Chapter seventeen

C

harlotte drove away from Andy’s house holding on to the look in his eyes as he kissed her, the wanting mixed with disappointment. It echoed her own feelings and if it had not been for the phone call who knew what would have happened. Gripping the steering wheel, she also acknowledged an element of relief. They hardly knew each other and she wasn’t up for a brief fling. Which maybe was all Andy wanted. He admitted to not having dated for some time so was he ready for a relationship? The arousal in her body was still strong in spite of the lack of resolution and she shifted in the seat.

Forcing herself to concentrate on the road, Charlotte pushed down the thoughts of bodies entwined in bed and took some deep breaths. What she needed was a brisk walk on a beach and she headed to the west coast instead of home. Parking at Vazon, she joined the dog walkers recently allowed back on the sands and strode along the firm sand. A cool breeze whipped through her hair and reddened her nose. The tide was coming in and the sound of waves crashing on the shore grew louder, mixing with the shrill cry of gulls searching in vain for easy food. It was too cold for picnics and the gulls were forced to dive for the small fish in the shallows.

As Charlotte watched their antics she thought about Andy’s father, hoping he would make a quick recovery. At least it wasn’t as serious as cancer, she told herself, frowning as her thoughts shifted inevitably to her mother. In a few days they would have the test results and then…She shivered, whether from cold or fear, Charlotte wasn’t sure. Turning around she made her way back to the car and headed home.

Andy phoned later that evening.

‘Hi, sorry about this afternoon. I managed to get Dad into bed, not easy as he was bent almost double, and after taking some strong pain killers he fell asleep. I stayed to make sure everything was all right and got home a few minutes ago.’ He sounded tired and Charlotte wanted to rush round and take care of him.

‘I’m glad he’s okay. How’s your mother?’

‘She’s fine, but annoyed with Dad as he brings these things onto himself. He’ll be stuck in bed for a few days until his back sorts itself out, which it will, but it means she has to look after him as well as work. Fortunately she works from home, but it’s not great.’ He let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Anyway, enough of my family, what have you been doing?’

Charlotte told him of her walk and said again how much she had enjoyed the lunch. Feeling self- conscious at how close they had been to going to bed together, she dried up. Andy, perhaps thinking along similar lines, also seemed a bit hesitant. He did say he would have to go round to his parents on Sunday but would have loved to see her.

She was disappointed but tried to sound casual, saying, ‘Another time. Didn’t you say something about dinner?’

‘Yes, let me take you out, to make up for having to leave so suddenly. Are you free on Wednesday? I’m sorry, but I’ve got meetings booked for Monday and Tuesday otherwise–’

‘Wednesday would be perfect, thanks. I look forward to it,’ she murmured.

After saying goodbye, Charlotte sat staring into space, lost in a daydream involving Andy leading her upstairs to his bedroom and…Giving herself a shake she switched on the television, searching for an escapist film. Anything to stop her thoughts taking over.

Sunday morning dragged. The house was so quiet with Louisa away and for the first time since she’d been in Guernsey, Charlotte felt alone and at a loss. There was nothing she could do with regard to Andy’s quest, the only reason for staying on here. Her thoughts turned to England – and her mother. In a couple of days the test results would be back, meaning either the end of the anxiety or the beginning of even more. Charlotte’s stomach clenched as she recalled Dr Rowland’s comment “we might not be able to operate”.

Not particularly reassuring, she thought, making herself a third cup of tea. Knowing she would go mad if she sat around all day, she hit on the idea of inviting Malcolm to join her for lunch. He was delighted to accept and suggested The Old Government Hotel, within walking distance for both of them. After making a reservation Charlotte changed into something more suitable than jeans and sweater and immediately perked up. Malcolm was good company and would provide a great diversion to her problems.

Charlotte woke with more enthusiasm on Monday than on the previous day. Not only had she enjoyed her lunch with Malcolm, but Louisa had returned from Jersey in a bubbly mood. She and Paul had loved their trip and, according to Louisa, had talked through their issues.

‘I did as you suggested and told him about my insecurity and we also discussed the pressure he’d been under at work,’ Louisa said, giving Charlotte a hug. ‘It felt so good to bring it all out into the open, for both of us, and we’ve promised not to let things build up like it again. We both want our relationship to work and agreed if things are going well in three months’ time, we’ll move in together.’

‘Wonderful! I’m so pleased. I’ve always thought you two made a great team. Will you say anything to Malcolm?’

She shook her head. ‘No, not yet. Paul wants Dad to agree to more staff so he’s not as tied to La Folie. We’ll take it a step at a time,’ Louisa said, filling the kettle. ‘How about your weekend? How was lunch with Andy?’

‘It was lovely, thanks. Andy surprised me by being a great cook, the food was delicious and I liked what I saw of his cottage,’ Charlotte said, chewing her lip.

Louisa gave her a searching look.

‘I sense a ‘but’. What happened?’

She told her about Jim and his back and Louisa nodded her head in sympathy, saying she would ring him on Monday to check how he was. Charlotte went on to say she had lunch with Malcolm, Andy being needed at his parents’ house, and Louisa wanted to know how it went. By the time they’d caught up with each other it was late.

Lying in bed on Monday Charlotte recalled what Louisa had said about her and Paul living together. It brought home to her how much she wanted a committed relationship. It was now more than a year since her divorce and, pushing forty, was running out of time for a family. If she wanted one.

Sitting up, the duvet tucked under her chin, she examined the idea of having children. Richard had been unable to father children so it had not been an option. She would never have considered a sperm donor, having few maternal instincts. Or so she had assumed. Maybe that was because of Richard, she now asked herself; he was stridently anti-children, always insisting they booked adult only holidays. The thought of nappies, sleepless nights and leaky boobs was not appealing but…she sighed. That wouldn’t last forever and friends like Jeanne seemed to find motherhood rewarding. Perhaps it could be fun to have a little person or two to care for and call her own. If it ever happened she would definitely not be like her mother, who showed a distinct lack of maternal instinct. Telling herself it was all academic, as unless she found a partner there could be no children, her mind veered to the one potential candidate in her life. Andy.

She was attracted to him and might have ended up in bed if it hadn’t been for his father but…would they be able to overcome their differences, including the stretch of water? Not allowing herself to go down that route, she swung her legs out of bed and stood up. Time to get a move on, she told herself. In more ways than one.

Later the same morning, Charlotte received two phone calls. The first was from Martin Kite, the rector of St Martins.

‘Good morning, Charlotte. How did you get on with Mrs Vaudin? She told me you’d been round.’

‘Morning. Yes, it went well, she gave me a clear picture of events from her perspective. I’m beginning to agree with you about older people like nothing better than to talk about the past, particularly if it was later viewed as important. Do you have any more candidates for me?’

‘Yes, which is why I called. It’s a housebound lady who doesn’t get the chance to meet people much now and I think gets lonely, even though her husband is still alive. He’s a…difficult man and is very controlling so the lady has asked me to arrange any visit for when he’s out. Apparently, he plays euchre several times a week so it shouldn’t be difficult to find a mutually convenient time.’

‘Euchre? What’s that?’

‘Oh, a card game, extremely popular here, particularly with the older locals, and her husband plays on Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons. I wondered if this Wednesday would suit? Mrs Batiste has a chiropodist appointment this afternoon.’

Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. Surely it couldn’t be?

‘Wednesday’s fine by me, Martin. And…and where does Mrs Batiste live?

‘In a big old farmhouse off La Route de Jerbourg. You can’t miss it, it’s called La Vielle Manoire. I’ll give you directions, but if you get lost just ask anyone where Harold and Maud Batiste live…’

Charlotte felt lightheaded as she made a note of the address and how to find it. Not that she needed to write it down as no doubt Andy knew it off by heart. She was being handed the chance to enter the lion’s den itself. And all thanks to his unsuspecting wife.

She stood for a moment after disconnecting the call as first doubt and then fear crept in. Could she be stirring up the proverbial hornets’ nest? If Harold found her there, how would he react? Charlotte paced around the kitchen, her thoughts flying around, scattergun fashion. The ringing of the phone brought her to a halt.

‘Hi, Charlotte. It’s me. I just wondered how you are,’ Andy’s welcome voice echoed down the line.

‘I’m fine, but you’ll never guess what’s happened…’ she told him about the rector’s call.

‘Wow! What a turn up for the book. If you’ll excuse the pun,’ he said, sounding excited. ‘Fancy Aunt Maud offering to talk about the war. I didn’t realise she was compos mentis, to be honest. I did know she was pretty much housebound and her sight’s going. Haven’t seen her since I was a kid and that was only by accident when Dad and I were walking at Jerbourg one time. We were never invited round to their house, of course.’

‘I know it’s an absolutely brilliant opportunity, but do you think it’s safe? I don’t want to raise the alarm in Harold’s mind.’

‘Why should you? He’s not going to be there and even if he did meet you, he doesn’t know you’re connected to me in any way. As long as you mention Jeanne’s name it should be all right. In fact, I’d better call and bring her up to speed in case the rector or anyone else gets in touch.’

Charlotte thought it over. ‘You could be right. I’ve built up this big bogeyman image of Harold in my mind and the thought of entering his personal space and talking to his wife seemed a bit unnerving. Silly, really, I suppose.’

‘Well, whatever Harold has or hasn’t done in the past, he’s not likely to present much of a threat now at 84. Come on, Charlotte, don’t be a wimp!’

For a moment she saw red. ‘Hey, it’s not you who has to walk into the proverbial lion’s den! He may be 84 but apparently he’s still a big man. Remember I don’t have to do this. I’m not part of your…your family,’ she said sharply.

His voice softened. ‘I’m sorry, Charlotte. That was crass of me. I wouldn’t dream of letting you put yourself at risk. From anyone or anything. But I genuinely think you’ll be quite safe. And there’s bound to be someone else there if Maud’s housebound. A carer or something. Please, Charlotte, this is such a great opportunity.’

She let the anger melt away. Perhaps she had overreacted. And he was right, it was too good a chance to miss. ‘Oh, all right I’ll do it. I am intrigued by Maud and it will be fascinating to talk to someone who’s been married to a man everyone seems to dislike. But I’d still rather not meet him,’ she said, calm again. ‘I forgot to ask about your father. How is he?’

‘Better, thanks, though still in bed. He phoned to say Louisa is calling round later to do some manipulation on his spine, which is good of her. Look, once you’ve seen old Maud, you will phone me, won’t you? I’ll be on tenterhooks until you do. Can’t wait to hear what she’s got to say! Sorry, must go, a client’s arriving in a minute, will speak later. Bye.’

Charlotte was left wondering if Andy’s interest in her might be more because of the valuable information she had fed him than her attraction as a woman. The unhappy thought deflated her earlier excitement and, too hyped up to settle, she threw on a jacket and walked to nearby Cambridge Park.

The grass was barely visible under a thick carpet of golden brown leaves turning crisp in the autumn air. She kicked through them as she had loved doing as a child. Slowly her head cleared and she decided, whatever was going on in Andy’s head – and heart – it was great luck Maud, of all people, had offered to talk to her. And she would not miss it for the world.

By Tuesday Charlotte was on edge again. Not because of Maud, but because of her mother. Annette was due to hear the test results that morning and it had been agreed between them Charlotte would ring her at lunchtime. It was all very well her mother saying there was nothing to worry about, but she would not be much of a daughter if she didn’t. Settling down with a paperback, Charlotte managed to lose herself in the story for a couple of hours. She made a cup of coffee before phoning her mother, heart pounding a rapid tattoo in her chest.

‘Hello, Mother, how did it go with Dr Rowlands?’

‘Oh, hello, Charlotte. He didn’t say a great deal, except I’ll need to take some new medication and I should feel better soon. Nothing much to worry about, as I said.’ Her mother sounded flat, deflated. Charlotte wasn’t satisfied.

‘Did he say what the drugs were for? What’s the problem?’ She kept her voice light, neutral.

‘Well, you know what doctors are like, they come out with their long words and you don’t want to look as if you don’t understand. Something about my liver, but not serious,’ her mother replied in the same flat voice. Then she added briskly, ‘It was good of you to phone, Charlotte, but I simply must go now. Goodbye.’

She stared at the phone long after her mother had clicked off. Something wasn’t right and she meant to find out what. When her mother had first been diagnosed with breast cancer she had researched the possibilities of it spreading. The liver was mentioned and it hadn’t been good. Worried now, she phoned Dr Rowland’s clinic. Eventually, after the usual hanging on, he answered.

‘Charlotte, my dear. I take it you’ve spoken to your mother? I’m sorry it was such bad news–’

‘Bad news? But she said it wasn’t serious! What exactly is wrong with her, Doctor?’ She felt her palms become clammy as she gripped the phone.

He coughed. ‘I did explain it quite clearly to Lady Townsend and hoped she would tell you herself. But the truth is your mother has developed a particularly aggressive form of secondary liver cancer and the prognosis is not…good. We can treat the symptoms to an extent, but there’s no cure, I’m afraid.’

Charlotte found herself losing her balance and sat down quickly.

‘Do you mean it’s…it’s terminal?’

‘Yes, it is. I think your mother has about a year to live. With luck.’