Page 42 of One More Day
‘Yes, I can hear you now,’ he says, sounding a lot jollier than he was to me before. ‘Yes, that’s better. It’s nice to hear your voice too. So, what were you asking?’
I tug the soft blanket beneath my chin with one hand and scramble around to find the remote control for the telly withthe other. I didn’t intend to fall asleep so soon. It’s only just past ten so no doubt I’ll be up half the night now, though I am a little bit peckish.
‘Yes, I have lots of decorations up in the cottage, so it’s very Christmassy,’ I hear Charlie say now.
Really?
He has lots of decorations up?
The smell of his night-time cooking fills the cottage, mingling in with the smouldering turf from the fire beside me. I should really top it up before it goes out, but I’m intrigued now to know who he is talking to.
I sit up a little on the sofa, dropping the remote back onto the floor where I’d just found it.
‘There’s a handmade frosted wreath on the front door made up with lights and gold ribbon,’ I hear him say. ‘Yes, lots and lots of twinkling lights around the banister and on all the picture frames.’
Seriously?
‘I’ll send photos, of course. And in the hallway, there are candles that smell like cinnamon and gingerbread – you’d love them.’
I’m very confused.
‘It’s all very festive and cheery here, so you’ve nothing to worry about. I’m managing just fine.’
I slowly sit up straighter, hoping that George doesn’t bark so I can hear some more of the conversation. Who the hell is he talking to? And where did he suddenly get all this newfound Christmas spirit from? He hated the decorations just a couple of hours ago and now he sounds likean enthusiastic interiors vlogger, or someone who’s had a personality transplant.
‘Yes, I had a few pints earlier before dinnerandI spoke to Rebecca too, which was lovely. She misses you,’ he continues, sounding very cheery and very un-Charlie. ‘Did you like the photo of the village Christmas tree? Yes, I thought you’d like that one. The manger is very special.’
He pauses. I can hear my own pulse in my ears as I strain to listen.
‘I miss you too, Helena,’ he replies softly.
Oh …
‘But I’ll be home before you know it and we have so much to look forward to in the new year … I know, I know you do, darling.’
He speaks so tenderly. I know nothing about the man, really, so it’s very strange to hear him talk like this to someone from his real life.
‘Now, I hope you haven’t opened your presents early – I know what you’re like, and there are still a few days to go …’
He pauses and laughs in a way I haven’t heard him do before, but then our conversations have been very stilted and minimized to date.
‘I love you too,’ he whispers. ‘Enjoy your day tomorrow and tell the girls I say hello.’
More laughter.
‘OK, I’d better go. Max needs to go outside before it gets too late, and you know I’m usually asleep by now. I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye darling, bye.’
Why isn’t Charlie with his girlfriend at the most wonderful time of the year? Maybe Helena is in a foreign country and they can’t travel to see each other, or maybe she works as a nurse or doctor and is tied up for Christmas. Or maybe he’s having an affair, and he’s running away from reality just like I am.
We’re clearly in very different situations, but perhaps Charlie and I have a lot more in common than we first thought.
I hear him call Max and they make their way upstairs, giving me space to make a dash to the kitchen for a quick snack from the fridge.
I switch on the kitchen light, almost tiptoeing in case I disturb him. But when the room lights up, the first thing I notice is the scrawl on the magnetic whiteboard fixed to the fridge door.
He has left me a message that doesn’t involve bread or milk, or any food supplies for that matter.
Sorry about earlier. I’m a bit of a Grinch these days. Your decorations are lovely. Thanks for trying. Sorry for being a dickhead. Charlie.
