Page 16 of Lost in Translation
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Settledin Luigi’s with not a dangly bit in sight, they ordered two large pizzas to share. Alastair and Robson reached a compromise, with pineapple on one half and pepperoni on the other. Charlotte and Dom went for a marinara, and they waited for their drinks to arrive.
‘Only two more sleeps and we’ll be in Switzerland,’ said Charlotte brightly, picking at the bowl of complimentary olives.
‘Will the house be all ready when we arrive?’ asked Robson, chewing an olive, then carefully placing the stone on his side plate.
Only if the magic unpacking fairies appear, thought Charlotte. She dreaded arriving, when she would face stacks of boxes, with no idea if everything would fit or not. Hump It and Dump It were due to arrive with the lorry shortly after they did. At least they’d ordered some new furniture in advance — beds, a sofa set and a compact dining table and chairs — for which the agent had organised delivery.
‘No, darling,’ she said. ‘But we’ll have fun finding places for all your things, and you can help Daddy build your new beds.’
‘I’m afraid I’ll be pretty much straight into work a few days after we arrive,’ said Dom, nodding as the waitress poured the wine and gave the boys their soft drinks. ‘The company’s loaning us an extra car for the first few weeks, so you can get familiar with the area and drive the boys to school. Don’t panic, I’ll do the first few runs till you feel more comfortable.’
Charlotte nearly choked on an olive. Dom expected her to cope single-handedly just days after landing on foreign soil? She felt sick at the prospect, her mind racing at all the things she’d need to deal with.
‘Pizza’s here!’ Robson clapped his hands in glee, then sneaked a piece of pineapple off his half.
‘It’ll be fine, Mummy,’ said Alastair, and squeezed Charlotte’s hand under the table. Her beautiful, sensitive boy, always quick to pick up on her mood. And he was right. Ruth was right. Shecoulddo this. How hard could it be?
Chapter 15
‘I can’t bloody do this!’Charlotte sat in the driver’s seat. Her right hand fumbled for the gearstick, her brain failing to grasp what it needed to do.
‘Charlotte, it’s exactly the same as driving in England, just on the other side.’ Dom waited as she started the engine, put the car into gear, and … kangarooed forward.
‘Don’t make that bloody noise!’ She slammed her fist against the steering wheel, Dom half-laughing, half-grunting at her efforts. ‘It’s hard enough to concentrate without you talking to me like I’m a halfwit.’
The previous twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of activity. They’d arrived in Switzerland, laden with luggage, and staggered on to the train. Dom said the company wouldn’t pay for a taxi, so public transport it was. At least they had first-class seats, although Charlotte saw nothing particularly first class about them. Fewer people, perhaps, but no snacks or drinks dispensed by a smiling trolley pusher.
The house had felt cold and unwelcoming. Their voices echoed through the empty rooms, but they didn’t stay empty for long. Hump It and Dump It soon arrived, unpacking and stacking cartons and crates with lightning speed.
‘Nice gaff,’ commented Des. ‘Bit different to the old place, eh?’
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, an island of despair surrounded by boxes, Charlotte wanted to cry. But she couldn’t break down in front of the removal men. And the boys were outside, discussing trampolines and goalposts which would have to be extremely compact to fit.
‘Tea?’ Charlotte rummaged in a box of groceries Dom had fetched from the village supermarket. She found the kettle, mugs and cutlery in a box marked ‘kitchen essentials’, and set about making a brew.
‘Jeez, Louise. Look at that view, Hugh.’ Des joined his mate at the large window in the lounge. ‘Fair takes your breath away, dunnit.’
‘Beats looking into my neighbour’s garden and seein’ her enormous knickers flapping in the breeze,’ agreed Hugh.
Charlotte called the boys in from the garden. She needed to double-check the list of uniform needed for their new school. They had an appointment later to pick up blazers, polo shirts, tracksuits, book bags and all the other bits and pieces required to ensure they met the strict dress code of La Montagne. Thankfully, Charlotte had bought generic items such as shorts, trousers and socks considerably cheaper in the UK. Somewhere, in the depths of her carry-on bag, were name tags and a sewing kit. A fun-filled evening of labelling every sodding sock and PE T-shirt awaited.
But now she was driving Dom to his new office, so that he could pick up his work car. A considerably swankier model than the one she currently sat in. Automatic too, which meant no gears and only one leg to worry about.
‘Charlotte, you’re drifting over to the other side of the road.’ Dom grabbed the steering wheel and tugged it hard. Charlotte gulped down the rude word teetering on her tongue. The boys were in the back seat, chattering and chuckling like Disney chipmunks. She envied their carefree attitude, their ability to take everything in their stride.
Had she always been a worrier? No. In her teens and twenties, not much had fazed Charlotte. She had breezed through school, even if her exam results didn’t reflect much in the way of dedicated study. Boys came and went, as did her fashion style. One minute the wholesome girl next door, the next wannabe Debbie Harry — she loved all things' 80s — with overly bleached hair, black fingernails and skirts so short that her uncle Stan almost choked on a new potato when Charlotte bent over to open the oven.
When Charlotte met Dom, she felt comfortable in her skin, and his good looks, charm and ambition were the icing on the cake. All she’d ever wanted was to fall madly in love, get married, and have children. Hardly groundbreaking or glass ceiling-shattering, but then not everyone needed or wanted a high-powered career.
Charlotte had been content to be a stay-at-home mum in the early years, her focus on the boys and creating a stable and loving environment. But somewhere along the way, the worries grew, so subtly that she was barely aware of them gnawing away at her until she started waking during the night. A little voice whispering in her ear, berating her for being weak, for allowing others to walk all over her.
‘We’re here.’ Dom gestured for Charlotte to take a left turn. She signalled, changed gear, and manoeuvred through the gates of a small industrial estate. ‘It’s just round the corner — take it easy, sweetheart — and voila!’
Switching off the engine, Charlotte looked at the unprepossessing façade. Grey concrete, glass doors, and Design For Life painted in the trademark green against a white background. A handful of cars sat in the forecourt, one of them presumably Dom’s new mode of transport.
‘Fancy a look around, boys?’ Dom turned to Alastair and Robson, who shrugged in uninterested harmony.
