Page 44 of Lost in Translation
‘Yes? Come on, Ruth, don’t leave me hanging!’ Charlotte swiped a tissue over the laptop screen, which bore a fine coating of pollen.
‘Turns out an ex of his, one of many I’d imagine, has popped back on the scene. Caroline, I think her name is. Will said they’d had a good thing going before, but he couldn’t see it leading anywhere. Chiefly because she’s absolutely desperate to have kids … and he can’t.’
Charlotte heard Dom call out that he was heading to work. Alastair and Robson were holed up in their bedrooms, so she shouted a quick goodbye. ‘Sorry. Carry on. What do you mean, he can’t?’
‘He had a pretty serious illness in his late teens, and afterwards the doctors said he’d never be able to father children. He didn’t go into massive detail, and I wasn’t up for a lengthy chat about sperm counts, but he was adamant. And not terribly bothered, to be honest. Will’s the kind of guy who likes to march to his own tune without the added complication of raising a kid.’
‘Hmm, that sounds familiar.’ Charlotte gave Ruth a wry smile which her friend acknowledged with a waggle of her middle finger.
‘Remind me why we’re friends, bitch? No, don’t bother. I’ll always love you, despite your evil side. Anyway, you can see where this is going, right?’
Charlotte could. If Will wasn’t a contender, the only possibility was Simon, the dermatologist. The man Ruth had hinted that she was rather more fond of.
‘So is it time you had a little chat with Simon? Put him in the picture, and at least give him a chance to express an opinion?’
Ruth gave a pained look. ‘I don’t know, hon. If I tell him, will he put pressure on me to keep the baby? Or not want to have anything to do with it? Or—’
‘Ruth, what’s your gut feeling? Be honest, it’s me you’re talking to. Do you want to have an abortion, or take a leap into the unknown and become a mum?’
Charlotte watched as Ruth’s eyes filled with tears. She said nothing, waiting for her friend to compose herself.
‘I want to keep it.’
Charlotte exhaled loudly. Her sense of relief was enormous, even though she realised Ruth had a long, tough road ahead. ‘And you’ll speak to Simon? Promise me you will.’
‘I will. In fact, I’ll call him soon and ask if we can meet up. Oh God, Charlotte, I’m bloody petrified. About what he’ll say, and the fact I’m going to do this with or without him.’
A commotion in the hallway indicated that the boys had emerged, probably seeking sustenance.
‘Ten minutes, guys!’ Charlotte hollered. She listened to the pair of them clattering downstairs and turned back to the screen. ‘Remember when you told me I’d be OK moving to Switzerland? You said, and I quote: “You can do this.” And I’ve managed so far, marital lumps and bumps notwithstanding. Ruth, you can do this, and I’ll have your back along the way. Hell, I’ll even come over to hold your hand during the birth, and you can call me all the names under the sun.’
Ruth dabbed at her cheeks, the tears now flowing freely. ‘I bloody love you, Charlotte. Not that I want you to witness my screams of agony and all the gory stuff, but … I bloody love you.’
Assuring her friend that the feeling was mutual, Charlotte signed off. She sat quietly for a moment, Ruth’s tear-streaked face etched on her eyeballs. She’d wanted to talk about Jürgen, but it wasn’t the right time. What was there to say, anyway? They were going to a concert together, Dom didn’t mind (or care), and it was completely innocent.
* * *
That night Charlottesat up in bed, trying and failing to read her book. The words swam before her eyes, little black dots that jiggled around without rhyme or reason. Dom sat next to her, cursing atThe Times’s killer Sudoku. The boys were zonked, having spent most of the day chasing each other around the garden with water pistols. Robson had the unfair advantage of two hands — one to load, one to shoot — and Charlotte had reluctantly got in on the action. Reluctantly, but she’d had great fun. Whatever else was wrong with her life, playing with Alastair and Robson reminded her of the good stuff. She’d eventually waved the white flag, hair and clothes sodden, and set about cooking dinner.
‘Bugger, this one’s got me beat.’ Dom closed his iPad and tossed it aside. ‘Feeling a bit knackered, darling. All right if I switch off the light?’
Charlotte tossed the barely read book aside. ‘Sure. I’m a bit tired myself, actually.’
Dom leaned across and pecked her on the lips. ‘You’ve got a big day tomorrow. You, your German pal, and old Reggie boy. Hope you’ve brushed up on all the lyrics!’
Charlotte rolled over to the far side of the bed. She squeezed her eyes shut, the words to ‘Sad Songs (Say So Much)’ playing on a loop in her head.
Chapter 37
The sheer volumeof people drifting towards the stadium blew Charlotte away. Used to the relative sleepiness of her little Swiss village, it felt as if Glastonbury-goers had descended, minus the wellies and mud.
She’d found a parking spot ten minutes’ walk away from where she was meeting Jürgen. Weaving her way through the crowds — a mixture of young and old, some sporting Elton-style over-the-top glasses — Charlotte hoped she’d spot him easily. She hoisted her canvas holdall up on her shoulder; the bag laden with chilled bottled water, sun cream and wet wipes. Once a mum, always a mum. She’d almost added little packs of raisins and chopped-up fruit, but remembered that Jürgen had said there’d be plenty of food at the concert.
‘Charlotte, over here!’ Jürgen stood a few feet away, waving furiously. She muttered excuse-mes, dodging a couple wielding beer cans and a group of middle-aged people dressed more for a hike than a concert.
‘Lovely to see you.’ Jürgen kissed her on each cheek, and she reciprocated. His cologne smelled fresh and citrusy, and his faint stubble brushed her skin. ‘You look very fetching, if I may say so.’
Charlotte blushed. She’d spent longer than she cared to think deciding on a suitable outfit. She’d opted for a teal-blue T-shirt dress, cinched at the waist with a chunky antique-effect belt Alastair had picked out for her on a pre-Switzerland shopping trip. For comfort in the heat, she’d piled her hair up in a loose knot and brought a foldable straw hat with an extravagant pink bow.
