He leaned across the box to stroke her hair. The kindness almost undid her. For a very long time, almost all of Charlie’s mental energy had been consumed by the dance of denying her addiction. Those awful, truthful three a.m. moments, when she had lain in the darkness and known she should stop drinking alcohol, had become harder and harder to delete each morning. Every time she reached for her favorite gin glass—the tumbler that sat just right in the palm of the hand—she faced the cognitive dissonance that came with very badly wanting to regain control over her life, and very badly wanting a drink. It was exhausting. And now, at last, she was letting some of that go.
Oliver let her cry. Eventually she lifted her head and looked at him through swollen, bleary eyes.
“Thank you,” she said hoarsely. “For being so kind.”
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said, squeezing her hand.
At some point in the last half hour he had removed the box from the table; Charlie felt a wild lurch of panic at the thought that the bottles might be gone, until she spotted them on the floor by his feet.
“You’re going to go and talk to a doctor about quitting alcohol. I am, too. You’re going to go to the Isle of Ormer, to that amazing farm you showed me, and…”
He trailed off; Charlie was shaking her head.
She wanted that more than anything—more than Oliver could possibly know. But she wasn’t ready for her dream life, her family. This wasn’t how the Isle of Ormer chapter was supposed to start.
“I can’t go. I don’t want to take it. The job.”
“But you’ve been so excited about it,” Oliver said, frowning.
“No.” She shook her head again. “I need to sort myself out. I can’t go right now. It’s not the right time. You’re right: I need to stop drinking.” She could barely get the sentence out, it terrified her so much. “That has to be the priority. I can’t go now.”
“You’re sure? It’s such an amazing job, Charlie—it’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing, isn’t it? A total fresh start, in your dream location…You’ve been fascinated with that island ever since I’ve known you, and I doubt many chances come up to work there. Maybe it wouldhelpyou get sober.”
She stared at him across the table. He looked exhausted, too, she realized. And he’d just told her he was also drinking too much. He had lost not just a close friend but his passion—he hadn’t been on a bike since Fearne’s death. He’d had a truly awful time, too.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again. “You deserve so much better than all this. Than me.”
“What do you mean? Charlie…”
“You know, we were so badly suited,” she said, wiping her face. “You’re so driven and determined, and I can never stick to anything. You’re all cool and understated, and I’m…” She gestured down at her outfit: a yellow seventies dress she kept meaning to shorten, but never got around to sorting. “And you’resteady.You’ll be someone’s rock. A family man, maybe. You know I don’t even want kids?”
Oliver’s surprise was evident. “You don’t?”
“I never did. Berty and I were on the same page about it from the start, so I guess I…I didn’t think to bring it up with you,and…” She was making excuses. She swallowed and lifted her chin. “I should have told you straightaway. I’m sorry.”
“Right. Huh. Well, I guess I didn’t bring it up, either.”
“You want a family?”
“I do,” Oliver said after a moment. “When I feel like I’m good enough for one.”
“I want that for you. I want you to start over, and figure out who you could be without me and Fearne and booze, and meet somebody who’s the perfect fit for you…”
She was crying again, partly for Oliver, and partly, she realized, for Berty. Brianna had finally caved and given her all the details of his new relationship, and it broke Charlie’s heart to know that he had done exactly that—left her, found himself, found someone who fit him better.
She stood, needing to escape the table and all its intensity, and wandered to the fridge, where she had pinned the handwritten letter that Rosie Nicole had sent her, offering her the job at Bramblebay Farm Shop.Dearest Charlie,it began.Thank you so, so much for your application. I was so thrilled to read it.
Brianna had laughed at it when she was here last, reading out the charming instructions on how to get to the farm—Head for the dairy, but be sure to turn right before you reach the field of Jersey cows.
“Thisis the job offer? That’s it? You just turn up with this letter and say ‘Hi, I’m Charlie Jones’?”
“I wasn’t even going to bring the letter,” Charlie had said, with a grin. “I don’t think they have an HR department, Bri, I think this is about as official as it gets.”
“Fuck me,” Bri had said, snapping a photo of the letter. “Might nick this note off you and take it myself. I quite fancy an idyllic new life. Hello, I’m Charlie Jones! Honest!”
At the time Charlie had been giggly and playful, laughing along—drunk, unbeknown to Brianna, though perhaps that was when she’d guessed at it. Fearne hadn’t known, either. Lovely Fearne, who had always been drunk on life and never thought it was strange when Charlie was a little giddy, too.
Charlie stood in front of the fridge now, running her finger across the signature on the bottom of the letter.Rosie Nicole.
