Chapter Eight

It didn’t help that, in direct contrast with Javier, Charlie had failed to even register a change in Tash’s appearance. She wouldn’t have been too surprised if he hadn’t realised that she had had a haircut, but a change in colour? Surely that was enough to at least receive a second glance? He had arrived home having played a game of squash and headed straight for the shower. She had cooked them a nice meal of salmon with chorizo and lentils, trying to make an effort in an attempt to draw a line under their argument on Saturday night. Charlie had sat opposite her at the kitchen table while they ate. Tasha had waited for a reaction… but to no avail. He had chatted away merrily, telling her about his day and asking about the children. She had almost brought it up but decided there was no point. He would tell her it looked lovely, but she would know that he hadn’t noticed. Instead she compared him with Javier: he had noticed immediately. How was it possible that a virtual stranger could see her more clearly than her own husband? Her bruised ego took comfort from Javier’s compliments.

The following Saturday it was Tasha and Charlie’s wedding anniversary. Tasha couldn’t believe how quickly twelve years had flown by. When she thought back to the person she had been when they first met she barely recognised herself. To think how far they had come. So many life-changing things had happened, most dramatically the arrival of their three children and the accompanying shift from married couple to frazzled parents that had followed. In a bid to make amends, still conscious that their relationship had been fraught with tension and irritability of late, Tasha had been planning a gift for Charlie for weeks. She was extremely pleased with her choice. The theme for the twelfth year of marriage was traditionally linen and silk so she had ordered a beautifully tailored linen jacket and a set of silk ties from his favourite shop in Jermyn Street, and she couldn’t wait to give them to him. She hoped that their relationship would somehow be restored to its former glory in remembering their wedding day. It had been full of promise, excitement and that feeling of total confidence that no matter what life threw at them, they would conquer it together, that their love would be more than enough to carry them through.

They woke up to Max and Bella bounding into their room at an ungodly hour.

‘Wakey, wakey, rise and shine!’ Max chirped. Tasha opened a bleary eye and looked at them both standing in front of her. Bella was prodding her toes, her curly hair sticking up at bizarre angles. Max’s dimples were deep as he beamed at her; his freckles had really come out in the sun and his little rosebud lips were split into a dazzling smile revealing several missing teeth.

‘Come on, then,’ she relented, pulling back the cover. They squealed in delight and jumped into the bed.

‘Dad, please will you make us boiled eggs and soldiers for breakfast?’ Bella asked.

‘And then can we go to the cinema?’ Max implored as he clambered over Charlie. They chattered away excitedly about what they wanted to do with their weekend.

Soon Flora joined them too, the noise from her siblings having woken her. Tasha loved these rare moments with all of them so cuddly and sweet in their pyjamas – even Flora seemed more childlike and less prematurely adolescent. Remembering the present she had hidden under the bed, she got up and pulled it out, placing it with pride on Charlie’s lap. He looked at the parcel with the card attached in confusion. Rather than lighting up, his face fell as the cogs turned. Before he said anything, Tasha knew that he had forgotten. Never before had she needed him to show her just how much he still cared, that, despite the working late and the marital bickering, she was still all he wanted, all he needed. And yet it seemed he had failed to even remember the date. She felt unbelievably hurt. He had never forgotten their anniversary before.

‘Oh, my God, babe, I’m so sorry.’ Charlie put his face in his hands.

‘What’s happened?’ Flora asked, scanning her parents’ faces. She had an uncanny ability to detect drama.

‘Don’t worry!’ Tasha said breezily, smiling. She didn’t want the children to think that he had messed up.

‘It’s our anniversary,’ said Charlie. ‘We got married eleven years ago today.’

‘Twelve actually,’ Tasha said. Insult added to injury.

‘Of course, of course, I meant twelve,’ Charlie backtracked. ‘I forgot to get Mummy a present and I feel awful!’

‘Da-ad,’ chorused Bella, Max and Flora. ‘Poor mum!’

‘It really doesn’t matter,’ she repeated. But it really did. Another opportunity missed, another disappointment.

‘Open it!’ Bella instructed.

‘Can I help you?’ Max asked. He loved opening presents. It didn’t matter if they weren’t for him.

Together they tore open the wrapping paper and Charlie exclaimed in delight at the gifts inside. He tried the jacket on and it fitted perfectly. ‘Oh, wow, Tash. These are amazing! And from my favourite shop. You are so thoughtful!’

‘Twelve years is silk and linen.’

‘Really? Well, this couldn’t be more perfect. I feel even worse that I forgot. I’m so sorry. How can I make it up to you?’

‘I take it you haven’t arranged a babysitter for tonight? Seeing as you forgot? No anniversary dinner?’ Tasha twisted the knife. She wanted to make him feel bad.

Charlie looked even more guilty. ‘Let me do a ring-around. I’ll sort something out. I promise.’

*

Charlie managed to find a local au pair called Nina to come and look after the children. She was a sweet Danish girl whom they had often used in the past. He took Tasha to a restaurant called Cube in Notting Hill. To his obvious relief he had been able to get a table at late notice.

‘This place looks all right, doesn’t it?’ Charlie said as they were shown to their table. The restaurant was dimly lit and full of trendy tattooed hipsters.

‘It does,’ Tasha said. She still hadn’t forgiven him and was determined to make that fact clear.

‘Right,’ said Charlie. ‘Let’s have a cocktail to start. What do you fancy?’

Tasha glanced over the bar menu. ‘I’ll have a White Lady, please,’ she said as Charlie placed their order with a passing waitress.

They made what felt like awkward small talk while they waited for their drinks. Tasha knew she wasn’t making it easy for him. She was hardly encouraging the conversation to flow.

‘To twelve years of marriage,’ Charlie said, chinking his glass against Tasha’s when their cocktails finally arrived.

‘To twelve years,’ Tasha repeated, unable to stop the tears that welled up in her eyes.

Charlie looked mortified. He was clearly desperate for her to forgive his thoughtlessness. Taking her hands in his, he said, ‘Look, Tash, I’m so sorry I forgot. I feel really, really bad.’

Tasha nodded, swallowing and blinking back the tears. In her heart of hearts, she knew that what he said was true. She was sure he felt as awful as he said he did. But she also knew that she needed to confront the issues in their relationship. Like a pressure cooker, she felt she was going to explode if she didn’t. And this cock-up of Charlie’s had given her the perfect opportunity to vent some of the tension that was building inside her, threatening to spill out at any moment. Right now, she was in the right, and he was in the wrong. If she was honest with herself she had to admit she quite enjoyed the feeling of having the moral upper hand.

Tasha sipped her cocktail in silence, keeping her eyes fixed on the bowl of nuts in front of her. After several minutes, she lifted her gaze and looked Charlie in the eye.

‘It’s not good enough,’ she said.

‘I know.’

‘You have to start making more effort, Charlie.’

‘I know…’

‘It’s such a cliché, for God’s sake, forgetting our anniversary… What next?’

‘Look, Tash, I promise it won’t happen again. Work has been so busy…’

‘Charlie, I’ve got a million things to remember too. You can’t use being busy as an excuse. I single-handedly run our home and keep our three children alive. I am in charge of nearly everything. The one thing you are in charge of, you haven’t bloody done…’

Charlie looked blank.

‘The car? The air conditioning?’ she prompted.

‘I do the finances, pay the bills…’

‘On direct debit…’

‘Look. I know it’s a shit excuse. And I promise you, it was a one off. Now, please, can you just accept my apology so we can enjoy the rest of the evening?’

There was still so much that Tasha wanted to talk to him about but she just wasn’t sure she wanted to get into a full-blown couple’s therapy session in the middle of a quiet restaurant. And the waiter was hovering nearby, clearly ready to take their order. She looked at Charlie and at the pleading look in his eyes.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘Your apology is accepted.’

Relief flickered across his face. ‘Thank you,’ he said, pulling himself up to lean across the table and kiss her. ‘And I really am sorry.’

They scanned the menus and placed their order, choosing a nice bottle of wine to go with their meal. Charlie had chosen well: the food was delicious. Each course was beautifully presented on pieces of grey slate. Putting their issues to one side, it felt good to be out together, having a few drinks. They both knew that they needed to carve out more time for evenings like this. Opportunities to go out, just the two of them, were few and far between. It had been years since they had been away for a weekend without the children, even longer since they had been on a holiday by themselves.

After dinner they got a taxi back home and made love, as they always did on their anniversary. But as Charlie held her in his arms, unwelcome thoughts of Javier invaded Tasha’s mind. To her horror, try as she might to block them out and think of Charlie, they kept flickering back into her imagination. Soon she managed to lose herself in the moment, forgetting anything but the sensations within her. But afterwards, as Charlie kissed her goodnight and told her that he loved her, Tasha felt a crushing sense of disquiet settle over her. What the hell had that been about? Charlie rolled over onto his side of the bed, mercifully oblivious to her deceitful mind as he began to snore quietly. Tasha stared blankly at the wall. A tear trickled down her cheek and onto the pillow.