Page 62 of Lost in Translation
Jiggling a contented Jacob on his knee at the table, Simon shrugged. ‘Ruth, we only lived a few miles apart, so our situation was rather different. Stop haranguing poor Charlotte and let her decide what’s right and what’s not.’
Charlotte high-fived Simon just as Jacob let rip with an explosive nappy-filling noise.
‘Oh, good God,’ exclaimed Ruth. She went to take him, but Simon gathered up their stinky son and the changing bag they’d plonked in the corner.
‘You two carry on nattering, and I’ll deal with our darling super-shitter. Seriously, considering how little goes in, it amazes me how much comes out.’
‘He’s a keeper, that one.’ Charlotte topped up their wine glasses, smiling at Ruth’s contented expression. ‘Dom dodged nappy changing; he said he was no good at it. As if women relished the prospect of wiping away yellowy-green poo multiple times a day. And when the solids started…’
They clinked their glasses together, united in motherhood, albeit at different stages of the process.
‘I love him — I lovethem— to bits. Oh crap, now I’m getting all maudlin.’ Ruth dabbed at her eyes with a piece of kitchen roll. ‘Who’d have thought, your commitment-phobic bestie going mushy over a man and a baby.’
‘At least it’s nottwomen and a baby. Or, perish the thought, three,’ said Charlotte. ‘Ooh, I think Jacob’s fan club have got in on the act.’ From upstairs she heard screams of delight from Alastair and Robson. They adored Jacob, treating him like a baby brother and even relishing the chance to help change his nappies. Charlotte had picked up a second-hand changing table and set it up in the spare bedroom for when Ruth visited. The boys squabbled good-naturedly about who got the first cuddle, and the odd time they got to help bath Jacob filled them with joy.
‘Mummy!’ Robson tore into the kitchen, breathless with glee. ‘Jacob just did a wee all over the bedroom curtains!’
Ruth burst out laughing, pulling a ‘forgive me’ face. ‘That lad’s willy’s like a mini fire hose. You never know what it’ll spray next. He got Simon square in the face the other day.’
Robson scrunched up in a fit of giggles at the word ‘willy’, then hearing Alastair calling to him, he took off again at breakneck speed.
‘I’ll pay for the dry cleaning,’ said Ruth.
‘You bloody won’t. Those curtains belonged to the previous owners, and hideous doesn’t describe them. Jacob’s done me a favour; they’re something I’ll be glad to replace.’
‘Like Dom?’ Ruth adjusted a pad in her bra, prodding her boobs like a baker testing his dough.
‘I’m not replacing Dom any time soon.’ Charlotte stabbed at a chunk of feta with a cocktail stick. ‘I’m happy with it just being me and the boys. Stop meddling, Ruth, and go feed that eating machine before those puppies cause an explosion.’
Lovely as it was to have Ruth, Simon and Jacob around, Charlotte closed the door behind them after a couple of hours with a contented sigh. This washerspace now, and she relished every precious square foot of it. Not for ever — she’d have to downsize at some point — but right now, Charlotte was queen of her mid-sized suburban home.
A quick squint around their bedroom door revealed Alastair and Robson adrift on a sea of innocent slumber. Charlotte envied their ready acceptance of the changes thrust upon them. They were so capable of adapting, of absorbing everything thrown at them, good and bad. She hoped life would treat them kindly, but life didn’t come with shiny warranties or guarantees. You tried your best, and if it didn’t work, you tried again.
It was only ten pm, yet Charlotte craved her bed. She tidied up the kitchen and folded a pile of laundry still warm from the tumble dryer. Double-checking that she’d locked the front and back doors, she placed a foot on the bottom stair, and—
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway made her stop. Had Ruth and Simon forgotten something? Not Jacob; she’d definitely have noticedhislingering presence.
Peering through the front window, Charlotte frowned at the unfamiliar car. A taxi, its sign unlit. She watched as someone clambered out, turning back to pay the driver. Her breath caught in her throat as the passenger straightened up.It can’t be.She hurried to the door, twisting the lock open with fumbling fingers. The figure stood before her, his face in shadow, but Charlotte knew exactly who it was.
‘Charlotte.’ That voice catapulted her back in time, stirring up emotions she’d tried to repress. She’d convinced herself there could be no future between them. And now he was here.
‘Jürgen.’ She opened the door wider, and he stepped in.
Chapter 52
‘I was just passing.’
Charlotte looked at the man whom she’d initially despised, then become friends with, and latterly, grown close to.Veryclose to. Someone she’d leaned on when the going got tough. In a funny way, they’d propped each other up. Both damaged, both in need of a sounding board.
‘Just passing? I live in a cul-de-sac in a sleepy English village miles away from the nearest motorway. Or airport.’
Jürgen massaged his left wrist with his right hand. Charlotte sensed his nerves, which weren't something she’d normally associate with his air of Germanic togetherness.
‘OK, I am lying. I had a business trip to London, and I wanted to see you. I’m sorry, I’ll leave if you want me to.’
Charlotte shook her head. ‘Of course I don’t want you to leave. I’m just — surprised to see you. How did you know I’d be home?’
Surprised didn’t cover it. Gobsmacked, stunned and more than a bit thrilled went some way towards describing her mood. A mood she needed to douse pronto. Jürgen couldn’t be part of her life; to imagine otherwise was insanity. Still, he was here, and Charlotte’s inbred good manners meant she had to invite him in.
