Chapter 23 Charlotte #2
Some of it was fascinating, particularly when he mentioned someone famous off the telly whom she knew, but a lot of it went straight over her head, and to be honest, she was starting to get a little bored.
Even after a couple of hours, and nine or ten courses of complicated dishes which still left her hungry, she didn’t feel like she really knew anything about him.
‘So,’ she said, trying to squeeze in a question while he took a bite of some wafer thing with green speckled sauce on the top, ‘do you have any brothers or sisters?’
James sighed. He lifted a hand, rested his knuckles on his forehead and dipped his head in what looked like a practised pose.
‘None by blood. But I do have a family, here in Brentwell. Of sorts. I had hoped that by coming back here, I might have given them a chance to reach out, to make amends.’
‘Oh? Make amends for what?’
‘For how they treated me. How they tried to sabotage my career.’
‘Really? How did they do that?’
‘I would rather end this subject, if you don’t mind. I find the memories … painful.’
Charlotte, however, had finally found something about him that was truly interesting. Sad, perhaps, but interesting nonetheless.
‘Didn’t you say before that you had a stepmother?’
‘Ha. She of film proportions of wickedness. One day, if they make a film of my life, her role will become iconic. A film villain to stand with the best of them.’
‘What exactly did she do?’
‘What didn’t she do? That’s the deeper question.
And my stepbrother, whom I had thought would be loyal, would stick by me, chose to go over to the darkness.
It is something I can never forgive. Once, even though our blood was different, we were as close as any brothers.
That bond was forever broken one dark, cold night. ’
Charlotte couldn’t help but think he sounded like an audiobook. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but James lifted a hand and called for the waiter.
‘Sir! Coffees and aperitifs, if you please.’
He got up to use the bathroom, leaving Charlotte sitting alone at the table.
She stared at the empty chair, feeling a sudden sense of peace.
He was interesting, for sure, but … vacuous.
Just trying to concentrate made her tired, and she did have work in the morning.
Worried she might nod off while waiting for James to come back, she got up to stretch her legs, going over to the counter behind which the two chefs were working, chatting amicably to each other while one made coffee and the other poured Amaretto into two glasses.
‘What are you getting Lewis for Christmas this year?’ one asked.
‘One of those Lego City sets,’ the other said. ‘He really loves trucks, so I thought I’d get him one of those car transporter things. It’ll take ages to make so at least will keep him busy into January.’
‘No video games?’
‘Not if I can help it. Something we can do together. I don’t want him staring into a screen all day long.’
‘Sounds good, I might see if Ben would be interested in something like that. What are you getting for the wife?’
The second chuckled. ‘That’s the question, isn’t it? The one I’ve been pondering since last Christmas. You can’t go wrong with shoes, can you?’
‘Shoes? Are you out of your mind? You’d dare to buy your wife shoes?
‘Oh, God no. I take her shopping in the sales. I’m not crazy.’
Charlotte couldn’t help but chuckle. With a start, the two chefs turned around. Both of them looked terrified.
‘Sorry to scare you,’ she said. ‘You know, coming from someone who has fifteen pairs of shoes—and that’s pairs in active service, not including functional shoes such as slippers, welly boots, shoes for the gym, that kind of thing—I just thought I’d tell you that if you do take the risk of buying shoes for your wives, while they probably won’t like them—just being honest here—they will serve a purpose.
They’ll make the others look better. A bad pair can improve the other pairs without doing anything, if you know what I mean? ’
‘Is that right?’
‘Yes. Although, I wouldn’t go with shoes as a main present. More like a side gift.’
‘What would you suggest?’
‘Well—again just being honest—you can’t go wrong with accessories or beauty products.
Actually, you can go wrong—very wrong—but what I would suggest is that you start asking surreptitious questions a few weeks ahead of Christmas—or birthdays, for that matter—and only buy something that has been pre-approved.
Or, if you don’t—and it’s a big risk—always keep the receipt, and don’t be offended when they ask for it. ’
‘John, we should be writing this down.’
‘I’ll get a pen.’
Charlotte put up a hand. ‘I don’t want to scare you.
Really, your wives just want to know that they’re loved.
Even if you get the wrong type, as long as you get the right brand, that’ll show plenty of effort.
They can exchange it for the right one. Just knowing that you braved the women’s section of the pharmacy will be enough to show them that they’re loved. ’
‘Is this what your boyfriend does?’ the one called John asked.
‘Oh, he’s not my boyfriend—’
The toilet door opened, and James emerged, holding the door with one hand while putting a smartphone back into his jacket pocket with the other. He looked up at Charlotte standing by the counter with the two chefs, then shot them a look of death.
‘I trust my coffee will be hot,’ he snapped.
‘Of course, sir,’ they muttered together, hurrying back to their positions.
‘We were just having a chat,’ Charlotte said, as James stalked back to the table.
‘I’m sure it was rewarding,’ he muttered, rolling his eyes, and had Charlotte been confident of finding the way back through the forest, she might have fled then and there.
As it was, while she didn’t think there were still bears in the English countryside, it wasn’t outside of the realms of possibility that one might have escaped from a secretive private zoo, and drawn by the elaborate smells of exotic cooking, be stalking the trees outside at this very moment.
With no other choice but to endure James for a little while longer, she sat back down.
He seemed distracted now, and thankfully the meal drew to a close not long after. They took the hovercraft-sleigh back through the forest to where the car was waiting.
‘Thank you very much,’ Charlotte said, as they started off back towards Brentwell. It was a little after ten o’clock, and she was keen to get home, but didn’t want to appear ungrateful. ‘The food was very nice, and the setting was lovely.’
The hovercraft ride had perked James up a little bit. ‘Not as lovely as the company,’ he said. He leaned forward and reached for her hand, but at that moment his phone buzzed in his pocket. He groaned, pulled it out, and pressed it to his ear.
‘Yes? Look, we’ll talk in the morning. Out of court. Of course out of court. Offer an extra five percent if they’re still stalling. I want this dealt with.’
Charlotte didn’t know where to look. She stared out of the window at the snowy countryside, spotting a house in the distance with fairy lights surrounding its roof, like a landing pad for Father Christmas. She hoped a couple of children lived here, and that they were feeling excited.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ James said. ‘When you’re in my line of work, the drama never stops. There’s always someone wanting a share of your limelight, a cut of your profits.’
‘It must be hard.’
‘Yes, it is.’
She feared he might start on another long monologue, but instead he lapsed into silence. Soon, the lights of Brentwell appeared; then they were moving slowly through the suburbs.
‘Isn’t it so Christmassy?’ Charlotte said. ‘Don’t you just love all the lights—’
‘Huh. Well, well.’
James was leaning between the front seats. He tapped on the glass, and the driver lowered the partition.
‘Can you see the man up there walking with the bicycle? Slow down, would you? I want to get a look at him.’
Up ahead, a man was walking along the street, pushing a bicycle through the snow, a bag bouncing under one arm.
Charlotte let out a gasp of surprise. It was Jacob, she could tell from his coat and the bicycle.
She opened her mouth to point out that she knew him, but James was already rolling the window down.
‘Hey there, in need of a lift?’ he called, and Charlotte wondered if she’d got James wrong all this time, that he was actually a decent person with a few social issues he needed to address. It couldn’t be easy, having to deal with fame.
They came up alongside Jacob. He looked up, into the window, meeting Charlotte’s eyes before she could even begin to understand the implications of it. She stared at him a moment, then James gave a sinister sneer and shouted, ‘Sorry, no time!’ He slammed a hand against the front seat. ‘Driver, go!’
On instruction, the car sped off. Charlotte turned to look out of the back in time to see Jacob showered by a spray of dirty slush from the drain alongside the road.
‘Why did you do that?’ she said, turning on James. ‘That was horrible. I can’t believe it.’
James looked at her, face grave. ‘Oh, you think so?’ He sniffed, then wiped away an imaginary tear. ‘That was him.’
‘Who?’
‘My stepbrother. The stepbrother who tried to ruin my career.’