Chasing Charlie (18 page)

‘I hope I haven't interrupted anything,' Lucy asked.

‘No, nothing exciting, babe. Sam here is an old friend, a bit like a cousin in a way. We've been putting the world to rights.'

‘Oh? I don't think you've mentioned her before,' she replied coolly, bringing her tea to the door of the kitchen.

A bit like a cousin? My face was going to crack with this smile. I dropped it for a moment although that was probably the wrong thing to do. Now I probably looked upset as well as guilty.

‘Don't lump me into your family, thank you very much. I've got a perfectly respectable one myself.'

Lucy smirked and I relaxed, ever so slightly. But I had to get out of there. I felt sick. I stood up.

‘I should get going really, get home for supper.' I picked my jacket up off the back of my chair and put it on, my heart thumping loudly enough to be heard.

‘Oh, don't let me change your plans,' Lucy said.

‘No, really, I should be going. I just popped by for—'

‘A cup of tea,' finished Charlie. No, that wasn't a good look. Hesitation over explanations was dodgy. God, could this be any worse? I walked over to the couch to find my handbag and there I saw that yes, things could get infinitely worse. Slumped quietly on the floor, down the end that Charlie was sitting in originally, was a condom – a white, shiny bomb. My stomach was in my mouth instantly, along with my heart, my morals, my backbone. It was very crowded in there and for a moment I was sure I was going to empty everything all over the cream sofa but I swallowed it all down. How could Lucy have missed seeing it when she put her coat down? And how the hell was I going to pick it up without being noticed? Lucy and Charlie were standing yards away, watching me. My handbag was sitting uselessly on ‘my' end of the sofa. Perhaps . . . my mind raced . . . yes, it could work. I braced myself; I didn't have an option. I walked around to get my bag from the sofa. From here, it would have made sense to the onlooker for me to walk back around the back of the sofa and go to the door. Instead I awkwardly manoeuvred my way through the small gap between the sofa and table, bending over as I did to smell the lilies. I could feel them watching me, no doubt bemused by my strange actions, and I hoped Lucy couldn't see me shaking as I inhaled the pollen deeply. There . . . and here it comes, a rushing, bubbling
a-tish-
hoo!
that forced me to drop me bag.

‘Bless you!' came the beautifully intonated vowels from behind. Eyes streaming, I bent down to retrieve my bag, scooping up the condom as I did so. I straightened, holding my bag close to my body in one hand, like a little dog, with the squelching condom wedged wetly between my fingers and the bottom of my handbag. I prayed it wasn't slipping between my fingers and wouldn't dangle into view. I turned back towards the kitchen, my vision blurry and sinuses still buzzing. I went to rub my eyes with my free hand and discovered I had somehow got pollen on my hand. I looked at the orange on my fingertips. I'd probably got it smeared all over my face. What a muppet. I felt completely out of my depth. I had no place here in this smart house with my falling-apart cheap pumps, my unbrushed hair and my orange-smeared face. I longed to be home in the safety of Queen's Park.

‘Well, bye then, see you again, nice to see you both,' I said, cheeks burning. Lucy came over to say goodbye, offering her hand again, but my right hand was full of hidden bagged semen and my bag. I held up my left hand to show her the pollen on my fingers, as if to say, sorry, really messy, darling, can't shake! And then I disappeared down the stairs, my heart hammering under my ribs, with Lucy calling out behind me, ‘Bye, Sam, nice to meet you.'

ED

I stood across the road from the hospital, watching the faces leaving the silent, revolving doors. Now and then I would glance quickly at the pic on my phone from Charlie's Facebook page, just to refresh my memory. But when he appeared I realised immediately that any concerns about not recognising him were pointless. I would have recognised Charlie on a dark, foggy night. He stood tall and confident, and that haircut was for real, straight out of
Four Weddings
. Charlie paused for a moment, as if thinking about what direction he was going in, and then set off down the street. I followed him at a discreet distance, feeling full of fizz. It was the same buzz I felt when I was on the scent of a strong image.

Charlie reached a cluster of upmarket bars and restaurants, which even on a Monday evening were starting to fill up with City workers. He entered a dark bar. I followed. It was warm inside. A curved bar in dark wood stretched down one side of the room, with most of the punters milling nearby. A few small round tables on tall legs were dotted down the left-hand wall. I clocked an empty table at the very back of the room and I headed for a space at the bar closest to it, passing Charlie greeting a couple of suits on my way. Once I had my pint, I took up a seat at the table and pulled out my phone, keeping my head down as I pretended to be immersed in it. No one seemed to even notice me as I sat in the shadows. Surreptitious glances clocked Charlie greeting several other men and women, his smile wide and gestures expansive. I counted three pints going into his mouth within half an hour. ‘Thirsty are we, Charlie boy?' I muttered under my breath.

After about forty minutes, a woman came through the door and I watched as nearly every man, and most women in the room, looked her way. She could have stepped out of a fashion magazine. Long graceful legs, thick, shiny blonde hair, and a porcelain face with arched brows framing perfectly proportioned features. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman in the room. And she walked straight up to Charlie and kissed him on the mouth. He put his arm around her proprietarily (as well you might, Charlie boy – every man in this room would have her if they could), and put his face close to hers as she spoke to him.

His girlfriend looked like she'd been made especially for Charlie – beautiful, well dressed and obviously not short of a bob or three, and I asked myself yet again why he was mucking around with Sam – in fact, why he would want to play away at all? It could only be for the thrill of getting away with it – Charlie must get off on the duplicity. I studied her some more for a bit. She looked elegant and self-contained standing with the rowdy suits, their body language cocksure, their feet planted wide apart, oozing confidence, and the most sickening thing to me was that even from across the room, I could see that she was a nice person, with a good heart. It was disgusting that Charlie was cheating on her, and how could Sam think this was OK?

I'd had enough of all this. I had to get out of there. I slid off my stool and took a couple of steps towards Charlie and the exit but then stopped in my tracks. There, coming through the door, was Rebecca. I quickly turned on my heel and headed into the Gents. Why, out of all the bars in London, did she have to choose this one to come to at this moment? I went into a cubicle and shut the door.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I lowered the seat lid, sat down on the toilet and tried to think of a plan. I twisted around and looked behind me – no window to climb out of. I ran my hands through my hair. I couldn't just sit in the toilet all night waiting for her to leave. I would just have to get out there and ‘bump into her' and act surprised. I took a deep breath and stood up, unlatched the door and then changed my mind, locking it again before undoing my fly. I'd relieve myself first, that's what. As I peed, I wondered to myself what it was about Rebecca that made me unsettled. It wasn't like she had anything over me.

Did she?

I shook my head; I couldn't bear analysing her any more than necessary. All I wanted was to get the hell out of there.

I opened the bathroom door a crack and spotted her in the middle of a group next to the bar. So far, so good. I may yet slip past without her noticing. I took my phone out again and set off through the bar, studying it intently as I weaved my way through the crowd. I sensed the door getting closer and was almost going to breathe a sigh of relief when I heard my name being screeched above the bubbling, barking voices.

‘Ed!'

I turned – what else could I do? – and forced myself to look distractedly across the faces of the crowd before finding Rebecca.

‘Rebecca?' I said, hoping I looked surprised.

Rebecca pushed past her friends and threw her arms around me when she reached me, her body pushed up against mine. I had to shift my body to accommodate her weight and, in doing so, put my arms around her waist to steady her. As she drew back, her tipsy state was confirmed by her eyes, which looked a little dislodged, as if they'd been shaken violently and hadn't quite returned to their accustomed position.

‘Erm, hi, Rebecca, fancy bumping into you.'

‘I could say the same. What brings you to the City?'

‘I, um, I was meeting a friend, but they' – I waved my phone pathetically at her – ‘can't make it after all.'

‘They?'

‘Ah, no, I mean he.'

‘Aren't you the mysterious one? Well, let me buy you a drink, we can't have you on your own.'

‘No, really, I should get going . . .'

But it was no use – Rebecca dragged me into the thicket of City slickers at the bar and started introducing me to everyone, somehow producing a pint for me in record time.

I smiled and nodded and smiled some more and shook hands with half a dozen men as they grilled me about how I knew Rebecca, and she stood next to me, far closer than I was comfortable with, with her arm on mine. Then she shrieked again, ‘Charlie! Come and meet Ed,' and waved furiously until he broke away from his leggy girlfriend and joined us.

This can't be happening, I thought.

‘Charlie, this is Ed. Sam's flatmate's brother. Ed, this is Charlie.'

Charlie's face lit up. ‘Ah, the photographer!' he boomed. ‘Just returned from India, haven't you?'

‘That's me.'

I glanced at Rebecca, about to tell her off for gossiping about me, but she looked blank. She obviously hadn't told Charlie about me. The only other person who knew Charlie was Sam. She'd been talking to Charlie about me! I grinned and felt filled with largesse about life. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

Another drink appeared and another and another, and I melted into an affable drunkenness. Like the party I'd been to the week before, I found that as I chatted to Rebecca's friends, I started thinking they weren't all that bad – in fact some were actually quite interesting. One of them even reminded me I'd met him before. And after a while I didn't even mind Rebecca's arm on my sleeve. She needed it more and more, as the night wore on.

But then I came to a point where I just wanted to be in bed. The spying and then several pints on an empty stomach were suddenly and deeply tiring. Rebecca came outside with me to say goodbye.

‘It was great to see you, Ed,' she slurred.

‘I had an enjoyable evening.' I reached out and held her up as she swayed. ‘Are you sure you're OK to get home?'

‘Are you offering me a bed for the night?'

‘No, and I'm afraid I can't even pay for a cab for you either. I'm fairly useless, really.' I watched her closely for signs of disappointment, relieved to see there were none.

‘Oh don't worry, they'll get me home OK, they are all,' she waved at the bar, ‘all perfect gentlemen,' and she grinned, delighted at herself.

‘Well, I've got to go, thanks for the great night.' I took a step away from her tentatively, testing her to see if she'd stay upright.

‘There is one thing before you go, Ed.'

‘Yes?' I asked uneasily. I was really rather keen to get away now.

‘Would you come to Charlie's birthday party with me next weekend?'

‘Charlie's birthday? Don't you have a date?' My heart was thumping again; this was too good to be true.

Rebecca screwed up her face. ‘No, not really. It'd be fun if you came and Charlie obviously likes you.'

‘Well, I'd love to. Which night is it on?' I asked, knowing perfectly well which night. It was only the most anticipated event this year in my temporary home, casting a shadow over almost every room and inspiring record hours of bathroom use.

‘Oh goodie, I'm so pleased!' she gushed, threatening to topple onto me again. ‘Itssh on Saturday night.' Rebecca's face lit up and for a moment I glimpsed the uncomplicated girl beneath the strange, polished face she presented to the world.

‘Well, thanks for a good night, I've got to go,' I said, picking Rebecca's hands off my arm and setting them back beside her body. I took some experimental steps away from her and looked back to check she wasn't following me, raising my arm in a wave. ‘See you then!'

‘If not before!' Rebecca called after me.

SAM

The morning after the afternoon shenanigans with Charlie I woke cursing myself. He made me feel so good, so so so . . . dammit, I hadn't felt like that for years. Not since him all those years ago! But it wasn't meant to have happened like that. I wasn't meant to sleep with him now. I was meant to knock him dead at his party then he'd break up with Lucy,
then
we'd hook up. That was the order of events. What was I thinking yesterday? Sitting there in his flat saying to myself it was OK to be his bit on the side then fucking him at his house, just before his girlfriend came home? I didn't want to be the other woman. As much as I disliked Lucy, I didn't actually want to be sleeping with him while he was still with someone. I shuddered when I recalled Lucy coming in. And that condom. Oh God, that condom.

I stood in front of the mirror naked. I saw a pale-skinned woman who should have known better. I saw a strong body with faults. I saw thighs that cosied up together; I saw arms that were a little too robust. I looked sad and hard. My hair was oily. I probably stank.

I was seconds from pulling out of the whole ridiculous quest and then I glanced at the list I'd written in a fit of enthusiasm and stuck to my mirror.

 

Exfoliate elephant heels

Learn to put on make-up

Hair – WTF?

Buy dress – Claudia?

Tone up!

 

I pulled it off and considered it. I ticked off dress. I had endured shopping and actually had a dress – one that Claudia would be sad if I didn't wear. I had spent hours grating my heels. Tick. My hair had almost been tamed. Tick. I could actually put make-up on now without looking like a clown. Double tick for that, as that was a small miracle in itself.

And then my phone beeped.

My heart flipped.

It was him.

 

Sorry about yesterday. It was so good to see you – all of you. Cx

 

‘Wasn't it,' I said to the sad face in the mirror.

I took a deep breath. Come on, girl, you can do better than this. This is just a little passion getting in the way of carefully laid plans, that's all. You've got one more thing on your list.

I swiped my phone. Charlie could wait.

*

Later that day in the changing room of her gym, Claudia leant over to tie her trainer, one long leg up on the bench. She wore black leggings with a matching sports top and her hair was held back in a girlish ponytail.

‘Are you sure you're feeling up for this, Claud?'

Claudia did look a bit on the pale side. She'd been reluctant to meet me here, something about feeling a bit under the weather.

Claudia addressed her laces. ‘I'll be fine. It's good for me to do something other than work and go home anyway.'

‘What do you mean? Aren't you out most nights, Miss Social Butterfly?'

‘Not at the moment.'

Claudia put our bags in a big locker, put in a pound coin and turned the lock. She didn't explain herself any more. Sometimes she was like that, Claudia. She wasn't always in the mood for chatting about herself. She straightened up and gave me a small smile. Even though she was pale and wearing sportswear, she still managed to look glamorous. I looked down at my own faded leggings, which were bagging at the knee, and noticed my vest top had a stain near one nipple. Fucking fantastic.

‘Chin up, darling, it won't hurt that much.'

‘I'm not worried about the exercise, it's my outfit.'

‘There's nothing wrong with it.'

But Claudia didn't sound convinced.

I followed her swinging ponytail reluctantly into the gym.

‘Christ, Claud, I never realised that the term smart casual applies to working out.'

‘What do you mean?' Claudia looked around her.

‘Claud, these gym outfits cost more than the stuff I wear to work!'

‘Sam, do you or do you not want to get in better shape before the weekend?'

‘Do,' I mumbled.

‘Well, you'll have to get over your silly inferiority complex and get on the machine. It's really easy, you just push your feet down like this – it's a little like riding a bike.'

Claudia set off, her body rising up and down as her feet went round and round, her hands clutching two large poles that went rapidly back and forth, her bosom flumph-flumph-flumphing onto her chest. I eyed up the machine with suspicion. It didn't look like riding a bike. It looked ridiculous. But I sighed and clambered on, acutely aware of how amateur I looked, placing my feet in the oversized foot shapes and hoisting myself up onto the machine. Holding onto the bar in front of me, I gingerly tried moving my feet like I was on a bicycle.

‘This feels really weird – my body doesn't feel straight.'

‘You'll get used to it, now grab hold of the poles,' Claudia said briskly, not breaking her rhythm.

I kept my feet moving and looked at the poles going forward and back, forward and back, on their own. I took a deep breath and lunged for the right one as it came close. It hurtled away from me immediately, taking my body roughly to the right. I lunged for the left one and grasped it tightly. I felt like I was being taken for a ride, not the other way around. Claudia snorted with laughter next to me.

‘Shut it!' I hissed.

‘You could just stop your feet, darling, and then grab the poles.'

I sensed Claudia stopping next to me and turned my head just enough to glance at her as she showed me, with exaggerated moves, how easy it was to reach the poles in a stationary position.

‘Well, great, that's really helpful now, Claud.' I caught the eye of a man, easily ten years my senior and as fit as a fireman, running on a treadmill nearby and obviously tickled watching me. I gritted my teeth and kept moving. This fucking machine would not beat me. I would slim down. Charlie would look at me and swoon. I would create a new me.

‘So has he been in touch since?'

I couldn't understand how Claudia could chat and work out at the same time. My side of the conversation came out in sad little puffs.

‘Oh yes . . . lots of texts . . .' Gasp. ‘He says . . . he doesn't think he's in love with her any more . . . that they're more like old friends . . .' Back, forth, back, forth went the poles. Round and round went my feet. Burn burn went my thighs!

‘That old chestnut, eh?' Claudia smiled at me and raised her eyebrows.

‘Yes, that's what I . . . said. He insisted it was . . . true . . . says he wants to see me at his party.'

Claudia's eyebrows were still halfway up her forehead.

‘I thought you were meant to be playing hard to get a bit, you know, holding out for the big reveal at this party?'

Round and round, round and round. I hated this machine so much.

‘You know . . . what?' I gasped. ‘Having the third degree while . . . trying to make this . . . fucking thing work . . .'

Claudia glanced at me as I slowed down. Her lovely cheeks had acquired two little circles of pink.

‘Giving up already?' she asked.

I leant on the bar, my legs shaking.

‘What did you say this thing is called again?'

‘It's called a crosstrainer.'

‘I'm not sure I need any training in being cross, you know.'

I stepped down off the foot platforms onto the floor. It appeared to be much harder since I'd last stepped on it.

‘Maybe I just need to make the most of my outfit instead, Claud? This body can't hack the pace.'

Claudia nimbly stepped down off her machine.

‘I don't know why you're worrying about your body anyway, Sam. You've never worried before – why start now?'

‘I know. I didn't have Charlie in my life again, though, did I?'

Claudia looked at me for a bit without saying anything. I couldn't tell if she was looking at me with pity or confusion, or something else completely. Whatever it was, she stopped thinking it, gave herself a little shake and said, ‘Come on, let's just call it a day and go home. I'm wiped out.'

‘What a bloody good idea,' I agreed.

*

The following day I had a couple of meetings in Soho in the afternoon, and was at Kate's by four o'clock. Why I hadn't come to see her earlier had stumped me all day. Girl has big date at weekend, girl wants to get thinner, girl asks ex-model friend for advice, right? No, girl flaps around panicking about what to wear first, spends way too much time in the bathroom, girl mortifies herself at a poncy gym. Honestly, I thought, you are a prize idiot sometimes.

Kate put a cup of peppermint tea in front of me and sort of wafted into the seat opposite me at the kitchen table.

‘Sorry, I can't find the normal tea.'

I smiled thinly but my stomach turned at the thought of drinking it. Kate was a dear thing but she really was missing out when it came to food and drink. Far too many pulses and herbal teas, and not enough hamburgers and milky cups of builder's.

‘I don't know how I can help you, Sam. I can't even find basic food items in my cupboard.'

‘You probably didn't have them there to start with.'

Kate glanced over to the chaos of her kitchen bench.

‘No, you're probably right.' Her voice was so soft it was almost ethereal. She turned back to look at me and waited.

‘The thing is, Kate, I've got Charlie's birthday party coming up on Saturday night and I want to look my best. I tried the gym with Claudia last night and it was awful, and I've met his girlfriend, and she's gorgeous and skinny—'

‘No.'

I looked at her, bewildered – how did she know what I was going to ask her?

‘I'm not going to.'

‘Not going to do what?'

‘I'm not going to tell you how to lose weight between now and Saturday.'

‘How did you know I was going to ask you that?'

Kate frowned a small frown. ‘Of course you were going to.'

I sat back in my chair. ‘You're right,' I relented. ‘I'm sorry. It's really pathetic of me. I just feel out of my depth a bit and I really want to make an impression.' I was aware I was whining.

‘You're gorgeous just the way you are!'

‘That's kind of you to say, Kate, but I don't feel that way. I feel like a frumpy, clumsy, plain commoner. And I want to look special that night, and feel like I'm worthy of him.'

Kate looked at me thoughtfully. ‘What's so special about this guy anyway?' She pushed a bowl of Bombay mix towards me.

I took a handful and tipped it into my mouth, looking up at the ceiling at a damp spot where it met the wall, and then down at the table. I pushed a drip of tea along the grain of the wood.

‘I don't know what's so amazing about him actually. I just know that I feel different when I'm with him. I feel like I'm sharp, amusing, unique—' I stopped and shook my head. ‘Christ, listen to me drivelling on. You don't need to hear this. I'm not even making sense.'

‘Yes, you are,' Kate replied. ‘I'm not sure I'm convinced he deserves the attention but I understand you feeling like that. I used to feel like that around Martin.'

I couldn't believe she'd said that – she couldn't compare Martin to Charlie! Martin was a sleazy, two-timing, shallow, selfish . . . Oh.

‘I'm not saying that what happened to me will happen to you,' Kate said, as if reading my mind. She drew her finger absently across her bottom lip and then laid it on the table. ‘I suppose you're going to sit there until I give you some of my evil dieting advice, aren't you.'

My face lit up. ‘You bet!'

‘You've never been interested in this kind of thing before. I thought you were more down to earth than this.'

I squirmed in my seat, aware that embarrassment was twisting my mouth into a funny shape.

‘All right,' Kate said reluctantly, ‘I'll give you something to do through til Saturday.'

‘Thank you!'

‘But there is one condition.' She gave me a severe look, looking less fairy-like and much more like Mara in her scary bossy mode.

‘Anything.'

‘You don't do it again after this week. Ever. You don't need to – you're in great shape and you'll have to learn to love yourself the way you are.'

‘Yes, ma'am.' I saluted.

‘You won't need to write anything down,' Kate said, as she saw me rummaging in my bag for paper and pen. ‘It's quite simple – all you're going to eat are grapes.'

‘Grapes?'

‘That's it. As few as possible. Some women get by on one a day.'

My jaw dropped.

‘But you're to eat more than that and drink loads of water. Black tea and coffee, no sugar obviously, no juice and definitely no alcohol.' Kate stood up and picked up her large Cath Kidston tote, which was slung across the back of a chair. ‘I've gotta go get the kids now. Hopefully they've given their dad and his tart their bug.' She walked down the hall with me.

‘Bug?'

‘Oh yeah, nothing too crazy, just a bit of vomiting.'

She caught the look on my face at the door and laughed.

‘Oh don't worry! I cleaned the kitchen.'

Somehow I found that a little difficult to believe. Thank God I hadn't had any of my tea.

After kissing Kate goodbye, I wandered down the road in the direction of the fruit shop where Kate was sure you could buy grapes with pips in them (‘None of that genetically modified rubbish!'). It wasn't until I entered the fruit shop and saw bags of Bombay mix lined up that I recalled both my own and Kate's hands dipping into the bowl of nibbles.