In the Name of Love (11 page)

‘That is totally out of order!’ Lori exclaimed. ‘As if you would ever do something like that! What a bastard tosser! And there was I, thinking how lovely he looked.’

Hell hath no fury like a mother whose daughter has been dissed …

‘Well, now you know,’ Charlie replied. She raised her glass. ‘
Hasta la vista
, Felipe.’

Chapter 7

IT DIDN’T MATTER
how many times before Charlie had been to visit her brother in prison; every time it got to her. Her mum was falsely cheerful on the drive over but Charlie knew how much she hated seeing her son there. True to his word, her dad hadn’t come.

It didn’t help that it was a freezing cold day with bursts of sleet and that Lori had to park a good ten minutes’ walk away from the prison. As they drew closer her conversation dried up, and by the time they arrived they were both silent as they took their place in the line of visitors waiting to go in. No one looked happy; everyone had lowered heads, hunched shoulders, and were shivering in cheaply made coats that weren’t warm enough to keep out the bitter cold. Plumes of cigarette smoke spiralled into the air. Signals of the lost, Charlie always thought. Several places in front of them a toddler was crying. Poor child, having to see their dad here.

‘It’s at times like this that I wish I smoked,’ Lori
remarked
grimly. The usual sparkle was missing from her eyes; her mouth was set.

‘Think of the wrinkles you’d have,’ Charlie tried to joke. Her mum didn’t reply.

One of the doors to the prison was opened and the queue shuffled forward. It took over an hour to get through security. Everyone, including the children, was searched for drugs and all bags had to be locked away in lockers. No one could take in mobile phones. By the time Charlie and Lori made it to the depressing visitors’ room, with its peeling pale blue paint and CCTV cameras mounted on the walls, they felt as if they were the criminals.

Kris was already sitting at one of the tables, which was bolted to the floor, on a plastic chair, which was also bolted to the floor. Like all the other prisoners, he was wearing a red bib over his prison clothes of a grey sweatshirt and trousers, the colours chosen so all prisoners could be quickly identified. There was something about the bib that particularly upset Charlie – it was just like the sports bib he used to wear for five-a-side football and was a reminder that Kris wouldn’t be doing that again for a while. It broke Charlie’s heart to see him here, hands jammed in his pockets, head down. He looked as if he couldn’t be less bothered about seeing them. She supposed that it was all part of the tough act he had to put on to survive here.

‘All right,’ he said, as they took their seats across the table from him. His skin looked grey and unhealthy under the harsh fluorescent lights and he had bags under his eyes.
Please let him not be taking drugs
, Charlie prayed.
She
knew that for all the searches of visitors, drugs were rife in prison. The temptation to take them, to escape in your head, must be overwhelming. As far as she knew Kris had only ever smoked dope, but God knows what went on inside here.

Lori reached out and put her hand over his. ‘How are you, love?’ Kris couldn’t meet her gaze. Instantly one of the prison guards gave them the evil eye. Touching between inmates and prisoners was strictly forbidden, in case anything illicit was passed to the prisoner. Next time he would shout at them.

‘Never better. This week I’ve been on a spa retreat, sampling some haute cuisine and fine wines.’ Kris was sarcastic and bitter, his words hiding a world of pain.

‘Don’t be mean,’ Charlie said quietly. ‘You know how much Mum worries.’

‘And Dad?’ For a second a flicker of hurt flared in Kris’s eyes.

‘And Dad,’ Charlie repeated.

He sniffed as if he didn’t believe her. ‘So how was Barbados?’

Charlie thought of her luxury holiday, where her every whim had been catered for, the beauty of the scenery, her passionate encounter with Felipe … How could she describe it here, surrounded by so much poverty and despair, broken families, broken people? ‘It was great, thanks,’ she said quickly.

Fortunately he didn’t press her for details.

‘Look, I’ve been thinking,’ Charlie carried on, ‘you’ve only got another two months to go and you should be thinking about the future. Why don’t you move in with
me
for a while? You could try and get back into acting again.’

Kris shook his head, and put on a mock-posh voice. ‘I don’t think my agent’s going to be returning my calls, do you? And the acting possibilities aren’t so good in here.’

He had always been a talented actor. At school he was the lead in all the productions. He studied drama at college and had a few TV roles. Just before he’d been arrested, he’d been up for an audition in a major drama series and had got the part. He was arrested the day after.

‘We could try and get you another agent. Come on, you’ve got a great CV. We could start by contacting that director again. He really liked you.’

‘Well, I fucking blew that one, didn’t I? And there’s no point in contacting him. He won’t want to know. You’d be wasting your time.’

Lori winced.

‘Please don’t talk like that,’ Charlie pleaded with him. ‘You’ve got to have hope. You know that we’re all here for you, Kris.’

He hung his head. ‘Yeah, I know. Thanks.’

They managed to muddle through for a further twenty minutes, Charlie babbling on about Zoe, who Kris knew, and about work; Lori updating Kris on what had been going on at home. It was only when the buzzer rang, signalling the end of visiting time, that they got a glimpse of the Kris they knew and loved.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled to Charlie, ‘I’m just a bit crap at the moment. It’s been getting to me, being in here.’ His eyes, when he looked up at her, were full of tears.

Charlie longed to give him a hug to reassure him. ‘It’s going to be okay, I promise. Let me help you? I know you’d do the same for me.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ he managed. And then he was walking away from them and Charlie was having to comfort her mum who was silently weeping.

Two days later Charlie was back at work. She had contacted the director and left a message, as she had promised Kris, but hadn’t heard back. She felt that she had to do something,
anything
, to help her brother. Felipe was never far from her thoughts either but she welcomed the distraction of work. There it was the usual frenzy of planning meetings, going through the studio running order, checking the research notes and adapting the scripts before she went on air. But she loved it, thriving on the high-pressure atmosphere.

Being in front of the camera felt as natural to Charlie as chatting to a group of friends. It helped that she got on so well with Aidan, her co-host. He was ten years older than her, and a total sweetheart. Charlie knew he was gay, but he wasn’t ‘out’ at work. The world of sport still lagged behind as far as sexuality was concerned – sure, there were exceptions, but Aidan had chosen to keep his secret while at work and Charlie respected his decision.

‘Does it feel like you’ve never been away?’ he asked after they came off air.

‘Yes, but I’m glad to be back.’

‘Well, you’re looking good, Charlie. Liking the tan – you can always tell when it’s for real and not fake.
You
look expensive and classy.’ He sighed and pulled back his shirt sleeves to consider his own pasty forearms. ‘If I get any paler, I’ll be auditioning for a part in one of those vampire series.’

‘Can you act?’

‘No, but when has that ever stopped quite a few actors I could name?’

They were heading for the canteen to grab something to eat, when Darcy, one of the production assistants, caught up with them. Charlie got on with most people at work but had never seen eye to eye with Darcy, who in her view was a superior rich girl and a total bitch. ‘Arsey Darcy’ she called her behind her back. In spite of the sulky expression almost permanently on Darcy’s face, she was stunningly pretty with long blonde hair, almond-shaped blue eyes, perfect skin, and the super-slim figure of a model. She was a terrible PA, though, and always acted as if doing any actual work was beneath her. And Charlie loathed the way she flirted with all the male presenters. It was such a cliché.

‘Hey, guys, there’s a planning meeting now about Olympic stuff in the conference room,’ Darcy drawled, as if it was too much effort to actually speak clearly.

‘Really?’ Aidan asked sharply. ‘There wasn’t an email about it.’ He didn’t like Darcy either.

‘But I sent one out.’ Darcy pouted, looking innocent. Charlie was pretty sure she hadn’t. ‘Anyway, Nicky told me to come and round you both up as you’re late.’ She turned and sauntered along the corridor, treating Aidan and Charlie to a view of her pert bum in a pair of expensive leather trousers, and swishing her shiny hair.
Charlie
had heard from one of the other PAs that Darcy had her hair blow dried at a salon at least twice a week. Lucky her to be able to afford it … Charlie didn’t know anyone else who could on a PA’s salary.

‘We wouldn’t be late if we’d known,’ Aidan muttered to Charlie.

The two of them were the last to take their seats round the huge white table in the conference room. Nicky, the Channel editor, a fiercely ambitious and bright woman in her mid-thirties, raised her eyebrows at them as they sat down, but didn’t break off from talking. She hated anyone being late to meetings. She was busy outlining the various big sporting events that were coming up, the biggest of all of course being the Olympics. The BBC had sole rights to cover the events themselves so the sports channel was going to do a series of special reports and interviews with the athletes in the run-up to the Games.

‘I’d like each of the presenters to specialise in a couple of sports for this,’ Nicky explained. ‘It will mean going out on location to record the films.’

Please let me get athletics or football
, Charlie thought. This felt like being back at school, waiting to hear who was being picked for the sports teams, as Nicky reeled off who was doing what. Suddenly Charlie had an appalling thought. What if she was assigned to cover the riding? She had been lucky so far in her work and had never had to report on any equestrian events. The very thought of being around horses and riders was too much. She knew she wouldn’t be able to cope with it. Charlie’s mouth suddenly felt dry and she could feel
sweat
breaking out on her forehead. It was the insidious onset of a panic attack. Already her breathing was becoming more shallow.

Nicky looked over at her and Aidan. ‘You two are going to be covering the gymnastics and swimming. Is that okay?’

Thank God! But the announcement came too late to stop the sickening onrush of a panic attack.

Nicky looked at her expectantly, clearly waiting for Charlie to say something positive as she usually did at such moments. Instead Charlie put her hand up to her mouth, muttered something about feeling unwell and bolted from the room.

‘Are you okay?’ Nicky called after her, but Charlie couldn’t reply. She had to get away.

Somehow she made it to the Ladies where she locked herself in a cubicle and rifled frantically through her handbag for the paper bag. It took over ten minutes for her to compose herself and regulate her breathing. Back in the newsroom she found Nicky perched on one of the desks, chatting to Aidan. Both of them looked at her in concern.

‘I’m sorry, Nicky, I think I must have eaten something dodgy.’ It was a feeble excuse, but the best one Charlie could come up with.

‘Poor you, and you look dreadful,’ Nicky told her. ‘Go home, your shift’s finished anyway.’

Aidan grabbed his jacket. ‘I’ll come with you.’

‘Oh, before I forget, I meant to give you both these invitations to the Sports Relief charity dinner in two weeks. I’m sorry it’s such short notice but I really need
both
of you to go, it’s good PR stuff. And bring a plus one if you want.’ Nicky handed each of them a black envelope with their name written on it in elegant silver handwriting. ‘It’s on the thirteenth of February, so please tell me you haven’t got romantic mini-breaks planned?’

Both Aidan and Charlie shook their heads.
Fat chance of that
, Charlie thought.

They headed out of the office and Aidan waited until the lift doors had closed before saying, ‘I’m going to have to come straight out with it …’ Usually that would have been the cue for Charlie to shoot back some cheeky innuendo, but his next comment totally wrong-footed her. ‘Are you pregnant, Charlie?’

‘Oh my God, no!’ She hesitated. ‘At least … I don’t think so.’ Like she needed that on top of everything else! No, she was absolutely sure that she wasn’t.

‘I didn’t even realise you were seeing anyone. You kept
that
one quiet.’

She had hoped not to mention Felipe, wanting work to be her escape. ‘I’m not. I was sort of seeing someone, but it’s over.
So
over. So so over.’ She knew that she didn’t sound as if she thought it was over, and sure enough the look Aidan gave her showed he wasn’t sure he believed her. Maybe it would be good to confide in him; she had always trusted him. ‘Have you got time for a coffee?’

‘With you, absolutely.’

They walked out of the office and headed to a nearby café which was one of their favourite haunts. It was run by Annie, a straight-talking South Londoner who made
the
best toasted
panini
and coffee in the area. Aidan ordered the skinny lattes while Charlie found a table in the corner.

‘Get this down you,’ he said, putting the drink in front of her. Charlie clasped her hands round the mug, grateful for its comforting warmth. She hated feeling so insecure and on edge.

‘
So?
’ Aidan asked, his handsome face full of concern. His black hair was going grey at the sides and it suited him. Charlie was always teasing him that he was a silver fox.

‘
So
, on holiday I had a fling with someone but it ended badly.
Very
badly.’

‘I need more than that to go on, girlfriend!’ he replied. Away from the office he was always more teasing, and allowed himself to be a tiny bit camp.