Page 23 of Lost in Translation
Miss you loads. You leaving was a bit like getting my tonsils out (painful), and no amount of ice cream makes up for not having my bestie around. Although I’m currently inhaling a tub of salted caramel and soaking my tootsies in a basin of fragrant bath salts. I know, I’m so rock ‘n’ roll! Big hugs xxxxxxxx
Charlotte grabbed the paper calendar from the wall next to the fridge. Dom teased her about being old-fashioned, but she’d never got to grips with noting dates and appointments on her phone. Each page denoted a month, with columns for the four of them. Turning a page, she scanned the month of June. A few birthday reminders, a cheese and wine charity fundraiser at school and — ooh, a trip to Interlaken for both Alastair and Robson. Only a few nights away, but it coincided with Dom going on a business trip. Ruth adored the boys, but it would be lovely if Charlotte could have one night alone with her friend.
Jotting down the relevant dates, Charlotte fired off a reply.
Hi, gorgeous buddy. Squealing with excitement here! All OK and I promise you haven’t been replaced. Haven’t met anyone bonkers enough yet to step into your shoes. No need to bring sharp implements (won’t be allowed in your hand luggage anyway).
Charlotte had already vented by text message about Amelie being around, and Dom’s fervent denial of any wrongdoing. She hadn’t mentioned the make-up sex, or the niggling question mark that remained over Dom’s innocence. When Ruth arrived, they’d talk about anything and everything and hopefully put Charlotte’s mind at rest. Ruth might not be Team Dom, but she always cut through the crap and found solutions to life’s little problems.
Signing off, Charlotte realised Nathaniel and Jodie were due to be picked up in five minutes. She hit send and went into the living room.
The four looked up, the TV screen paused on an episode ofSouth Park. Alastair had the grace to look embarrassed, while Robson was intent on demolishing the last Hobnob.
‘You know you’re not allowed to watch that!’ Charlotte seized the remote control and turned off the TV. She prayed that neither of the boys’ friends would report their viewing choices to their parents, otherwise she would get a frosty reception at school.
‘I wanted to watch a documentary about whales,’ said Jodie haughtily.
‘I wanted to watchMonsters Inc,’ said Robson.
‘So did I,’ added Nathaniel.
Hustling the visitors into the hallway to collect jackets and bags, Charlotte heard a car pull up. Opening the door, she smiled at Nathaniel’s mum, who was collecting both the children.
‘Thanks so much for having them. I hope they behaved themselves!’ She declined Charlotte’s offer of a cuppa, explaining that she had to drop Nathaniel off for a guitar lesson and Jodie for a junior yoga class.
‘Bye, bye.’ Robson and Alastair waved at their friends. Jodie waved back with her right hand, the left intent on burrowing into her nostril. Charlotte shuddered as Jodie surveyed her finger, then popped the contents in her mouth.
‘Right, you two. Time to clear up, then homework.’ Charlotte closed the door.
Alastair sloped off to collect the empty plates and glasses but Robson stayed, a puzzled look on his face. ‘Mummy?’
‘Yes, sweetie?’
‘Is snot vegan?’
Chapter 20
‘You have a lovely home.’Juliette accepted a glass of pink fizz and a fish goujon, which she dipped into a bowl of tartare sauce. ‘Such a stunning view, and space for your boys to play.’
Charlotte thanked her and also sent up a prayer of thanks for the wonderful weather. Despite her lack of enthusiasm for a party, she was glad she’d eventually agreed. And she was very relieved that the weather had upped its game. The previous two days had been unseasonably cold and wet, the mountains and lake obscured by low-lying mist. She’d checked out Meteo Suisse obsessively, relieved to see the evening of the party was forecast to be warm and dry.
‘They seem to be enjoying themselves,’ said Charlotte. Robson and Alastair were splashing around in the oversized paddling pool with Juliette’s daughter, Sylvie, her husband, Olivier, watching with amusement.
‘This quiche is simply todiefor!’ Antoine sidled up next to them, a slice of Charlotte’s home-made asparagus quiche balanced on a paper plate.
Not for the first time, Charlotte pined for the scrummy selection of pre-made party nibbles offered at M&S or Waitrose. Scouring the supermarket shelves here, she’d found little to tempt her beyond spring rolls, jalapeno poppers and strange bread things topped with a gelatinous gloop. She’d baked a bunch of stuff and roped the boys into making chocolate brownies and butterfly cakes. Dom’s contribution had been ordering cases of beer, wine and a selection of soft drinks for the designated drivers and children.
‘Miranda, can you bounce a little less vigorously, please? Those little ones will be catapulted into outer space if you don’t cool it!’ Sadie stood next to the trampoline — another new purchase that had almost given Dom a nervous breakdown during construction — as her daughter performed an expert backflip. Two tots, offspring of another of Dom’s colleagues, scrambled to safety through the gap in the netting.
‘Thank you again for inviting us.’ Jürgen wandered over from the shade of the terrace where he’d been chatting to Sadie’s husband, Rick. He clinked his beer bottle against Charlotte’s glass of pink fizz. Marcus was organising some kind of skittles game for the children not occupied in the pool or on the trampoline.
‘You’re so welcome,’ said Charlotte. It was the first time she’d seen Jürgen casually dressed, and his khaki shorts and white linen shirt suited him to a tee.
‘Having fun?’ Dom appeared, draping his arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. Judging by his slight unsteadiness, he’d already knocked back several drinks, and he seemed on edge. Glancing around nervously, perhaps because there was no sign of Amelie? He’d told Charlotte he’d invited most of the office, but he hadn’t mentioned her name. And Charlotte wasn’t about to ask.
‘It’s a pleasure to be here,’ said Jürgen. ‘And to meet you, of course.’
‘Likewise,’ replied Dom. ‘Now, there’s a truckload of food that needs eating, and I suggest you fill your boots before the locusts descend.’ He waved in the direction of the terrace where a borrowed trestle table groaned under the weight of canapés, assorted salads and cakes.
