Chapter 6 Charlie #2
Tess nods. “And I just want to tell those who are here tonight with their loved ones that your support means the world. If it weren’t for my family, I’d have never gotten myself sober, but their love, which at times must have been so hard for them to give, was the reason I pulled through.
” She looks at Charlie, and he feels an inexplicable jolt.
Carol smiles. “Wise words, Tess. Can you remember a particular moment in time when you realized the power of that support?”
Tess’s eyes fill with tears. “It took a long while for my mum to understand the problem and how it related to the way I behaved. I did some truly awful things. I stole, I lied—it got to the point where I couldn’t separate fact from fiction, because I had gotten so used to the deceit of being an alcoholic and having to hide it that I lost all sense of reality.
She put up with a lot and was always so patient with me.
” A tear falls onto her cheek and she wipes it away.
“But it was my dad whose voice I kept hearing. When I woke up in a strange bed, unable to remember how I got there, it’d be him telling me to get myself together and get out of there.
…” She looks around and smiles sadly. “And on the days where I fought with every ounce of my soul, refusing to give in to temptation, I’d hear him say, ‘Come on, girl, you’ve got this. I’m so proud of you.’”
Her shoulders convulse and her head bows, making Charlie feel as if he has a ringside view into her private grief.
Later, when she comes up beside him at the obligatory tea-and-biscuits table after the session, all he can think to say is “I’m sorry.”
“Oh God, I’m so embarrassed,” she says. “I didn’t mean to start blubbing.…”
“Isn’t that the whole point of these sessions? To let it all out?”
“I suppose,” she says, looking around. “But you and your wife seem to have all your emotions in check.”
“Don’t let the facade fool you,” he says with a smile. “Behind closed doors it’s a very different story.”
“Oh,” she says, fixing him with a penetrating stare. “How so?”
He’d thought the flippant remark would defuse the seriousness of the occasion, yet her reaction only serves to make an awkward exchange all the more intense.
“I was just joking,” he says, at pains to point out the obvious. “We work hard to give each other whatever support is needed.”
Tess studies him, as if listening for the words he isn’t saying. Maybe that’s what he’s scared of her hearing.
“It must be so much easier when you’ve got someone by your side.” She stands there, looking at him expectantly, waiting for a response.
“So you don’t have a partner?” asks Charlie before he’s had a chance to engage his brain. He could kick himself.
“No, he couldn’t handle … this,” she says, looking around. “So he made the break and I moved up here from London to make a new start.”
“Oh, we’ve recently moved from London, too,” enthuses Freya, coming up beside them.
Charlie’s relieved that she’s back from the toilet, as something about this woman unnerves him.
“Ah, Freya!” he declares, overzealously.
“How are you finding it here?” asks Tess, her eyes softening as a kindred spirit comes into sight.
Charlie places an authoritative hand in the small of Freya’s back, letting her know it’s time to go. But she either doesn’t feel it or chooses to ignore him.
“It’s very different,” she says, smiling in answer to Tess’s question. “I’m a London girl, through and through, so it’s a big change. But we didn’t really have a choice.”
Charlie tightens his grip around her waist in silent warning.
“Oh?” questions Tess, tilting her head to the side.
“Well, Charlie lost his job…,” starts Freya, her eyes looking everywhere but at him.
His jaw clenches. He hadn’t just lost his job.
He had lost everything. His work, his friends, his reputation, his livelihood …
his whole world collapsed when Frank fired him.
They’d lived in each other’s pockets for over ten years, with his mentor teaching him everything he knew.
His life’s axis had revolved around Frank for so long that he was still adjusting to the gaping hole he’d left.
Charlie had tried to reach out to him after the ill-fated dinner party, had offered an olive branch more than once. But every door he’d knocked on had been slammed firmly shut in his face.
He shouldn’t have thrown the first punch—he knew that—but he couldn’t stand there and have Freya be so disrespected.
“Will somebody tell me what the fuck is going on?” Frank had roared, his nostrils flaring as Freya stormed out of the house.
“I should go after her,” said Charlie, his legs not feeling like his own as he moved toward the dining-room door.
Frank had gotten a firm hold of his arm and Charlie stumbled backward. “You tell me what she’s talking about first.” He’d looked between Charlie and Coco, who was staring wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights. “Is something going on between you?”
“No, God, no!” he cried.
“So what’s Freya talking about then? What did she hear?”
Charlie and Coco exchanged a glance, silently asking each other whose version would be better received.
“She’s got it all wrong,” Coco started, reaching out to Frank in an effort to placate him. “We were planning a surprise birthday party for her, and she must have overheard us.”
Frank’s neck muscles bulged, his fear of being made a fool out of far greater than his fear of his wife having an affair.
“We were talking about how difficult it was to arrange and keep secret,” Coco went on. “She must have caught the wrong end of the stick.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But she’s drunk, so—”
“She’s put two and two together and come up with five,” Charlie added, keen to exonerate himself.
Frank ran a hand through his thinning hair, as his self-pride and masculinity fought against the love and trust of the two most important people in his life. Charlie felt wretched that he’d made him question it.
“You know I’d never…,” he offered, before looking to Coco, who seemed oddly put out by the insinuation.
Frank sighed and the tension consuming Charlie’s entire being eased as the static charge filling the room began to dissipate.
“So maybe that woman needs to be given a talking to!” said Frank.
“Because I can’t have some crazy bitch running around town making wild accusations. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
“I’ll set her straight,” said Charlie. “But let’s hold off on the insults, she’s my wife.”
Frank stepped into Charlie’s personal space, his eyes bulging again. “I don’t care who she is,” he spat. “She doesn’t get to come into my home, upset my wife and daughter, abuse my hospitality.… If you can’t control her, then maybe she’d be best left at home in the future.”
The punch had come from nowhere, swinging past Frank’s head. If Charlie hadn’t been so drunk, there’s no doubt it would have landed on target.
Frank was either more sober or had a better aim, as his response smashed firmly into Charlie’s temple in retaliation, sending him sprawling across the floor. Incensed, he went to lay into him again, but Coco’s screams brought Frank to his senses.
Richard hauled Charlie up by his lapels and half dragged him down the hall toward the front door. “I knew you were no good,” he said, pushing him out onto the stone steps and down into the crescent road that just a few short hours before had held such promise.
Charlie stumbled, struggling to right himself as the bright-orange light of a black cab for hire came toward him. He instinctively held his hand up, but the driver, having slowed down and taken a look at him, thought better of it and kept going.
“Fuck!” Charlie yelled, looking up and down the road, wondering what the hell he was going to do.
That’s when he remembered the car.
“And with the cost of everything in London,” Freya is saying, bringing him back, “we thought it made much more sense to sell and put our money to work up here.”
Tess smiles. “That’s pretty much what I did, and although it’s early days, I have no regrets.”
“We should be going,” says Charlie, feeling an innate sense that Freya’s about to offer up even more of their past lives. He gives a nod to Tess. “It was nice meeting you.”
“You too,” she says, unable to hide her disappointment that their time has been cut short. “And if you ever want to chat, seeing as I’m a little further along the road than you guys are, please feel free to reach out.”
“That would be great,” says Freya. “Let me give you my number.”