Page 98 of One More Day
My first thought is the polka dot skirt he’d spied when out shopping, but Charlie’s gift is a small box shape that is heavy to hold.
I sit up straight and tear open the paper much more quickly than he did just moments ago. When I peel it back it reveals the most delicately decorated, stunning walnut music box. I put my hand over my mouth.
‘Open it,’ he whispers.
I prise the lid open gently. As the tinkling sounds fill the air, a tiny ballerina twirls round and round in its centre and happy tears roll down my face when I realise the song it’s playing.
‘The song it’s playing is called “Salut d’Amour”,’ Charlie tells me. ‘I got it at the Christmas Fayre. Now, it’s vintage, which is a fancy way of saying it’s pre-loved and has a chip on the corner, but I thought it was timeless, just like you.’
I can barely find my breath as I find the chip in the corner he is speaking of and my heart thumps in my chest
‘“Salut d’Amour”. Love’s Greeting …’ I whisper.
‘You know it?’
‘My Granny Molly … When I’d stay here with her, she used to play this to me and my sister to get us to sleep,’ I say,watching the tiny ballerina go around and around as the soft tinkling sounds fill the room. ‘This was hers, Charlie. This was her music box. I’d always wanted to find it, and now you have.’
Charlie’s mouth drops open, almost as astounded as I am.
‘I’d no clue,’ he says, his face in a puzzle. ‘But now you can listen to it forever, wherever you are, and remember our time here at your grandmother’s holiday cottage, as well as those precious childhood days you spent here with her.’
I’m totally stunned.
I take a deep breath, then I put my arms around his neck and kiss him, tentatively at first, but as his soft lips part wider, our kiss deepens. The passion of this kiss is unlike anything I have felt before.
He wraps his strong arms around my waist and pulls me close, our bodies melding together.
The tune from the music box fills the living room where we have spent so many wonderful hours together. This moment is everything I’ve ever dreamed of – yet never dared dream of with him. It’s natural, it’s warm, it’s me and Charlie the way we’ve wanted to be for days. I smell that woody aftershave up close and personal, I taste his skin, I am dizzy and I am drunk on him.
‘I’ve wanted us to do that for such a long time,’ he murmurs as he plants kisses up and down my neck, making me weak at the knees. ‘You’ve no idea how many times I’ve had to stop myself.’
‘Me too,’ I whisper, and we make our way to the sofa where we lie together by the warmth of the dancing orangeflames and release a tension that has been bubbling for far too long.
Much later, with a new warmth in my heart, I sip some wine in the kitchen as Charlie makes us a tasty supper of bread, cheese and olives. And then we fall asleep together, wrapped up in a feeling that we never want to end.
Everything is perfect at first.
I fall asleep in Charlie’s arms with ease but when I wake just a few hours later with palpitations and see it’s gone midnight, I know I’m not ready for this yet.
I dreamed of Michael, and even now I’m awake, all I can see is his face, his hand in mine, the sirens, the coffin, the wailing mourners, and all eyes on me.
For the fourth year in a row, this day makes my blood run cold.
I toss and turn in bed. I watch Charlie sleep and a wave of horror overcomes me. Instead of the handsome, kind man I’ve got to know so beautifully over the last nine days, all I see is a stranger. All I feel is betrayal.
It’s Michael’s anniversary. What have I done? What on earth am I doing here?
I wrap a blanket around myself, steal a pillow from the bed and tiptoe downstairs, praying the dogs won’t let me down by waking up Charlie.
I make a bed up on the sofa and try to sleep, but the sounds and smells of that awful night come back to haunt me once more.
I hear the tyres screech and slide on the roadside. I smell the burning rubber. I scramble with the airbag, I struggle to breathe.
I call out his name. I reach for his hand.
It’s still warm. I don’t know it yet, but he can’t hear me.
I don’t know it yet, but he’s gone.
