With or Without You (34 page)

‘Come on,’ Charlie said, reaching down to pick up Liv’s case. ‘Let’s go home.’

‘Are you . . .?’ Liv began, wanting to ask if they would all be going home together. But she stopped mid-question, as she realised that she was too scared of what his answer might
be. It occurred to her in a horrified flash that maybe Charlie had found himself somewhere else to live and had already taken Felix with him.

‘Am I what?’ Charlie looked back at her curiously. Liv thought distractedly how handsome he looked, with his crisp white shirt emphasising his tanned skin.

‘Are we going home together?’ she asked, as she pressed her face against Felix’s curls.

Understanding dawned in Charlie’s eyes and he nodded. ‘For the time being.’

‘Thank you,’ Liv mouthed over the top of Felix’s head.

Charlie half smiled and gave a curt nod. ‘Come on, Felix, you can walk to the car, buddy,’ he said, as he turned and headed out onto the gravel courtyard where he had parked.

‘No!’ Liv cried, tightening her grasp on her son’s body. ‘It’s fine. I’ll carry him.’ She had no intention of letting him go for as long as
possible.

Charlie smiled and rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

Liv sat in the back seat with Felix for the hour-long journey home as the boy talked non-stop about his trip to Wales to see his grandparents. Liv tried to smile but felt her stomach knotting
with concern. Was this part of Charlie’s grand plan to have Felix living with him permanently? Could he be thinking of taking him back to Wales? Even the thought of it made her feel nauseous.
She caught Charlie’s eye in the rear-view mirror but couldn’t read his expression.

As they pulled up outside her home, Charlie pressed the remote control for the gate and it swished open. Liv’s heart began to pound as she remembered with horrible clarity the last moment
she had been in this house, and instinctively she put her hand to her head. The wound had healed but the scar still remained in a faint rubbery line. Charlie leapt out of the car and took her bag
from the boot, before opening her car door. ‘You coming then?’ he asked, holding out his hand for her to take.

Liv reached out a shaking hand and put it in his. It felt smooth and cool and reassuring.

‘It’ll be fine.’ Charlie gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Everything’s going to be OK.’

Her legs felt like jelly and she had to concentrate to make them move as she shuffled behind Charlie towards the front door. Just as he was about to put the key in the lock, she stumbled.

Charlie reached out a hand to steady her. His forehead creased into a look of concern. ‘It’s fine,’ he murmured gently, reading her fear. ‘You can do it.’

‘Come on, Mum!’ Felix yelled, scampering through the huge door as soon as it swung open. He beamed up at her expectantly.

Suddenly, Liv’s shoulders seemed to drop. Of course she could go back into the house. It was Felix’s home. It was all he knew. Whatever Charlie was planning to do, she had a trump
card. Felix loved her and he loved his home. To him, the two were inextricably linked.

She stepped into the huge white hallway and was immediately flooded with a sense of calm. Everything looked so different and yet so much the same. ‘Wow,’ she breathed, following
Felix into the kitchen. ‘It’s good to be home.’

Charlie put her bag down and looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. ‘It’s good to have you home,’ he said. ‘We’ve missed you.’

Later, Charlie came into the day room where Liv was lying on a sofa cuddled up with Felix. He was watching
Toy Story
for the millionth time while Liv was just watching him, revelling in
his presence.

She looked up at Charlie. ‘What have you got there?’ she asked, nodding towards his right hand.

Charlie uncurled his hand. ‘It’s your phone.’ He held it out towards her and smiling encouragingly.

Liv’s heart skipped slightly. Before rehab, she had never let her phone out of her sight. Now, having been without it for eight whole weeks, she was wary of it, as if it might possess some
kind of evil power that would suck her into its grasp once more.

‘I think it might have some good news for you . . .’ Charlie said, when she hesitated.

Liv frowned and stood up, edging Felix carefully to one side. She reached out and took the phone, surprised that it felt so familiar in her hand.

‘You look like you’re carrying a bomb!’ Charlie said, as Liv headed for the kitchen, holding the phone out in front of her.

She headed for the island in the middle of the kitchen and perched on her favourite stool. She put the phone down in front of her and peered at the screen. ‘What good news?’ she
asked, wondering if he was going to tell her that he’d changed his mind about filing for custody, which was the only news she wanted to hear.

Charlie reached over her shoulder and tapped the email icon. Immediately dozens of new emails began to scroll down the screen.

Liv frowned, overwhelmed by the sheer number. ‘Can’t you just tell me what they say?’ she asked, looking up at Charlie, fear gripping her anew.

He shrugged. ‘Well, let’s just say that your agent has been very busy since you went into rehab . . .’

‘Why?’ Liv frowned, followed by, ‘Oh my God!’ as she realised what he was saying. ‘Does everybody know?’

‘Well, it’s always hard to keep something like that secret, Liv. You know that.’

Liv closed her eyes to try to block out the sense of shame that was enveloping her.

‘It’s OK,’ Charlie said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged him off. ‘OK that the whole world knows I’m a drunk?’ she cried. ‘That certainly plays into your hands, doesn’t it?’

Charlie sighed and shook his head. ‘That’s not what anyone thinks, Liv,’ he protested. ‘And look, you’ve got so many offers of work that Jonathan can’t
cope.’

‘I don’t
care
how many job offers I’ve got!’ she shouted. ‘I’m a failure as a mother, a failure as a wife, and I’m such a drunk that you think
I can’t look after my own child and are going to take him off me!’ She looked at Charlie, with his sweet dark eyes and gentle expression, and felt a sudden urge to punch him, to make
him feel just a tiny fraction of the pain she was feeling right now.

Charlie looked away.

‘Well?’ Liv prompted. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

Charlie shook his head and exhaled in a long, slow breath. ‘Let’s not talk about this now, Liv. You’ve just got home and you need to concentrate on getting completely
well.’

‘I am well!’ she snapped, furious at his insinuation that she still needed help.

‘I know, I know . . .’ Charlie put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. ‘Liv, you’ve done incredibly well to come through this past eight weeks and I’m sure
you’ll be fine from now on. But let’s just see how things go, shall we?’

Liv could feel the tears of frustration threatening so she snatched up her phone and took it to her bedroom. She had just gone through eight weeks of hell thanks to Charlie and she suddenly felt
like she wanted to get away from him.

She walked into her bedroom and had to stop for a minute to take in the sheer size and scale of it. Her room in rehab had been pretty but small and very simply furnished. The opulence and
vastness of her bed alone was breathtaking. She lay down on top of the silk throw that she had bought from a souk on a visit to Morocco with Danny and stared up at the ceiling. She wondered if
Danny knew about her stint in rehab and, if so, whether he had been in touch with Felix. She suspected not. Danny had been a wonderful step-father to him, but now that he had moved on she imagined
he would probably think it was best to cut all ties. Anything else was too painful and complicated.

She missed Danny, but to her surprise she felt as though she had accepted their break-up with remarkable calmness. She had had a lot of time to think while in rehab and had decided that it was
probably because she had felt all along that she only ever had him on loan. Danny had loved her, she was in no doubt about that, but he was also a womaniser. It was something that was in his blood
and it was almost as if he couldn’t help himself. It was just another character trait, like having a good sense of humour or a bad temper.

And now that Liv had been punished for what she had done to Charlie by being dumped herself, she felt cleansed. It had taken away a lot of the guilt she had been carrying, as if she had been
absolved from her sins, and it was only now that she was clean of alcohol that she could allow herself to be forgiven.

She lifted her phone and began to read through her messages and emails. Most were from her agent, Jonathan, or her personal assistant, Carrie, outlining various roles she was being offered and
asking her to get in touch as soon as she felt ready. But in amongst them was a short email from Danny, telling her that he was glad she was getting the right help and that she didn’t need to
worry about the house – he had already instructed his lawyers and would be signing it over to her as soon as possible. He ended by telling her that a part of him would always love her and
that he had no regrets about the past four years, which had been the happiest of his life. He asked her to send his love to Felix but said he thought it was best for everyone if he didn’t see
him again and wished them both happiness in the future.

Liv felt a familiar tingle at the back of her eyes and blinked furiously. She refused to cry over Danny any more. It was what she had expected and it was what she deserved. At least she
didn’t need to fret about being homeless, on top of everything else. Now all she needed to do was persuade Charlie that she was well enough to look after her own son. And do it she would. She
put her phone down and sat up straight. She was ready for the fight.

‘So . . . Charlie Simmons seems to be doing rather well for himself in Hollywood, doesn’t he?’ Martha said, trying to keep her voice light.

She was having lunch with Louisa Thomas, Charlie’s PR, at The Wolseley, a beautiful art deco restaurant in London, where most of the city’s media contingent gravitated to do
business.

Louisa’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Yes, he’s doing brilliantly. I spoke to him yesterday. He’s on location in New York at the moment, lucky thing. Actually, Liv’s
doing really well too. I’ve just started doing her PR and it’s a gift – her stint in rehab did wonders for her career.’

Martha smiled and nodded. ‘I’m glad for her,’ she said, meaning it. ‘She’s a good person. I liked her a lot.’ She speared a slice of tomato from her salad and
ate it, thinking back to her strange time in LA.

‘Oh, yes, of course. You went with Charlie to LA, didn’t you?’ Louisa eyed Martha closely. ‘What happened back then, Martha? I could never really get an answer out of
Charlie.’

Martha pushed out her bottom lip and shook her head. ‘Nothing happened,’ she said, trying to keep her answer clipped so that Louisa wouldn’t be tempted to ask any more.

‘Oh, you know me better than that, Martha!’ Louisa laughed. ‘That’s nowhere near good enough! Something went on. I just can’t figure out exactly what.’

Martha took another mouthful of her salad, followed by a sip of her wine, trying to stall for time. ‘Charlie was very kind to me,’ she said carefully. ‘At a very difficult time
of my life.’

Louisa frowned. ‘So why did you back out of doing his memoirs, then? It doesn’t make sense if he was so kind to you.’

‘Actually it was Charlie who decided that I shouldn’t do them,’ she said, immediately feeling disloyal.

‘Hmmm,’ Louisa murmured, her eyes narrowing slightly. ‘I still feel as if something happened in LA, and I have obviously jumped to certain conclusions . . . but I would really
love to know if I’m right.’

Martha sighed. She desperately didn’t want to talk about what had happened, but she did owe Louisa some kind of explanation. She had given her an incredible opportunity and she deserved to
know why Martha hadn’t taken it.

‘We just became very close,’ she said, before stopping for a few seconds, lost in thought. ‘And then,’ she continued, ‘perhaps not surprisingly, my husband felt a
bit threatened by Charlie. To do his memoirs would have meant us spending an awful lot of time together, and in the end I decided to put my marriage first.’ As she finished speaking, the
tears flashed into Martha’s eyes and she blinked them away, embarrassed.

‘You don’t seem too happy about that decision,’ Louisa prodded, frowning slightly.

‘I am!’ Martha brushed away a stray tear that had refused to stay put with an irritable flick of her napkin. ‘It’s just that . . . well, things are never black and white,
are they?’

Louisa nodded, apparently satisfied. ‘Well I’ve got Kevin Porter doing them now and I don’t think Charlie finds him quite as appealing as he did you!’

Her words lightened the mood and Martha grinned, her stomach flipping over at the idea that Charlie was missing her. If he felt anything like her, that would mean he was thinking about her all
day, every day.

Jamie had been delighted when Martha had told him that she wouldn’t be seeing Charlie again, but Martha herself still hadn’t managed to shake off her sense of loss. She
couldn’t get him out of head and she couldn’t stop dwelling on what might have been.

Jamie was proving himself to be a model husband at home and she couldn’t fault him. But she also couldn’t fully forgive him either, no matter how hard she tried. So many things
reminded her of what he had done. Even the children’s birthdays had made her think with fury of what he had put in jeopardy. Every time someone told her how lucky she was to be married to
such a wonderful man, she wanted to scream that he was a cheating fraud. And all the time she was with him, she felt as though there was a massive gulf between what they said and what they actually
meant.

To the outside world, they appeared to have the perfect marriage and to be as happy as ever. But in reality, she increasingly felt that she was putting on an act and it was draining her. She
felt tired and miserable most of the time and her work was suffering. The last couple of profiles she had done were fine, but she knew that they weren’t up to her usual high standard. If she
wasn’t careful, PRs would stop asking for her, which is why she had contacted Louisa to ask if she could take her out for lunch.