. She wasn’t sure whether she should be mad or grateful.
She focused on her surroundings, trying to divert her mind elsewhere. The quayside was lit up, bright lights reflecting off the water as the tide washed over the bay. The sea looked almost black, infinite and foreboding. She opened the window a crack so she could hear the sounds of the waves and smell the salty air. She’d certainly miss living by the sea. There was something so life-affirming about fresh air filling your lungs.
The taxi pulled up next to the footbridge by the moored boats. Dusty paid the driver, batting away Charlotte’s attempts to pay.
Letting Dusty finish her conversation with Will about his upcoming wedding, Charlotte crossed the footbridge, pleased to note that her fear of heights was less disabling than it had been before arriving in Cornwall. Maybe dangling from a fly rig had been a blessing after all. Not that she’d felt that way at the time. It had been truly horrifying.
She glanced over the rope-lined edge. The water rushed below, hypnotic as it sped past, bleeding into the sea. High up on the clifftops, she could make out the silhouette of Morholt Castle standing proud against the skyline. Yep, she was going to miss Penmullion.
Dusty finished her call, and teetered over, dropping her phone inside her Marc Jacobs handbag. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘What’s the verdict?’
‘We’re both going to the wedding.’ Her smile was infectious. ‘Paul will attend the day, and Dusty will attend the evening reception.’
‘Nice compromise.’
‘I thought so. The bride isn’t happy, but my brother has agreed to the releasing of doves at the church ceremony, so she’s relented.’ Dusty slipped her arm through Charlotte’s. ‘The moral of this story is that some things are worth fighting for. Even if fighting causes conflict and drama along the way.’ They crossed the footbridge, walking past the lit-up restaurants, still bustling with holidaymakers. ‘Paul wasn’t satisfied with the life he was living, so he made the decision to change. Hence the creation of Dusty.’ She gave a little curtsy. ‘As a consequence, Paul is a much happier man.’
Charlotte stopped walking. ‘I know what you’re doing. You don’t fool me for a second.’
‘I wasn’t trying to.’ Dusty manoeuvred her towards Smugglers Inn. ‘I’m simply saying, there’s no shame in admitting you want something different out of life.’
‘I don’t want a different life. I’m perfectly happy with the one I have.’ Charlotte entered the pub, immediately hit by a wave of music and chatter. ‘Or the life I had, at any rate.’
Dusty raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘Sure about that?’
‘Absolutely.’ It was only after she’d said it that doubt crept in.
‘I’ve seen politicians look more convincing. What are you drinking?’
‘Prosecco. A small one. I’ll get these.’
Dusty prevented her from opening her purse. ‘I’ll get the drinks. Go and say hi to Tony.’ She was shoved in the direction of her dad, who was sitting alone watching Barney’s gig.
Despite avoiding looking at the stage, the sound of Barney’s voice still had the ability to derail her. She recognised the song; Lauren had played it in the flat on numerous occasions. Biffy Clyro’s ‘Many of Horror’. He captured the torment of the song, but then, he was a good actor. It didn’t mean he meant what he was singing.
Keeping her eyes fixed on her dad, she went over and sat with her back to the stage. ‘Hi, Dad. No Sylvia tonight?’
He glanced up, looking forlorn. ‘Oh, hi, love. No Sylvia tonight. She’s busy.’
‘Is she still annoyed with you?’
He shrugged, looking worryingly down in the dumps. God, she hoped his depression wouldn’t rear its ugly head again. That wouldn’t be a good development.
‘She has good reason, Dad.’ She waited for him to look at her. ‘It was hard for Lauren to ask you for help. I know you don’t agree with borrowing money, but that principle only works in an ideal world, and we don’t live in an ideal world. Life is messy and complicated.’
‘That’s no excuse for not budgeting. You girls were brought up to be responsible.’
Irritation rose within her. ‘Has Lauren ever asked you for money before?’
He frowned. ‘No.’
‘Has she ever shown herself to be irresponsible or reckless?’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘Well, okay, apart from falling pregnant in her teens. But that was only partly her fault. It takes two people to make a baby. She didn’t know Joe would turn out to be a complete waste of space. He never supported Lauren or his kids and left her to raise them single-handedly. She was dealt a bum deal, Dad.’
‘I agree.’
‘My point is that, against all the odds, Lauren’s done an amazing job of raising two beautiful, smart, well-adjusted kids. Freddie and Flo are happy and healthy. You should be really proud of her.’
He looked put out. ‘I am.’
‘Then stop acting like she’s an embarrassment. It’s unfair, and she doesn’t deserve it. She’s wounded and upset. Glenda’s the bad guy here, not Lauren. So, will you please show what a good dad you are and support her through this, because things are likely to remain crappy for a while before they get better. She needs you. Okay?’
He let out a long sigh. ‘Sylvia said pretty much the same thing.’
‘Then listen to her. She’s a smart woman.’
He looked morose. ‘When are you leaving?’
‘First thing tomorrow.’
He took a long swig of his beer. ‘I’m going to miss you.’
‘I’ll miss you too.’ She gave him an awkward hug. ‘Say goodbye to Sylvia for me.’ She got up and made her way to the bar, before she started blubbing.
Despite making good progress with her dad over the summer, it still felt like they were being too cautious, each one fearing that the other might shatter if pushed too far into anything resembling real emotion. It saddened her.
On stage, Barney had finished his song. Without any preamble, he went straight into Charlie Simpson’s ‘Parachutes’. Somehow, she still managed not to look at him.
She reached the bar, and climbed onto the bar stool. The quicker she left Penmullion, the quicker she could resume her old life and forget all about Barney Hubble.
Nate was serving behind the bar. ‘I didn’t realise you were still here.’
She angled herself away from the stage. ‘I leave tomorrow.’
His gaze flickered towards Barney before coming back to settle on her. ‘You’ll be missed.’ He stretched across the bar and kissed her cheek. ‘Take care. Visit again soon.’
‘I will … And Nate?’ She caught his hand before he could disappear. ‘Please don’t give up on my sister. She’s scared, but it doesn’t mean she’s disinterested. Hang in there, okay?’
He gave a non-committal shrug, and wandered off down the other end of the bar.
Dusty got up and moved stools. ‘Talking of relationships.’
‘Which we weren’t.’ Charlotte was forced to look in the direction of the stage, which she guessed had been Dusty’s motivation for moving.
‘We need to talk about you and Barney.’ Dusty crossed her legs.
‘We really don’t.’
‘I want to know why you’re so angry with him?’
‘Are you serious?’ She stared at Dusty, more as a means of avoiding looking at Barney than anything else. ‘He watched my sister being bullied by that witch Glenda Graham and did nothing about it.’
‘So did I, but you’re not angry with me.’
A pause followed. Charlotte tried to reason this piece of logic. ‘It’s not the same thing.’
‘How is it different?’
‘Because I’m not in—’
‘—love with me?’
It was hard to look stern when faced with fluttering false eyelashes. ‘I was going to say, I’m not involved with you.’
‘Maybe not, but we’re friends. So why was it okay for me to keep quiet, but not Barney?’ Her smile was mischievous.
‘When you put it like that, you’re right. You were totally out of order, and I’m mad at you too.’ She play-slapped Dusty’s knee.
‘Except I don’t believe you.’
‘Want me to pull your hair to prove it?’
‘It’s a wig, you daft woman. It’ll come off.’ Dusty scowled at a chip in her French-polished nails. ‘Now listen, I have a question for you.’
‘Here it comes.’ Charlotte took a slug of wine, preparing herself.
‘Do you think that maybe you’re using your anger as an excuse to leave?’
A sense of déjà vu settled over her. Hadn’t she just had a conversation with her sister about holding on to anger as an excuse not to do something? ‘Of course not. My life is back in London. My ET hearing starts on Monday. I have to go back.’ Her denial was scarily similar to her sister’s.
‘Actually, you don’t.’
Charlotte placed her glass down on the bar. ‘Excuse me?’
‘At this precise moment in time, you have no job and no home. Technically, there’s no reason for you to return to London.’
‘Maybe not, but I want to go back. It’s where I belong.’
Dusty took her hand. ‘Are you sure you’re not running away because you’re scared?’
She withdrew her hand. ‘What on earth have I got to be scared about?’
Dusty shrugged. ‘Admitting you want a different life? Risking a change of direction?’
‘I love being an interior designer,’ Charlotte said, which was true. ‘I don’t want to change.’ This was entirely untrue.
‘I don’t mean your career.’
‘What, then?’
Dusty leant forwards. The stage was now in full view. ‘Do you remember that first day in Penmullion, when you found me handcuffed to a tree?’
Charlotte could see Barney strumming his guitar in her peripheral vision. ‘How could I forget?’
‘You were wound tighter than an old lady’s perm. You turned your nose up at everything and found fault in everyone.’
‘I know who to come to for a character reference.’ She ignored Dusty’s laughter. ‘May I remind you, I was in a bad place? I’d just lost my job, my home and my boyfriend. I was allowed to be stressed.’
Dusty looked reproachful. ‘Honey, it takes a lifetime to get that wound up. You can’t tell me that hadn’t been building for years?’
True, but she refused to admit as much.
‘Over these last few months, I’ve seen a complete transformation. You’ve learnt how to laugh, love and be happy. I just figured staying here and continuing to grow might appeal, that’s all.’
Charlotte would be lying if she didn’t admit similar thoughts had crossed her mind, but she figured this wasn’t just about Penmullion, it was about a change in mindset. ‘I’ll admit that what you’re saying isn’t complete rubbish – but it’s only because I haven’t had the stress of work to contend with. I’ve been on holiday. I’ve been playing at life, indulging in creative activities and letting my hair down, but that can’t continue.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s not based on reality. It’s wishful thinking, it’s a … a midsummer night’s dream. It’s based on fantasy, not real life.’ She climbed off the bar stool. ‘I know you mean well, and thank you for being a wonderfully good and eccentric friend, but the sooner I resume my old life, the better it’ll be for everyone.’
‘You sure about that?’ Dusty gestured to the stage. ‘Did you know he’s decided to return to medicine? He’s accepted a place at Hammersmith, starting in September. Now, I wonder why he did that?’
Charlotte glanced at the stage, wondering the same thing. Why hadn’t he told her? But then, she supposed she hadn’t given him the opportunity. ‘It doesn’t change anything. I still don’t want to be with a man who stood by and let my sister be bullied by a loan shark. How could I trust someone who didn’t have the decency to protect her, or support his friend when he decided action was needed?’
Dusty sighed. ‘Because, despite messing up, he loves you. I don’t think he meant for it to happen, but it did. He fell in love with you. And I rather suspect you feel the same way.’
What nonsense. Charlotte shook her head, refusing to hear what Dusty was saying. It was ludicrous to think she’d fallen in love. She just needed some distance. A return to being in control … just without the headaches and obsessive behaviour. ‘Whatever we had is over. We’re not compatible.’
Dusty raised an eyebrow. ‘You sure about that?’
Refusing to look at Barney, Charlotte kissed Dusty’s cheek. ‘Positive. Take care of Lauren for me. I’ll send you my new address when I’ve found somewhere to live.’
Dusty kissed her back. ‘Think about what I said, okay? Stop being stubborn. And when he’s back in London and calls you, forgive him.’ She nodded to the stage, where Barney had just started singing, Gotye’s ‘Somebody That I Used to Know’.
The irony wasn’t lost on Charlotte.
She shook her head. ‘He won’t call.’
‘I guess only time will tell. Bye-bye, sweetie.’
Charlotte headed for the door, unable to resist one quick glance at the stage. The impact was hard and fast. Barney was looking right at her. The intensity in his eyes made her gasp.
Fumbling for the door, she almost fell out of the pub, eager to distance herself from the what-ifs filling her brain. What was the point? It wasn’t like she was ever going to see him again. She was better off keeping her distance. There was nothing to be gained from prolonging the agony.
Her life was back in London, and it didn’t include Barney Hubble.