Chapter twenty-six

T

hat evening Charlotte allowed herself to daydream while soaking in the bath. It wasn’t something she encouraged, being by nature more of a realist, but thoughts of love and romance persisted in taking over her mind. Luxuriating in the heady perfume of the aromatic oils she had swished into the water, she knew she wanted more from life than what her mother referred to as a “good marriage”. The phrase spoke volumes, confirming as it did Annette had married for security rather than love. She experienced a pang of sadness for her parents, wishing they could have had a happy, loving relationship instead. Acknowledging her own foray into marriage had not been entirely successful, she had at least thought herself in love with Richard and he with her. Looking back, Charlotte conceded it was nothing like the intense emotion she now felt towards Andy.

The thought of perhaps spending the rest of her life with him was intoxicating but…there was always a “but”, wasn’t there? If she was a character in a romance novel, all obstacles would magically dissolve away and she and her lover would live happily ever after. But she wasn’t: she was a flesh and blood woman who was falling in love with a flesh and blood man – with issues. Although he seemed to be saying he loved her and wanted to be with her, she sensed his reticence about the difference in their backgrounds. And if he were to meet her mother, his fears would be confirmed. But she wasn’t her mother and not as hung up on class and money. The problem was as she saw it, Andy, in spite of his own successful career, viewed himself as the son of a poor fisherman, albeit one deprived of his inheritance. And, deep down, she knew she was not completely sure herself. Holding her breath, she submerged her head, hoping to clear her mind. It didn’t work.

Andy arrived at seven, looking particularly suave, she thought, in a pale grey suit and open-neck cream shirt. He barely gave her time to say hello before cupping her face in his hands and giving her a lingering, ardent kiss. Releasing her, he smiled and said, ‘I’ve been looking forward to that all day. How about you?’

‘Me too,’ she murmured in his ear, and dropped a light kiss on his cheek. The scent of lime cologne lingered in the air. He took her hand, leading her to the car and opened the passenger door with a bow. Laughing, she slid into the seat and he walked round to the other side, and slipped in.

‘I’ve booked a table at a seafood restaurant, Le Nautique, overlooking the harbour. As you love fish,’ he said, touching her hand.

‘Lovely. I always feel as if I’m being particularly good when I eat fish and won’t put on weight.’ She patted her stomach, laughing.

‘You have a gorgeous figure, please don’t diet. Can’t abide stick thin women.’

‘There’s no fear of it happening to me! Love my food too much.’

Their eyes locked for a moment before Andy turned his head and started the ignition. Charlotte’s stomach, only slightly rounded, was full of butterflies. It promised to be a fun evening.

Two hours later Charlotte sank contentedly back into the car, having enjoyed great food and good company. Andy had been attentive and flirtatious and she began to hope they could resolve their mutual reservations about a long-term relationship. They were en route to his cottage for coffee and, hopefully, a sleepover.

During the evening Andy had told her about Jim’s reaction to the news about Harold and how he had refused to say why he would not contest the inheritance. As he spoke Andy raked his hands through his hair in frustration. She had grabbed his hands to calm him down, saying his father must have a good reason and he had to be patient. Charlotte agreed it was odd, but there was nothing to be done by getting angry. Thankfully, he had let the subject drop and she went on to describe the outing with her mother. By this time both of them were moaning about their respective parents being stubborn and hard to understand, and the irony of it made them burst out laughing.

Back at the cottage Andy put the kettle on and measured out the coffee while Charlotte set out mugs and milk.

‘Fancy a nightcap with the coffee?’ Andy asked, holding up a bottle of single malt.

‘Please.’ Charlotte carried a tray into the sitting room and placed it on the table in front of the sofa before closing the curtains and switching on lamps. With the ceiling lights off the room was cosy; soft pools of light illuminating the pictures on the walls. She kicked off her shoes and curled her legs on the sofa, whisky in hand. Andy brought in the coffee, picked up his glass and joined her.

‘Warm enough?’ he asked, pulling her close.

‘Mm, yes thanks. Thank goodness for central heating!’ She sipped her drink, enjoying the peaty taste of the whisky in her mouth. Andy tipped back his glass, sighed contentedly and, taking her glass, put both of them on the tray. He leant close again, tracing the outline of her mouth with his finger before kissing her gently on the lips.

‘Would you like to stay tonight?’ he asked, between kisses.

‘Yes, love to. I…I’d like to talk about something,’ she replied, when he sat back.

‘Sure, go ahead. I’ll pour the coffee.’ He filled their mugs and leaned back on the sofa, his eyes on her face.

Charlotte flicked her hair back as she gathered her thoughts. ‘It’s about my mother and, and everything. Us. Guernsey. London. What to do.’ She stopped and took a sip of her coffee.

‘I see. Or rather, I don’t see, not yet anyway. But I get the drift. Why don’t you tell me more?’ He smiled reassuringly.

Emboldened, she continued, ‘As I told you, Mother’s returning home on Saturday and I feel guilty about letting her go alone. Not that there’s much I can do her staff can’t, but still…So, I thought perhaps I could go to London, catch up with the business, do some writing which I absolutely must do soon, and then invite Mother to stay for a night or two. I can keep an eye on her, make sure she’s not getting worse. All things which I can’t do if I stay here,’ she said, pushing the words out quickly.

Andy’s forehead creased into fine lines. He picked up his mug. ‘Are you saying you want to go back to London or think you should? And where do I come into it?’

She sighed. ‘That’s the question I can’t answer. It’s your call, Andy. I feel I should go back, though not necessarily immediately, but part of me wants to stay here because – because of you. But we both need to be clear what we feel for each other –’

The kiss took her by surprise. His lips held hers so firmly she threw her arms around him and gave into the pleasure coursing through her body.

‘Have I answered your question? I want there to be a future for us, but I understand it’s not going to be easy. There’s your mother, your home, your business – it’s a big deal,’ he said, grasping her hands.

Charlotte smiled her relief. If they could find a compromise it could work.

‘Neither of us can make any promises yet, we haven’t known each other very long, have we? Could we agree to see as much of each other as possible and see…how it goes? No expectations, no commitments. Just getting to know each other better.’

Andy nodded. ‘I’d go along with that. Our lifestyles are so different so we have to make adjustments. I can’t offer you what you’ve been used to and, frankly, it probably wouldn’t appeal to me. Grand houses, busy social whirl…’

‘I don’t give a fig about my old lifestyle. I admit I’ve been spoilt by having people look after me but I can learn how to cook and clean and…’ for a moment the thought of having to clean a house herself caused her to panic, but surely she could have a cleaner? She could easily afford it. Clearing her throat she went on, ‘do all the usual household things. To keep an eye on the business I would need to visit London regularly, but it’s not an issue. The real problem is my mother and being there for her while she…she’s still around.’ Her voice shook as she said the painful words.

He stroked her face, wiping away a stray tear. ‘Please don’t cry. According to the doctor nothing bad’s going to happen for months and if your mother does persist with Gillian’s treatment she could pull through and go into remission.’ He held her tight for a moment and Charlotte relaxed into his arms. Perhaps something could be worked out with regard to her mother. The woman who had made it clear she did not need Charlotte’s help. Or at least not yet.

She was woken the next morning by a smiling Andy bearing a mug of steaming coffee.

‘Come on, sleepyhead. You’ll have to get a move on if you want a lift,’ he murmured in her ear then dropped a kiss on her nose. Showered and dressed he presented a complete contrast to the man she remembered making love to her the previous night. Summoning a sleepy smile, she pushed the hair out of her eyes and sat up.

‘Thanks. You’re looking remarkably cheerful this morning. Any particular reason?’ she asked, already knowing the answer.

He sat on the bed and handed over the mug. ‘You know why!’ he said aiming a mock punch at her arm. ‘I’m happy because you’ve agreed to spend a little longer here before rushing back to London. Here meaning in my home – and my bed.’

Now fully awake, Charlotte’s lips curled up at the memory of their discussion last night. Andy had been persuasive in his argument about there being no need for her to leave immediately and by staying here, in his house, for a couple of weeks, they could become better acquainted, as he put it. Remembering their passionate lovemaking brought a warmth to her cheeks. They were fast becoming extremely well acquainted!

‘And I’m happy too. Will I get coffee in bed every morning once I move in?’ she asked, tilting her head.

‘Huh! We’ll see. But as it’s the one skill you’ve managed to learn, perhaps it should be you bringing me coffee. The next step will be teaching you how to cook so I can enjoy a cooked breakfast in bed,’ he said, grinning.

Charlotte giggled. ‘You might have to wait a while for that pleasure. Perhaps I should sign up for cookery classes and receive professional tuition.’ She managed to duck in time to avoid the pillow Andy threw at her and swung her legs out of bed to head for the shower, still laughing. Andy grabbed a quick kiss before returning downstairs.

After a rushed breakfast of juice and toast, they set off in the car for St Peter Port. Andy dropped her at Louisa’s before continuing to his office in Clifton, off College Street. Charlotte walked into the kitchen to find her friend munching on a bowl of muesli.

‘Morning. Another good night?’ Louisa asked, with a mischievous smile.

‘Good morning. Yes, it was and I’ve something to tell you…’

By the time Charlotte had explained her plans Louisa was flinging her arms around her, smiling broadly.

‘I’m so pleased. I’d love to see you make a go of it with Andy, particularly if it means you’ll live in Guernsey.’ She stood back and looked enquiringly at Charlotte. ‘You do plan to move here, don’t you?’

‘If it works out, I suppose so. For the moment I’ve said I’ll stay a couple of weeks or so, see how we get on. But like you, I’m keeping my London house whatever happens. It’s a good idea to have a backup plan, I think.’ She helped herself to coffee and sat down at the table. ‘We’re not making a fuss about it and I won’t tell Mother yet. Andy isn’t saying anything to his parents either. Especially not until this business of Harold and the inheritance is sorted. In case he learns I’ve been talking to people, particularly Maud.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll only tell Paul. Are you leaving today?’

They continued to chat until Louisa departed for work, with Charlotte promising not to leave until she returned at teatime. Once on her own she rang the car hire company Andy had suggested and arranged for a car to be brought round later, to be hired by the week. Andy’s cottage was a bit out in the sticks and she would definitely need transport. At the moment Charlotte was not sure how she would fill her days, except for making a proper start on her novel, well overdue. The novels bought in Frome had been engrossing and provided valuable pointers for her own book. Now was an ideal opportunity while she had no other commitments. No excuses, she told herself, going upstairs to change.

That evening Charlotte pulled into Andy’s drive and parked next to his car. Excitement and nervousness warred within her, creating a feeling of light-headedness as she manoeuvred her case from the boot. A deep breath and she wheeled the case to the front door. Before she could ring the bell, Andy flung the door open and pulled her into his arms.

What seemed like hours later, but was only seconds, Charlotte released herself and smiled. ‘That was some welcome! May I come in now, please? It’s a little chilly out here.’

Andy grinned and grabbed her case while she walked down the hall and into the kitchen. Leaving the case at the bottom of the stairs, he joined her, pulling out a bottle of champagne from the fridge. As he turned round Charlotte spotted the label bearing the name Krug and burst out laughing.

‘How did you know?’ she asked a puzzled looking Andy.

‘Know what? I was told by the wine merchant it’s one of the best, but if you don’t like it–’

‘It’s a fabulous champagne! My grandmother was a distant cousin of the head of the Krug family and I’m using the pen name of Louisa Krug for my writing. I wondered if Louisa had told you,’ she said, taking off her coat.

‘No, she didn’t, it was a fluke. And now I hear my girlfriend is not only the owner of a publishing company but is related to the Krug family. Any more I should know?’ he asked, looking unhappy at the thought. He reached for a couple of champagne glasses.

‘I don’t think so. And I am only a very distant relation. Actually, Krug’s my favourite champagne and I’d have told you about the connection at some point. Are we toasting something in particular?’ she asked, hoping to defuse his concern.

‘Yes, you staying with me. I know we only agreed it’ll be for two weeks, but I’d like to think it might be for longer. So,’ he said, popping the cork and pouring the wine, ‘here’s to us!’

‘To us!’ she repeated as they clinked glasses. A few sips of the creamy bubbles and Charlotte began to relax. It had dawned on her how little they both knew about each other and actually staying in his house was very different to the occasional sleepover. Andy had thought to provide some nibbles to soak up the wine and she took a handful before they moved into the sitting room.

‘I thought we’d chill out tonight and order a takeaway. All right with you? We have a choice of Indian or Chinese, whichever Madam prefers,’ he said, as they snuggled together on the sofa.

‘Indian would be lovely, thanks. Have you any plans for the weekend?’

‘Not really. The good news is I don’t need to do any work so can concentrate on entertaining my house guest,’ he said, kissing her cheek.

‘Good. I do have to take Mother to the airport late morning, but it won’t take long. I’ll say I’m staying on at Louisa’s for a bit longer, and I doubt if she’ll query it.’

‘Right, let’s order the food.’

Charlotte arrived at La Folie to find her mother listening to Paul and Gillian, who appeared to be reminding her what she should and should not do to look after herself. Charlotte held back until they had finished and then joined them. Her mother turned round. ‘Ah, Charlotte, there you are. We were saying our goodbyes.’ She directed her attention back to Paul and Gillian, graciously thanking them for their assistance. Charlotte could not help thinking her mother treated them more like her staff than medical professionals, and was mortified. However, neither Paul nor Gillian seemed to take offence and hugged her as they said goodbye.

‘I’d like to add my thanks, too. I appreciate all your hard work and, as I’m staying on for the moment, hope to see you again soon. And Malcolm,’ she added, smiling at Gillian.

‘Yes, that’s a good idea, I’ll talk to Malcolm. Perhaps a meal one evening,’ Gillian said, as they kissed.

Doug arrived with Annette’s case and the three of them walked out to the car. Once her mother and the luggage were safely installed, Charlotte slipped behind the wheel.

‘Are you okay? Looking forward to going home?’ she asked, glancing at Annette.

‘I am quite all right, thank you. And I shall be pleased to be home, although they have been very good to me here.’ Her mother said, not bothering to face her. Charlotte sighed inwardly and started the engine, grateful she wouldn’t be accompanying her mother home. What would be the point if you’re barely acknowledged?

At the airport Annette insisted she did not come in and wait with her, so Charlotte gave her a brief hug as they said goodbye.

‘I’ll be returning to London in a couple of weeks, Mother, although I may not stay long. Would you like to come and stay for a day or two?’

‘If it fits in with my next appointment at the clinic, then yes, thank you.’ A brief nod and she was gone.

As Charlotte began the drive back to Andy’s, not far down the road, her spirits lifted. At least her love life was something to celebrate, she thought, anticipating a blissful weekend ahead.