With or Without You (30 page)

‘Oh, God,’ Jane whispered, breaking into Martha’s thoughts. ‘You’re going to leave him, aren’t you?’

Martha glanced back at her in surprise, as if she’d forgotten she was there. ‘I don’t know,’ she repeated.

‘Look, Martha, I know how hard this is for you but, darling, you mustn’t give up everything you’ve got over one indiscretion.’

Martha looked at her mum curiously. Jane’s cheeks were flushed and she was blinking quickly, making her appear nervous. ‘It wasn’t just one indiscretion,’ she said,
tilting her head and raising her eyebrows.

‘You know what I mean . . .’ Jane frowned as she spoke, causing two deep vertical lines to appear between her eyebrows.

‘You mean that it was just the one whore he was sleeping with repeatedly behind my back?’

Jane blanched as she spoke and Martha almost wanted to laugh at the expression on her mum’s face. She had always been such a good girl; her mother had probably never even heard her swear
before. Martha decided it was a good job Jane hadn’t been in the house the morning she discovered the pictures, remembering some of the language she had used then and feeling a glint of
renewed anger with Jamie as she did so. That was his fault, too.

‘It didn’t mean anything. It’s not worth wrecking your marriage over,’ Jane continued, her tone brisk and business-like.

Now it was Martha’s turn to frown. She took a sip of green tea to calm the jitters that were causing her hands to shake slightly. ‘I think you’ll find that it’s not
me
who’s wrecking the marriage.’

‘Well it would be you if you decided you didn’t want it to continue.’

Martha’s mouth dropped open in indignation. ‘Jesus, I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Why are you taking his side?’

‘I’m not!’ Jane snapped, quickly and emphatically. ‘I could quite happily strangle him with my bare hands . . .’ She paused for a moment as if she was enjoying the
fantasy of murdering Jamie. ‘But I do think that apart from this . . .
fling
,’ she spat the word out with distaste. ‘Apart from that . . . you have a good marriage. And
it would be awful for the children . . .’ Jane bit her lip and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Martha could see that she had been on the verge of tears. ‘Mimi has been so
upset while you were away, thinking that you had run off with some film star.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘The irony of it,’ she tutted.

‘I know,’ Martha agreed. ‘How do you think I felt, getting the blame when I’ve done nothing wrong?’

‘I mean,’ Jane continued, as if Martha hadn’t spoken. ‘As if!’

Martha felt herself bridle and knew she shouldn’t rise to it but she couldn’t help herself. Why was it so unlikely that Charlie would be attracted to her? ‘Well,’ she
said, wishing she could keep her mouth shut, ‘as a matter of fact, Charlie
was
interested in me.’ She paused for a moment to enjoy the look of utter astonishment on
Jane’s face. ‘But unlike my husband, I wasn’t prepared to put myself before my marriage and my children. I love them too much for that.’

Jane opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Martha could see her brain trying to compute the information and make sense of it.

‘Oh God,’ Martha sighed. ‘What a bloody mess.’

‘Please don’t give up on your marriage, Martha. I know that what Jamie’s done is desperately hurtful for you, but I promise you that it’s not worth sacrificing all those
happy years over.’

Martha frowned again at the realisation that Jane was trying to tell her something. ‘And you know this because . . .?’

The pale pink tinge of colour that had flushed into Jane’s cheeks intensified to a deeper shade of red. ‘I know because . . .’ Jane swallowed, ‘. . . because I’ve
been in your position.’

Martha shook her head furiously. ‘No!’ she cried. ‘That’s not true!’

Jane took a deep breath and looked at her with such an honest stare that Martha knew for certain that she was telling the truth.

‘Dad?’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘Dad cheated on you?’ She continued to shake her head, as if it would somehow make what her mum had said untrue.

Jane shrugged. ‘It doesn’t have to mean the end of the marriage,’ she said, sounding pained, as if recalling the memory had hurt her anew.

Martha got up and turned her back on Jane, suddenly unable to bear the sight of her face. Her legs wobbled under her and she leaned over and clutched the worktop for support. First Jamie, now
her father. Were there any men on the planet who could be faithful? ‘
Charlie
,’ whispered a little voice in her ear. Charlie could be faithful.

‘It’s almost as much of a shock as finding out about Jamie,’ she murmured.

‘I’m sorry, darling.’ Jane got up and came to Martha. She put her arms around her daughter’s shoulders and squeezed gently. ‘I never wanted you to know but I hope
that it might make you think differently about what’s happened to you.’

Martha didn’t reply and continued to lean over, clutching the worktop, still unable to meet her mother’s eye.

‘Your father and I . . .’ Jane continued with a slightly more desperate tone. ‘We were very happy together. Our marriage was strong, maybe even stronger after . . . it.’
She stopped speaking for a second and Martha knew that she was watching her with a pleading expression, wanting Martha to give her some sign that she had done the right thing by telling her.

‘Who was it?’ Martha whispered, finally looking up. ‘Was it somebody you knew?’

Jane’s eyes clouded. ‘It was Michelle.’

‘Michelle, as in his secretary Michelle?’ Martha gasped, remembering the frumpy, intense girl who had been her father’s secretary for a while when she was a teenager. They had
teased him about her being in love with him and he had scoffed at the idea. ‘Jesus, what a cliché!’

Jane swallowed and looked away uncomfortably.

‘How did you find out about it?’

Jane sighed and met Martha’s eye again. ‘She told me. She was probably hoping I would throw him out and he would go to her.’

Martha gasped. ‘Could she have been lying?’

Jane shook her head. ‘No. I confronted your father about it and he admitted it. I think he was relieved to have been found out.’

‘And you
forgave
him?’ Martha couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice.

Jane hesitated. ‘Not immediately, no. It was such a shock. I didn’t know what to do. But he regretted it so much and made it clear how sorry he was. I think it was almost as much of
a shock for him as it was for me . . .’

Martha nodded, recognising exactly the same emotions in her own situation. She looked at her mother with new-found respect. Not only had she coped with such an awful discovery on her own, but
she had never given Martha the slightest hint that there was anything wrong in her parents’ marriage. She had grown up convinced that they were the happiest couple on earth.

‘I never forgot it but I did forgive it and we were able to recover,’ Jane continued, giving Martha’s shoulders another squeeze, before pulling her gently upright. ‘And
you will be able to recover too. You are so strong, Martha . . .’ she said, tilting Martha’s chin so that she had no choice but to look at her. ‘. . . I know you can survive
this.’

Martha put her hands over her face to hide the tears that threatened to fall in torrents. ‘I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know where to begin.’

Jane gently peeled Martha’s hands away from her face and held them in her own. ‘Let him figure that out,’ she said. ‘You have worked so hard over the past few years.
Being a mum, being the breadwinner, being a wife,’ she added. ‘Now it’s his turn.’

With Liv in rehab, Charlie was struggling to look after Felix on his own. He had had to cancel several high-level meetings with producers and directors at short notice, much to
his agent’s fury. He hoped that he had built up enough of a reputation from his Oscar nomination to persuade those in question that he would be worth waiting for. Right now, his priority was
Felix.

He had expected Felix to adapt to Liv being away, as long as Charlie was there with him full-time, but he could see that the little boy was clearly pining for his mum. Normally so cheerful and
lively, he had become quiet and withdrawn, only speaking to Charlie when he had no choice and sometimes being openly hostile towards him.

The long school holidays had started and Charlie was finding it increasingly difficult to think of things to do to entertain him. When they did do things together, like going to the park or the
movies or the beach, Felix would invariably make it clear that Charlie was no match for Liv in the parenting stakes.

‘Mom would have brought a picnic for us,’ he told Charlie coldly, when it got to lunchtime at the beach and there was nowhere for miles around to get something to eat.

‘Mom knows that this park is too babyish for me now,’ Felix sneered when Charlie took him to the park he had always used in the past. Charlie had looked around and realised with a
start that most of the kids there were toddlers and that Felix was indeed too old for it.

But it was when he was poorly that Charlie really felt inferior. ‘Mom always makes my special drink if I’m sick,’ Felix had murmured weakly from his bed after he had spent the
night throwing up.

‘Well I can get it . . . what’s in your special drink?’ Charlie had replied, taking Felix’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

Felix pulled his hand away and turned his back on Charlie. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, his voice wobbling dangerously. ‘It’s Mom’s special recipe . . .’ he
added, before descending into pitiful tears.

In the end, feeling increasingly desperate, Charlie suggested that maybe Felix could go to summer camp, but his son looked at him through narrowed brown eyes and said coolly: ‘Why did you
make Mummy go away if you don’t want to look after me?’

They were sitting at the table, having eaten a dinner that Juanita had prepared in total silence. Or at least Charlie had eaten; Felix had played with his food a bit and then left most of it.
Charlie looked at Felix in shock. ‘I didn’t make Mummy go away!’ he retorted.

Felix’s mouth formed into the shape of a sneer and he looked away sulkily.

‘Look, Felix, Mummy isn’t well, that’s why she had to go away. Not because I sent her . . .’

‘You did! You sent her away!’ Felix cried, drawing his small frame up to its full height. ‘And it’s all my fault because I told you that I came to find you that night and
you promised you wouldn’t get cross, but you lied because you did get cross and then you sent Mummy away!’ The tears that had been brimming for days now tumbled over Felix’s black
lashes and splashed onto the plate in front of him. He pushed back his chair and stood up. Instinctively, Charlie reached out to grab his wrist to stop him running off.

‘Ouch!’ yelled Felix, now openly sobbing. ‘You hurt my arm! I hate you!’ he screamed, before running at full-pelt towards his bedroom.

Charlie watched him go, temporarily paralysed with shock. It had never occurred to him that Felix might blame him for Liv going away. His heart was hammering with panic as he tried to think what
to do. There was no doubt that Liv had had a breakdown and that going into rehab was the only option for her, but sitting here now, it occurred to him that maybe he could have handled it
differently. Felix saw him as an enemy, which made Charlie feel desperately hurt and yet also ashamed that he hadn’t dealt with the whole situation more sensitively.

For the first time, he started to think about how hard things must have been for Liv. Yes, she had done an awful thing when she’d dumped him for Danny. But she had been trying to make
things right ever since. She had never stopped him from having access to Felix whenever he wanted and she had clearly never bad-mouthed him to their son. And in many ways she had paid a heavy price
for her betrayal. Her career had really started to go wrong once Charlie became a big-name in Hollywood himself, and the public turned against Liv for being so heartless towards him. And if he was
honest, he had enjoyed seeing her get her comeuppance.

And then there was her relationship with Danny. Only now did it occur to Charlie how lonely Liv must have felt, with her career taking a nosedive and her boyfriend being linked to endless other
women while he was away on constant shoots. Charlie had never felt any kind of sympathy for her drinking before, but now, sitting at her table with Felix crying loudly for his mum from his bedroom,
he finally understood.

Swallowing hard in his dry throat, he stood up and walked uncertainly towards Felix’s room. He found him lying on top of his duvet, crying and shouting, ‘I want my mom! I want my
mom!’ over and over again.

Charlie stood at the door watching him and felt a sudden urge to lie down on the floor and cry himself, but he knew he had to be strong for his son. He walked over to the red-painted car-shaped
bed and knelt down beside it. Tentatively, he put a hand on the small of Felix’s back, which was rising and falling as each sob convulsed through his small body.

‘It’s going to be OK,’ he said, when he couldn’t think of anything else.

Felix sat up and glared at him, his eyes blazing with rage. ‘No it’s not!’ he cried. ‘It’s not going to be OK at all because I want my mummy and she’s not
here!’

Charlie held out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Listen, Felix, Mum is going to be home really soon.’

Felix’s sobs calmed momentarily and he looked up at Charlie suspiciously. ‘How soon?’ he said in a croaky voice, followed by a loud sniff.

‘Well . . .’ Charlie began, thinking furiously. He actually didn’t know for certain how long Liv would be away. ‘I think she’ll be home in just a few weeks.’
He remembered as he spoke that her course of treatment was supposed to last eight weeks. Even to him, that sounded like a very long time right now. To a six-year-old boy, he knew it must sound like
an eternity.

‘A few weeks!’ Felix cried in anguish and burst into a fresh bout of tears.

Charlie reached out and lifted him off the bed and into his lap. Felix stiffened his back and lashed out but Charlie made sure his grip was firm enough to hold him tight. Gradually, the fight
went out of his little body and he sagged in Charlie’s arms. Charlie kissed the top of his head tenderly. ‘I promise you,’ he whispered, ‘that it wasn’t your fault
that Mummy had to go into . . .’ he stopped, unable to say the word ‘rehab’. It didn’t sound like the right sort of thing to say to an already confused little boy. ‘.
. . hospital,’ he said instead.