I smile. ‘You’re too old for bribery now, darling.’
‘Aw,’ he teases.
Of course, seventeen-year-old Charlie is very different from his five-year-old self, and instead of the persistent questions and chatter he settles into silence, plugging in his earphones eventually. And that’s fine. I’m happy to just drive. Well, not happy exactly. I was upset and furious and decided there and then that it was over.
Sod it, I thought. I’ve had enough of being let down by a man.
So, yes, I’ve cried a lot, then berated myself for being so stupid as to invest so much into this thing with James; to believe that we really had a future together.
We tried our best and it seemed like we had something wonderful. But real life got in the way.
At least James hadn’t left me waiting and waiting, in the way that Esther had sent him into a panic at the airport. At least there was that. He’d called an hour or so before we were due to set off. But there was an awful lot of other stuff when we spoke. I learnt that Esther was devastated about the fallout from the chicken pictures, which it turned out that Charlie had known about – but had he told me? Of course not. He never tells me anything.
‘I just don’t feel I can go away right now,’ James said. A pause followed and I wondered if he was leaving space for me to try and persuade him otherwise.
‘You’re obviously worried,’ I said. ‘You have to do what feels right.’ I meant it, too. So much of raising ahuman seems to be about instinct, and doing ‘what feels right’ even if we end up getting it totally wrong.
‘It’s crazy, I know,’ he admitted, ‘the way it’s blown up. It was only a bit of fried food …’
‘I know. But to her it’s a huge thing.’ I amazed myself, how calm and understanding I was being, when actually I wanted to yell,But what about us?
Apparently we didn’t matter at all. At least, I didn’t. All the planning and excitement over our break – and we were only talking three days away together.
Well, stuff that, I decided.
James sighed loudly. ‘It’s not just that. Miles has given an interview to some rubbishy gossip site, saying she’d never behaved like that when they were together and maybe she’s going through some kind of breakdown …’
‘D’you think she is?’ I asked.
‘I think she’s just very, very down. She’s holed up in bed, reading stuff about herself over and over. It’s like she’s stuck in some terrible cycle—’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, meaning it. ‘Would it be okay for me to send her a message?’
‘She’d like that, I’m sure. She said Charlie’s been really sweet and supportive.’
‘That’s nice,’ I said in surprise. All this communication that’s been going on between them, without me realising.
He cleared his throat. ‘Y’know, if we were going somewhere closer, or where I could be in contact with her, it’d feel okay—’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said, just wanting to end the conversation now.
I was done with it, I really was. I looked down at my open case on my bed, all ready to go with Kim’s hand-knitted sweater sitting at the top, and at the box on the floor, filled with provisions for our getaway.
Ingredients to rustle up a warming curry. Cheeses all carefully packed in a cool box. Bread I’d baked especially, plus fresh pasta and a basil sauce I’d made, decanted into a tub. I’d assured James that I wanted to take care of the food – because that’s what I love and it’s fun for me. But I’d also found a little pub a short drive away from the cottage and booked us a table there. An ancient pub clinging to the coastline with amazing seafood, the reviews said. That would be an extra surprise.
I’d also packed wine and, like an idiot, some lingerie I’d bought specially. Nothing outrageously sexy, just simple black lace.
Well, sod all that, I think now, although of course I’ve still brought everything with me – lingerie excepted. This is not a black lace sort of weekend. It’s now a big, sensible knickers kind of trip. Another last-minute addition to our packing is a rucksack crammed with Charlie’s textbooks, and his telescope is packed in the boot. Maybe that’s what swung it for him; a complete absence of light pollution in the wilds of Cornwall. All those glittering stars.
After a couple of hours on the road he tugs out his earphones. ‘Mum?’ he starts.
‘No, we’re not nearly there yet,’ I say with a smile.
He grins too, then turns serious. ‘Are you angry with James?’
I bite my lip. ‘No, I’m not angry, love.’
‘You are a bit,’ he suggests. ‘I can tell.’
