Page 57 of Lost in Translation
Towelling herself dry, Charlotte put the pieces of the whole sorry affair together. Dom had been lying throughout, if Amelie was telling the truth, but recently he appeared to have developed cold feet. That was hardly surprising, if Amelie had behaved in the calculating, controlling way she’d just witnessed. Did that mean it was all over between them, even if Amelie didn’t see it that way? And did that make a difference toher? Dragging a comb through her hair, Charlotte looked in the mirror and didn’t like what she saw. A bitter, defeated woman who’d thrown all her vitriol at Amelie when — truth be told — Dom was hardly the hapless victim.Hewas the one who’d consistently lied, putting his family life in jeopardy. Amelie might be a shit-stirring piece of work, but she at least was single.
Charlotte sat up straighter. Was she going to remain a doormat forever, or was now the time to act?Not the sharpest tool in the box?Dom was about to discover that his wife’s days of being a blunt object were over.
Chapter 47
The day before the boys’ski trip, and Charlotte’s stomach felt tighter than a drum skin. She’d been so, so tempted to boot Dom’s cheating arse out immediately, but decided to play it out a little longer.
Ruth had finally given birth to a baby boy, weighing in at a whopping ten pounds. ‘Jeez, hon, now I know what they mean when giving birth is described as being like squeezing a bowling ball out of your nostril!’ she said, pulling an agonised face. ‘I was sucking on that gas like a madwoman, and poor Simon got a mouthful of abuse every time he tried to say something encouraging.’
After cooing over pink-faced, hairless Jacob — ‘he looks like an alien, bless him,’ Ruth said adoringly as she dangled him in front of the camera — Charlotte related the Amelie incident.
‘And you still haven’t spoken to him?’ said Ruth. ‘It must be like living with a ticking time bomb.’
‘The boys go on their ski trip tomorrow,’ said Charlotte. ‘I need them out of the way before I can talk to Dom. But what I don’t get is why he hasn’t cracked by now. Surely Amelie would have told him she’d been here — or is it really all over between them?’ Charlotte doubted Amelie would quit without a fight. She struck Charlotte as someone used to getting her own way.
‘Even if it is over, do you want to stay with him?’ Ruth grimaced as Jacob latched on to her breast. ‘Who’s to say he won’t cheat again, or be worn down by that bloody bitch? I mean, if they’re still working at the same place, he can’t avoid her all the time. Ouch, you little bugger, that hurts!’
The next day Charlotte stood with the rest of the mums and dads, waiting to wave off the coachloads of excited children. Alastair and Robson had proudly packed their own boot bags and suitcases, Charlotte assisting with a school-supplied list of essentials.
‘They’ll have a fantastic time,’ said Sadie, double-checking Miranda’s backpack for sunscreen. ‘The food’s great at the hostel, and they do loads of fun activities in the evenings. Mind you, the younger ones are usually knackered by 9pm after a full day on the slopes.’
Charlotte blew kisses at the boys as their coach started up. Alastair returned the gesture, but Robson had his back to the window. She turned to leave and almost collided with Jürgen.
‘Hello, stranger,’ he said. Sadness filled his eyes, and Charlotte felt awful for not replying to his recent texts. Filled with kindness and concern for her well-being, without directly asking about Dom. Humiliation still coursed through her when she remembered the kiss, and her reaction to it.
‘Hi, Jürgen.’ She moved a few steps away from Sadie, now chatting to another mum, and he followed. ‘Listen, I’m so sorry for everything. What happened, and for ignoring you. I’ve just … well, it hasn't been an easy time.’
Jürgen raised a hand to wave at Marcus as the senior students’ bus pulled out of the courtyard. Charlotte waved too, smiling at the young man’s enthusiastic response.
‘You don’t have to tell me anything,’ said Jürgen. ‘I just hope we are still friends, Charlotte. I’ve missed you.’
‘I’ve missed you too,’ she whispered. Her dread of the conversation with Dom that lay ahead, and the contrast of Jürgen’s constant kindness, brought unwanted tears to her eyes.
‘Coffee?’ Jürgen took Charlotte’s arm and steered her towards the parking area. ‘Or something stronger? I have a very fine brandy at my apartment, if you prefer to go somewhere private.’
Charlotte smiled, wiping away a stray tear. ‘It’s nine thirty in the morning, Jürgen. A little early to hit the booze, but a coffee would be lovely.’
Agreeing to follow him in her own car, Charlotte noticed Pamela giving them the evil eye. Out of sheer devilment, Charlotte hooked her arm through Jürgen’s. Pamela’s eyebrows rocketed north, and she stomped off in the other direction.
Jürgen’s apartment was warm and homely, and much smaller than Charlotte had pictured. He gave her a quick tour, and Charlotte was pleased to see a well-stocked bookcase and a gleaming kitchen. After Jürgen had made coffee with a high-tech machine that boggled Charlotte’s mind, they moved into the lounge. Settled on a comfy sofa, she hesitated for a second when Jürgen produced a bottle of Rémy Martin. He poured two small measures, and Charlotte took a grateful sip.
‘Now, I am guessing that something has happened regarding your husband. You said before that you were at a crossroads. Do you know now which way to go?’
Jürgen’s turn of phrase often amused Charlotte. Not in a funny ha-ha way, more that he said things differently. Probably because he wasn’t a native English speaker, but it was just one of the endearing things about him. One of themanyreasons to like him.
‘Yes, I do.’ Charlotte swirled the brandy round the crystal balloon glass. ‘It’s over.’ She hadn’t said the words before, out loud or in her head, but saying them now felt right. Saying them to Dom… Well, she’d cross that bridge this evening.
‘I’m sorry. We seem to say that a lot to each other, don’t we?’ Jürgen raised his glass, and Charlotte clinked hers against it.
‘To the end of a marriage.’ She shook her head. ‘Not exactly a cause for celebration, is it? Ten years down the drain, because my husband slept with another woman.’ She filled Jürgen in as quickly as she could on Amelie’s visit, her revelation — hardly a shocker — that they’d been sleeping together, and Dom’s recently altered behaviour. Charlotte omitted the cruel comment about her own intelligence. She might not be a candidate for Mensa, but she didn’t care. She was taking charge.
‘To the future.’ Jürgen raised his glass again, his voice strong and filling Charlotte with positivity. She would need that by the bucketload to get through the coming hours, weeks and months. ‘Change is hard, because it requires a strength we do not always believe we have. But you have that strength, Charlotte. I knew it from the first moment I met you. I know you don’t believe it, but it’s true.’
‘But what if I let him talk me round? What if Dom falls to his knees and begs for a second chance?’ Charlotte’s voice quavered, her steely determination side-swiped by the image of a contrite Dom pleading for forgiveness.
Jürgen gathered up the untouched coffees and left the room. When he returned, he sat next to Charlotte on the sofa. He was close enough for her to feel the heat from his body, yet far enough away that an outsider would suspect nothing amiss. Nevertheless, her head was spinning, and she couldn’t blame two mouthfuls of brandy.
‘Charlotte.’ Her name hung in the air, his emphasis on the second syllable sending goosebumps up and down her arms. ‘I cannot interfere in your life. You are one of the most engaging, attractive women I have ever met. But I cannot influence what you do. I do not condone infidelity, but sometimes the heart wants what it shouldn’t.’
