With or Without You (33 page)

Jamie pursed his lips together, thinking. He desperately didn’t want her to see that slimy bastard ever again, but if he stopped her she would resent him forever and their relationship
wouldn’t stand a chance anyway. ‘No.’ He tried to sound more upbeat than he felt. ‘If it’s what you want, you should do it. I won’t stop you.’

Martha’s eyes lit up in a way that made Jamie’s stomach churn. ‘Really?’ She leapt up and planted a kiss on the top of his head. ‘Thank you!’ she said, before
skipping out of the kitchen and upstairs to the office, no doubt to email Charlie.

Jamie watched her go. He had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.

Charlie’s phone made an off-key sound, which signified that he had a new email. He picked up the phone and waved it at his mum, Jo. ‘OK if I go and take this
call?’ He didn’t bother explaining that it was an email as his mum wouldn’t know the difference and wouldn’t much care either. Jo was an artist who didn’t have time
for modern technology.

She pushed back a strand of her shoulder-length, wavy grey hair and beamed at him from the kitchen table where she was showing Felix how to paint some famous cartoon characters. ‘Ay, go
ahead,’ she motioned with her hand, speaking in her lilting Welsh accent.

Charlie smiled his thanks, enjoying watching his son and his mother deep in concentration for a few more moments before heading out of the room into the bright, airy hallway. They had been
staying at his parents’ modest house for nearly three weeks now and Charlie marvelled at how easily his mum and dad had adapted their lives to accommodate their only grandson. They had seen
him just a handful of times in his short life, but over these last few weeks they had developed such a strong connection that it seemed as though they had spent every waking minute of his six years
together.

They would take Felix to play pooh sticks in the stream that ran under the pretty little bridge in the dappled woods that backed onto their house; they would roll down the steep sand dunes at
the beach, making them all dizzy with laughter; and they would sit for hours playing Scrabble, with Charlie’s parents squealing with delight at the American words Felix conjured up, while
teaching him some new Welsh ones in return.

They would have to leave to go home that weekend, as Charlie started shooting his next movie in LA shortly, and he was dreading the wrench of saying goodbye. Liv would be out of rehab within a
few days and it wasn’t fair on Felix to tear him away from everything he knew for too long. But it had been an idyllic summer for both of them and he already felt that it was one they would
never forget. More than once he had said a mental prayer of thanks to Liv for unwittingly giving him the opportunity to spend so much time with his son.

In the past, his mum had been extremely frosty about Liv, ever since she had dumped Charlie so publicly, but these days she seemed to have softened her opinion of her. ‘She’s done
such a good job with Felix, and she’s obviously got her own demons to fight. I can’t go on being angry with her. It’s time we all forgave and forgot,’ was all she would say
when Charlie asked her about it.

And Charlie could feel that he was starting to forgive Liv too. He had to admit that although spending time with Felix was wonderful, it was also tough going at times, even with so much help
from his parents. Liv had done it more or less alone for four years. Yes, her own mother visited, but Mariella was as much of a handful as Felix sometimes and Charlie knew that she wouldn’t
have given her daughter much help or guidance. Liv’s breakdown had shown him that although she had always tried to keep it hidden from him, she had clearly been finding life a struggle. Her
guilt over leaving Charlie had tarnished everything for her, meaning that she had never really been able to kick back and properly enjoy her supposedly charmed life.

Charlie climbed the stairs to the bedroom he had had when he was a child and which his parents had kept more or less untouched since he had left home. On his wall were still the oh-so-cool film
posters he used to collect, along with the Arsenal paraphernalia that his father, an ardent Swansea City supporter, had been so disgusted by. Charlie smiled as he sat down on his old single bed,
waiting for the shocked twang of the spring that had been broken since he was seventeen, which duly came as it absorbed his weight. Despite the fact that he was now a wealthy man, Charlie found
comfort in the familiarity of his old home and was grateful that his parents had politely but firmly refused his offer to buy them somewhere bigger and more glamorous.

He scrolled through his email folder. He had several from his personal assistant, Jess, who was busy organising the itinerary for his up-and-coming film shoot, plus two from Louisa, his trusty,
long-suffering publicist. He opened Louisa’s first email.

Charlie felt a spike of excitement at the sight of Martha’s name in print. Why had she emailed Louisa? Her next message contained the answer:

Charlie re-read her emails twice to make sure that she was saying what he hoped she was saying. He had missed Martha desperately since she had left LA and had thought about her
constantly. He had promised Jamie not to get in touch with her and although he wasn’t bothered about keeping that promise, he had also promised Martha that he would leave her alone to give
her enough time to get her head together.

He stared out of the window as his mind whirred with possibilities. He couldn’t work out if this meant that she had split from her husband and was letting him know via Louisa, or whether
she had managed to work it out with Jamie so that it wasn’t an issue if she saw Charlie. Suddenly, he was desperate to hear her voice and see her face again. He needed to know if he had
imagined what he thought they had between them.

With a dry throat, he scrolled through his contacts list until he came to her name. He could feel himself grinning stupidly as he looked at it, remembering her dark eyes and wide smile; her
full, sensual mouth as he kissed her. His thumb hovered over the number, making him feel about fifteen again. It was just a friendly call. No big deal. So why was he trembling with nerves as his
thumb made contact with the screen?

‘Charlie!’ she cried, answering almost immediately. ‘Oh, how lovely. I was hoping you would call. Did Louisa get in touch?’

Her voice seemed to ooze like melted chocolate down the phone line, causing Charlie’s stomach to turn somersaults. He could tell she was gabbling, that she sounded nervous, and it made him
feel even more tense.

‘Yes, she emailed me.’ He tried to picture Martha as she sat talking to him. ‘So . . . I hear you’re thinking that you might still finish my memoirs after all?’

‘Um, yes.’ Martha sounded embarrassed. ‘But I would understand if you don’t think it’s a good idea . . .’ Her words hung in the ether for a few seconds before
she spoke again. ‘So, how
would
you feel about it?’

‘Well now . . .’ Charlie leaned back against the wooden headboard of his childhood and instantly remembering how ineffective and uncomfortable it had always been, ‘I think
maybe a more pertinent question would be, how does your husband feel about it?’ He held his breath as he waited for her answer. When it came, it felt as though the air had been knocked out of
his lungs momentarily.

‘We’ve talked a lot and he’s fine about it.’

‘Oh.’ Charlie tried not to sound too deflated. If Jamie didn’t see him as a threat any more, it must mean that he was fairly confident that Martha didn’t have feelings
for Charlie.

There was an awkward silence. Charlie wanted to see her so badly, but at the same time he knew that he had to protect himself from getting hurt. If she had worked things out with Jamie, it must
mean that he didn’t stand a chance. Maybe he needed to cut his losses and move on before it was too late.

‘Charlie?’ Martha prompted.

He coughed. ‘I don’t really know, Martha. Maybe it’s not such a good idea . . .’

Now it was Martha’s turn to sound deflated. ‘Oh,’ she said, as if he had somehow wounded her with his words, before lapsing into a hurt silence. ‘I understand,’ she
added, after several seconds.

‘Do you?’ Charlie shot back quickly.

‘Yes,’ Martha replied, with a slight break in her voice that suggested she didn’t understand at all.

Charlie sighed deeply. ‘Look, Martha, I would love to see you again. But I can’t risk—’

‘No, it’s OK,’ she interrupted him, and he could hear that she was trying to sound stoical. ‘I get it.’

‘I’m not sure you do . . .’ Charlie began.

But Martha was clearly desperate to get off the phone. ‘It’s fine, really!’ she trilled. ‘Look, I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’m . . . well, I’m sorry
about everything, Charlie. But maybe you’re right and it’s best to leave things be.’

Charlie could feel a lump forming in his throat. The last thing he wanted to do was to say goodbye to her for good. But at the same time, she had made her decision and chosen her marriage and
children over him. As he had always known she would. The realisation only made him want her even more. ‘I’m going back anyway,’ he managed to croak, trying to salvage some pride.
‘This weekend.’

There was a pause before Martha replied, ‘To LA? Are you moving there permanently?’

‘I think so, yes.’

‘Well, I guess that’s that, then,’ she said, with another catch in her voice.

‘I guess so.’

‘Well, thank you, Charlie,’ she said quietly. ‘For everything. You were there for me when I needed you. I don’t know how I would have coped without you.’

‘Glad to have been of service,’ he replied, wishing he didn’t sound so bitter but unable to help it. Why was it that he was the one who was always so loyal and faithful, and
yet it was cheats like Jamie and Danny Nixon who ended up getting the girl? It seemed so unfair. Maybe he needed to rethink the way he treated women. Maybe if he was a bit more of a bastard
himself, he wouldn’t keep finding himself in this situation.

‘Charlie?’ Martha jolted him out of his reverie.

‘Hmmm,’ he replied in a gruff voice.

‘If things had been different . . .’ she began.

‘No, don’t,’ he cut her off. He couldn’t bear to listen to her platitudes. Whatever she was about to say, she would only be saying it to try to make herself feel better.
Well, he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. ‘I’m fine, really,’ he lied. ‘And I wish you all the best. I hope you’re happy.’ He wanted to add a
warning that if Jamie had done it once, he was more than likely to do it again, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything that would hurt her feelings. She had decided to take a leap of
faith and trust him, so he needed to back off and let her find out for herself if she had made the right decision.

‘Goodbye, Charlie,’ she said, with a longing in her voice that was unmistakable.

The urge to relent and to ask her to meet him was almost overwhelming, but Charlie swallowed back the words. ‘Goodbye, Martha,’ he said, before quickly pressing the ‘End
Call’ button.

He leaned his head forward onto his chest, feeling drained. He allowed himself to dwell on his misery for a while before telling himself crossly that he needed to get a grip and stop being so
negative. He had so much that was good in his life. He was rich, famous, and he had a wonderful son who brought him more joy than he ever thought possible. In time, he would meet another woman and
he would be happy again. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, feeling like a giant as his frame dwarfed the small room.

He walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain to look out at the pretty garden, now bursting with all the colours of the summer flowers his parents had lovingly planted. A small fence
separated it from the moss-green woods beyond, which nestled under a low blue sky scuffed with puffy white clouds. It was so different from the vast haziness of LA, which looked as if someone had
taken an eraser to a watercolour and rubbed out some of the intensity.

He had loved being back here. It was good for his soul. He loved spending time with his family, he loved the lilting accent of the locals in the village and he loved the slower pace of life. But
it wasn’t his home any more and he knew that he didn’t belong. LA had its faults but it was where his future lay.

He took a deep, soothing breath and smiled to himself. For the first time ever, he felt something approaching a thrill of exhilaration at the prospect of going back. It felt as though he was
being given the chance to build a new life. He would throw himself into his work and focus on Felix and, with a bit of luck, he would meet someone else and forget about Martha Lamont
altogether.

To Liv’s delight, Charlie brought Felix with him to collect her. She ran towards them and scooped the little boy up in her arms, savouring the smell of his hair and his
skin – a smell she had dreamt of for the past eight weeks – whilst smothering his face in kisses. Felix giggled and squirmed with delight and hugged her tightly, wrapping his skinny
legs around her waist to get a better grip.

Over the top of his head, Liv locked eyes with Charlie, who was watching them with a sad expression that made Liv tremble with fear.

It felt like such a long time since she had first come here, railing at Charlie’s cruelty and desperate to escape. She could see now that he had been right, that she
had
had a
problem. But now that she was finally free to leave, the outside world suddenly seemed like a big, scary place and she didn’t know if she would be able to cope out there, especially if
Charlie went through with his threat to go for custody of Felix. One thing she knew for absolute certain after her enforced separation from him was that she couldn’t live without him.