Page 25 of Lost in Translation
The party went on for several hours, with people drifting away as the sun set and the air cooled a little. Only a handful remained, including Sadie, Rick, Antoine and Amelie. Jürgen had left with Marcus at around eight, saying that he had an early start the next morning. Charlotte wished she’d had more time to talk to him, and didn’t allow herself to question why she felt that way.
Finally, as the remaining guests bade their farewells, Amelie tapped Charlotte on the shoulder. There was no sign of Dom. Charlotte had noted the two of them keeping their distance on the whole. When they were together she sensed tension, as if they were engaged in a peculiar dance. Or was she reading too much into things? Too much, specifically, into what Amelie had said in the kitchen?
‘Thank you for inviting me,’ said Amelie.
‘I didn’t, Dom did.’ Charlotte wished she could swallow the words when she realised how rude they sounded.
Amelie pursed her tiny mouth, her forehead wrinkling. ‘Dom is a lovely man, and a handsome man, but a little too old for my taste. Just in case you were implying something, which I’m sure you weren’t.’
A tooting horn signalled Amelie’s Uber. She brushed her lips against Charlotte’s cheek, and whispered, ‘But never forget that men need tending, Charlotte.’ Then she was gone.
Chapter 21
Charlotte paced around the room,several discarded outfits strewn across the bed. She’d finally persuaded Dom they needed a night out, meaning a night out alone. Instead, they were going to a cocktail bar in Lausanne with a crowd of his work colleagues. Just what she didn’tneed so soon after the party.
‘No, Amelie won’t be there,’ he’d said, before Charlotte even asked. ‘She’s away for a few days. Something to do with family, I think.’
Since the party, Charlotte had done her best to push all thoughts of Amelie away. Her parting words, however, still echoed in Charlotte’s ears: ‘Men need tending, Charlotte.’
What, like a bloody plant?Dom could keep himself fed and watered, and Charlotte had so far resisted tipping a bag of manure over his head. She probably shouldn’t have quizzed Amelie on her history with Dom, but watching Miss Sparkly Pants flutter her impossibly long and probably fake eyelashes at him had pushed Charlotte’s buttons.
Deciding on black skinny jeans and a silver-flecked top with bare shoulders, Charlotte twirled a few strands of hair around her curling tongs. Dusting some shimmery powder across her cheeks, she checked herself out in the full-length mirror.
‘You look beautiful, Mummy,’ said Alastair, as she made her way cautiously into the kitchen. Charlotte rarely wore heels these days, but the spiky scarlet sandals bought in last year’s summer sales matched her lipstick perfectly.
‘Like a princess,’ added Robson. ‘Fiona inShrekwhen she wasn’t an ogre.’
‘Looks like the babysitter’s arrived.’ Dom peered out of the window at the sound of a car pulling up. Charlotte tottered over and glimpsed the familiar red car speeding away. Seconds later, the doorbell rang.
‘Hi, Marcus.’
Jürgen’s son was clutching a small bunch of flowers and a tray of clingfilm-wrapped biscuits. ‘Hello, Mrs Egerton. Mr Egerton.’ Despite Charlotte’s protestations, he insisted on addressing them formally. ‘These are for you.’ He handed the flowers to Charlotte. ‘They are from our garden. And my dad made these, which I hope the boys will enjoy.’
Jürgen made biscuits?Charlotte couldn’t imagine Dom doing such a thing. He’d once cooked spaghetti for the boys when she’d been ill and burned it.
‘Mummy says we can watch a movie on Netflix,’ said Robson, grinning at Marcus. ‘I want to watchHow To Train Your Dragon, but Alastair says we have to watchThe Lion King. Again.’
‘And can we put on a magic show for you?’ added Alastair.
Charlotte ran through the details of the boys’ bedtime and routine and showed Marcus where everything was in the kitchen. ‘Call if there are any problems,’ she said, double-checking he had both their mobile numbers in his phone. Not that she foresaw any, and recalling Marcus’s kindness and air of calm after the skiing incident, she felt the boys were in safe hands.
‘All will be fine.’ Marcus rummaged in his pocket and took out a one-franc coin. ‘Now, we shall flip this to decide which movie to watch.’
Leaving the boys arguing over who got heads or tails, Charlotte and Dom slipped out to the waiting taxi.
‘Seems a likeable lad,’ said Dom. ‘What does his dad do again?’ He gave the bar address to the driver before slumping back in the seat.
‘Erm, he made money in toilet rolls, I think,’ said Charlotte. She’d never asked Jürgen directly how he earned a living. Sadie had mentioned the loo-roll connection one day during school drop-off, prompting Pamela to mutter something about him being ‘full of shit’.
Dom snorted derisively. ‘I guess there’s always a demand for that. Must have been lucrative, judging by his wheels. Assuming that was his dad who dropped him off?’
Charlotte nodded, flipping open her tiny evening bag to ensure she had the essentials: phone, tissues, lipstick, credit card and keys. She had zero interest in cars beyond their ability to get you from one place to another. Jürgen owned a Ferrari — or was it a Porsche? Again, it didn’t seem relevant. The handful of conversations they’d had touched on simpler topics, not the size of someone’s bank balance or the value of their car.
The cocktail bar was jumping when they arrived. It was one of those places so dimly lit that Charlotte wished she had a miner’s helmet to guide her through the gloom. God, she was getting old!
‘Over here!’ Antoine appeared, his formerly scarlet hair now a marbled mix of pink and yellow. It reminded Charlotte of a Battenberg cake, and the fact she hadn’t eaten. She accepted Antoine’s traditional three-way air kiss, and they followed him to a round table laden with weirdly coloured concoctions in jars.
‘Glad you could make it.’ Juliette stood up, and they went through the whole kissing rigmarole again. She wore heels this time, making Charlotte feel like a Lilliputian. ‘You haven’t met the others, no?’
