Chapter 42
42
‘You weren’t joking,’ Charlotte said as she put her knife and fork together on an empty plate, ‘that really was the best roast I’ve had in ages!’ Living alone, she never cooked the full Sunday lunch with all the trimmings, but when she felt the need for a bit of good old English tradition, she’d slink down to one of the university’s canteens and avail herself of theirs. The Star and Telescope’s incarnation of the meal, however, knocked spots off any university’s attempt. Succulent, locally reared roast pork, complete with crackling and homemade apple sauce, was the centrepiece of a plate that brimmed to overflowing with root vegetables, stuffing and even, to a non-purist’s delight, a gigantic, feather-light Yorkshire pudding. She’d devoured it all, and now was feeling replete.
As a result of last night’s wine, neither she nor Tristan had fancied alcohol, so they were both drinking elderflower cordial and feeling a whole lot better for it. Leaning back in her chair, Charlotte waved away the dessert menu. ‘Honestly, I couldn’t, but go ahead if you can.’
Tristan grinned. ‘How about a slab of apple pie and custard and two spoons?’
Charlotte tried to demur, but in the end, she had a good few mouthfuls of the most delectable shortcrust pastry that encased more locally grown Bramley apples, and a gloriously silky homemade custard.
‘I will never eat again!’ she proclaimed a few minutes later as she pushed her spoon away from her.
Tristan shook his head. ‘I’m so glad you’re someone who likes to eat well.’ He paused, obviously debating whether to continue. ‘My, er, my previous girlfriend was always on some diet or other. I could never work out what to cook her, and although she grinned and bore it a lot of the time when I got things wrong, I never felt as though I got it right. But that was her decision, of course – each to their own.’
‘Were you together long?’ Charlotte asked. She was curious about who had held a place in Tristan’s life and his heart before her, and hoped that an insight might give her more of a handle on this rather complicated man.
Tristan shook his head. ‘It was a casual thing.’ He looked a little rueful. ‘I’ve, er, I’ve never been particularly good at commitment.’ He rushed to clarify. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I don’t screw around, and I’ve never cheated when I’ve been involved with someone.’ His face coloured slightly as he continued. ‘It might sound like a bit of a cliché, but I’ve never really met anyone I’ve felt able to see myself being with in the long term.’
‘It’s not a cliché,’ Charlotte said softly. ‘Sometimes, people come into our lives for different reasons, and at different times, and then they go again. Not every relationship has to start with the vision of a lifetime commitment.’
Tristan leaned back in his chair as if he was trying to lessen the sudden intensity of the conversation. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said. ‘My, er, my parents had that once-in-a-lifetime thing: they met at university, when they were both studying something they loved, and for them, the stars just seemed to align.’ He gave a laugh. ‘Sorry, I’m back to speaking in clichés again!’
‘With that kind of an example, it’s easy to assume that all relationships work that way,’ Charlotte replied. ‘I’ve never been able to imagine my parents at that passionate, carefree stage. I know they love each other, but it’s a quieter form of love: they’re best friends more than husband and wife, I suppose. I’ve never heard them argue, in front of me, not once.’
‘You’ve had a lifetime of watching that relationship, though,’ Tristan observed. Then, obviously realising how wistful he sounded about his own situation, he cracked a mischievous grin. ‘Perhaps, back in the day, they were the plate-throwing, devil-may-care, wildly passionate types!’
Charlotte laughed. ‘I can’t see it somehow! If you ever meet them, you’ll know exactly what I mean!’
Tristan moved forward again and reached for one of Charlotte’s hands. ‘I’d like to, one day, if you want to introduce me to them.’
There was no mistaking the emotion in his eyes and Charlotte wondered whether there was a more permanent place for Tristan in her life. With Todd she’d never really felt as though their future was assured, but sitting here with Tristan, seeing the look on his face, and spending time with him felt different, felt right. Chiding herself inwardly for taking too many steps down that path, she gave his hand a squeeze. ‘Maybe I will, one day.’
Charlotte paused, considering what else she should say. Perhaps, since Tristan had so casually referred to his former girlfriend, now was the time to bring up the fact that her ex was actually in Lower Brambleton at this moment. ‘My, er, my ex-boyfriend grew up in Georgia, in the USA,’ she began tentatively. ‘He was someone who really loved to eat. I don’t think he ever quite got over the culture shock of coming to the UK and seeing the size of our dinner plates in comparison!’
‘Were you together long?’ Tristan asked.
‘A year or so,’ Charlotte replied. ‘He accepted a post back home and left a couple of months ago. We said we’d try to keep things going but it didn’t work out.’
Tristan nodded. ‘I can understand that. Must have been hard when he left, though.’
‘It was, at the time.’ Charlotte took a deep breath and prepared to drop the minor bombshell that she’d been keeping to herself about Todd’s actual whereabouts right now. It seemed silly to keep hedging around it, since they’d broached the topic in conversation.
‘The thing is…’ she began.
‘I’m so sorry to interrupt, Charlotte, but may I speak with you?’
Todd’s voice, with its distinct transatlantic intonation, cut through their conversation like a tail of a comet bisecting the night sky and Charlotte felt a sharp prickle of irritation.