Lines We Forget (8 page)

“Yup,” he says, still not looking at her.

Anna can’t quite muster up the guts to leave the table or Charlie by himself. Gets the feeling that it might be the final straw, so instead she eats her chicken. Lays down her napkin once she’s stubbornly finished and stews in the silence.

After the bill’s paid, which only causes another tense standoff, she swiftly exits the table and restaurant to wait outside while he finishes up in the men’s room.

“Well that was a total balls-up, wasn’t it?” she says with a small laugh when he emerges again, the heavy door swinging back hard on purpose.

“Not now, Anna, please. It’s late and cold and I’m tired.”

“Just trying to lighten the mood a bit.”

“Little late for that now.”

She wants to wrap her arms round him. Regrets the way she’s handled the situation, and desperately wishes to use her charm to kiss away the awkwardness of the last couple of hours.

The sudden urge to make everything better, like before, soars through her veins, but Charlie’s already walking away.

Only turning back to say, “I’ll walk you home.”

And he does, but it’s in silence. Both of them wait at traffic lights without saying a word and when they reach her door, he only waves goodbye. It’s a horrible alternate reality she wishes she didn’t have to deal with or could erase, rewind. Start over.

Inside the warmth of her bed, Anna wonders if she should call. Put in some effort to try and make it better with an apology. Yet as the hour ticks by she can’t quite muster up the courage. Her stubbornness is too deeply engrained in her DNA, and so instead she tries to court sleep. It doesn’t work.

It’s Charlie who calls after all. Two hours later.

“Before you say anything, I want to tell you that I’m sorry for being a total arsehole, and for getting angry. For ruining the evening and making you upset. It was never my intention. That whole situation just did something to me, Anna—I’ve never really felt that way before. Not over anything or anyone.” He pauses to take a breath, and she does too.

“It was a first for me, to get that jealous. I suppose you could say that I felt like that because I really believe you’re one of a kind. I’m so sorry. I don’t want us to argue. I just felt strangely protective and fearful and worried, all at the same time. I guess that’s just what happens when you’re in love.”

Her breath catches and not because she’s surprised to hear him say such a word. Anna wants to hug the phone because she knows exactly how he feels.

She realises, has known for a while, that it’s gotten way past the point now of simply liking him. She likes a lot of things, mostly trivial, and Charlie just doesn’t fit into that box anymore.

He belongs with her love for family. For her childhood home, bonfires, and fireworks. Kisses on the back of the neck. The cold side of the pillow and milky, sugary tea.
Cats.

These are the small, special little things that Anna truly loves. And so, with a deep breath, she finally lets him know.

Chapter Eight

Charlie

December 24
th
2008

In the busy train station, Charlie patiently sits and waits for Anna to return from the shop where she’s busy stocking up on nibbles, as she calls them, for her long journey back home.

It’s not too hard to spot her as she comes bounding out—in a festive jumper and jokey reindeer antlers. Golden bells atop so everyone can hear her coming from a mile off.

“Those things are so loud.” He laughs when she sits next to him, a carrier bag full of crisps and chocolate by her side.

“Well it’s like that song, isn’t it? I’m just getting in the festive spirit, letting the bells ring out for Christmas Day.”

“You do look very in the spirit.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? Positive I can’t steal you away from the family so you can spend it with me and mine?” she asks, shaking her antlers. “You know it would be so much fun.”

He wishes he could. Hates the thought of saying goodbye to her and hello again to his family, people he’s got no desire to see or spend Christmas with. But unfortunately his obligations to drive him and Eddie back for the holidays stand in the way of spontaneously running off with Anna into the cold, icy night.

“You know I can’t.”

“Still worth a try though, right?”

“I hope I can remember the way back,” Charlie jokes, the keys of the newly rented car jangling in his back pocket. “Eddie’s not that excited to spend time with his folks either, so we’ve agreed to make the journey home together as easy as possible. No Christmas songs, no mention of any of it.”

“You’re such a scrooge, but a sexy one.” She takes his hand to kiss it. “Try and enjoy some of it at least.”

“I’ll try, can’t make any promises though.”

Charlie hates the feeling of her hand slipping from his as she gets ready to board the train. He gently squeezes it before Anna and her antlers disappear into the waiting carriage. Whilst observing all the families and couples that board too, he gets that sinking, queasy feeling back in his stomach. Tight as knots, because he knows just what he has in store—a Christmas spent without the delightful company of the woman he loves and in the company of those he’s tried hard to forget.

***

During the car ride out of London, Charlie and Eddie blast protest songs to shut out anything remotely festive. Shunning Santa hats in favour of jacket hoods pulled tight to keep warm. They don’t talk about the looming day ahead, both wary to entertain the idea of seeing their families again, having to put on cheerful smiles and get stuck in.

When he drops Eddie off at his sister’s house full of screaming kids in festive pyjamas, it’s almost dark and he hopes that once he arrives at his family home they’ll all be in bed and he’ll at least be able to slope off and not have to make awkward conversation. Get some sleep in before the inevitable soul sucking begins.

Pulling into the long gravel driveway, Charlie notices the light from the study, his father’s silhouette visible. Trudging up to the large front door with its stained glass panels, he lets himself in with a key he hasn’t used since two Christmas’s ago.

The house is how he’d expected it to be, as in it’s exactly the same. Nothing’s changed. The hallway has the same creaky parquet floorboards and chilly atmosphere. It’s still a stately home with more rooms than anyone could ever need, and with a family in it who hide away from each other at every opportunity.

Passing the dining room, Charlie attempts to sneak past where his father’s sat in a dark leather chair, a glass of brandy in his hand. Bert, the beagle, rests at his feet. Just as he thinks he’s made it past without being seen, his father’s deep voice calls out his name into the dark hallway.

“Charles, is that you?”

“Yes. Just arrived, I’m pretty tired, so just going to head up and get some rest,” he replies quickly, caught in the doorway.

“Good to have you back, son. Your mother is asleep. Suppose she couldn’t quite wait for your late return.”

Well, that figures,
he thinks. His mother has never waited for anything, let alone him. He casually asks about his brother and sister, wonders if they too are lost somewhere in the vast miserable house.

His father sips his brandy and nods. “Nathaniel is upstairs with his fiancée and Alexandra’s at one of those Christmas Eve bashes in the village. God knows when she’ll be back.”

“Right, well, guess I’ll see you all in the morning.” He turns to leave, make an escape because there’s nothing left to say. It has been this way for as long as he can remember. His father isn’t one for chitchat.

“Goodnight, Charles.”

Bert the beagle lifts his head and growls. His father pets him on the head and turns his gaze away.

“Yeah, night.”

Back in his old room that’s still just as outdated as it was when he lived here, Charlie wonders how Anna’s getting on. If she’s enjoying the company of her family down at her local pub playing Christmas quizzes, drinking eggnog with her brother like she told him they often do as per tradition.

He imagines her getting home late, cheeks rosy red from the cold. Saying goodnight to her family. Tucking her toes into a warm bed, in a cosy, joy-filled home that can’t wait to open presents in the morning and have a big sprawling lunch with all the trimmings.

Anna—always living life on the opposite.

When the church bells ring out to mark the start of a new day, Charlie tries to find sleep but ends up thinking too much about declaring his love to her in the days previous.

He misses her.

The bells as they chime make the thought of Christmas morning hurt his head. Halting all sleep and rest making him anxious to have to spend another December Twenty-fifth wishing he were somewhere else entirely.

***

When it’s time to rise, when the curtains can’t block out the morning light any longer, Charlie begrudgingly gets dressed and makes his way downstairs. Remembering exactly how the day will go, like so many Christmases before, an unpleasant déjà vu already in full swing.

His father’s out walking the dog across the frost-coated fields. Nathaniel and his fiancée are in the drawing room, sat by the roaring fireplace. Reading newspapers and knitting in complete silence.

He pops his head in and wishes them a Happy Christmas. Only his brother’s fiancée looks up and replies.

“Morning, handsome.” She smiles, which catches him off guard.

“Morning. Sleep well?”

“Not with this snoring git next to me all night,” she snipes back, prodding a slender knitting needle into his brother’s ribcage. “I’m hoping I can catch up on some sleep later when your father’s drunk and your mother’s had enough of pretending like she gives a damn about Christmas.”

Nathaniel rolls his eyes, and Charlie laughs. Realises that even though he’s only met Natasha—the newest fiancée—a handful of times, she’s actually quite tolerable. Funny too, unafraid to make ripples in the delicate waters his family has trod in the effort to pretend like nothing is ever wrong.

“If my mother hears you talking like that you won’t receive that silver tableware set you’ve had your eye on,” Nathaniel warns her.

“Whatever.”

Charlie laughs again at Natasha’s unwavering hatred towards his mother and indifference to his brother’s sternness. He hopes they get to sit together at lunch so he’s got someone to talk to, because from the sound of it she’s not fond of anyone else here either. He wonders what on earth she’s doing with his stiff-upper-lip sibling and then he remembers the words
wealth, financially stable job, swanky townhouse
and it all clicks.

In the kitchen, after he’s left his brother and Natasha to chide and outwit each other, he finds his mother instructing the cook they always hire for important suppers on how best to baste the turkey. She doesn’t so much as look up when he walks in and wishes her a Merry Christmas.

Charlie knows he should be used to her coldness and total indifference to him by now but it bites. Even if he were at the other end of the house, he could still feel her presence. There is a hardness to her that is difficult to shake.

This time, instead of pandering to her cold ways, he sets off to find his sister, who is still in bed, curtains drawn, nursing a brutal hangover. Alexandra shouts for him to fuck off, and she throws a shoe at the door for good measure.

The wait for lunch is long; daylight fades before the table’s even set and his mother apologises and blames the cook for ruining the turkey. An excuse she repeats every Christmas.

So Charlie lays out the grand table to occupy himself and avoid all thoughts of making a run for it. Away from such misery and forced family festivities.

As per usual, present giving won’t commence until after they’ve eaten, likely to stave off the disappointment at receiving socks again. So he bides time by going through the drawers in his room, finding old song books and a box full of old guitar strings from back when he’d hidden away his passion for playing and love for music that wasn’t Beethoven or Bach.

When supper finally arrives it’s rich and plentiful but lacking in love and care. The gravy’s cold and the place settings minimal, even though he’s tried to spruce them up with old tinsel from the attic. Crackers are absent; no silly hats to wear or jokes to tell. No festive jingles to mask the air of silence, no speeches about being thankful for family.

Charlie’s mother seats him beside Natasha, who unfortunately squeezes his thigh inappropriately under the table throughout the course of dinner, ruining his newfound fondness for her. Her fingers linger too long by the fly on his jeans and he has to make an excuse about needing the toilet just to escape.

It’s unfair that his brother’s soon-to-be wife is trying to fondle her way into his pants, but it’s not surprising either. Nathaniel has always liked to play away too, and it had come as a shock to hear he’d been prepared to settle down again with just one woman. He is a city boy after all—working hard to play hard. Enjoying trips to strip clubs and calls to women of the night, something that Charlie finds pretty unpleasant. They are poles apart, so much so that he’s always hoped it would come out one day that they are of no relation. Nathaniel is a true cad, as his mother would say. Charlie just thinks of him as someone who likes to fuck about a lot and doesn’t care for any of the consequences.

Once he’s taken deep breaths and outstayed his welcome hiding in the toilet, he returns and forces down burnt vegetables and dry nut roast until his plate is empty.

After a drawn-out round of pudding, the nightmare of fake smiles and soggy roast potatoes finally over, they all retreat to the living room with the sparsely decorated tree.

It’s present giving time and he has to stifle laughter at the pair of socks he’s given again, along with a book on Shakespeare. It’s another one to add to his yearly collection, which he has no interest in ever reading.

Alexandra’s talking about some guy she met at the village party the night before and Charlie feels it’s the perfect time to spice things up a little. Tell them about the woman he’s madly in love with.

“It’s a shame Anna couldn’t be here today.”

His father, drunk on brandy, snorts, “Who on earth is Anna?”

Charlie smiles, tells him she’s his girlfriend. How wonderful and beautiful she is, smart and intelligent. That she’s awesome and wickedly funny too. He muses on endlessly about her pink hair, penchant for sarcasm, and her infectiously bright smile.

“Awesome?” his father repeats, like it’s a dirty foreign word that hurts his tongue just to say it.

“Yes, she is—very smart and awesome. She’s back home, down south with her family right now.”

Nathaniel looks like he couldn’t care less and buries his head in a hefty tome about vintage sports cars that his sister’s given him. Alexandra’s on her phone and Natasha’s teasing the dog with leftover scraps of turkey. It’s actually his mother who speaks up.

“Oh, does she live in St. Ives?”

“Not everyone who comes from the South lives there, you know.” It annoys him how snobby his mother really is, how she assumes that everyone from the South West Coast must surely live in the only place she could stand to holiday in.

When his mother rolls her eyes, he prays they’ll get stuck that way. “Well, I suppose it’s nice for you to have someone to keep company with. Whilst you decide what to do with your life.”

Charlie thinks it’s not taken long for his mother to let her true feelings be known, as she does every year. He takes it on the chin like a pro and doesn’t reply. The comment slides off him, as he knows she’ll only relish in his guilt and shame if it didn’t.

It’s no surprise to his parents that he isn’t as successful as Nathaniel, a lawyer only a couple of years older than him, or Alexandra with her perfect grades and horse riding medals.