I couldn’t manage breakfast so had my coffee then busied myself with household chores to take my mind off the whole Megan, Sam, and James thing from the night before. As I went to shove some washing in the machine, I noticed a load already done. I was surprised James could even work the darn thing – I’d seen no evidence in the past – but since I’d emptied it the day before, it must have been him. I pulled out the washing. ‘Black and white – together. James, you idiot!’ I mumbled. Just as I was sorting what it was, the intercom went. ‘Bugger.’
I threw the pile down and answered it. It was James’s mother. Double bugger.
‘Frances, how lovely of you to drop by,’ I said sweetly as I opened the door.
She looked me over disapprovingly and I bristled. ‘Not dressed yet?’ She shook her head as she barged past. ‘Where’s James?’
‘He’s gone out for a run, then he’s popping into work.’
She didn’t reply, but instead gave an irritating smirk that said it all – she might as well have said ‘that’s ma boy’ and punched the air. She made me feel sick, or perhaps I actually just felt sick. I wasn’t sure. ‘I was just catching up on some washing,’ I said.
‘Don’t let me stop you.’ She shooed me towards the kitchen and followed behind me to the utility room. ‘Oh, Charlotte, you’ve put a white shirt in with blacks!’ she said, incredulously.
I started to separate them to see why on earth James had mixed the washing like that. ‘Actually, it wasn’t m—’ It wasn’t just any old collection of black and white clothing; it was one of his dry-clean-only Hugo Boss suits. Why the hell had he thrown all his clothes in the washer? He must have thrown up all over himself.
‘Well, that’s ruined,’ Frances said disapprovingly, holding up the crinkled, crisp jacket; its arms now hanging shapelessly at different lengths. ‘A powerful man needs a powerful suit.’ She tutted. ‘It’s merely your job to deposit and collect it from the dry-cleaner’s.
She made my blood boil. I’d had enough. ‘Well, maybe a powerful man shouldn’t stagger home in a drunken stupor and throw his vomit-stained, dry-clean-only clothes in on a sixty-degree wash!’ I threw my hands in the air. ‘And, besides that, it isn’t my job to take your son’s suit to the dry-cleaner’s, Frances, it’s not nineteen-bloody-fifty!’
Frances looked a little taken aback. After a moment, she took a deep breath. ‘I’ll catch James on his mobile phone since you’re a little out of sorts today.’ And with that, she left.
I slumped against the washer; my whole body was shaking. I’d never stood up to Frances before. I’d always bitten my tongue to keep the peace. It didn’t feel as good as it should have. With everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, I could have probably powered a small village with the energy generated from the turning waterwheel in my stomach. I took a deep breath. I needed to compartmentalise my brain. I marked Megan as ‘urgent’, Frances as ‘to deal with at a later date’ and James, well, had some explaining to do when he got home.
I threw his misshapen suit and now-grey shirt on the draining board and continued my chores. As the day passed, I checked my phone frequently to see if Megan had been in touch but she hadn’t. At quarter past three, just as I was making a cup of green tea, my phone buzzed. I dashed to it like a child to a Christmas present. My chest thumped. To my surprise, it was James.
What on earth did you say to my mother?
My heart rate picked up until it reached my ears, deafening me with each beat. It wasn’t the conversation I was expecting to have and struggled to decipher my emotions. I wasn’t sure if I was angry, shocked by his tone, or scared I’d upset him. I wasn’t sure of anything at all other than the fact I suddenly felt very sick.
I ran to the downstairs loo and managed to get there just in time before I vomited. When I sat back down shakily at the breakfast bar, I took deep breaths, gathered my thoughts, and calmed myself down. It was almost funny really like fate had been tempted because my life had been so blissful for so long. Maybe it was a test, a hurdle to overcome and then things would go back to normal. They would definitely be back to normal soon.
I had two options. Option one: storm down to James’s office and give him a dressing-down about his attitude and behaviour and tell him I’ve had enough of his working all hours and enough of his bloody mother. Or there was option two: go down to his office with a peace offering and put the whole sorry affair behind us. Only one of these options would restore normality quickly.
After transforming myself into a presentable state, I spent an hour on the internet arranging a special something for James before printing it off and setting off to his office. On the way there I felt much better, excited even. I’d apologise, he’d apologise, and then I’d whip the surprise out of my bag and he’d be so ecstatic. Maybe things would even get a little steamy if nobody else was about, since the office was technically closed on a Sunday.
Once I’d parked and made my way to the Emsworth, Haiden & Haiden offices, I tried the door and was surprised to find it unlocked so instead of buzzing the intercom, I just made
