Page 42 of Lost in Translation
‘Mainly for the money. Yes, I know that sounds callous and calculating, but when you were brought up with nothing, the promise of a better and financially sound life is very attractive.’
Alicia explained that Derek had made a fortune as a music producer, working with some of the biggest names in the business. However, he kept a very low profile, refusing interviews and any other media exposure.
‘I grew up on a rundown council estate, with little interest in anything but dancing,’ she continued. ‘I got a scholarship to ballet school, which was my first step away from my origins. The next was changing my name, and after that … I met Derek.’
‘Were you happy?’ Charlotte asked.
‘For a time,’ replied Alicia. ‘We had Jennifer, incredible holidays, a lifestyle I’d fantasised about as a child. But over the past few years, the façade crumbled. He’d spend more and more time away, supposedly on business, but I knew he was seeing other people. Other men. When he came home, we had little to talk about, whereas before, he was the one person I could confide in. The words just shrivelled up, and we began to regard each other with something like loathing. All the good bits crumbled away, exposing two people unable to communicate.’
‘Isn’t it a relief, in a way? I mean, it must be so hard for you and for Jennifer, but surely living a lie for so long must have been a terrible strain.’
Charlotte hoped she hadn’t overstepped the mark. The interior of the car was now unbearably hot, and she longed to get out. Noticing her discomfort, Alicia put down the convertible’s roof. A blessed breeze washed over them.
‘Yes, I suppose so. It’s the humiliation of it all. Not that I plan on telling people the whole sordid story — and I trust you won’t share this with anyone.’ Alicia fixed Charlotte with a steely stare, and she nodded furiously. Of course she wouldn’t.
Charlotte glanced at her Fitbit. ‘Erm, I really need to go. But if you need to talk again I’ll gladly listen, although I’m sure you have good friends to confide in.’
Alicia laughed, a harsh, near-humourless sound. ‘Very few, to be honest. Anyway, I’ll be fine. Thank you.’
Charlotte moved to open the door, then paused. ‘For what it’s worth, maybe you and Derek will find a way forward, if only for the sake of Jennifer. As friends, at least.’
Alicia fluttered her hand in a gesture of farewell. ‘Perhaps, although it’s hard to imagine it right now. To be honest, we’ve reached the point of the disinterested meeting the couldn’t-give-a-shit.’
Chapter 35
‘How wasthe vegetarian and organic diet?’ asked Charlotte, whisking pancake batter for the boys, who were still in bed.
Dom had given Charlotte a glossy brochure from the retreat, detailing the various treatments and types of yoga on offer. Ashtanga, Pranayama, and a few others Charlotte could barely pronounce.
Dom looked up from his plateful of sausage, bacon and eggs. ‘What’s that?’ He forked in a mouthful, his attention fixed onThe Timesapp on his iPad.
‘The food. How was it? I can’t imagine that going meat-free for days helped your inner calm.’
‘It was OK. Amazing, actually, how full you feel on a diet packed with wholegrains and fruit and veg. Mind you, we sneaked out one night for a drink. Alcohol-free was a little trickier!’
Charlotte stared at Dom. ‘You just saidwe. Who was the other person?’ The cat was now officially out of the bag. Let him dig his way out of this one.
‘Oh, just another guy there on his own. We kind of teamed up, both being novices at this kind of thing. He suggested a cheeky pint, and I agreed. Willpower of an amoeba!’
For every question Charlotte lobbed at him, Dom batted back a plausible answer. Since his return she’d grilled him on the daily routine at the retreat, the names and backgrounds of the other participants, and how long it had taken to drive there. The promised bottle of perfume hadn’t materialised (no flight, no duty free), but Dom had presented her with an edelweiss-patterned incense burner and sticks that smelled of eucalyptus oil.
Breakfast devoured, Dom packed his office bag and headed to work. He shouted a goodbye upstairs to the boys, receiving a sleepy ‘Bye, Daddy’ in return.
An hour later, Alastair and Robson were up, dressed and fed. With the temperature still in the high twenties, they took themselves outside to draw in the shade. Alastair was coping remarkably well with his restricted arm, but Charlotte couldn’t wait for it to heal. Sadie had suggested a trip with the children to one of the local municipal pools, but Charlotte had declined. It seemed cruel for Alastair to watch the others splashing around in the water while he sat on the sidelines.
Relishing the peace, Charlotte curled up with a book in the lounge. The electric fan provided a little relief from the heat, and she’d put on her bikini with a lightweight cotton kaftan over the top. She’d deal with the laundry and ironing later when it was cooler. As she flipped through the book, trying to find her place, her phone rang. Dammit, she’d left it charging in the kitchen. Shoving her feet into her faithful flip flops, Charlotte hurried through and picked it up.
‘Charlotte?’ A familiar voice made her stomach flip.
‘Hi, Jürgen. How are you?’ They’d never talked on the phone before, only in person. His voice, amplified by the device, seemed deeper and more melodic.
‘I’m very good. And you, are you OK?’
Charlotte hesitated. She’d been on the brink of confiding in Jürgen, but had held back for reasons she still didn’t want to analyse. And she wasn’t about to reveal Dom’s elaborate cover story about chewing kale and standing on his head.
‘I’m fine. Kind of glad the summer camp’s over, to be honest. It’s nice having the boys around, and I can keep an eye on Alastair’s arm.’
‘He will be fully mended before you know it.’ Jürgen’s words comforted Charlotte. Dom had barely paid lip service to his son’s injury, instead relating the litany of sports injuries he’d incurred — minus breaks — during his youth.
