By rights, Charley should have been a complete wreck. She’d barely slept the night before, knowing it was the last night she’d be spending in Ricky’s bed on her own. In an effort to drop off, she’d tried counting sheep, but had ended up counting the hours until his plane touched down and she could be with him. When dawn broke, she was deep in a fantasy where she was standing waiting for him at the arrivals gate, his faithful hound by her side. She had no idea whether or not dogs were allowed in the airport, probably not, but she wasn’t going to let that get in the way of the romantic vision. In her mind’s eye, she saw him arriving at the passport control desk, his eyes already scanning the crowds of waiting people, looking for her. He’d find her, their eyes would meet and his whole face would light up with a beaming, joyous grin.
‘Charley!’ he’d bellow, pushing people aside in his haste to get to her.
‘Ricky!’ she’d reply breathlessly, and they’d run into each other’s arms. ‘Can we try again?’ she’d beseech him.
‘I thought you were never going to ask, my darling!’ he’d cry, sweeping her off her feet and kissing her lingeringly.
Then the fantasy had been rudely interrupted by Carlo nudging her bare arm with his cold, wet nose. He’d sensed she was awake and was reminding her about his breakfast.
On the dot of nine Charley flipped the sign on the shop door from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’. Carlo had already settled himself in the window, looking for all the world as if he were one of the ‘Final Day of Sale’ bargains. Wincing at the garish bunting still blighting the style statement of the shop’s exterior, Charley made a mental note to come in on Sunday and rip it all down. A few early customers wandered in, bought a few sale items and had a nose around the rest of the shop. Ricky’s plane wasn’t due to land until mid-morning which would give her plenty of time to make sure Pam was ensconced happily, with everything sorted for her to manage on her own for the rest of the day. Charley had been tracking Ricky’s flight on her phone, and knew it had taken off and was due to land at Bristol on schedule.
‘He is literally on his way!’ she told Carlo, excitement already bubbling inside her.
By nine thirty Pam still hadn’t come in and Charley was beginning to be concerned that something had happened. Her mother-in-law was a stickler for time-keeping, and never late for anything. Maybe the traffic was bad, or she couldn’t find a parking space? Another fifteen minutes, then I’ll give her a call.
A little over ten minutes later Pam arrived, apologising profusely for being late. Despite the fact that it was an overcast, grey, autumn day, she was wearing sunglasses and appeared decidedly fragile.
How typical of her mother-in-law to selflessly drag herself into the shop even when she was obviously ill. Charley wondered if she should send her straight home and text Ricky to tell him to get a cab. It would put an end to her momentous plans for the day, but that wasn’t Pam’s fault, she reminded herself.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked. ‘Have you got a migraine or something?’
Clearly struggling, Pam steadied herself against the counter and said in a quiet monotone, ‘I have the mother and father of all hangovers and it would be a kindness if you would just let me die now.’
‘Oh! Right,’ said Charley, completely taken aback. In all the years she’d known Pam, and despite everything her mother-in-law had been through in that time, Charley had never, ever seen Pam hungover, or even, now she came to think of it, drunk.
The surprise in Charley’s voice prompted Pam to defend herself. ‘There are mitigating circumstances,’ she explained in a strained voice. Although whether it was the ‘mitigating circumstances’ or the excess of alcohol that was causing her pain, Charley wasn’t sure. Probably both, she guessed.
‘What’s happened?’
‘I have finished with Dez,’ Pam spoke slowly, and with evident effort.
‘Oh no! I’m so sorry—’ started Charley.
Her mother-in-law put up her hand to silence her. ‘Don’t be. He is a despicable liar, an unscrupulous conman, a pathetic loser of a gold-digger and an all-round, complete and utter bastard. Plus, he drinks lager out of a can at the dinner table.’
‘Oh!’ Charley was at a loss for words.
‘I have had a narrow escape.’
Very probably, thought Charley but then, as the full implications of what Pam was saying sank in, she realised how devastated and demoralised her mother-in-law must be feeling. ‘Oh Pam, what a—’
‘Shit?’
‘What a terrible thing to have happened, is what I was going to say,’ said Charley. ‘But yes, “shit” probably covers it.’
‘Zee’s word, not mine,’ clarified Pam. Then, weakly, she made a dismissive gesture with her hand. ‘I don’t deserve too much sympathy. Both Dez and the hangover are self-inflicted wounds.’
Charley was torn. Whilst she was full of compassion for Pam, Ricky’s plane would be landing in half an hour and it would take her thirty minutes to get to the airport. Casting her eye over Pam, she tried to gauge if she was even in a fit state to run the shop. Saturdays needed high energy, and right now the poor woman didn’t look like she’d make it through the next ten minutes. Perhaps heartlessly, but understandingly, Charley decided that she bloody well wasn’t going to abandon her reunion with Ricky, just because of her mother-in-law’s self-imposed plight.
‘You need coffee, carbs and a lot of water.’ Grabbing her handbag she headed for the deli. As it turned out, it was an act of mercy she was going to bitterly regret.
Rita greeted her warmly. ‘Hey Charley. The usual?’
Charley nodded. ‘Please, and two bottles of water.’
Rita set about making her coffees and bagging up a couple of croissants, but when she handed Charley the coffees she leant over confidingly and said in a low voice, ‘Did you know Ricky’s given notice on the bike shop?’
Charley felt like she’d been hit by a brick. The deli seemed to spin round and she had to mentally double-check what she’d just heard. ‘W-what?’ she stammered.
Rita nodded. ‘Del told me.’
Charley’s world toppled off its axis. Ricky was selling up? And he hadn’t even told her? She muttered something incomprehensible, thanked Rita for the coffees and croissants, and completely forgetting the water, fled.
There were a few customers in the shop when she got back, but Pam had removed her dark glasses and seemed to be managing, just about. Numbly Charley put the cups and the pastries on the till table. Her immediate thought was to text Ricky and ask him to get a cab. She couldn’t face him. She just couldn’t. Then she realised he’d have to pick Carlo up and she didn’t want to have an excruciatingly painful scene in the shop.
A throng of customers at the till prevented her from telling Pam what she’d heard from Rita so she waved vaguely in her mother-in-law’s direction, put Carlo on his lead and headed to her car. Driving to the airport she was so distracted and distraught she nearly crashed the car, twice.
Once she got to the airport, she parked and, leaving Carlo in the car, headed to arrivals. The sight of Ricky coming towards her, sporting his trademark easy smile, as if everything was all right, sent her emotions boiling over.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you’ve given notice on the bike shop?’ she demanded, without even waiting for him to say ‘Hi’.
‘Because I haven’t,’ he replied blandly.
‘Oh.’
For the second time that morning, Charley’s world span round her, but this time, it toppled back onto its axis. Her heart began to lift until, clearly deeply embarrassed, Ricky went on to confess that he had in fact decided to give up his shop and move back to Italy.
Charley reeled as if she’d been slapped. ‘Back to Italy,’ she repeated flatly.
‘Yes.’
Back to Italy. She couldn’t trust herself to speak. Turning on her heel she strode back to the car.
‘Charley, let me explain!’ Grabbing his case, he hurried after her.
‘Tell me in the car,’ she said over her shoulder, not even slowing down.
When they got to the car, Carlo was ecstatic at Ricky’s return, clambering all over him and yelping excitedly, so much so that Charley couldn’t even drive off safely.
Eventually, with a great deal of firm persuasion, Ricky finally managed to settle the lurcher in the well of the front seat between his legs and she could reverse out of the parking space.
Driving back to Ricky’s flat, Charley listened dully to his explanations, hardly taking in what he was saying, battling back her despair and willing herself to concentrate on the road sufficiently to not plough them both into the back of a truck.
‘My parents aren’t getting any younger,’ he was saying, ‘and now that my sister’s married and moved away, my family need me. There’s nothing keeping me in the UK. I can run a bike shop in Tuscany just as well as here.’
It sounded like a well-rehearsed speech to Charley, and it cut her like a knife to imagine him practising it, getting it word-perfect, before he delivered it to her. His plans, it turned out, were not to give notice on the shop immediately, but to keep it going and try to sell his business as a thriving enterprise rather than selling off the stock at no doubt knock-down prices.
‘When were you planning on telling me?’ she asked.
He shot her a sideways look from the passenger seat. ‘I’m telling you now, Charley. As soon as I could, when I got back. I didn’t think it was something I could tell you over the phone. I wanted to be able to explain.’
‘Yes, I see,’ she heard herself say. And she supposed she could see. It was a typically considerate gesture on his part. Besides, she reminded herself, he’s been dealing with a family bereavement and he’s only just got back from a funeral. Given that, she could hardly expect him to make it his priority to tell her about his future plans, but nonetheless she still felt side-lined, as if she didn’t matter.
‘So how come Rita seemed to know before me? And Del?’
‘They didn’t,’ he replied with a shrug. ‘They must have heard a rumour. Some gossip. But you’re the first person I’ve told, Charley. I promise.’
He turned away and she didn’t know what to say. They drove back to his flat in a strained silence, giving Charley the opportunity to re-run his words in her head. There’s nothing keeping me in the UK, he’d said. Well, if that were the case, then it was clearly pointless asking him if they could try again. It would just be futile and humiliating.
Gradually the agonising realisation that she’d been deluding herself sank in. Clearly Ricky had already moved on, and no matter what they’d had together, it was all history now.
Arriving at his flat, she pulled over to the kerb, but left the engine running. He clambered out of the car, followed by Carlo, and lugged his case out of the boot. Charley stayed sitting behind the wheel from where, lowering the window, she handed him his keys.
‘Are you coming in?’ he asked.
She shook her head, desperate to get away before she broke down completely. ‘I’ve got to get back to the shop.’
‘But I have a thank-you gift for you, for looking after Carlo…’
‘Give it to me in the shop.’
He crouched down next to the driver’s door so his face was level with hers through the window. ‘Charley, please come in. Let’s not leave things like this.’
She shook her head, then swallowed hard and added as lightly as she could, as if it were an afterthought, ‘Oh, by the way, I’ve left some of my things at your place. I’ll pick them up another time.’
‘Of course, any time,’ he said, and when she started to close the window, he stood up and stepped back from the car.
Charley drove off. In her rear view mirror she could see him standing on the pavement, watching her, with Carlo, as ever, faithfully sitting beside him at heel. With commendable effort she managed to keep herself under control until she got back to the shop. Pam’s concerned expression at seeing her there flipped her over the edge and she promptly burst into tears, which was awkward, since there were a good many customers.
‘Go and get yourself a cup of tea,’ Pam ordered kindly, and Charley bolted. Not to the deli, she couldn’t face Rita. She got herself a take-away tea from a kiosk and sat on a bench overlooking the docks. Crying her eyes out, sipping tea and watching the vibrant harbourside life going on around her she wondered, not for the first time in her life, how other people’s lives manage to blithely continue all around you when yours has just completely fallen apart. Finishing the tea, she binned the cup and took herself back to the shop. It was still busy, and she welcomed the distraction as much as the custom. When the shop emptied for a few moments towards the end of the afternoon, she confided everything to Pam.
The older woman let her finish, without interrupting before she said, ‘Did you tell him how you feel? About wanting to try again?’
Shaking her head, Charley said, ‘It’s too late.’ She sighed wearily, too drained to be tearful.
‘No, it isn’t, Charley,’ persisted Pam.
‘It is!’ snapped Charley. Then she immediately hated herself for taking out her disappointment on Pam. Apologetically softening her tone she continued, ‘I can’t make him choose between his family and me.’
Pam put her hands loosely on Charley’s shoulders and held her gaze. ‘Charley, everyone has to choose between their life partner and their family at some stage or another. It was the decision you made when you left home and moved half way across the country to be with Josh. You chose Josh over your family. I chose Geoff over mine. That’s an essential part of… leaving home, becoming your own person. But that’s Ricky’s choice to make. Not yours to make on his behalf.’
‘Yes, but I’ve seen Ricky with his family, remember? So I know how much they mean to him, and how much he means to them.’
‘But he doesn’t know how much he means to you, Charley. And he never will if you don’t tell him.’
Charley shook her head sadly. ‘He’s not going to choose me, Pam. He said, and I quote, “There’s nothing for me in the UK”, so clearly I’m not enough to make him want to stay.’ Turning away, she focussed her attention on tallying up the till, trying to ignore the sense of profound, heart-breaking loss for the second time in her life.