Page 65 of Lost in Translation
‘Jürgen. I’m fine. Better than fine. You’re here, and I can’t quite believe it. If you really want us to make a go of this, I’m in.’ Charlotte sighed as Jürgen moved closer and tentatively lifted her throbbing foot into his lap.
‘Does it hurt … here?’ He worked his thumb in gentle circles around the sole, and the throbbing subsided.
Charlotte collapsed into a fit of giggles. ‘Aargh, stop!’ Jürgen laughed too, releasing her foot and taking her hand instead. He raised it to his lips, kissing it with such tenderness that Charlotte’s insides liquefied.
‘We have a difficult road ahead, Charlotte. I can visit perhaps once a month, and spend some days here. In a hotel, of course. What is the English saying — baby feet?’
‘Baby steps.’ Charlotte smiled. Sometimes things got lost in translation, but she and Jürgen spoke the same language, were on the same page. Both had been kicked in the teeth by life, both were willing to grab a chance at happiness. To finally ‘seize the day’.
‘So would one of those baby steps be a kiss? A proper kiss before I go?’ Jürgen’s look of naked longing sent shock waves through every fibre of Charlotte’s being.
‘Just a kiss,’ she whispered. ‘For now.’
They shuffled closer. Charlotte closed her eyes, resting her head on the back of the sofa.
‘Open your eyes, please.’ Jürgen’s voice made her look at him, and lose herself in the abyss of adoration radiating from his face. Then they kissed. And it was magical.
Chapter 54
Charlotte checkedher watch for the umpteenth time. He’d be here soon. She grinned, grappling with a stray strand of hair that had escaped her casual up-do. Not that Jürgen cared about whether her hair was up or down. He loved her exactly as she was.
‘Mummy, why is Jürgen not here yet?’said Robson.
‘He’s on his way, sweetie.’ Charlotte ruffled Robson’s hair. He huffed, obsessed as he was with styling it into a quiff. How her boys had grown in a mere six months.
‘When Gran and Grandad come, can we go to Thorpe Park?’
Charlotte nodded, although she didn’t know how keen her parents would be to take the boys to a place full of scary rides. Not that they were tall enough to go on most of them, but every time she measured them they’d sprouted a little. Her parents were arriving in a week’s time for a two-week stay.
Alastair appeared, sweaty and dishevelled after a bike ride round the estate with friends. ‘I’m starving. When are we eating?’ He tugged off his helmet and filled a glass of water from the tap.
‘When Jürgen arrives.’ Charlotte gave the lamb casserole a stir. ‘Go and have a shower, stinky boy.’
Alastair sloped off, leaving Charlotte alone with Robson. He sat at the table, flicking through a pile of Panini football stickers. ‘I like Jürgen,’ he said as he sorted a handful of stickers into team colours. ‘Better than I like Amelie.’
Charlotte sat down opposite him. She knew the boys attempted to get along with their father’s new partner, but both complained that Amelie talked to them as if they were babies. ‘And she hardly eats anything and spends hours and hours in the bathroom,’ grumbled Alastair after one of their stays in Switzerland.
‘Maybe she’s constipated?’ quipped Charlotte naughtily.
Alastair sniggered. ‘No, Mummy, she just spendsagesputting on smelly lotions and fixing her face.’
Charlotte had heard through Juliette that no one in the office believed the relationship would last. ‘Dom is not happy,’ she said, during one of their occasional chats. ‘He has lost the sparkle he once had, as if Amelie has sucked the life force from him. She is so controlling, always checking where he is and what he is doing.’
Poacher turned gamekeeper,thought Charlotte. Perhaps Amelie feared that Dom would find someone else. Either way, Charlotte didn’t really care.
Dom hadn’t been happy when Charlotte revealed she was seeing Jürgen, either. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit soon after our break-up to dive into a new relationship?’ he’d snapped down the phone one evening.
‘At least I waited till the existing one was overbeforedivingin,’ Charlotte had retorted. That shut him up.
Over the past six months, Jürgen had visited several times. He always stayed at hotels in the area, where they could meet in privacy. Fearful of upsetting the boys, Charlotte had waited some time before breaking the news.
‘Are you going to get married?’ asked Robson.
‘Of course not!’ Charlotte bit down a laugh. ‘Jürgen’s a … a friend. A good friend.’
‘He was always nice to us in Switzerland,’ Robson added. ‘Marcus, too.’
To both Jürgen and Charlotte’s delight, Marcus had received almost top marks in his International Baccalaureate exams, which secured him a place at Durham University to study Environmental Geoscience. He’d start his course later that month, his accommodation in halls of residence already sorted.
