Page 39 of Lost in Translation
‘Bloody hell, what an absolute bastard! And lying to you on the phone takes some serious balls of steel — which I’m happy to remove and remodel into a pair of earrings. When’s the cheating turd back?’
‘Tomorrow. I’m not sure what time, since I’ve barely spoken to him and he didn’t bother telling me when he left. I just feel sick, Ruth. I mean, I don’t have any proof that he’s been with the tart, but what other explanation can there be?’
‘Hon, I honestly don’t know, but you’ve got the upper hand. Keep calm and for God’s sake don’t tear him to shreds if the boys are around.’
Charlotte swallowed a fresh wave of tears. Alastair and Robson’s world would fall apart if they discovered what their father had done. And would there be any way back for her and Dom? Would he want to stay married to her, or would the truth set him free to shack up with Amelie? ‘I’ll do my best,’ she replied, ‘but right now I’m vacillating between sitting down to discuss the situation in a grown-up way, and smashing him in the face with a Le Creuset pan.’
Checking the clock, Charlotte realised she needed to get going. Her plan was to pick up a few groceries en route to the school, then go to the hospital again with the boys and Jürgen.
‘Call me in the next couple of days,’ said Ruth, blowing elaborate kisses at the camera. ‘Or sooner, if you need me to find an excellent lawyer. A divorce one, not the criminal kind. Unless I see a story on the news about a man being bludgeoned to death by a cast-iron frying pan.’
* * *
‘Is that better?’Charlotte looked at Alastair, now free of the sagging body cast and sporting a neoprene arm support secured to his torso.
‘Much,’ he said. ‘I can scratch under my arm now!’ To demonstrate, he did a passable impression of a monkey giving its armpit a good old going-over.
‘Excellent,’ said Jürgen. ‘Now, what do you say to stopping off for ice creams before I take you back to your car?’ He raised a questioning eyebrow at Charlotte as both Alastair and Robson squealed with excitement.
‘Only if it’s no trouble. You’ve already done so much for us, and—’ Charlotte’s voiced trailed off. She didn’t want to dwell upon why spending more time with Jürgen felt so appealing.
‘It is no trouble. There is a nice place right by the lake which I know does the best salted caramel and mint chocolate chip flavours. Or if you prefer, they do delicious Belgian waffles too.’
Fifteen minutes later, the four of them sat in a row on a bench close to the Charlie Chaplin statue in Vevey. They’d each opted for double scoops of ice cream, with sprinkles on top for the boys.
‘It’s so lovely here.’ Charlotte swirled her tongue around the mound of vanilla she’d chosen, along with salted caramel. She pointed at the statue. ‘I know he used to live here, but not much more than that. I bought a pile of tourist guides before we moved, but they’re still packed in a box somewhere.’
Jürgen wiped a splodge of ice cream from the front of Robson’s T-shirt. Robson thanked him and licked a few dribbles coursing down the side of the cone.
‘Yes, Vevey was his adopted home for many years. He died in 1977 and is buried next to his wife, Oona, in a small graveyard near here. There is quite a new museum dedicated to his life and work, which is well worth a visit.’
Charlotte mentally added it to her list of places to go — assuming that they stayed in Switzerland. What would happen if her marriage collapsed? Dom was the one with the work permit. Would she and the boys have to go back to England and attempt to rebuild their lives? The shiver that ran down her spine had nothing to do with the chill of the ice cream.
‘Mummy, can we go to the playground for a little while?’ Robson crunched the end of the cone, and gave Charlotte his best beseeching smile.
‘Sweetheart, Alastair can’t exactly go on the swings or the climbing frame, can he?’
‘It’s OK, Mummy,’ Alastair said. ‘I can just watch Robson being rubbish at everything.’ He poked his little brother in the ribs, and Robson stuck out his tongue at him.
‘Fine. You scoot along for a few minutes, then we’ll catch up. But be careful; I don’t need any more trips to the hospital.’ Charlotte looked at Jürgen, who nodded, and the boys took off for the playground.
‘Forgive me for saying, but you seem sad, Charlotte. Your eyes, they do not have their usual sparkle. Is there something wrong?’
Charlotte turned away, sliding her sunglasses off her head to cover her traitorous eyes. ‘I … well… I’ve got something on my mind, but I don’t want to dump it on you.’
‘Dump it?’ Jürgen rubbed his chin contemplatively. ‘Sometimes English expressions are not clear to me. You are saying you don’t wish to tell me what is troubling you?’
‘Yes. Well, no. It’s not that, it’s just … rather personal. And you don’t need to hear my woes, not when you’ve been so kind.’
Jürgen shuffled along the bench, filling the gap where the boys had sat. He took both Charlotte’s hands, the warmth from his easing the sense of panic broiling within her chest. ‘Remember how you listened to me going on about my marriages? You did not yawn once or run for the door. You are a good person, Charlotte, with a kind heart, and if I can be of any help, it would be my honour.’
Still holding her hands, Jürgen waited. Charlotte’s pulse quickened, and she felt a flutter of something in her stomach. A flutter that was wholly inappropriate for a married — for now — woman.
‘It’s nothing.’ She snatched her hands away, hoping Jürgen couldn’t see deeper into her soul and work out the feelings he had induced. ‘We’d better fetch the boys.’ Charlotte picked up her bag and stood up. Jürgen followed suit, and they made their way to the playground.
Chapter 33
Charlotte pacedthe house like a caged tiger. Dom had texted his estimated time of arrival — around 4pm — and she’d arranged for Sadie to pick up the boys on the last day of camp. Much to their delight, Sadie had offered a sleepover too, with Rick in charge of erecting a tent for the children to spend the night in the garden.
