Page 12 of Lost in Translation
‘Your cheeks are blue!’ As the ride ended, Charlotte rubbed the boys’ faces with her gloved hands. ‘We need to get inside and have a hot drink.’ Despite her reservations, Charlotte had loved the experience. Soaring into the crisp winter air, surveying the breathtaking views, fear dampened by the thrill of it all.
They found a small café serving chocolat chaud and pastries. As the remaining churros had cooled to an unappetising chewiness, they ordered individual slices of pizza with a pepperoni topping.
‘We won’t be needing dinner tonight!’ said Charlotte, stirring the sachet of ready-made chocolate mix into the hot milk.
‘Huh, that’s ages away,’ said Alastair, looking considerably happier than he had on the wheel.
‘Will Daddy be eating with us?’ asked Robson.
Charlotte checked her phone. No message from Dom, but he had said a few hours. She really didn’t fancy trying to find somewhere to feed the boys on her own. The hotel menu was limited, and she wasn’t confident of finding somewhere decent.
‘Let’s walk to Château de Chillon and burn off all that food,’ she suggested. ‘It’s over a thousand years old and one of the most visited castles in the world.’
Museums might not excite the boys, but they adored castles. They’d visited several in the UK, including Warwick, Windsor and Edinburgh.
‘OK. Is it far?’ Robson pinched a slice of pepperoni from his brother’s pizza.
‘Not really,’ said Charlotte, who didn’t know for sure. ‘If you get too tired, we can always turn back. Come on, lazybones, let’s get going!’
Chapter 12
‘Merry Christmas, darling.’Dom produced a beautifully wrapped gift from behind his back. Charlotte eyed him suspiciously. They always put presents for each other under the tree. The one they’d finally put up and decorated three days ago on their return from the Swiss holiday. As usual, none of the bloody lights worked, and Charlotte had spent a dusty and frustrating hour in the attic searching for her favourite red and gold decorations. She’d sent Dom out for replacements and bitten her tongue when he came back with lights that flashed like strobes and hideous green and silver baubles.
‘What’s this?’ Charlotte asked, taking the gift. ‘Shouldn’t we wait for the boys?’
Alastair and Robson had been awake for ages, whispering urgently behind the bedroom door. They knew the rules, however. No sneaking downstairs until either Mummy or Daddy gave the signal that all was good. Meaning: Santa’s presents were stuffed into their respective hessian sacks, Dom had half-chewed a carrot and left the remains of a mince pie on a plate, and Charlotte had knocked back a glass of sherry. That was also meant for Santa, but she figured it needn’t go to waste. Alastair was definitely leaning towards the ‘I don’t buy this’ camp, whereas Robson still clung to the belief that Mr Claus existed.
‘I wanted you to have it now.’ Dom gestured for Charlotte to open the gift. ‘There’s other stuff under the tree, but … this is my way of saying sorry.’
Sorry for what?Charlotte took a deep breath and picked at a corner of the wrapping paper. Was Dom about to confess to something awful, something about another woman? Surely not on Christmas Day, of all days.
‘Open it,’ Dom urged.
Heart pounding, Charlotte ripped off the paper to reveal a small padded envelope. She slipped her fingers inside and pulled out an embroidered fabric pouch. Glancing at Dom, who looked on the verge of exploding, she undid the popper. Within lay a fine layer of tissue paper, which she carefully unfolded.
‘Oh! It’s … it’s … a ring.’ The deep blue stone was unlike any she’d seen before. Around the stone were sparkling gems — diamonds? — all set in a silver band.
‘It’s tanzanite,’ said Dom, taking her hand and slipping the ring on Charlotte’s index finger. ‘From Tanzania. Do you like it?’
Charlotte twisted the ring around. It didn’t fit perfectly — a little too big — but it was stunning. ‘I love it. Thank you. But why are you saying sorry?’
Dom echoed Charlotte’s movements with his wedding ring. Except it fitted perfectly, even after ten years. ‘Because I know you’re still anxious about moving to Switzerland, and you weren’t keen on going back again so close to Christmas. It’s been a lot to take on board, and I feel bad that I haven’t been more sympathetic.’
He raised Charlotte’s hand to his mouth and kissed it. ‘A guy at work brought it back from a trip for his wife, but she turned her nose up at it. He offered it to me for a great price and I thought — hey, perfect for Charlotte!’
Right, second-hand goods. Charlotte’s initial delight dropped a notch or two. Dom hadn’t sought a gift to say sorry; he’d been handed one as if it had fallen off the back of a lorry.
‘It’s beautiful.’ Charlotte swallowed a small lump of disappointment and forced herself to look at the positives. Dom felt sorry for his actions and his lack of sympathy, and the gift had nothing to do with guilt. Or at least, not the ‘shagging another woman’ kind of guilt.
‘It was still pretty pricey,’ he added, unaware his words were taking the sheen off the expertly cut and polished gem. ‘Means I won’t have to go overboard for your birthday!’
Before Charlotte could reply, she heard the unmistakable sound of the boys’ bedroom door creaking open.
‘Two minutes!’ she shouted, heading for the kitchen and a coffee refill. Dom finished rigging up the digital camera and tripod he used to film the boys gleefully opening their presents, a ritual followed for the past few years. Charlotte hated it when he pointed the camera at her, as she was always in her dressing gown and had inevitably forgotten to brush her hair. She sipped her coffee and wished for the umpteenth time that her birthday didn’t fall on the second of January. Too easily lost after the chaos of the festive period, and the perfect excuse for Dom to double up on the pressie front. Still, it was her fortieth, so—
‘Santa’s been!’ Dom ushered the boys into the lounge just as Charlotte shuffled through, carrying her mug.
‘My sack’s bigger than yours,’ said Robson, kneeling down to scrutinise the bulging bag.
