Lines We Forget (23 page)

“Please.”

“Go!”

With her marching orders, she makes her way to the door, wrapping her scarf tight to shield against the dark and chilly evening air. Tries to take on board the advice given and not worry and just let go and get on with it. To just be herself, the way she had been when he’d first caught her attention, stole her heart.

And as she waits for the bus, Anna wonders where he might just be at this exact moment. Making his way to her across the city, and how he might be feeling about it.

If maybe Charlie is feeling all aflutter and hopeful to finally see her again too.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Charlie

October 23
rd
2010

Charlie adjusts the sleeves on his shirt again and brushes away stray crumbs from the blueberry muffin he’d eaten after arriving early to the café.

He hopes that he looks half presentable, having forgotten to iron a shirt or shave in his eagerness to leave the flat in enough time to get a perfect spot. Which was really only a ten-minute walk away, but he couldn’t bear to sit around twiddling his thumbs for any longer. Battling nerves and anticipation all afternoon whilst at the college and again once back at home.

Nothing could occupy his mind but the thought of seeing her and so it went. The minutes passing by all too slowly, fear creeping in along with stupid, unnecessary worry that maybe he wasn’t quite prepared. How Anna might not be the same as before and how maybe the salty sea air and small town living has changed her. Charlie knows it’s no use to try and predict such things but he still does as he waits for her to arrive to grab a coffee. Which was, of course, ironic, because if there is one thing that would remain unchanged it would be how Anna really likes tea. He fondly remembers how she always took it—extra milky, with heaps of sugar.

Lost in thought, he almost misses the small figure that passes by the window, with hair wild and windswept, shoulders wrapped in a colourful scarf bracing against the elements. He watches her walk out of view and back again as if unsure she’s got the right place. She checks her phone and nods. Pausing for a moment before stepping inside. Her eyes are a little watery from the cold as they scan the café, past the chalkboard menus and rickety wooden tables.

And then they meet his.

Charlie’s lost all over again in a sea of dark brown. He tries to speak but only manages a hoarse croak. As he raises his hand in a slight wave to catch her attention, the rapid beating in his chest heightens. And he worries that it might burst forth from under his shirt and make the light feeling in his head worse.

By the way Anna’s knocking into tables as she sidesteps over makes him think that maybe she’s a bag of nerves too and so he looks away. Lets her take all the time she may need in order to meet him.

Which she does just as he stands up to say hello. Their first words spoken at the very same time in a nervous fashion, which Anna gently laughs about. Charlie’s knees go weak as he pulls out a chair for her, careful to plump up the Union Jack patchwork cushion so that she can get comfortable. Again she laughs, sits down and busies herself with shedding layers of winter clothing.

“Do you need any help?” he says, instantly cringing at the way it sounds and just why on earth he thinks it’s appropriate to ask such a thing even though she is struggling to pull away the scarf from her jacket’s zipper.

“Uh, I’m okay, thank you,” she replies. “You’d think I’d be a pro at this by now, what with the miserable winter we’ve had so far.”

“Of course. Shocking, isn’t it? This weather.”

“Super inconvenient.”

They chat for a while about nothing in particular, living up to the worn stereotype that all British people speak about when at a loss for conversation was the weather.

And Charlie’s really glad for the server’s interruption to take their order because he knows he could nervously waffle on all day about the wind and rain.

“I’ll have a tea, please,” Anna asks, playing with the pink sugar sachets in the pot next to her.

The server points at the board behind, reels off a list of options. “Chai, green, chamomile, peppermint, lemon, ginger. Loose leaf or bag?”

Anna’s eyebrows arch and her eyes widen as she giggles. “Just a bog standard tea will do. Lots of milk, thanks.” When they’re alone again, she gives him a puzzled look and he shrugs, tells her he didn’t realise tea could be so complicated.

“I know, right? Since when did tea get so fancy?”

Charlie laughs and she reciprocates, which brings a smile to his lips and a warm flush to his cheeks. It’s wonderful to hear her laugh again and to realise just how much he’s truly missed it.

“This place is pretty cool, though. They stay open till late and it’s only a few minutes away from where I live. I come here a lot, actually.”

“Oh, somewhere new, I take it?” she says, still looking down to play with the bracelet on her wrist, the one he’d given her so many months ago.

“New flat, moved in during the summer.”

“Wow! Sounds great. So is it just you or—”

Charlie offers reassurance with a smile. “Just me.”

“Cool. That must be great.”

“It is. The place isn’t huge but it’s much nicer than the last. Got a good deal on the rent.”

“Your last place wasn’t too bad.” She grins before the inevitable memories flash back, which he starts to think about too. “I mean, from what I can remember of it.”

“Yeah. This one’s a lot better.”

She smiles, still playing with the frayed bracelet as her fingertips inch dangerously close to his folded arms on the table. Charlie observes that her fringe is just as adorably wonky but that she’s cut off the pink tips from her hair, which is now much shorter.

When their drinks arrive, she takes hers and rifles through the pink sachets with speed. Stirring her tea before taking a long, lingering sip. He admires the way her lips form round the white china cup and how happy, blissful she appears to receive the warmth only a good hot drink can provide.

“How have you been, then?” he asks between sips, his voice quiet and measured. Charlie keeps his gaze focused on her and tries not to push back his hair too much or fiddle with his shirt cuffs. He wants to give her his full attention and to listen intently to the way she still speaks a million miles an hour, how she talks enthusiastically about her new job and life. Because in it he finds his own much-needed warmth.

Apparently she made the move back up to London late in August, after a PR company got in touch to ask if she was still looking for work. Anna explains in detail how they’d kept her resume on file from the year before and wanted to meet her.

“So I had an interview. Thankfully they liked me, and it just felt right. Like fate somehow, as if it were meant to be after all that time, and so I came back just for a weekend and realised that it wasn’t so bad. I missed it, actually. The bright lights, the constant buzz.”

Charlie asks if she likes where she now works, keen to keep her talking so he can lose himself in her loud, accented words and how they dance in the space between them.

“It’s great, actually. I don’t want to spend my time hiding in the toilets to avoid people.” Anna laughs. “I don’t picture punching my work colleagues in the face anymore, so I guess that’s a plus.”

And he believes her because she seems enthusiastic and so alive. It’s a thing of beauty to see and hear her happy and content. She’s lost none of her brilliant spark, which gives him relief beyond measure.

Just her laugh can lift away tension, he thinks as they continue to chat. After another round of regular teas, Charlie feels like he could do it forever, to sit and admire her. Crack jokes just to hear her laugh so he can listen. By the way she’s giving her stories so freely, he assumes that she’s needed someone to talk to just as much as he has.

In between the tales of Anna’s experiences back in the city, he tells her about his own since her absence.

“That’s amazing! I’m really happy for you.” She grins when told about his new job in the music department of a local college. “Do you love it?”

“I do, actually. It’s been tough to adjust to a real nine to five job but it’s really rewarding. Plus I get to play guitars all day, help others make music and get paid for it too.”

Titling her head to one side, she tells him again she’s really proud, happy for him. And Charlie believes her, not least because she goes to reach for his hand across the table as she does, before jerking it back.

She mumbles, slightly embarrassed, “Sorry, force of habit,” before placing her hands back to her lap.

He wants to say he doesn’t mind one bit, because he’s missed the delicate touch of her fingertips in his just as he’s missed observing all her quirky traits and habits. From the little things like how she twists strands of hair when deep in conversation to the way she bites her bottom lip when he says something funny.

He enjoys the way her feet, clad in heavy leather boots, swing gently beneath the table, every so often knocking into his.

Which Anna does again just as his phone rings. The vibration jolts him away from imagining how her feet used to wrap around his, back when they would get lost under the covers in bed to keep each other warm.

Charlie can see her eyes on the screen as it lights up, demanding attention, which he really can’t muster.

“Someone important?” she asks casually, forcing him to take a glance.

As Emily’s number flashes before his eyes, he lies, “Nope.” Switches it to silent, cancelling the incoming call.

“You can take it if you need to. Don’t let me stop you.”

“I’ll ring them later. Not important,” he says again, a little too firmly, and he thinks that Anna must guess it’s someone he just can’t speak to in front of her.

And when the second call comes through, she tells him that it must be important and gestures for him to answer. Her arms folded to rest her cheek on her hands as she watches him reluctantly pick it up. He gives the game away by bowing his head low upon hearing Emily’s voice.

Charlie can’t be sure, but he hopes Anna can’t hear Emily ask how he is or if he wants to go for dinner at the weekend. Prays she doesn’t catch the part where Emily whispers that she’d really like him to stay over again soon, because miraculously, in spite of his previous lacklustre performance, she enjoyed it apparently.

Maybe it’s the instant burn that spreads to his cheeks at hearing her proposition or the stupidly suspicious way he’s talking in riddles and short replies that causes Anna to pull back her chair and mouth,
“Just nipping to the toilet
.”

Whatever it is, he knows that she’s clever, can sense things. She must know it’s another woman. He’s seen that look in her eyes enough times before than to pretend otherwise.

The guilt builds at having to tell Emily he’ll call her tomorrow and for Anna, having guessed that there was someone else. One who had perhaps come in to try and fill the gap she’d left wide open.

When she returns after a long while, he feels like he’s got to say something. Not wanting to lie but also not wanting to get into the real truth or spoil the moment and easy-going atmosphere that’s been nicely building with each passing hour.

Thankful too about how they’ve managed to avoid bringing up the subject of
them
and why they haven’t spoken for so long. As if it’s been respectably off-limits and that’s the way he wants it to stay. Knowing that the murky reminder of the past could be dragged up at a later date. Right now it’s all about the present.

“All good?” Anna says as Charlie gives her the thumbs-up and puts his phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. Just…a friend.”

She pours in another helping of sugar and takes a quick sip. Puts up both her hands, palms spread flat, to reply forcefully, “Don’t, it’s fine, really. None of my business, no need to explain.”

He’s certain she can tell that he’s worried she’ll want details. Which is fine, he thinks, before noting that maybe it means she knows how awkward it has been for him. Like she can relate on some level. It isn’t the time to think about her with someone else either but the thought stays and makes his chest tighten. Maybe it’s the reason she looks and sounds so upbeat and cheerful. Maybe it’s the result of someone else.

And then Charlie remembers Emily’s silky voice just in his ear and he knows he’s got no right to feel bitter or jealous about some hypothetical situation. How it’s none of his business, just like Anna had said.

“So, have you eaten?” she asks, placing her own phone face down on the table. He notices she’s turned it to silent.

He shakes his head, feels his empty stomach do the same in agreement because he hasn’t been able to keep anything settled save for the muffin. All the mess of nerves left to sate his appetite instead.

Anna shrugs. “You fancy getting food, then? Just something quick and easy? There’s a Mexican restaurant that I spied on my way over. Not far from here.”

“Sounds great.” Which it does, more than she could know, he thinks as they pay up and dress themselves back into layers of winter warmth.

Not only does it sound appealing but it gives him hope too. That Anna doesn’t want the night to end just yet either, finding ingenious ways of stalling the goodbye and parting of ways again. It gives him a sheer sense of joy at the prospect of spending another second or minute or hour in her intoxicating company, which he’d forgotten just how addictive it could be.

“The rains started again,” she groans as they step outside into the heavy downpour.