With or Without You (16 page)

Liv took Martha’s hand and shook it, still reeling at how terrible she looked. She hoped for her sake that she and Charlie hadn’t been papped as they landed at LAX. ‘Lovely to
meet you,’ she said, glancing at Charlie as she spoke.

Charlie was watching Martha with a concerned expression. He seemed protective of her in a way that reminded Liv of how he had been with her. Before she threw it back in his face and broke his
heart.

‘Dad!’ Felix yelled, breaking the tension. ‘You got me an Arsenal kit!’

All three adults whirled around to look at the little boy, who was delightedly holding up a red football strip, boots and a leather football. Liv looked at Charlie and grinned, shaking her head.
‘You boys and your football!’

‘Not football, Mum,
soccer
!’ Felix corrected her, drawing a laugh from both Charlie and Martha.

Martha walked over to Felix and knelt down beside him. ‘I’ve got a little boy who’s just a bit older than you. He loves football . . . I mean,
soccer
, too.’

Felix looked up at her curiously. ‘Who does he support? Does he support Arsenal like me and my dad?’

Martha smiled and Liv marvelled at how much it changed her whole face in an instant. ‘No,’ she said. ‘He supports Manchester United. Most of the time.’

Liv looked at Charlie and motioned for him to follow her towards the kitchen area of the big open-plan space. ‘She seems nice,’ she said carefully.

‘Yes,’ Charlie agreed, leaning against the island while Liv put the kettle on. She waited for him to continue but he didn’t. He seemed lost in thought.

‘Would you like to stay and have something to eat? I could get Juanita to make something or we could get a take-out?’

‘Thanks, but no. I think we’ll get off to the hotel. Martha’s exhausted. She didn’t sleep on the plane.’

Liv busied herself making tea, her mind whirring. She couldn’t work out what was going on here. Martha didn’t seem very happy, considering she had just been flown to LA first class
by her new film-star boyfriend. And she had mentioned a son, which confused Liv even more.

‘You know,’ she began, handing Charlie a mug of tea, ‘this might sound like a weird suggestion but you guys could always stay here. It might be less unsettling for Felix and
we’ve got plenty of room.’ She motioned around her, as if to convey the size of the place.

Charlie didn’t answer at first and Liv wondered if he had even heard her. Finally, he spoke. ‘When are you planning to leave?’ he asked, fixing her with those dark eyes that
she had loved so much. Still loved.

‘Tomorrow. So it shouldn’t be too awkward.’ She half-laughed as she spoke.

Charlie looked back towards Martha and Felix, who were still sitting on the floor, chatting like old friends.

‘I’m not sure. How do you think Danny would feel about your ex-husband camping out at his house?’

Liv hesitated. She wanted to say that it was the least Danny could do to make up for stealing Charlie’s wife, but instead she shrugged. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t
mind.’

‘And you’re still sure you’re going to surprise him like that? What if you catch him out?’

Liv looked sharply at Felix, who had stopped talking for a moment and was watching her and Charlie curiously. ‘I’m still going,’ she replied, trying to hide her annoyance.
‘What do you think about staying here then?’ she added, keen to change the subject.

‘I’ll talk to Martha,’ Charlie said, taking another mug of tea from Liv and heading over to Martha, who took the mug gratefully. ‘Thanks. I really need this,’ she
said, taking a sip.

‘So . . . Liv has suggested we stay here while we’re in LA and she’s in Hawaii . . .’ Charlie began, sitting down on the floor beside Martha. ‘What do you
think?’

‘Oh yeah!’ Felix shouted. ‘That’d be so cool! Please stay here, Dad!’

Charlie smiled. ‘Well, let’s see what Martha thinks first, shall we?’

Martha turned towards Liv, who had come over from the kitchen. ‘I think it seems a bit . . . of an imposition. Maybe you could stay here, Charlie, and I could go to the hotel?’

‘No!’ Liv cried. ‘I wouldn’t hear of it. You can’t stay in two different places.’

Martha’s eyes flashed in alarm. ‘No, really, it would be fine. Wouldn’t it, Charlie?’

‘It would be fine . . .’ he began. ‘But it sort of defeats the object of you coming with me to work on my memoirs, don’t you think?’

‘Oh,’ said Martha, as if she hadn’t thought of it before. ‘Yes, maybe you’re right. I had totally forgotten why I was here.’

Liv frowned to herself. This was getting weirder and weirder.

Martha walked out of the French doors into the surprisingly chilly darkness of the LA night. The wide stone terrace opened onto an illuminated turquoise infinity pool that
looked as if it was dangling over the Hollywood hills, ready to drench the parched scrubland at any moment.

She wandered towards the pool and sat on the edge, dipping her toes into the deliciously warm water. All around her, the sound of insects filled the still night air, a cacophony of noise against
the backdrop of suspended silence.

She felt better now that she had taken a shower and changed into some clean shorts, a t-shirt and sweater that Charlie’s assistant, Jess, had gone out and bought for her before they left.
Goodness knows what Charlie had told her, but somehow she had managed to buy Martha exactly what she would have chosen for herself: a selection of shorts, t-shirts, jeans, dresses and skirts, all
in exactly the right sizes and styles that Martha liked.

Under normal circumstances, Martha would never have dreamt of accepting anything from Charlie, let alone a first-class plane ticket and a suitcase full of brand-new clothes and make-up. But
these weren’t normal circumstances and Martha was no longer the person she had been; the person who would have protested furiously that she could buy her own things, thank you very much. Now
she felt unable to object about anything and was being carried along on a wave of unreality.

She looked up as she heard a noise from the house behind her. Liv was emerging through the doors clutching two glasses. She made her way towards Martha and handed her one. ‘Gin and
tonic,’ she explained, smiling. ‘It’s another of my little traditions that helps me to feel less homesick.’ She sat down beside Martha and dipped her toes into the water so
that their feet were side by side.

‘Where’s Charlie?’ Martha asked, taking a sip of her drink and gasping at the strength of it. It was almost half gin.

Liv took a long sip, seemingly unaware that it was so strong. ‘With Felix. They’re both so happy to be together again.’

Martha looked down through the blurred water at Liv’s feet in distracted fascination. They were the feet of someone who was used to pedicures. They were the feet of a film star.

‘Are you OK?’ Liv asked, after a while, as Martha continued to gaze at her feet.

Martha shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

Liv nodded but didn’t say any more, and the two women sat side by side in comfortable silence, sipping their gin and tonics, each of them deep in thought.

Liv had ordered pizza for them all earlier in the evening, but Martha had had no appetite and had only nibbled a slice before almost falling asleep at the table. Liv had shown her to a bedroom
then, saying, ‘I’ll put you and Charlie in here, if that’s ok . . .’ Despite her desperate tiredness, Martha had gasped in horror and was just about to explain to Liv that
she had got the wrong end of the stick when Charlie appeared.

‘Thanks, Liv, but we need a room each, if that’s ok,’ he said easily. ‘I might have a nap myself actually,’ he added.

Liv had flushed with embarrassment but had quickly recovered, showing him to a bedroom further down the hall.

Martha didn’t even remember lying down, but when she awoke two hours later, she did feel slightly better. Until she remembered where she was and what had happened.

‘Has Charlie told you?’ she asked Liv, breaking the long silence and looking up at this woman who was so famous, yet somehow so very familiar. ‘I mean, has he told you what
happened before we came?’

Liv shook her head. ‘No. We’re not . . . well, we’re not really on such good terms any more. You know, ever since . . .’ she tailed off.

Martha held her gaze and waited for her to continue.

‘So I don’t think he would confide in me, is what I’m saying,’ Liv concluded.

Martha sighed and looked back into the pool. It didn’t matter if you were a VIP or plain old Martha Lamont, the pain and the hurt were exactly the same. Charlie had felt the desperation
that she was feeling now when this woman had decided that she didn’t want him any more.

‘You’re so lucky,’ Liv said suddenly, causing Martha to look up in surprise.

‘How so?’

Liv smiled ruefully. ‘Oh, I don’t know . . . having the freedom to do what you want without the press dogging your every move, describing you as fat if you put on three ounces,
calling you a bitch because of who you fall in love with – that sort of thing. If you’re going to be with Charlie, make damn sure you protect your privacy. Once it’s gone,
it’s gone for good.’

For a moment Martha couldn’t think what to say. The idea that Liv Mason, with her famous boyfriend, her successful career and her multi-million dollar home, could be jealous of her was
breathtaking.

‘I don’t think it’s ever likely to be a problem,’ she said at last, frowning slightly.

‘Are you . . .?’ Liv began, and Martha could see a tiny pulse throbbing in her neck. ‘Are you and Charlie not together?’

Martha half-smiled. ‘God, no!’ she said, then immediately felt disloyal to Charlie. ‘I mean, I only met him for the first time the day before yesterday,’ she added. As
she spoke, Martha thought back to just two short days ago, when her life was so simple and so happy. Before her whole world had fallen in on itself and left her wrung out and empty.

‘I’m ghosting his memoirs,’ she continued by way of explanation. ‘So I’ve got to hang out with him for a bit. I’m researching him, that’s
all.’

Liv frowned, unsure why she felt relieved by the news. ‘Oh, I thought there was more to it than that! I don’t mean to sound rude, but you don’t seem very fired up by the
project. And Charlie is . . .’

‘What?’ Martha prompted, when Liv had hesitated for too long.

‘
Different
,’ Liv said carefully. ‘He’s sort of protective of you. Reminds me of how he used to be with me.’ She paused again and Martha again detected that
note of envy in her voice. ‘Are you
sure
there’s nothing going on between you? Not even a spark?’

Martha swallowed. ‘Something happened after we met that has made it very difficult with my husband . . .’ she began.

Liv nodded knowingly. ‘The photos.’

Martha didn’t have the energy to correct her. ‘Let’s just say the photos didn’t help. So . . . you’re off to Hawaii tomorrow?’ she said, desperately wanting
to change the subject.

Liv nodded. ‘Yup.’

‘Sounds exciting.’

Liv looked at Martha and smiled. ‘I hope so.’

Martha thought Liv’s eyes were like deep pools of sorrow. There was angst and disquiet behind her stare. She also noticed that Liv had drained her drink in seconds, while she had managed
only a couple of sips.

‘What’s he like – Danny, I mean?’ she asked, wondering if he was the source of her troubles.

Liv’s face lit up. ‘He’s . . . well, he’s great, actually. Very cool and not at all how you think he’d be. He’s—’ She stopped speaking suddenly.
‘Oh my God,’ she said, her expression dropping once more. ‘What am I thinking? You’re a journalist!’ She shook her head as if furious at her own stupidity.

Martha reached across and grabbed Liv’s hand. ‘Believe me,’ she said, fixing Liv with an intense gaze. ‘I am more grateful than you can imagine for you welcoming me into
your home the way you have, when I am at possibly the lowest point in my own life. I won’t betray you, I promise. Believe it or not, journalists are the most discreet people ever when they
have to be.’

Liv picked up her glass and gave it a disappointed stare, as if she had only just realised it was empty. ‘OK, fair enough.’ She stood up and brushed herself down. Her bare feet left
perfect wet footprints on the stone terrace surrounding the pool, as she began to walk slightly unsteadily back towards the house, leaving behind a trail of Hermès scent. ‘Oh, and
Martha?’ she said, turning back. ‘While you’re feeling in a benign mood towards me . . .’

Martha looked up. ‘Yes?’

‘Don’t be too hard on me in his memoirs, will you?’

Jamie opened his eyes and looked around in surprise, momentarily forgetting where he was and why he was lying on the floor of the bedroom. His back was stiff where the wide
wooden floorboards had refused to yield to his spine during the long night.

A stark strip of light was slicing the gloom over the top of the blackout blind. Despite the early hour, he could already tell that it was going to be a beautiful day. The sort of day he usually
loved, especially if Martha was around to share it with him. Often they would see the kids off to school and then pick up a couple of coffees and go and lay on the beach, reading. One of the
advantages of a freelance life.

He picked up his phone and rolled onto his back to check whether he had any messages from Martha. There was just one message, from Lindsay, sent at 5.04 a.m.

Can’t sleep for worrying about Martha. Think you should go to LA and get her. She must be in pieces. PS, you are such a f**kwit!

Jamie closed his eyes and laid the phone back on the floor. That was being kind. There weren’t the words to describe what he was. Eventually, he picked his phone up again.

What about the kids?
he texted.

Lindsay was right. He needed to go to LA to try to get Martha back. He needed to prove to her that he was serious. But he couldn’t just walk out and leave the kids home alone. And he had
to be careful not to alarm them or alert them that something was seriously wrong between their parents. His phone rumbled on the floorboards beside him and he snatched it up hopefully.