Chapter Twenty-Seven Livin’ On the Edge
‘We don’t need them, think about it,’ Charlie calls after me as I get out of the cab.
I’m in a daze as I walk through the main entrance of this mansion house. Although I only have an apartment in here, I always get a rush of excitement coming through the doorway into the enormous hallway with its beautiful chandelier and Hollywood-style staircase. I head to my front door and turn the key. The late-afternoon sunlight streams through the patio doors like a pathway to the garden. I follow it, open the doors and step out into the fresh air. I sit down on one of my garden chairs. Despite the sun, the seat is cold and the cushion slightly damp. Summer will be officially fading into autumn in a few weeks. I must remember to start bringing the cushions in. I love autumn, or at least I always did. This year it seems to have come around too quickly and I can’t help but think of the trees stripped bare as some sort of symbol of this year. It started so brightly.
I sit until the sun fades further and I’m immersed in shadow. It’s chilly, so I head indoors. I love this apartment. I love it. I love the space, the beauty and the freedom it gives me. It tells me I survived the divorce, not only survived it but bloody well kicked ass. It represents my independence. I pour myself a glass of wine and sit down. I stroke my hands over the fabulous damson velvet. This sofa is huge, sumptuous, indulgent, glorious and huge. Where else would it fit if it all went wrong? Where would I live if I didn’t have this place? Because that’s what Charlie has suggested, remortgaging our houses to fund the Caribbean investment.
The doorbell rings and reluctantly I drag myself to the intercom. I could really do without any more decisions or pressure or trouble tonight. Mum and Dad are at the door and I buzz them in. Mum bustles straight through to the kitchen as I hold my front door open for them but Dad pauses and looks me in the eye. He gives me a big, knowing hug and I have to hold back the tears.
‘It’ll get better, kiddo,’ he says.
‘We thought you probably needed cheering up...’ says Mum, unpacking a carrier bag. Lord knows what she has in there but I can’t say that a reduced-price cottage pie has much chance of cheering me up, if that’s what she’s brought.
‘So I brought wine,’ says Dad. He knows his daughter well.
‘And I brought this linguine that you like — you know the one that’s just fancy spaghetti. And some of these scallop things, nice salad and the naughtiest tub of ice cream I could find. All your favourites and none of them were even half price.’
‘I am truly honoured.’ I smile at her, despite my mood. ‘There’s rather a lot there though.’
‘Oh we rang Michael on our way round. He said he was coming anyway to sort out your weekend away.’
Oh blimey, I’d completely forgotten about that. Michael’s trip to Lords. I don’t think I can cope with that right now. The intercom buzzes again but Dad sits me down with a replenished glass and lets Michael in. I’m in a kind of daze as they busy themselves in the kitchen making food and setting the table. I may have only lived here for a few weeks but all three of them already look very at home. And that’s the key word — home. This is my home. It feels like mine already and I can’t risk it. I simply can’t. I’ll work day and night to save Mercury, I really will, but I can’t risk this place. I know this resort is Charlie’s dream and I hate to let him down but I can’t do it. I leave the chefs to their masterpiece and head into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. I call Charlie’s number.
‘Hi there,’ I murmur, hoping the tone of my voice prepares the ground for what I have to say. Charlie pre-empts me.
‘You can’t do it, can you?’ He sighs as I pause trying to work out the right words.
‘I can’t, I’m sorry.’
‘OK, I understand. I really do.’ He rings off.
I’m called to dinner and get through it as best I can. The people I love most in the world have made such an effort to cheer me up, I owe them that at the very least.
* * *
The next day, I walk to the shop slowly, dreading actually getting there. It won’t be a happy day today. I didn’t sleep last night but not because I’d made the wrong decision. As I lay in bed, I knew I’d made the right one, but I also know I’ve destroyed Charlie’s dream and it was a good dream. I reach the shop door and push it open slowly. Charlie and Josie are already there and I can see from their expressions that he’s told her the news. She gets up and hugs me as I walk in.
‘There’ll be another chance,’ she says. ‘We’ll get through this.’
‘I shouldn’t have asked you to risk your home,’ says Charlie, taking my hands in his. ‘It was a big ask. Maybe there will be a chance next year when Mercury is back to fighting fit.’
His kindness and empathy somehow makes it worse.
‘When are you going to tell them we’re backing out of the bid?’ I ask.
‘Not yet,’ he says. ‘Maybe next week. I can’t bring myself to say the words right now.’
I nod and completely understand what he means. I offer to make the call when we have to.
We each retreat to our desks to get on with the main task of sorting out customers’ lost holidays and selling new ones. It’s pretty difficult to sound and look cheery when you just don’t feel it, but we have to. Our dreams might be shattered but we still have to sell people their dreams. Lots of them.