Guess Who I Pulled Last Night? (30 page)

“Bye Charlie, and thanks for calling.”  Bets went back
to the lounge, carrying Tom’s bag.  “There you go, one sports bag.”

“Oh great,” Tom replied, standing up to face her. 
“Look I think that I’ll leave that cuppa and get off; let you get some sleep.”

Bets shrugged her shoulders.  “You don’t have to
go.  I don’t think that I could sleep anyway.”

“No, I’d better go.  Carrie may still be in the pub and
accept my apology if I grovel long enough.  Thanks for the loan of the
jumper.” 

He started to tug the sweater back over his head, pulling up
his T-shirt with it.  Bets noticed that he had a nicely formed six-pack,
and suddenly conscious that she was staring, she averted her gaze.

“Thanks for everything Tom,” she sighed, kissing him lightly
on the cheek.

Tom’s eyes shone brightly, as he flashed one of his best
smiles.  “No problem, it’s what anyone would have done.”

“Not everyone,” Bets whispered, as she followed him to the
front door.

When he had gone and she was alone, all Bets could think
about was what could have happened.  She had nearly lost someone again
tonight, but he hadn’t abandoned her. He stayed.  Perhaps she wasn’t jinxed
after all, and maybe there wasn’t anything to be afraid of; evidently not
everyone you loved left.  As she lay back against her pillows, weary and
aching, Bets thought that maybe next time she wouldn’t be so scared and give
this relationship thing another go.

“Good morning this is Monday the twelfth of February, and
this is the six-thirty news on…”    Charlotte leaned over and
pressed the snooze button on her alarm.  She just couldn’t summon up the
energy to get out of bed; her body was heavy and pressing into the comfy
mattress.  Snuggling down under the duvet, she dozed for another ten
minutes until the radio started blasting out the latest number one.  She
leaned over again to turn the alarm off, but this time unable to prolong the
agony.  She swung her legs out of the bed and shuffled toward the
bathroom. 

She couldn’t believe how tired and weary she felt,
particularly as most of the previous day had been spent sleeping.  She had
spent a little time with Bets, racing around to see her after a tearful
telephone call.  On her return home, she dozed in front of the T.V. for a
while and then gone to bed early, sleeping right through to her alarm.

As she started to get dressed, Charlotte realised that she
needed a break; not just a few days at home, but a proper holiday, somewhere
away from everything.  She made her mind up to talk to Paul about it
today.  She was owed a fair amount of time as she hadn’t had any time off
for nearly eight months, so she knew that Paul wouldn’t turn down her request.

In Wales, Kerry had decided to come home, realising that she
had had plenty of time away from everything.  The incident with Owen had
proven to be the deciding factor; she knew that it was only a matter of time
before she bumped into him.  Luckily, she only saw him from the safety of
the caravan.  On Sunday afternoon, she glanced through the window to see
him throwing a bag into the boot of his car, and then screeching out of the
yard, almost on two wheels.

As she sat in contemplation, a knock on the door made her
heart skip a beat.  Her stomach turned over at the thought of it being
Owen; however, Mrs Llewellyn’s voice called from the other side.

“Can I come in Mrs Johnson?”

Kerry, taken to locking the door, unbolted it.

“Hello dear,” said the older woman, smiling widely.

Despite the smile, Kerry thought that she looked sad. 
“Hello Mrs Llewellyn, come in.”

She followed Kerry into the caravan and sat down as Kerry
moved some clothes to make a space for her.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”  Kerry was already
filling the kettle.

“Please, that would be lovely.  Is the baba asleep
then?”  She ran a hand over Esme’s little coat.

“Yes, she’s been a little grumpy today.  I think that
she’s missing her dad and home,” Kerry sighed as she went to sit at the table
with Mrs Llewellyn.

“Perhaps it’s time you went home then.” 

“I suppose you guessed that I left under a cloud,
somewhat.”  Kerry smiled weakly at Mrs Llewellyn, suddenly glad to be able
to talk to her about it.

“Hmm, Owen did mention something.”  Mrs Llewellyn
blushed at the mention of her son’s name, and the colour that drained from
Kerry’s face didn’t escape her.

“He’s gone away for a while,” she continued, placing a
wrinkled hand over the top of Kerry’s.

“Oh I see,” Kerry lowered her eyes.  “I didn’t mean to
lead him on you know.”  She felt the need to explain.

“I know my son dear.  You have nothing to
explain.  I know when he decides he wants something...well nothing will
stand in his way.  It’s his father’s bad blood that makes him so angry.”

Kerry’s eyes widened in amazement.  “But Mr Llewellyn
seems such a nice man!”

It was now Mrs Llewellyn’s turn to lower her eyes.  “He
isn’t Owen’s father.  I got pregnant by a gypsy lad from the fair. 
He was younger than I was; he had his fun and then left without a word.  I
didn’t know what to do; I was a thirty year old spinster with a bastard gypsy
child growing inside me.  I just knew one thing that Ifor would
help.  He’d always had a liking for me; we were married within the week, and
no one ever suspected that Owen wasn’t his child.”

Kerry’s hand instinctively grabbed Mrs Llewellyn’s. 
“God, it must have been awful for you,” she said, her voice full of pity.

“At first, but I had Ifor.  He’s a good man and over
the years, I’ve grown to love him.  I just wish he and Owen got on, but I
think he reminds Ifor of Jimmy.  Anyway, that’s enough of my sob story;
let’s have that cup of tea and talk about what you are going to do.”

The two women talked for an age, Kerry telling her
everything that had happened, right to the death of her dad.  Mrs
Llewellyn didn’t interrupt or pass comment she just listened intently, until
finally Kerry sat back in her seat letting out a big sigh.

“So you see, I practically threw him into her arms.”

Mrs Llewellyn shook her head slowly.  “Men are funny
things dear. They need constant attention.  Your husband probably felt
neglected, but I don’t think for one minute that he stopped loving you.
 Why would he try so hard to sort things out if he had?”

“Because he wanted to be with Esme?”  Kerry shrugged
her shoulders.

“Maybe, but you were his wife before she was his
daughter.  Do you love him?”

Kerry nodded as tears brimmed in her eyes.  “Yes, I
do.”

“Well then, surely you can work it out.  It takes a
very big person to forgive, and I think that you are that sort of person.”

“Maybe, but will he forgive me.  I was horrible to him,
not only him.  Everyone around me suffered.  I don’t know why I was
so horrible. I just felt like it.  It was a huge effort even to smile
sometimes.”  Kerry’s tears now slid down her cheeks.  Her heart ached
as she thought about everyone at home, and she knew that she had to get there
as soon as possible. 

“Well that’s not right is it dear, if it’s not what you are
normally like, then you need to find out what made you act that way.  You
say you love your husband, tell me then, why would you want to hurt him so
much?”

“I don’t know, and I feel empty without him,” she finally
whispered.

Mrs Llewellyn quietly stood up and moved towards
Kerry.  She placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.  “Go home
and make your peace with him.”

She left Kerry alone, contemplating what she was going to
say to Kelvin, to everyone, when she got back home, tomorrow.

“Of course you can have some time off, if that’s what you
want,” said Paul, rubbing Charlotte’s arm gently.  “I must say you do look
tired and drawn.”

Unexpectedly tears started to run down Charlotte’s
cheeks.  “I’m sorry,” she cried, wiping them away with the back with her
hand.  “I just can’t think straight at the moment, all I want to do is
sleep and cry.”

“Come on,” cooed Paul, handing her his handkerchief. 
“I know all about it you know; the thing with Niall and Grant.”

Charlotte looked at him in amazement.  “How do you
know? I thought that I’d hidden it pretty well, okay I’ve been a bit grumpy
lately, but I thought that you’d put it down to hormones.”

“Well I knew that you’d talk about it when you were
ready.  You see I spoke to Niall about it.  I tried hard to get him
to think about things, and I made my feelings about Grant pretty clear.”

“When did you speak to him?”

“We went to the pub to chat, after he’d tackled you about
it. Before that, after Christmas, he rang and asked for my advice.”

Charlotte almost shot off her seat through the
ceiling.  “Your advice, but your gay, what do you know about women?

“My mother is a woman, so I know some things.  However,
mostly I’m with you every day, so why do you think he called me?”

“I hope that you told him what a good catch I was,”
Charlotte gave an empty laugh, realising that any chance she had with Niall was
gone.

“Of course,” Paul smiled at her.  “Charlotte he feels
very deeply for you, believe me.”

“Felt, get it right Paul, past tense.”

“We’ll see, but there is something that I need to tell
you.”  He looked at her rather sheepishly.  “This doesn’t mean that
it’s over you know, but I think it does rather put a spoke in the wheels.”

“What does?” Charlotte asked, watching Paul reach inside his
drawer.

He pulled out a cream parchment envelope and passed it to
Charlotte.  With trembling fingers, she reached inside, already knowing in
her heart what it was.  The invitation was very classy; just two gold
initials entwined on the front.  She ran her finger over the gold embossed
N and I, and then slowly opened it.

Mr & Mrs J Cathcart
cordially invites.

Mr Paul Palmer
& Guest

To the wedding of
their daughter Ingrid to Mr Niall Patrick Devine

On Saturday 17th
March at 2 p.m.

At St Mary the
Virgin Church

              
Charlotte couldn’t read anymore and snapped the invitation shut, placing it
carefully back into the envelope she handed it to Paul.

“Thanks Paul I would have hated for Grant to ring me and not
know about it; because he’s really nice like that you know.”

Paul smirked at her sarcasm.  “How do you feel about it
being on your birthday?” he asked.

“Who could ask for a better gift?  I believe Tenerife
is nice in March, perhaps I’ll go there until it’s all over.”

“Well whatever you decide to do, there is still the matter
of a few days off now.  Look I know a really nice place in Canterbury. A
friend of mine is the Manager.  How about I give him a ring and get you
booked in for a few days; my treat."

Charlotte shook her head vehemently.  “No, you’re not
paying.  Give him a call by all means, but I can pay for myself.”

“I’m sorry Charlotte, but they are the conditions of you
having the time off; I pay.”  He moved to her and placed a comforting arm
around her shoulder.  “Please Charlotte I feel kind of responsible. 
I knew you would be good together and encouraged the lunch before Christmas,
and I encouraged him to take you for lunch, when you went back to his house; so
please Charlotte let me treat you.”  He cupped a hand beneath her chin,
staring at her until Charlotte finally nodded her head.

“Okay, if you insist.  Thank you very much, I really
appreciate it.”

Charlotte walked to her office, eager to be off on her
little holiday.  She had to get away, and when she got home she hoped that
Niall Devine would be out of her head for good.

“But you can’t go on your own, what will you do with
yourself?”  Amanda wailed down the telephone at her little sister.

“Amanda I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.  I just
need to get away for a few days.”  Charlotte continued to throw things
into her suitcase, her mobile lodged under chin,

“As long as you are sure, listen Archie wants to talk to you
about Darth Vader or something, hang on…”

“Hi Arch, how are you?”

Happy that Charlotte would be fairly occupied for a few
minutes, Bets went downstairs to the kitchen to make them both a cup of
tea.  She was also worried about Charlotte going away on her own, but
Bets, more than anyone, realised the necessity of time alone when you weren’t
feeling one hundred percent.  She pottered around the kitchen, stacking
their supper dishes in the dishwasher, while she waited for the kettle to
boil.  Just as she was throwing the used tea bags into the bin, Charlotte
emerged in the doorway.

     “Oh tea lovely,” she said, taking
the mug from Bets hand.  “Archie has got a Darth Vader sticker for me, to
cheer me up.  Apparently he’s already got it in his book, so I can have
the one he got in his crisps today.”  Charlotte, carrying her steaming
drink carefully, made the way to the lounge.

“When is Tom coming around?" Bets asked, flopping down
onto the sofa next to Charlotte.

“First thing tomorrow morning.”  A worried look passed
over Charlotte’s face.  “Will you keep an eye on him for me?  I’m
worried to death that he’ll get plastered one night and forget he’s staying
here.  Poor Petula could have starved to death, by the time I get home.”

Bets laughed at Charlotte’s concern.  “He’ll be fine
and so will Petula.  However, if you want me to come around I will, as
long as he’s not planning on entertaining a group of women every night.”

“No, I’ve warned him that he’s not to use this place as a
bloody shag factory.  I’ve got my reputation in the neighbourhood to think
of.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both thinking and
worrying about Charlotte’s forthcoming holiday.  Bets was worried that
Charlotte would be lonely, and Charlotte was worried that she would have too
much time to think about Niall.

“I will be okay, won’t I Bets?” Charlotte said, interrupting
both their thoughts.

“Of course you will.”  Bets smiled reassuringly at her friend,
not feeling as positive as she sounded.

The next day, at around 3 p.m., Charlotte pulled up outside
the picturesque Kent hotel that Paul had booked for her.  Remembering to
ask for Giles, she hauled her case out of the boot, and wheeled it across the
gravel towards the hotel entrance.

The large Victorian hotel was situated in its own grounds,
with a small lake.  It was surrounded by trees, and to the left of it was
a beautiful deep green maze; something that Charlotte made a mental note to
avoid.  The whole of the front of the hotel was covered in ivy, making
Charlotte’s heart skip a beat.  The last time she had seen ivy like that
it was covering Niall’s cottage.

As she walked through the large oak double doors, she
instantly felt warm and protected, for some reason, she felt like this was
where she should be.  It was sumptuous, as at the high arched, windows
hung heavy gold curtains, held back with thick pieces of rope and on the highly
polished wooden, floors lay soft woollen rugs, as deep as an un-mown
field.   The reception area had large comfy sofas, laden with
cushions, and were arranged with mahogany coffee tables placed in front of each
one.  The smell of rich coffee and wax polish hung in the air adding to
beauty about the place.