Wish You Were Here (34 page)

‘I wasn't just calling about Tom's news,' I continued. ‘I was sort of hoping to speak to Andy too if that's okay.'

‘Of course,' said Lisa. ‘I'll put him on.'

As I listened to the static at the other end of the line I began to wonder if this call really would give me the absolution that I felt I so desperately needed. The facts of the matter at hand hadn't changed now that I was back home; the feelings they had generated, though less intense on my side, were bound to be still boiling over inside Andy. And though my self loathing was riding at an all-time high, I still wasn't at all sure I had what it would take to face yet another rejection of my efforts to make things right.
Maybe I'm just making things worse
, I thought.
Maybe we'd all be better off if we just let this go
. I was about to put the phone down when Andy finally came on the line.

‘Charlie,' he said evenly. ‘It's good to hear the news about Tom.'

‘Yeah it is,' I replied.

There was a long pause.

‘Is Lisa still there?' I continued.

‘No, she's gone for a shower. Why?'

‘Because I want . . . I need to talk to you.'

‘I know,' said Andy. ‘I do too. I was going to call you later in the week. This feels wrong doesn't it? I want to hate you and I feel like I've got good reason to but I just can't quite do it . . . and last night I think I worked out why. The fact is after everything that happened I could've lost Lisa . . . someone who has been with me through all the bad times in my life . . . and if I had I couldn't have blamed anyone but myself. Not you. Me. No one but me. I've treated her badly so many times and always left you to clear up the mess so it's hardly surprising that she turned to you in the end.'

‘But it was my choice wasn't it? I didn't have to do anything, did I? I could've stayed away from her.'

‘I think you saw how I was treating Lisa and convinced yourself you'd be the one to step in and fix things. She told me everything you said to her. How you wanted her to leave me and be with you.'

‘She wouldn't though. She chose you.'

‘You could've made your job a lot easier if you'd told her about Nina. But you didn't. So why didn't you?'

‘I'd been lying to her about what you were up to. What else could I do?'

‘Nice try,' said Andy. ‘But I don't believe you for a second. You could've easily talked your way out of looking guilty. You were only covering for me because you had no choice. You didn't tell her about Nina because you hoped I'd come to my senses. She would have understood that because seeing other people's point of view is what Lisa does best. And you're not stupid, Charlie. You knew that.'

‘I don't understand. What are you trying to say?'

‘I'm trying to say what I know to be true: that even after everything that happened you still couldn't bring yourself to betray me. That night in the bar you didn't tell Lisa what I'd done. You told
me
what
you'd
done. Even though you could have betrayed me you didn't, you betrayed yourself. And that's why I can't hate you, Charlie. I know better than most about letting people down.'

‘I know what you're saying,' I replied. ‘You're saying I let you down.'

‘No,' replied Andy. ‘You've got it all wrong. You've always had standards and yet you let yourself get dragged down to mine. That's my problem here. It's not me you've let down, it's yourself. And I know in my heart that it's a lesson learned. You'll never do it again because now you know how it feels. So don't beat yourself up about it. What's done is done. Pick yourself up and do like me: make a brand new start and promise yourself that you'll never go back there again.'

As the taxi I'd caught from the station pulled up outside my flat and I saw Donna standing on the doorstep, all the doubts that had pushed their way to the front of my mind melted away. As I struggled to pull my suitcase out of the cab, she descended the steps from my door down to the street so quickly that by the time I was free of the taxi her arms were around my neck and we kissed.

‘I thought you were never going to come,' she murmured.

‘And I thought there was a chance that you might not be here,' I replied.

‘I'll always be here if you want me to be,' smiled Donna.

‘Well in that case,' I replied, taking her hand, ‘I think you should know that the way I'm feeling right now I will always want you to be here.'

‘I don't need any guarantees from you, Charlie,' said Donna scrutinising my face.

‘Then what do you need?' I asked.

‘For us to be able to start again. You and me, right here, right now. No baggage. No worries. Just us.'

I thought about Andy. He was right. New beginnings. A brand new start. And now here was mine.

‘Hi, I'm Charlie Mansell,' I said holding out my hand for Donna to shake. ‘Pleased to meet you.'

‘Hi, Charlie Mansell,' replied Donna shaking my hand, ‘I'm Donna Finch and I'm pleased to meet you too.'

‘How was that for a new start?' I asked.

‘Good,' replied Donna.

‘Really?' I replied. ‘I think there's room for improvement.'

Grinning I leaned across and kissed her firmly on the lips. ‘And how was that?' I whispered as our lips parted.

‘Better,' replied Donna. ‘Much better.'

So that's it really. The story of how, a year ago, a cheap package holiday changed my life. Changed it for the better. And it is better. By a long way. Donna and Sadie (a great kid, by the way, whom I couldn't love any more if she were my own) ended up moving from East London to Brighton after we'd been together six months. I offered to move to London, but Donna reminded me that Sadie had always fancied living by the sea and after a lifetime of landlocked living was ready to try something different. We talked briefly about moving in together, but with Sadie and Donna's ex to consider, we decided that it was a bit too early for all that and she ended up renting a flat three doors down from me. She got a new job too, working in a bookshop in the centre of Brighton because she wanted a break from nursing. She took a cut in pay and has to work every other Saturday but she enjoys it much more than her old job and the people that she works with are fun to be around.

As for me, I carried on working at the council, even though after the holiday I daydreamed about packing the whole thing up and moving permanently to a country where at the very least you were guaranteed decent weather in August. Helped by Donna, I ended up doing quite a bit of work to the flat: all the things I'd been meaning to do but had never got round to. So now every single room has been painted from top to bottom; I've had new kitchen and bathroom suites installed and finally got round to replacing the furniture that Sarah took with her when she moved out. Guests no longer have to sit on dining chairs or the carpet when they come round. I have a proper sofa, and a dining table and loads of other stuff that civilised people have in their homes.

Donna and I bought the sofa one Saturday morning in the early part of the new year. Sadie was spending the weekend with her dad and Donna had come down to Brighton for the weekend. Feeling good that we had finally managed to tick ‘Buy Charlie a sofa' off the long list of things ‘To Do' we'd decided to go for lunch at a really nice café in the Lanes. Just as we were about to go in, the door opened and a couple pushing one of those trendy prams that looks like a lunar landing vehicle emerged. It was only when Donna and I stepped aside and the couple pushing the pram looked up to thank us for doing so, that I realised that the woman was Sarah.

Though I'd been expecting to have an inevitable ‘exencounter', as time passed and she faded from memory, I assumed (or should that be hoped?) that Sarah had left Brighton altogether. So when I saw her that day I have to admit it took me by surprise. Donna said that I acquitted myself pretty well but I'm not so sure. Surely the sharp pang of pain I felt must have shown on my face? I don't know what caused it. Whether it was the shock of seeing Sarah, or Oliver, or even their baby, a little girl they'd called Daisy, I don't know. But I know it did hurt. Probably more than it should have done.

Sarah and I talked for a while and did all the introductions required. She appeared happy and healthy and I have to say that they seemed more suited as a couple than we'd ever been. After five minutes or so of polite catch-up chitchat we parted company. But it was very much a case of, ‘Good to see you, have a nice life.'

Donna and I carried on into the café and I was grateful that she didn't make a big thing about it, even though she would have had every right to. In fact, Donna didn't mention it at all until I brought it up one evening about a month later. We were standing in my kitchen talking about nothing in particular when I came out with it. I told her I was sorry for the way I'd reacted and how seeing Sarah had taken me by surprise. Donna seemed to understand what I was trying to say and it sparked a discussion that went on until the early hours. Things from our pasts that we'd never spoken about before emerged and although at times it was upsetting, the end result of this tidal wave of confession was a declaration from Donna that she loved me and one in return from me that my feelings were the same.

As winter turned to spring and even Brighton got a bit warmer, we talked about going on holiday together – the three of us – Donna, Sadie and me. Initial thoughts ranged from a week at a posh hotel in St Lucia right through to a fortnight camping in south Wales. We just couldn't make up our minds. Then, around Easter, Tom and his wife and kids came to stay for a few days and they made us an offer neither Donna nor I could refuse.

‘How about we all go on holiday together?' suggested Tom, as we all sat eating chips on the beach overlooking the old Brighton pier. ‘Andy and I have been e-mailing each other about it for a while and he says there's a villa in Stalis owned by a friend of his. He thinks he might be able to get it for us all for a week on the cheap. It's got four bedrooms, a swimming pool and is only five minutes from the beach. What do you reckon?'

Things had remained pretty awkward between Andy and me. We hadn't spoken much at all. Neither of us was particularly suited to long telephone calls and I had more to say to him than I could ever limit to an e-mail. And although I'd seen them both at Christmas when they had returned to the UK to see their families and tie up a few loose ends to do with putting their house on the market, the time had flown by so quickly that I felt I'd barely seen them at all.

‘You want to go, don't you?' asked Donna.

‘Yes, of course,' I replied. ‘But I'd understand if you didn't. After all, it's our first holiday together.'

‘You're mad,' said Donna smiling. ‘Of course I want to go. It doesn't matter where we go as long as we're together.'

So that was that. The plans were made for us all to stay at Andy's friend's villa in August. The night before the flight, Tom and his family stayed at mine and the next day we drove together to Gatwick and boarded a midday flight to Crete. From the moment I spotted Andy and Lisa waiting for us at arrivals it was clear that their new life in Crete agreed with them. With their matching deep bronze tans, and their T-shirts advertising ‘Andy's Bar – the number one night-spot in Stalis', they looked every inch the perfect couple.

The whole week was faultless from start to finish. The weather was great every single day; the villa really
was
only five minutes from the beach and we all got on together better than we'd ever done. Andy was no longer quite as cocksure as he used to be; in fact for the whole of the holiday he was almost (but not quite) consistently likeable. Of course we had the odd bit of conflict (Tom and Andy argued over the best way to barbecue fish and Andy and I argued over who would win the premiership next season) but other than that things were fine. The three of us even managed a quick trip to Malia one evening for old times' sake, but we didn't even get out of the car. Instead we sat with the windows wound down, content to watch the teeming hordes of young Brits having the time of their lives.

Building sandcastles on the beach with the kids on the morning of the final day of the holiday, we were all shocked when Andy suddenly shouted out: ‘What about the tattoos?'

Since we'd had them done, none of us had remembered to look at each other's tattoos. Eager to get the ball rolling, Andy promptly took off his T-shirt to reveal a Chinese symbol between his shoulder blades. ‘It's the Chinese symbol for love,' said Andy. ‘But my Chinese is terrible so it could say pretty much anything.'

Tom then rolled up the sleeve of his T-shirt to reveal three names on his bicep, one under the other: Anne. Callum. Katie. Anne laughed. ‘You couldn't have just had an anchor or a dragon, like everyone else in the world, could you?'

‘Don't you like it?' asked Andy. ‘I think it looks great.'

‘It's not that,' replied Anne, blushing. ‘It's just that in seven months' time he's going to have to add another name to his list.'

‘That's great news,' I said, patting Tom on the shoulder as everyone else joined in with the congratulations. When the commotion died down Tom demanded that I reveal my tattoo.

‘I'm going to have a bit of a problem with that,' I replied, as I rolled up the sleeve of my T-shirt.

‘Where is it?'

‘I had it removed.'

‘How come?' asked Andy. ‘It had better be for a good reason.'