‘Where have you
been
?’ Charlie asks the following morning when I return to the flat and find him in the kitchen. He’s dressed in a pale blue shirt and pair of scruffy jeans, his hair damp from the shower.
‘At Edward’s.’
‘I’ve been trying to call.’
I can smell bacon.
‘Sorry. I think my phone’s run out of battery. I’m starving.’ I open the fridge.
‘I’m making bacon sandwiches,’ he says. ‘I was worried. I thought you’d been mugged or taken hostage.’
‘Oh, Charlie, you knew where I was.’
‘I asked you to let me know if you were staying over.’
‘It got late. I’d had a couple of drinks and—’
‘Right,’ he cuts me off, opening the cutlery drawer.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t call though. I should have done.’
‘It’s fine. So I’m guessing the evening went well?’
Edward and I had held on to each other, both of us craving touch, reassurance, and love. We’d stayed up until the early hours of the morning talking about Amelia. I then felt able to be open about my feelings for Charlie, going right back to the beginning, when we’d met in Colorado. Finally we gave in to the dogs whining to come up on to the bed. Tinkerbell rested her head gently over Edward’s sore foot; Ticket somehow lay sandwiched in between us. We laughed at how funny we must look. What a sight. Finally we fell asleep in each other’s arms. It was a night that neither one of us will forget for a long time. We were two people who had found one another through extreme circumstances, just like I’d made friends with Dom and Guy. ‘We see things in similar ways, Cass. I can tell you anything,’ he’d said, stroking my hair as we lay in the darkness.
Edward is attracted to me, but he hasn’t moved on from Amelia. She broke his heart. I’m attracted to Edward, but I’m in love with this man holding a grill pan in front of me.
‘We had a great time,’ I say.
‘Is it serious between you two?’
I’m about to tell him the truth, but then I hear the sound of the hairdryer blasting from his bedroom. ‘Maybe,’ I say.
‘Morning, Cass!’ Libby enters the kitchen, long brown hair tumbling down over her shoulders, and dressed in a tracksuit and sporty Lycra turquoise T-shirt. ‘I thought I heard voices.’
Charlie grabs some plates, Libby brushes past him, towards the sink, and they kiss, briefly, before she helps herself to a carrot juice from the fridge. ‘I always feel so good after yoga, as if I could float away, do you know what I mean?’ She turns to me, stretches out her long graceful arms. ‘And how are you, Miss Out All Night Cass?’ Her eyes light up.
I feel hungover and in need of a strong coffee, my teeth need brushing and my hair’s a mess and I don’t need a carrot-drinking-yoga-bunny in front of me … Oh but, Cass, it’s not her fault she’s with Charlie. ‘I’m good, thanks. Just need some sleep.’
‘You look knackered,’ she announces with delight. ‘So come on, how was your evening? Charlie was getting all paternal on you, like you were out late on a school night.’
‘He sounds incredible,’ Libby says, after I’ve filled her in with Edward’s background in the Royal Marines and how he was injured out in Afghanistan. ‘What a brave guy.’
I show her a photograph on my mobile of Edward with Tinkerbell. ‘Oh look,’ she says. ‘He is seriously handsome and
what
a cute dog. Charlie, you have to see this!’
‘In a sec. Just need to put the rubbish out,’ he states, making quite a noise as he lifts the bin lid to retrieve the bulging black sack.
‘Ignore him,’ Libby says when he’s left the room. ‘He’s been in a stinky mood this morning. Someone got out of the wrong side of the bed. Anyway, back to Edward. Did you … did you … you know?’ she asks as Charlie returns.
I sniff the air. Something’s burning.
‘Oh shit!’ he says, flying towards the oven and without thinking pulling out the grill pan. ‘Fuck!’ The pan clatters to the ground.
‘Ticket, no! Basket!’ I say, before taking a look at his hand. ‘Put it under some cold water, quick!’
Still cursing, Charlie runs the tap and holds his hand under it. Following my orders Libby then heads to the bathroom to find some Ibuprofen and a dry gauze bandage, or any dressing to wrap around his hand, along with some aloe vera cream, which is in my medicine bag.
‘How’s it feeling?’ I ask him, a couple of minutes later. ‘The cold water should lessen the burn. Keep your hand under the tap.’
‘It hurts,’ he says.
‘It will be sore for a bit, Charlie.’
He nods gravely. ‘How long?’
‘A couple of days.’
‘I wouldn’t make a very good Royal Marine, would I?’
‘No.’
He smiles, as if to say he deserved that.
‘I’ll dress it for you, but keep it under water for a little longer, OK.’
‘So, Dr Brooks, tell me more about last night.’
‘Just worry about your hand.’
He moves closer towards me. ‘You know, last night, I was—’ he turns, looks me in the eye ‘—jealous.’
‘Jealous?’
He nods. ‘I know I have no right to be.’
‘You don’t, Charlie. You have no right at all.’
‘Is it serious between you?’ he asks again.
‘Why do you care?’
‘Of course I care.’
‘Jealous? You’re with Libby,’ I remind him, aware of his eyes still fixed on mine.
‘Here! I’ve got some … oh …’ Libby stops.
I move away from him. ‘That’s great, thanks,’ I say, taking the cream and assortment of bandages from her, aware she’s looking at me, and then back to Charlie. ‘Crisis over,’ I say. ‘I think our patient will live.’
I’m lying in bed, the world peaceful until Ticket barks at the tribal music coming from the sitting room next door. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing Libby would turn the volume down. It’s Sunday morning. Give the chanting a rest. She’s a little too health-conscious for me as well. Everything she touches is organic, even wine. I’m surprised she doesn’t spray Charlie with something green before touching him. Oh, Cass, it’s not her fault she’s going out with him, I tell myself again.
Charlie and I haven’t mentioned that moment by the sink a couple of weeks ago. We now have first-class degrees in pretending nothing is going on between us. Part of me thinks I should ask him if we can talk, grab a coffee round the corner, clear the air and finally find out where we stand with one another, but each time I race down that track I turn round and limp back home. I have too much to lose. I know we have a connection, an attraction, but Charlie’s made his choice. He’s going out with Libby and however much she can irritate me, I still like her. Charlie needs to stop playing games, messing with my head. Who the hell does he think he is? He has no right to be jealous. Rich’s voice also haunts me. ‘He’s complicated, Cass. He can’t commit. He bottles out.’ If only Edward and I had fallen in love.
On my way to the bathroom I catch a glimpse of Libby sitting cross-legged on her yoga mat, hands in the prayer position. ‘Morning, Cass,’ she says, gracefully stretching herself out like a cat. ‘Morning,’ I say back, wanting to tell her to eat a doughnut.
*
When Edward and I meet for a dog walk in Richmond Park, Edward senses I’m not myself. ‘I’m sorry I’m being so quiet,’ I tell him. ‘It’s Charlie. I want to move on, I do, but it’s hard when we live together. I think Libby could be getting suspicious too, and I don’t want that. Maybe I should move out?’
‘That’s a bit drastic! Besides, it could be hard finding a new place. Why don’t you pretend we’re still together? It could take the pressure off? Use me.’
‘I can’t do that,’ I say, throwing the ball for Ticket.
‘Why not? I don’t mind as long as you say I’m the best kisser in town.’ He raises an eyebrow.
I smile. ‘You are pretty good.’
‘It would help me too,’ he confides. ‘Since I’ve met you, Mum’s laid off asking questions about my private life, thank God.’
I glance at him, thinking that maybe it isn’t such a bad idea after all.
When I fibbed to Libby that Edward and I were officially going out, she clapped her hands in glee, as if I’d announced my engagement. ‘We must go on lots of double dates,’ she’d exclaimed. She has been trying to sort a night out with Charlie, Edward and me for the past fortnight. ‘It’ll be Christmas before we know it,’ she had moaned in email exchanges, when Charlie couldn’t do this date because of work, or Edward was away. I’d also thrown in the odd lie to say I was busy too, as no one wants to be available all the time. Besides, I have been working late these past few weeks, organising all the last-minute details of the Sweden skiing course for next January.
During our last dog walk, Edward had asked me to describe Libby, Charlie and now Rich, who had returned from filming abroad again and wanted to come along too.
‘Oh, this will be fun. Where do I start?’
‘I don’t need their whole life story, Cass, keep it brief.’
‘OK, I can be brief. Libby first. She’s pretty, a yoga freak, ambitious.’ I paused, stuck already, deciding I needed to make more of an effort to get to know her.
When it came to Rich, ‘Tall, scruffy, workaholic, skinny bean, intellectual, loves history documentaries and
Homeland
.’ Something was missing. Finally I said, ‘Lonely.’ Charlie had told me that he’d been single for a couple of years, not through lack of women interested but through choice. Charlie’s sister, Anna, had broken his heart. He also has a poor relationship with his parents. ‘Why they had children is anyone’s guess,’ Charlie had said. ‘When he was growing up, all they wanted to do was travel round the world. Rich was an inconvenience.’
‘Charlie?’ Edward said.
I took in a deep breath. ‘He loves photography, great skier, creative, works hard, eccentric in many ways, you know, quite British. But he’s kind, really kind, generous, and he makes me laugh. He can be so frustrating too,’ I said, not wanting to make him sound perfect. ‘It’s hard to know what he’s thinking, he can drive me insane sometimes, just when I think he’s about to—’
‘Stop!’ Edward looked at me. ‘I get the picture.’
*
Tonight’s the night we’re meeting at a Greek restaurant on Fulham Road. Charlie, Libby and I are the first to arrive. This place is very much a traditional taverna, Grecian statues and murals adorning the walls. As we wait for Rich and Edward, olives, pickled chillies, hummus and pitta bread are brought to our table. Charlie orders some house wine and a couple of bottles of cold beer.
‘Oh look, this must be Edward!’ Libby waves at someone.
I turn and see him heading towards us. He’s dressed in dark trousers and a deep red jumper, hair freshly washed. I feel a surge of pride as he shakes Libby and Charlie’s hand. Then he bends down to kiss me, full on the lips, shocking the life out of me until I remember we’re supposed to be dating.
Over a supper of kebabs and salads, we talk work, life, films, flatmates, books, dogs, and Libby wants to know all about how Edward and I had met at Canine Partners.
Libby then asks us what we’re all doing over Christmas and New Year. ‘Maybe we should plan a party?’ she suggests. ‘It’s only a month away.’
‘I don’t even want to think about it yet,’ says a disgruntled Rich. ‘The shop round the corner from me has been stocking mince pies since bloody August.’
‘I’m not mad on the
festive season
either,’ says Charlie, a sparkle in his eye. ‘Too much time with Mum.’
‘Oh, you’re all such killjoys! I love it!’ Libby tells us she’s one of five sisters and her family lives in Chobham, Surrey. Her father, Bruce, is a stockbroker, her mother raised the children, and from the sounds of it, it’s one big happy family. ‘Charlie’s being very brave, he’s visiting us after Christmas, aren’t you, sweetheart?’ When she touches his hand I feel that unwelcome pang of jealousy. They’re spending the New Year together. I turn away from him, cursing myself that I still feel this way.
‘I loathe Christmas,’ Rich says. ‘The Waltons we ain’t. Mum can’t be arsed to cook a turkey so we go to some swanky restaurant, stick paper hats on and pull crackers. Dad gets more and more drunk and then asks me when I’m going to bring home a nice girl he can crack on to.’
‘Christmas can be hard for Mum and me too,’ Edward says, before confiding that he’s also an only child and his mother hasn’t remarried since his father’s death. ‘Mum and I usually eat beans on toast and watch the Queen’s speech.’
‘That makes me think of Guy,’ I say, reminding Edward about him and his passion for his little orange friends.
‘How is he by the way?’ Charlie asks.
‘Not great.’
‘Poor Guy,’ Libby sighs. ‘Whenever I’m having a bad day,’ she goes on, ‘you know, if I don’t place a client or if I feel ratty because I’ve missed my morning yoga, I think of Cass and say to myself, “Man up, Libby! Think of Cass!” You’re a real inspiration,’ she says to me.
‘Anyway,’ Rich says, sensing my discomfort. ‘You know what? One year we should rent a cottage and have an “I hate Christmas” Christmas. No stupid presents, no board games, not a paper hat in sight, just plenty of booze.’
‘I’ll be there,’ Edward says, raising his beer bottle towards Rich.
‘Will you two be spending Christmas together?’ Libby asks Edward and me.
‘What? I mean, yes, maybe,’ I stammer. ‘We haven’t really spoken about it yet, have we?’
I can’t bring myself to say ‘sweetheart’ or ‘honey’. I’m uncomfortable pretending. I should never have agreed to it.
I’m jolted back to reality by Edward placing an arm round my shoulder. ‘Mum’s longing to meet her,’ he says. Charlie catches my eye.
*
As we look at the pudding menu, Libby tells Edward she used to have a boyfriend in the army.
Charlie pours us all some more wine. ‘You didn’t tell me that.’
She rolls her eyes at him. ‘Number one rule, you never talk about exes.’
‘Why did you break up?’ he asks.
‘Oh, it was a while ago, I was pretty young. I thought the whole idea romantic, handsome man in uniform.’ She winks at Edward. ‘But then he went to Iraq. If I had a boyfriend out in Afghanistan now, I couldn’t cope. I’m not cut out for it, I’m afraid.’
I admire her honesty.
‘Well, there’s no chance of Charlie going,’ says Rich with affection.
‘Do you mind talking about your time out there?’ Libby asks Edward.
Edward coughs. ‘No.’
‘I was wondering what happened, you know, how you were injured?’
Again, I like Libby for asking.
He explains that he was based in Kajaki. ‘I was out four years ago, Operation Herrick 5. The IED threat wasn’t anything like it is now. The vast majority of lads on my tour were injured in fire fights, we had some real scraps with the enemy. We were always aware of legacy though. Anything off the cleared tracks was a threat.’
‘You mean landmines left over from the Soviet occupation?’ asks Rich.
Edward nods. ‘We’d see loads of people and children with missing lower limbs and hands. A lot of kids would play in the village, pick up scraps of metal, turns out to be a grenade that blows off both their arms,’ he says, pushing his plate aside. ‘That’s what’s so cruel about them. On the whole they’re designed to maim, not kill.’
‘Didn’t Princess Diana do a lot of work to ban landmines?’ I ask. I have a lasting image of her wearing a protective mask, walking through the minefields in Angola.
Edward nods. ‘She championed it until her death.’
‘I worry about the Afghan war,’ says Rich, as the waiter clears our plates. ‘I think our armed forces are brave, I do, but I can’t imagine how we’re ever going to leave that place as a peaceful democratic country.’
‘I agree,’ Charlie says.
‘It’s OK, Cass. I’m used to this,’ Edward reassures me, when I glance his way.
‘Afghanistan has always proved a disaster for countries coming in from the outside,’ Rich continues.
‘Look at us in the nineteenth century,’ says Charlie.
‘And then the Russians not so long ago,’ Rich follows on, ‘and now the Americans and us are bogged down after a decade, getting nowhere.’
‘Are you saying we should do nothing about the Taliban?’ Libby asks both Charlie and Rich.
‘I don’t know,’ Charlie says. ‘Maybe we were right to get involved, but equally …’ He stops, hesitant to continue.
‘It is worth it,’ Edward says raising his voice, knowing what Charlie and Rich are driving at. ‘No one said it was going to be easy, but someone has to help the Afghans against the Taliban, we have to try and stop them from being a base for terrorism.’
‘You’re right,’ says Charlie, trying to make peace. ‘But I get what Rich is saying too. It’s a tricky one.’
Rich pours himself a glass of water. ‘Listen, I’m not against the army or the Royal Marines, but I find it hard to support this war. Afghanistan is a mess and I’m not sure we’re making it any better.’
‘I was doing my job,’ says Edward, clearly angry now. ‘Our commanding officers inspired us to do our very best for our country, they told us it was the right thing to do.’
‘Well, of course they would!’ Charlie says, his voice heating up. ‘Your commanding officers are unlikely to be telling you that it’s hopeless—’
‘Listen, mate, it’s not personal,’ Rich says, registering Edward’s anger. ‘I’m just not sure we have any right—’
‘Don’t talk to me about “rights”! What about our responsibilities? We’re part of NATO, are we just supposed to let the attack on the Twin Towers go unanswered? If we’d pulled out of Afghanistan early it would have made a mockery of those soldiers who had died.’
‘Yes,’ Charlie says ‘but—’
‘You sit behind a fucking desk, Charlie. I’m proud of what I did, of what the lads still do. Don’t you dare tell me Dan’s life was a waste.’
‘I’m sorry, Edward, I—’
‘Excuse me.’ He cuts Charlie off, wrestling to leave the table, banging into a chair on his way out.
‘Who’s Dan?’ Rich whispers.
‘Well, that went well,’ I say pointedly to Charlie.
*
The following morning I bump into Charlie outside his bedroom, dressed only in his pyjama bottoms. I’m in my dressing gown, towel and washbag on my lap. I see a lace bra and matching knickers, along with Charlie’s jeans, leather belt and Calvin Klein boxers, strewn across the bedroom floor. He shuts the door, scratches his head. ‘I was about to put the kettle on.’
‘I’m fine. Thanks.’
The bathroom door opens and Libby appears wearing a skimpy towel, her brown hair scooped into a loose bun. She seems completely at home as she kisses Charlie good morning and says, ‘Bathroom’s free.’
I can’t take my eyes away from her slim pretty hand resting against his chest. ‘I hope we didn’t wake you last night?’ she asks with concern, without removing her hand.
‘No.’
‘Oh good. We tried to keep the noise down, didn’t we?’ She smiles. ‘Is Edward OK? He didn’t stay over? We’re so sorry if we upset him.’ Sharp dig in the ribs. ‘Aren’t we, Charlie?’
‘He’s fine. Right, well, I’d better get going,’ I say, heading into the bathroom.
As I place the padded white shower board over the bath I hear Libby and Charlie talking. She’s asking him to cook some of his special poached eggs, the perfect cure for hangovers, while she does twenty minutes’ stretching.
After my shower I rush back into the bedroom, praying not to bump into them again. I have nothing planned today but I need to get out of the house.
Ticket sits patiently as I get dressed on my bed. I wriggle around on my mattress, rolling over on to one buttock, then the next, sliding my trousers up my legs. I hear music coming from the sitting room. Ticket barks at the sound of leaves rustling in a breeze, waves rolling on to the shore. I imagine Libby stretched out on her yoga mat, graceful as she bends to do the downward dog position as I struggle to lift one leg over my knee to get my socks on.
*
‘Where are you off to?’ Libby asks, sitting with Charlie at the kitchen table, my efforts at slipping away discreetly having failed.
‘Meeting Edward,’ I pretend, thinking how easy it is to lie. ‘And you?’ I watch Charlie reading the paper, aware we have hardly spoken since we exchanged words last night in the restaurant.
‘I get frustrated, Cass,’ Edward had said last night when we left the restaurant together. ‘I think people confuse the two conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq. They don’t get why we’re there. And I miss Dan. It hurts.’
‘We’re going to be lazy, aren’t we,’ she replies, clutching a mug of coffee in both hands. ‘Maybe go for a bike ride, grab some lunch.’
Charlie looks up from his paper. ‘Cass, I’m really sorry the way last night ended. Rich and I, we didn’t mean to upset him. We had no idea he’d lost his best friend.’
‘It’s been hard for him.’
‘I can imagine. Well, I can’t … Oh God, you know what I mean. I’d like to call him, say I’m sorry.’
I give Charlie his number. ‘We’ll see you later,’ I say. ‘Come on, Ticket, off we go.’
When I’m outside the flat I breathe a sigh of relief. I take out my mobile and call Frankie. ‘Are you around?’ I ask her the moment she picks up. ‘I need your advice.’
‘This sounds serious. What about?’
‘Charlie,’ I say. ‘I want to give Internet dating a go.’
*
‘Like you said, Cass, you’ve got nothing to lose,’ Frankie says later that morning, in a café on Putney High Street. ‘Loads of people date online. It’s no big deal. I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Charlie but he isn’t the only man on this planet.’
‘You’re right,’ I say, determined not to hang around waiting for him any more. He’s happy with Libby. Get over it.
Frankie and I discuss which dating sites I should try. Frankie says she met Tom through a site called the Perfect Pair. ‘All you need to do is provide a profile picture and then you can either write something about yourself or a friend can. Why don’t I?’
‘Great. You could say I’m incredible, talented and beautiful and you can’t think why no one has snapped me up yet.’
‘Exactly! Tell you what? Why don’t you come home with me and we can take a few pictures and sign you up today. Tom’s working, so we’ve got the place to ourselves.’
‘Today?’
‘Yes. Before you lose your nerve.’