‘We’ve always done loads together, haven’t we?’ he starts. ‘Camping, building the garden, going to Young Stargazers and all that …’
‘Yeah,’ she says, sounding cautious as if she’s wondering where this is going. ‘I thought you wanted me there,’ she adds. ‘At Young Stargazers, I mean.’
‘Well, I sort of did …’ He looks at her and smiles. ‘I also didn’t like to think of you sitting at home, being miserable, on your own.’
She stares at him. ‘I was fine, Charlie. I wasn’t miserable at all back then. What were you so worried about?’
‘Just after all the stuff with Dad,’ he replies.
She gets up and hugs him, and to his surprise he doesn’t feel the urge to push her away, as he has recently. ‘I really wish you hadn’t worried,’ she says.
‘I couldn’t help it. I knew what went on.’
‘Oh, Charlie.’ She sits back down, reaches for her wine and sips it.
Charlie takes a deep breath, steadying himself. He’s not sure how she’ll react to this. But they have grown closer again, and toasted the New Year together, and Charlie has made a private resolution to be more open and honest about his feelings instead of bottling stuff up. So, here goes. He licks his dry lips and takes another big inhalation. ‘I don’t want to do it anymore, Mum,’ he blurts out.
‘Do what? she asks, looking startled.
‘The calls,’ he says. ‘The chats with Dad, I mean. I don’t want to do them …’
She looks at him, and he knows what she’s thinking because he can read the inside ofherhead. She thinks it’s good for him to keep a connection; far healthier than being estranged. She’s always wanted to protect him, to make him feel safe and loved, especially after that terrible day on the Mexican beach. But he’s not that seven-year-old boy anymore with a plastic bucket, collecting sea presents for her. He’s nearly eighteen and right now, Charlie knows best what’s best for him.
‘What’s happened?’ she asks, frowning. ‘Why don’t you want to talk to Dad?’
He rubs at his eyes. ‘’Cause I don’t enjoy it. We’ve got nothing to talk about. And actually, I don’t like him very much …’
‘Oh, Charlie,’ she exclaims. ‘He’s still your dad.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ he says, ‘and I suppose I love him, deep down. I mean I’d never want anything bad to happen to him. I don’t feel anger or anything like that. I just …’ He shrugs, his gaze resting on the flickering flames. ‘I just don’t like him massively.’
They leave it at that, and he hugs her goodnight before heading back to the cabin and sleeping more soundly than he can ever remember.
In the morning, as they’re packing the car, ready to leave, his mum says, ‘This has been wonderful, Charlie.’
‘Yeah, it has.’ He smiles. ‘What was your favourite part?’ He catches himself sounding like the parent again and laughs.
‘Oh, everything, Charlie. I can’t decide. Just being with you really.’ She pauses and closes the boot, then adds, ‘I hope it hasn’t been too dreadful, being stuck here with me.’
‘It’s been all right,’ he says, teasing her.
She beams at him. ‘D’you think you might come to Corsica with me this summer?’
He hesitates, looking back at the old stone cottage, and pushes back his dark hair. ‘Erm, I’m not sure, Mum. Can I get back to you on that?’
She laughs. ‘Yes, love. Of course you can. You can get back to me on that.’
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
JAMES
It’s not all squeezing a Jack Russell’s anal gland, whatever Rhona might think. Yes, it’s pets – but all kinds of things happen at our little practice. Take the tortoise, who I made a temporary splint for with balsa wood. He’s not quite as mobile as he should be – not that he was racing around; I mean, he’s a tortoise – and I keep thinking there must be something better I can do. It’s bad enough, him being unable to hibernate this year, due to his accident. One winter, we can just about get away with. But we don’t want it happening a second year. So I sit up late at home, when Esther’s gone off to her room, researching options, making notes, trying to come up with a better solution.
I’d like to say it’s keeping my mind off Lauren but of course it’s not. Since I called, the morning she was leaving for Cornwall, there’s been very little contact between us.
How was your trip? Did you have a good time?That wouldn’t do, I realised. She might not have even gone. All the planning she’d put into it, the anticipation and the money wasted. And I let her down on the day wewere meant to leave. Really, did I behave any better than Esther had, when she’d left me pacing about in a panic at the airport?
Esther hasn’t even been that bad, as it turned out. It’s not that Iwantedto see her in the depths of despair, but she did seem to shake off the whole chicken episode remarkably quickly. ‘I need to get a proper job, Dad,’ she announced over dinner one evening, out of the blue. ‘I’m a grown-up now and I want to get my grown-up life started.’
