Pam sat slumped back in her chair.
Neither she nor Charley spoke as they walked back through the garden and onto the street. Charley slipped her arm through Pam’s.
‘You okay?’
‘Not really.’
It was only when they were in the privacy of the car that Pam let go. ‘How dare he do this to me? How effing dare he? Did he even think about what was going to happen to me? Where was he expecting me to live? Did that even occur to him?’
Tears of rage scorched down her cheeks, dragging her eye-liner and mascara with them. Charley rootled about frantically, but fruitlessly, in her bag, and then in the door pocket for a tissue. She eventually tracked down a tatty, second-hand one in her jeans pocket, but rejected it as definitely not fit for purpose. By then Pam had fished out a new, mini pack of tissues from her handbag, and Charley had had a chance to gather her thoughts. Geoff simply hadn’t thought through, probably hadn’t known, what the consequence of his affair would be, she realised. It was carelessness, not selfishness, she was convinced of that. ‘Look. I’m not defending Geoff. Not for one minute. He’s behaved like… well like a…’
‘Complete bastard.’
‘Absolutely. But you’re right, he probably didn’t think. Didn’t think for one minute that you might have to lose the house, and if he had thought that, well… maybe he wouldn’t have done what he did,’ she finished, less certain of her last line. Completely uncertain of it, to be truthful.
Pam sniffed and wiped her nose. ‘That doesn’t make it any better, Charley,’ she said quietly. ‘It doesn’t help to know that he didn’t even think about me. My whole life is in that house… our marriage, our children… my memories. And there won’t be any more memories of Josh anywhere else,’ she finished.
It was the last thought that broke her, that hauled up sobs of raw grief. Struggling to hold back her own tears, Charley leant over to put her arms round Pam and held her, while the flood of tears raged and flowed, until, finally, it subsided, leaving Pam exhausted. Pam sank back in her car seat wearily, completely spent, and thoroughly mortified at having sobbed all over her daughter-in-law.
‘I’m sorry…’ she started to say, but Charley interrupted.
‘Don’t you ever apologise to me for crying,’ she said fiercely, ‘I’ve cried buckets… oceans all over you. Now it’s my turn to be the sponge,’ she added, trying to lighten the mood, and lessen Pam’s evident, but unnecessary, embarrassment.
Pam wiped her eyes, then she took a few deep breaths, calming herself. Eventually she turned to Charley. ‘Does it look like I’ve been crying?’
There was so much mascara and eyeliner smudged round her eyes she looked like a panda, and one that had had a very heavy night, too.
‘Little bit,’ admitted Charley.
Chapter Twenty-one
Pulling endless pints, stacking dirty glasses, wiping down tables and mopping up vomit isn’t everyone’s idea of a great summer. It’s not everyone’s idea of a great job either, an assessment Charley would have wholeheartedly agreed with, but she’d taken on extra shifts to cover people’s leave, and to earn herself some extra cash to repay the money she’d taken from her redundancy pot. Needless to say, she was regretting it already. A group of drunken lads, with delusions of hilarity, had taken over two of the outside tables one particularly hot lunchtime, and she’d spent the last couple of hours ferrying bottles of lager to them, clearing away the empties and adroitly repelling their loud, clumsy advances. She was glad when they finally drifted off to make a nuisance of themselves elsewhere. Clearing the tables down she suddenly heard a voice calling out to her, and then the slap of footsteps running along the pavement towards her.
‘Charleeey!’
She turned, just in time to catch a small girl in a summer dress and flipflops who’d hurled herself at her, flinging her arms round her tightly. It was Monnie. Tara wasn’t far behind her, absolutely the last person Charley wanted to witness her slogging away in the pub. However, that wasn’t Monnie’s fault, she reminded herself, so she greeted the little girl enthusiastically.
‘Monnie!’ she cried, hugging her back warmly, while inwardly chanting, Shit, shit, shit.
‘We’re going to the ’quarium!’ garbled Monnie excitedly. Grabbing Charley’s hand, she pleaded, ‘Can you come?’ Without waiting for an answer she rushed on breathlessly in an effort to persuade her, ‘There’s sharks and a giant octopus and sting rays and starfish and you can walk underwater! It’s going to be awesome!’
Charley smiled down at her thinking how amazing it was that such a spoilt child could be so generous-hearted. ‘Sorry, sweetie, I’m working.’
Monnie’s face fell.
‘We’ll do something another day with Charley,’ her mum promised her.
Charley shot a look at Tara, but she seemed to actually mean it.
Blissfully unaware of the palpable tension in the air, Monnie was chattering on. ‘We’ve been sailing!’ she cried. ‘For two whole weeks and I got to steer the boat!’
‘Greece,’ supplied Tara, smiling down at her daughter.
‘Oh, how cool are you?!’ said Charley, and she put up her hand for Monnie to high five, which the small child did gleefully.
‘Where else have we been?’ prompted Tara, keeping her attention focused on her daughter, to avoid looking at Charley.
Monnie struggled to remember it all. ‘Um, Alton Towers and Cadbury World and the seaside and the zoo…’ she trailed off.
‘Wow, you have been busy!’ Charley was rewarded by one of Monnie’s gap-toothed grins.
‘We must catch up,’ said Tara. ‘We’re doing day trips this week, but I’m around in the evening,’ and she looked at Charley expectantly, clearly hoping she’d invite her round.
Charley pulled a face. ‘Sorry, I’m working every night this week,’ she lied.
‘Oh, okay.’ Tara visibly deflated. ‘Well, next week we’re off to Centre Parcs and then it’s back to school after that.’
‘Boo,’ moaned Monnie, pulling a
