The next morning, my phone screen was filled with missed calls and messages from Megan. It was safe to say that judging from the hearts, kisses, and cuddles emojis that filled the screen, she was happy with the gift. And the feeling I got from making her happy was so much better than the one I had when I’d booked the trip for myself and James.
I decided to leave Megan and Sam alone a little while longer. Since the purchase of the cottage was all going through smoothly, I went back home – to my old house – to sort out my belongings. As I drove there, I became a little apprehensive about what, or whom, I might find in the house. Willing myself into strong-mindedness, I arrived and pressed the fob to open the gates. They squeaked open – James obviously hadn’t been on top of maintenance in my absence.
His car wasn’t in the driveway, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in as he often parked it in the garage. I’d just have to enter the house to find out. As I turned the lock and opened the door, I was greeted by darkness and a stale smell. I retched. My morning sickness had almost passed, but I was still susceptible to strong unpleasant odours.
‘Hello?’ I shouted, but there was no reply. I walked down the hallway and popped my head in the lounge. The place was a tip. An empty whisky bottle sat on the table and there was a pizza box and an orange polystyrene takeaway box sat next to it. Empty beer cans littered the floor and the curtains were drawn, shrouding the whole room in darkness – it was a far cry from the cosy room we used to snuggle up in. I was about to walk off when I spotted an arm fall off the sofa. A man’s arm. James’s arm. He sat up, rubbing his eyes before squinting in my direction.
‘Charlotte?’
‘Well, aren’t you a sorry sight?’ I said, folding my arms.
‘Why are you here?’ He didn’t sound as mad as I’d expected.
‘I’ve come to pick up some things. But I don’t want to disturb whatever this is.’ I cast a hand around the room. ‘I can come back later.’
‘Well, I’ve had a lot to deal with,’ he said sarcastically.
I perched myself on the arm of the chair, facing the sofa. ‘Did you come clean then?’
‘You left me very little choice,’ he said simply. ‘They’ve voted me out of the company and they’re going to turn over the evidence and go for a guilty plea. Phil isn’t going to say anything because a bribery charge on top of everything else won’t help his case. The Haidens are paying me out because I’ve built that business with them but it isn’t my full share and I’m basically blacklisted – I’ll never work again. Not around here anyway.’ He let out a small humourless laugh before adding, ‘And this is the phew, lucky me outcome.’
I shrugged. ‘What did you expect?’
‘How can you be so callous?’
His comment enraged me. He hadn’t given our baby the time of day yet I was callous?
‘Excuse me? You accepted the money knowing you had to lie about the truth. You broke the law; you had the affair. You blew your second chance with me and the chance of having a family and you brought your business into jeopardy. If you’re looking for someone to blame, I suggest you stand up and look at your greedy self in the mirror.’ I jabbed my finger angrily at the mirror above the fireplace.
His eyes widened. ‘People make mistakes.’
‘Yes, yes, people do, which is why I forgave you for your affair when I found out. When people repeat those mistakes and make calculated decisions and break the law for the sake of money, James, it’s intentional. You say I’m callous for not giving a damn about your situation and perhaps you’re right, maybe I am, because I really don’t give a damn. But we’re talking about a job and money here.’ I paused to allow my words to sink in.
‘Those things are all you care about. There’s no exception, not even for your family!’ I realised I was screaming as hot emotions boiled up and moisture started squeezing out from the corners of my eyes. ‘You don’t give a damn about us.’ My voice shook and my body did too. I clutched my stomach protectively.
James sat for a moment, staring at me with a crumpled expression on his face. ‘All I wanted was for us to have a nice life.’
‘You wanted you to have a nice life, James; otherwise, you’d have been there for me and cared about our baby when you were shagging a throng of tarts over your office desk.’
I was still trembling as I stormed upstairs. I hadn’t realised how angry and upset I was. Since I’d left, I’d put on a brave face, not wanting people to spot a weakness in me. Even at that point, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. I was a boiling cauldron of anger, humiliation, and profound sadness for our baby, whose father couldn’t ever seem to put him or her first. I’d thought I was scared to be going it alone without my wealth, but it struck me that I shouldn’t have been because I would never be alone again because I had my baby.
Realising that had been an awakening and I started to pity people like James and Lauren, who truly believed they had it all but couldn’t figure out why they were still miserable. James would never have enough money and Lauren would never be truly loved. She was a trophy wife who married her unattractive, miserable husband for money. It dawned on me that was why she’d always been so nasty to me. She was jealous that I’d married for love.
I checked the boxes that Janine had already packed. Fortunately, they were well organised and labelled: hair and beauty, bath stuff, jewellery, etc. I couldn’t even imagine ever needing half of it again, never mind having space for it all. I heaved the boxes downstairs one at a time and packed as many of them into my car that would fit.
James was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall, when I came back in to get the last one. He’d showered and dressed, and for a split second I could forget the horrors of what he’d done and look at him like I used to. My stomach flipped catching me off-guard and it irritated me – I didn’t want to have feelings for him.
‘We could make a go of us you know. Be a family. Start again.’
Was he for real? It was like the things I’d just said had been erased from his memory somehow. ‘James, I am starting again and you need to move on too. The things you’ve done are unforgivable and you’re starting to feel the consequences. Now you’re lucky because you will get your second chance. You get to scrap “shallow tosser James” and become “James the father”.’ I cocked my head to the side. ‘That’s a pretty big deal and not something you deserve.’
His eyes were fixed on the carpet and it was impossible to tell if my words had penetrated so I got my things and left. I managed to drive to the end of the road before bursting into tears.
***
‘Charlotte!’ Megan screeched when I walked in.
I pulled at my earlobe, trying to dispel the ringing noise. ‘Please, you don’t need to say anything. I’ve spoken to the travel agent and I’ll need your passport details, but otherwise, you’re good to go. Perhaps you and Sam can spend some time together and finally figure out what it is you’re both doing,’ I said.
I had my cottage move to look forward to and the time alone would help me prepare mentally.
‘It’s so generous! I need to start planning what I’m going to wear. I can’t believe it’s only a week away – there’s so much to do.’ She jumped up and down like a child before bouncing upstairs, presumably to go through her wardrobe.
I sighed before shouting, ‘Megan?’
‘Yes?’ She popped her head over the bannister at the top of the stairs.
‘There’s a suitcase in my car that has a label saying “summer clothes”. If you hoist it in for me, you can pick whatever you’d like to take – it’s not like I’ll be fitting into them any time soon.’
‘Eek, thank you!’ she squealed again, and I envisaged dogs everywhere with a five-mile radius cowering under coffee tables.
Just seeing her cheerful face perked me up, though – so much so that I had an idea. Once she’d lugged the case in along with another marked ‘everyday clothes’, I got in the car, drove to the charity shop on the high street, and dumped every single box. What did I want with all that fancy stuff that wouldn’t fit in my cottage anyway? The last box was the large one marked ‘shoes’ and I stood, lingering with it in the doorway. ‘Did you want to leave that one too?’ the nice lady behind the counter asked.
I looked down at the open box, hesitating. The red Valentinos that I’d worn years ago to my engagement party were in there. My ivory Manolos, worn only on my wedding day, and the beautiful black Jimmy Choos that I’d bought for our tenth anniversary dinner lay just underneath. Each pair of those shoes had a story; each pair had been selected specifically for a special occasion.
But it wasn’t the shoes that should have held sentiment, it was the memories and those I’d always have. Despite their tarnished glaze, I was happy on each of those occasions, but not because of the expensive shoes. I was embarking on a new adventure, one that probably required a more substantial choice of footwear. I didn’t want to dwell on the past, and there wasn’t a pair in there I could wear while running around after a baby. I thrust the box forward. ‘Yes please.’
The phone rang as I stepped outside the shop. It was my solicitor. My fingers started to tingle as I fumbled with the slippery casing to answer.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello, Mrs Emsworth. We’ve been reviewing everything and in light of your husband’s adultery and everything else you’ve told us, we expect the divorce to happen quite quickly. The divorce application has been issued and now we’re awaiting the Acknowledgement of Service form from the respondent.’ I thanked him and hung up.
I was on a high-speed train heading for an unknown destination and it both excited me and scared me in equal measure. But it was happening, and fear was something I’d just have to put up with. My body started to feel lighter, despite the small neat bump protruding from my middle. It was all starting to feel very real.
***
A few days later, things seemed to have died down a little. I’d not heard anything from James, and Megan and Sam were looking forward to their holiday. I’d always been a believer in being in charge of your own happiness and despite losing sight of that belief for a few years, I was starting to feel it again. I’d snuggled into a great group of friends who loved me, my baby was on the way, and I was excited about my new home – I was in control of my happiness and wasn’t going to be disappointed by another human again.
This belief was partly why I’d accepted James’s poor decisions. He hadn’t figured out how to be happy and still believed materialistic things were the answer. Until he knew what he wanted, I could never have made him happy because he’d always want more. It was a toxic and consuming way of life that he’d have to figure out on his own.
Once he sorted himself out, we could perhaps be friends. I didn’t even hold malice towards him because, ultimately, we’re born alone and we die alone and we have one life in between. That gap between life and death is a one-time opportunity and we either enjoy it and make the most of what we have, or we’re consumed by negativity, be that greed, longing, hatred, spite, envy, or whatever. What I’m trying to say is, life is too short.
I was sitting flicking through furniture brochures alone, still pondering life when my phone buzzed. It was a text message from Andrew.
Sorry if this is a bit weird, but I know you mentioned you worked with the Springwell Children’s Hospice and my class are learning about charities as part of our topic work. Would you mind popping in to talk about what you do? It would just be twenty minutes or so. Andrew
I read it again. I wasn’t sure I was cut out to impart wisdom upon children, but it was a great opportunity to spread the word about charity work and if I was being honest, being in Andrew’s company again wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Seeing him the other day had stirred up a range of feelings I thought I’d buried. I wasn’t sure if the message meant anything more than just the talk, but it was my only plausible chance to see him soon.
I’d be more than happy to spread the word about my wonderful charity. When do you need me?
I hit send and he replied almost instantly.
Would Monday be too soon? Say, nine-thirty after the class is settled.
That’s fine.
***
I pulled up at Wilmslow CofE School at quarter-past nine. The small redbrick building looked very traditional with its dark tiled, pitched roof. The playground was gated and secured with a green iron fence. It was calm and still, awaiting the patter of rather small feet. A bit like me I thought excitedly.
Taking a deep breath, I buzzed the intercom. ‘Charlotte Emsworth here to see Andrew, er, Mr Watts, please.’ There was no reply, but a sharp buzz prompted me to open the gate. I walked towards the double doors with glowing yellow lights shining through the glass from beyond.
The reception was just inside the doors.
‘Sign in, please, and I’ll let Mr Watts know you’ve arrived,’ said a plump lady with red hair who was sitting behind the desk.
‘Thank you.’ There was a red plastic classroom chair next to the desk so I sat down and waited. I wasn’t usually the sort to be sitting nervously waiting outside the school office, and the thought amused me. A flustered woman burst in, bags akimbo, shepherding a small blond boy with a runny nose, and I wondered if I’d be the same in four or five years. I heard something muttered about a late slip before a piece of paper was handed to the woman and she scuttled down the corridor, the little boy in tow.
‘Charlotte?’
I spun around. ‘Andrew! Hello. This is a lovely school.’ I gestured to the artwork on the walls, which resembled Picasso’s finest work. I had never understood abstract art but probably should pay more attention if I was going to raise a child in the near future. ‘Seems like a really nice place to work.’
‘It has its moments,’ he said. ‘Time to meet the rabble.’ He led me down the corridor the flustered woman had just disappeared down. As we stood outside the room, I could hear shouting and squeals. ‘Watch this,’ he said with a grin. ‘It’s my superpower.’ He flung the door open animatedly and stood broad on the threshold with his hands on his hips. The whole class fell silent in two seconds flat. He held the pose for a moment and looked around the room, making eye contact with a few of the children.
‘Now, if you’ve quite finished issuing your morning digests, I have a visitor.’ There were one or two gasps from the children and another couple who sat up excruciatingly straight in their seats, folding their arms to look neat; perhaps they thought I was an OFSTED inspector or something. I stifled a giggle.
‘Please welcome Ms—’ he glanced at me on the Ms, to make sure I was happy with it, and I nodded ‘—Emsworth with a good morning.’
‘Good morning, Ms Emsworth, good morning, everybody,’ the class chorused. I felt quite important.
Andrew talked to the class about why I was there, and I spent ten minutes talking about all the good work Springwell did. I showed them a picture of the disability swing that I’d raised money for (sort of) and talked to them about how the children there can’t play outside in the same way they might. At the end, I offered to answer questions. A little girl asked if she could donate some of her birthday money and another child asked if the ‘poorly children’ were happy when they came to the centre. He was thrilled when I told him they were.
It had all gone fairly smoothly until a butter-wouldn’t-melt, pigtailed blonde girl asked the final question. ‘Are you Mr Watts’s wife?’
I shook my head. ‘No, no I’m not. Any more questions?’
Pigtailed blondie thrust her arm in the air again, and I glanced at Andrew. ‘Skye, we’re not going to be married either,’ he said, rolling his eyes. I felt the tips of my ears start to burn.
‘But, sir, I wasn’t going to ask that!’ she cried.
Andrew looked at me and I nodded. ‘Very well,’ he said to her with a sigh.
She looked me square in the eyes. ‘Would you like to be married to Mr Watts, Ms Emsworth?’
I could feel the heat spread to my face. ‘I think it’s time to design our charity posters now,’ I said, not daring to look at Andrew.
***
‘How the hell did she know?’ asked Kate when I relayed the story over her breakfast bar the following evening. I rolled my eyes.
‘Funnily enough,’ I said, sipping my tea, ‘that’s not even the worst part.’ I pulled a piece of paper out of my tote bag and laid it in front of her.
She clasped her hand to her mouth, but it was ineffective in stifling the giggle that ensued. ‘Was this drawn by Pigtails?’ she asked.
I nodded, taking in the sketch. It was actually quite good; the man was in a suit and labelled ‘Mr Watts, the best teacher in the world’, and I was wearing a long white gown and a floral veil. My label said ‘Mrs Watts, the pretty charity lady’. I was carrying a bouquet of red flowers and there was a church behind us.
She’d received a sad face on her behaviour chart for ‘not sticking to the task’, and I’d felt a little bit sorry for her, but Andrew had no choice, I supposed.
‘What did Andrew make of this?’ Kate asked, eyes twinkling with humour.
‘We didn’t get a chance to talk about it as the children were there and another teacher walked out with us because they wanted more information on Springwell. All he said was, “Why don’t you keep this, Ms Emsworth, to remind you of your time here today?”.’ His eyes had met mine when he said it, sending a shiver up my spine.
‘And you haven’t made any more plans to see each other?’
‘No, but he has lots on at the moment: parents’ evenings, school trips, and sports days. The summer term is busy.’ I shrugged. My phone buzzed on the counter: it was Megan.
Sam and I are going out (it’s not a date but I’m *sort of* treating it as one). There’s an official-looking letter addressed to you on the kitchen table – looks a bit legalish. M xx
‘Looks like I’m about to find out whether or not James has disputed the divorce proceedings,’ I said, showing Kate the text.
‘Do you think he would have?’
‘I honestly don’t know. He’s been against me leaving and practically begs me to stay with him when I see him. He might do.’ My chest tightened at the thought. The whole situation was his doing. Surely he owes me this one ray of light at the end of the tunnel?
‘He owes you!’ Kate said, as if she were reading my mind.
‘I think I’m going to go – I can’t relax knowing the envelope is sat there waiting. Thanks for dinner.’ I stood up, stuffing my phone into my bag.
‘You’ve not even eaten it yet! It’s still in the oven.’
‘I know, I’m so sorry.’ I kissed her on the cheek and gave her a hug.
‘It’s fine. I made it myself so it’s probably inedible. At least take a bread roll – they’re fresh from the bakery.’
‘I suppose I don’t have to worry about being bloated any more, do I?’ I patted my stomach and took a fresh roll from the basket on my way out.
When I got back to Megan’s house, I made a beeline for the table in the kitchen. Megan had propped the thick, white envelope up against the fruit bowl to make sure I saw it. Sitting down, I slowly slid my nail along the seal and pulled out the documents.