‘Charlie’s not much of a talker. And he finds it very hard to talk about Nicki. So, if there’s anything you need to know about her, them, whatever, then you can always ask me... I’ll give you my number so you have it if you need it.’
At the time, I thought that, if it didn’t feel right asking Charlie something, I wouldn’t feel comfortable asking his mother. I didn’t even need her help because he opened up to me himself, despite not being ‘much of a talker’.
Without thinking about it, I search for her number in my contacts and call her.
‘Hello?’ she answers warily.
‘Pat, hello, it’s Bridget!’ I say, hoping that the caution in her tone is just because the caller ID displayed an unknown number.
‘Bridget!’ she exclaims. ‘Hello there, love, how are you doing?’
I exhale with relief. She genuinely seems pleased to hear from me.
‘I’m okay, thank you,’ I reply, wondering if Charlie has told her anything about us. ‘I’ve finished writing Nicki’s book.’
‘Oh, that’s fantastic! Well done! Are you happy with it?’
‘I think so. I only reached the end tonight, so obviously no one’s read it, yet, but hopefully Fay will think I’ve done a good job.’
‘I’m sure she will.’
Nerves crash through me. ‘Um, do you remember once offering me your help if I ever needed it?’
‘Yes. Is there something you’d like to know?’
‘I need to ask you a question.’
‘Okay...’
I take a deep breath. ‘I’m in love with your son,’ I blurt. ‘I love Charlie. And I love April. And I think that Charlie might love me, but he’s scared. He’s scared that this is just another relationship for me – andI don’t blame him for coming to that conclusion,’ I say quickly. ‘But he’s wrong. Please, he’s so wrong.’
I’m panting, clutching my hand to my chest.
‘Are you there?’ I ask.
It’s gone very quiet at the other end of the line.
‘I’m here,’ she says. ‘But you haven’t actually asked me a question.’ She sounds amused.
I laugh. ‘Oh, God, okay. Do you think that he loves me, too?’
She chuckles under her breath. ‘I think that, in this instance, Bridget, this reallyisa question for Charlie...’
‘Oh, Pat, Iwantto ask him! But I’m not sure he’ll admit to it! He was so steadfast in Thailand about doing the best thing for April, but I believe I could be good for her – for him. We could make this work.’
There’s a long moment of silence. ‘I agree with you, love. Charlie was broken before you came along. He was lost. You made him laugh again. You brought joy back into that house. He was crushed when you left Cornwall. You’re right. Heisscared. He’s scared of giving his heart away and never getting it back again.’
Whoa, she used to read my blog?
‘I want his heart,’ I say firmly. ‘I want it forever.’
‘You’d better come and get it, then,’ she replies.
I drive through the night, not wanting to miss another minute without Charlie and April in my life. If I have to become a mad stalker and camp in his tiny front garden for the foreseeable future, then so be it. I’d even stand there and play my music to him, like John Cusack at the end of the eighties classicSay Anything.I might need a more powerful speaker but, fuck it, I’ll try anything.
It’s four thirty in the morning when I pull up on his street. The sun is still several hours away beneath the horizon, and as I sit there, staring at the quiet, dark house, I wish I’d thought through my timings a little better.
Dad’s right: itisquicker to drive through the night. But what am I going to do now?
