Chapter 43
When I wake up, all is silent downstairs. I check the time on my phone: nine thirty. I bet he’s taken April for breakfast. . .
I lie there for a while, staring up at the ceiling. I can’t believe what happened last night. It was incredible, but I feel both blissfully jittery and sickeningly nervous at the thought of it. Things got out of hand so quickly. Neither of us had time to stop and think. I know how I feel about him, but how is he coping today? I really hope I haven’t messed everything up. So much for taking small Borrowers-style steps. That was more like huge, crashing, rampaging, baddies-from-The BFG ones.
I feel very unsettled as I get up and go into the bathroom, turning on the shower. I went straight to bed last night and my skin feels tight and dry from the seawater.
I’m dressed and feeling fresher by the time they return, but my nerves are still pulsing away. I watch from the window as Charlie gets April out of her pram, leaving it outside, then I go and open the door for them.
‘Hi!’ he says with surprise.
‘Hi.’
We share a long, lingering look until he breaks the eye contact.
‘I brought you some breakfast,’ he says as April toddles through the door, into the living room. I gently stroke her light-blonde curls and smile down at her as she passes. Charlie brings out a plate of fresh fruit and pastries from the pram’s under-seat basket. ‘I didn’t know if you’d want something more substantial.’
‘This is perfect, thank you.’ I take it from him, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. I try to exhale deeply to release some of the pressure on my chest as I go and sit on the sofa. ‘How are you feeling?’ I ask carefully.
‘Okay,’ he replies, slumping wearily into the armchair. He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes for a long moment.
‘You want to talk?’ I ask.
‘Not now.’ He looks at April as she takes pieces of fruit out of the fruit bowl, one by one, and puts them on the coffee table.
Oh, God. . . He regrets it. . .
April picks up a bright-pink and lime-green dragon fruit and toddles off to the bedroom with it. I look at Charlie. Now can we talk?
‘I don’t know what to say,’ he murmurs.
‘You wish it hadn’t happened?’
‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘My head’s all over the place right now.’ He sits forward in his chair, clasping his hands together between his knees. ‘This. . .’ He looks around the room. ‘This is Nicki’s place.’ He’s not talking about what’s within these circular walls: he means the resort. ‘She only died a year ago. She paid for April and me to come here. It doesn’t feel right.’ He looks at me directly. ‘It feels wrong.’
The blood drains from my face.
He shakes his head, frustrated. ‘It didn’t feel wrong. It is wrong.’
‘I understand what you’re saying.’ This is exactly what I feared and I could kick myself for not having more restraint. ‘But Charlie. . .’
‘Like I said, my head’s all over the place,’ he interrupts. ‘I need time and space to think, but I don’t have time and I definitely don’t have space.’ He casts a significant look at the bedroom, where April is still merrily babbling away.
‘I can give you time and space,’ I say, leaning forward. I’d give anything to be able to take him in my arms, but I know that wouldn’t be welcome right now. ‘Why don’t you go somewhere today? I’ll look after April.’
He starts to shake his head.
‘I want to,’ I insist. ‘You could visit one of the caves. Or you could walk up to the top of the cliffs. There’s a lake up there. They do guided tours, if you want, or you could just take a map and explore.’
He ponders it. ‘What about you?’ he asks. ‘Don’t you need to go to the caves and stuff while you’re here?’
‘I can go another day,’ I reply. ‘It’s not suitable for children, anyway, so we couldn’t bring April with us. Maybe you could take my camera and click off a few photos for me?’
‘You’re sure?’ he asks. He’s not taking much persuading – he really does need to get away for a bit.
‘Absolutely.’
‘Okay.’ He stands up and flashes me a small smile before heading into his bedroom.
He hasn’t touched me once.
I’d better keep busy today so I don’t fret too much. I know exactly where my head is at. With a little time and breathing space, hopefully Charlie will see that we can make this work. We have to forge forward now. Going backwards is not an option.
I just hope he agrees with me.
‘Bridget’s going to look after you today, okay?’ Charlie says to April when he re-emerges a few minutes later with her in his arms. He’s wearing a hat and trainers, and he has a backpack slung over his shoulder with two water bottles stashed in the outside pockets.
April stretches her arms out to me and Charlie smiles as he passes her over, all of my hair follicles standing to attention as our arms brush. ‘Thank you,’ he says, meeting my eyes.
I smile at April. ‘We’re going to have fun, aren’t we?’ She smiles back at me and tugs my hair. I tickle her ribs and chastise her jokily. She’s still laughing her head off when Charlie goes out of the door.
At lunchtime, April and I wander over to the infinity pool. I order some food and we spend an hour or so splashing around in the baby area. She’s fascinated by the older children and I think she’d stay there all day if I didn’t have a sleep timetable to stick to. That thought makes me think of Kate.
I know Kate adores her niece – surely she wouldn’t let Charlie’s love life get in the way of April’s happiness? Because any family feud will affect her, if not now, then when she’s older. I just don’t believe Charlie isn’t capable of making Kate and Valerie see that we’re good for each other; that I could be good for April.
Despite all of the inner turmoil I’m feeling about Charlie, the day with his daughter is perfect. My chest keeps expanding with joy – every time April giggles, every time she kisses a baby’s face in one of her small cardboard books, every time she does something funny such as splash her face with water and jump with shock. Whatever happens with Charlie, I want to be in April’s life. Even if I’m just silly Aunty Bridget.
The thought makes my eyes prick with tears. I don’t want to be Aunty Bridget, I want to be more than that. And I really, really mean it, from the deepest depths of my heart. What a turnaround for someone who believed she didn’t want to have children.
Charlie returns when April has been down for her afternoon nap for an hour. My heart skips a beat at the sight of his handsome, but exhausted, face.
‘Okay?’ I ask him cautiously as he comes in the door.
‘Yeah.’ He nods. ‘Thank you.’
‘I was about to wake April.’ I’m pausing at the entrance to his room.
He indicates for me to lead the way. I set about opening the wooden venetian blinds while he walks over to her cot.
‘Baby,’ he says softly, leaning in to brush her arm. ‘Was everything okay today?’ he asks me as daylight begins to fill the room. There are a lot of blinds in here.
‘It was perfect,’ I reply with a smile, nodding at the cot, where April has now woken.
‘Hey,’ he says sweetly. She makes a sound of annoyance.
‘Hello,’ I say, going over to peer into her cot.
She glances from him to me, me to him, and then stretches her arms out to me.
‘Aah,’ I say with delight, bending down to lift her up. As I cuddle her to me, I turn to smile at Charlie. But he doesn’t return the warmth of my gaze. In fact, his expression is bleak.
Alain is expecting us for an early dinner at his restaurant tonight. Apparently, he wasn’t happy at breakfast when Charlie refused his offer of lining up another babysitter so we could enjoy his full five-star dining experience. Charlie said he thought two sitters in two nights was excessive, so we’d eat early and bring April with us.
I have a feeling he’s also trying to avoid a repeat of last night.
We didn’t get much of a chance to speak earlier, so I bring my camera with me and, when we’re settled, I ask him to talk me through the shots he took up on the cliff top. As the evening wears on, he seems to feel more at ease in my company.
I’m longing to be tactile with him, but, when I touch his hand, he withdraws, putting it under the table. He glances towards the restaurant, and I know he’s worried that Alain might see us and draw conclusions. I hope that’s all it is.
Later, when April’s in bed, I ask Charlie if he’d like to watch a film.
‘I think I might be too tired,’ he replies, looking at me apologetically from his position on the armchair. ‘Sorry,’ he adds when my face falls.
I’m trying so hard to return us to a happier, more normal place. Well, normal is the wrong word, but I’d do anything to relieve some of the awkwardness and tension that’s vibrating between us.
He obviously feels sorry for me, because he says, ‘Do you want to put some music on?’
He knows what will cheer me up. I smile at him and head spiritedly towards the stairs, returning with my speaker. I find the song I want and press PLAY before turning around to catch him observing me.
He realises I’ve chosen ‘Up Where We Belong’ by Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes from the moment the piano starts to play. It’s that instantly recognisable. His lips curve upwards as I raise one eyebrow at him, and then Jennifer Warnes begins to sing.
‘Who knows what tomorrow brings. . .’
He laughs under his breath as I melodramatically and earnestly lip-sync to the lyrics from my standing position in the middle of the living space. I nod at him pointedly, urging him to come in when it’s time for Joe Cocker’s lines, but he shakes his head, smirking at me, so I act out his part instead, clapping my hand to my heart and pretending to climb mountains. He looks amused, but he’s still not singing.
I sigh and throw myself into the chorus and he, in turn, throws his head back and laughs. I’m still trying to get him to join in with me – don’t leave me hanging, buddy – but he resists.
I sway back and forth when Joe Cocker takes on the second verse, sighing dreamily as though I’m deeply in love – which I am, by the way – and then I take over again when Jennifer Warnes sings her part, pretending to be solemn and serious, while also thinking, Jesus, these lyrics are really fucking appropriate, actually.
I prompt him again when it comes to the chorus. Come on, Charlie, meet me halfway here! And then he does it! He screws up his face and mimics it perfectly. I burst out laughing, so full of love for him.
As the chorus repeats, I walk over to him, no longer lip-syncing along. His eyebrows pull together when I climb onto his lap. Going backwards is not an option. . . He doesn’t stop me, and, when the song finally fades away, we’re still staring at each other. I slowly bend down and brush my lips against his. He lets me, even though I know he’s feeling torn right now. I’m straddling his lap and his body responds beneath me when we deepen our kiss.
‘Bridget. . .’ he whispers against my lips.
I try to kiss his worries away.