Authors: J.E. Warren
Charlie pretends to pull away from her grasp. “Poor guy’s probably scarred for life, if you were anything like you are now.”
“Oi!”
“I bet you were really loud and stubborn even back then.”
“I’ve just always known what I want, and how I want it. I have high expectations, Charlie.”
He laughs. “You forgot to mention that you’re also slightly loopy.”
“But you love it, right?”
Stepping down to reach the sandy slipway, he takes her hand and jokes, “Can’t help it. I really do.”
Basking in the hot sun and the glow of his affection that never falters, she keeps his hand close in hers and reels off again all the reasons why she loves little old Lyme Regis. How it’s so different to the fast paced city life she’s come to begrudgingly accept and fall into sync with.
Afterwards Anna takes him on a brisk walking tour round the country houses and cottages that line the bay. Past the tacky souvenir and antique shops, right into the square and hamlet of art galleries and tearooms. Charlie appears to enjoy it all, and he listens intently to all her not-so-interesting facts.
“Do you fancy sitting out in the sun? Maybe we could get a drink?”
“Is anywhere open yet? Isn’t it too early?” he replies, hand over his eyes even though he’s wearing dark sunglasses.
“Pah! Not here. There’s a pub not far that has a pretty beer garden. You can have a soft drink if you really want to be a wuss and stand out like a tourist,” she teases.
“Very funny! No, I’ll get a pint. Seems a shame not to, seeing as I am kind of on holiday.”
“I’d make a great tour guide, don’t you think?” She nudges his shoulder and sets her sights on the pub in the distance. “Quick walk straight to the nearest pub to get royally smashed, then you’ll be like a true local!”
Charlie sighs but smiles too. “If only everyone thought like you, Anna. If only.”
***
Finding a table with shade proves tricky, but Charlie insists he can weather the intense rays and so Anna heads to the bar to order.
When she returns, he’s taken off his shirt and rolled up the sleeves on his t-shirt.
“I said you wouldn’t need to wear so many layers today. You should just take the whole lot off.”
“Not here.”
“Those guys over there have, can’t you see their beer bellies?”
He shrugs. “I think I’ll just sweat it out instead of exposing myself.”
Sinking back a mouthful of cold, delightful beer, she sighs and looks up at the clear blue sky. “Being here in the summer is the best. It’s my favourite place. In the winter it’s pretty miserable but not now.”
“It’s nice to actually walk around and not get crushed by hundreds of tourists,” he replies, leaning back against the stone wall, pint in hand.
“No dirty pollution either.”
Hitching up the sleeves of her dress to get some more sun, Anna thinks she might have been wrong to believe in her younger years that a place so small couldn’t keep ahold of her, not with all her lofty ambitions and zest for life. So naïve to think she was too good for it and all too quick to outgrow such easy uncomplicated living. To believe that leaving for London would answer all her wishes and desires.
The truth is, being back makes her feel safe. It gives her comfort and a hard to shake feeling of nostalgia that rests in her bones. The mere thought of trudging back to the city only to spend days, weeks, or months searching for a new job or career only makes her want to dig her feet deeper into the sand and never leave.
But she can’t say these things to Charlie, because if he knew that it scares her then it would frighten him too—the possibility of coming back. Her conflicting thoughts of where she wants to end up in her quest for a better life aren’t of his concern for the moment.
Charlie’s voice cuts through the rush of confusing thoughts. “Have you always lived here?”
“I have, but my parents moved down here just after I was born. They both grew up in Leeds, hence the faint accents,” she explains.
“Thought so.”
“My dad always wanted to live by the sea, apparently, so they came here. His granddad used to be a fisherman. He says it runs in his bones to be close to the water.”
“Your parents really love you. I hope you know that, Anna,” Charlie says with a sigh.
A lump catches in her throat. “I know.”
“It’s nice that they do. That they miss you, want you back if they could.”
“Well, we’ve had our fair share of fights, mostly when I was younger and wanted to stay out all night, sneak around with boys, but I know that’s only because they cared. They’ve always been supportive.”
He taps his finger on the wooden table, like he’s letting her words sink in. “Mine never were.”
“Sorry, babe.”
“I’m sure they couldn’t wait to see the back of me, even though they were hardly pleased at what I chose to do.”
“Screw them. Really. If they can’t see they have a wonderful, talented son then it’s their loss.” She gently rubs his arm and means every word. “Sometimes water can be thicker than blood. You don’t get to pick your family, so if you’re unlucky, I say pick those who can or do make you happy.”
“Like you.” Charlie grins.
Anna listens as he explains how his family weren’t too fond of showing affection, how they didn’t approve of his dream to move to London and pursue music. It upsets her—that such a kind-hearted, sweet, and beautiful soul like Charlie had such a different childhood to hers.
“My parents never liked going away. I think we got as far as Cornwall, but it was always completely unmemorable and dull,” he sighs.
“Well, you’re here now and with me. Hopefully this little trip is worth remembering.”
He nods, flashes a brilliant warm smile. “Of course, being anywhere with you is a memory worth savouring.”
***
Back at her house, after Charlie jokily complains that he can hardly feel his feet from being dragged round town for so long, Anna settles him down on the sofa with her dad.
“Here, you two, I’ve made some tea and I know there’s some football match on, so get stuck in,” she says, ignoring Charlie’s pleading eyes to not leave him alone. “I’ve got to go help Mum bring in the washing before we leave.”
“The train’s not running tomorrow?” her dad asks, passing over a tin of biscuits to Charlie.
“Nope. Means we’ve got to leave in a couple of hours to make it back. Wish we could have stayed for the whole weekend, sorry.”
“No problem, darling, just good to see you and meet your new chap.”
She laughs as he winks and nods to Charlie, who is sat back straight up and knees together, trying to appear polite.
She hears her dad ask him if he likes football. Charlie mutters back a quiet yes. Anna knows he’s got no real interest in it and feels guilty for forcing it upon him, but she needs the privacy to talk with her mum.
Upon entering the garden that she still misses, with its long green lawn and small pond, she watches her mum collect pegs and fold up the washing—pants and socks, the bed sheets from her room. She wanders over to ask if she needs any help.
“Can I fold anything for you?” She leans against the wooden pole that holds up the line and waits for her mum to notice her presence in the garden. Hoping she’ll realise she’s there because there’s a lot on her mind and she needs one of
those
chats.
“Nah, all good here, love.”
She sighs loudly. “Okay, well, don’t worry then.”
“Anna, what’s up?” her mum replies, yanking down a pair of socks.
“I’ve just really missed being here—home, in Lyme. And the beach.”
“I know you do.”
“I’m just so confused about what to do. I’ve got no job and it’s tough up there. Seems like no one wants to employ me.”
“The offer still stands, darling, if you want to come back whilst you work out what to do, even if you decide to stay here for good. We’ll always be happy to have you.”
“Thanks, Mum. I’ve got two month’s rent already paid and my deposit, but Jaz is getting married in the summer and I’m sure I’ll have to pack my bags anyway. Seems silly to just wait around for that,” Anna says, clipping a wooden peg to the end of her finger. “It’s just that I don’t know what to do about Charlie.”
“Ah. I see. He’s a nice lad, darling, but you’ve got to think about what’s best for you. If he’s decent, cares for you, he’ll understand and support whatever decision you make.”
She knows her mum’s right, but the thought of breaking the topic of leaving London to move back home fills her with dread.
“He’ll want me to stay.” The decisions she’ll have to make somewhere in the not so distant future weigh heavy. “I don’t even know what I’d do if I came back. Not like there are tons of jobs here either.”
“Janet’s always looking for someone to man the phone down at the vet’s and your dad’s friend Jim who owns The Black Lion could probably sort you out with some bar work.”
“I suppose.”
Her mum goes in for a hug, tells her to stop worrying. “Don’t make any hasty decisions yet. Give it another month or so. See how you feel then.”
“I’ll try.”
Anna leaves to pack up her bag and sit with her dad and Charlie before they have to catch the train back to the Big Smoke.
Once she’s said her goodbyes, she promises to call her parents more and not be so much of a stranger. Her dad waves them both off at the station and they wait for the delayed train to arrive. When they eventually board and find a seat, she tells Charlie she’s worn out so she won’t have to talk much, show any sign that her eyes are full of salty tears as the distance from home grows again.
As the coast fades against the setting sun and disappears from view, she feels a tightness twist in her chest. She thinks about what she’s got to look forward to back in London—a desperate job hunt, days spent on the sofa, money budgets, and tasteless microwave dinners.
The feeling that she’s leaving behind the wrong place just won’t disappear from her mind.
And no matter how hard Anna tries to shake it off, that feeling lingers all the way as the high rises and grey skies come back into focus.
Charlie
August 2
nd
2009
Standing at Anna’s front door, Charlie holds out a bright green cactus in a little pink terracotta pot and smiles.
When she takes it inside only to plonk it down on the kitchen counter and carry on sorting through the mass of wedding favours spread across the dining room table, he internally sighs. All his hopes for her mood to have improved are blown away at the sight of her frown and indifference to his peace offering.
Charlie’s really got his work cut out this time round, and it’s just getting worse. His patience had been severely tested in the past couple of months, pushed to its limit by a downbeat, difficult, and scarily subdued Anna.
He feels bad to think such things and to see her become more distant every day, less interested. As if someone has snuffed out the spark that always ignited her, the beacon of light he’d fallen in love with.
Technically it hasn’t been her fault she’s been struggling to find a suitable job, yet he can’t help but believe she has been making life unnecessarily hard for not only herself but those around her too.
Like the days when he would go round to her little Mews house to instil encouragement, aided by snacks and supplies. He took his guitar in his arms to try and sing her happy when her laptop died and erased her newly improved CV letter. Like the time he found her still sat on the sofa eating cereal from the box, in her sweats and joggers—at nine o’clock in the evening, watching soap operas to avoid having to write to prospective employers and recruitment agencies.
It really had been something new to witness Anna become so dismissive towards him. She came across as irritated if she had to listen to him play or when he’d ask to stay over for the night.
For all of Charlie’s kind words and sturdy support, she still very much wants it all done her way, on her own terms, and it’s becoming worrying and problematic.
He has tried hard to push out the thoughts that came creeping up every time she refused the offer of part-time work or turned her nose up at jobs that were supposedly beneath her. Every time she did, he’d think it was more a case of self-sabotage than holding on to pride. As if she wanted to stay stuck in her rut of watching daytime TV, to ignore her situation for as long as possible.
When he heard her mumble one day about giving up and heading back home, his chest constricted and he lost the ability to feel anything other than panic. His intuition that home had reeled her in since their last trip grew each day and with every offhand comment about London being a soul-sucking city, he’d feel like she was slipping further away.
When Anna became more absentminded, consumed in her own frustration, he’d want nothing more than to eat up her sadness but she wouldn’t allow it, much too stubborn to ask for help or let him in.
“Why is this happening?” she’d sigh as another week passed by. He wished he could tell her that life didn’t always work out the way it did in her books or soap operas, but he feared she’d bite his head off. Telling her that they’d figure it out together didn’t help either. Anna seemed set on it being solely her problem.
After a while Charlie felt it pointless to continue to argue, yet he still worried that if he only stood by she’d drift further away from him like a tectonic plate on a wildly different path, intent on expanding the gulf already there between them.
It’s why he bought her a present, to cheer her up. Like all the other random acts of kindness he’s thought up in attempts to lift her spirits. None were expensive or grand but all had meaning—like the Spice Girl mug he’d found in a charity shop and the colourful thread bracelet from Brixton market with a small silver infinity charm woven in it.
The mini cactus in its pot is another gift, a reminder to show Anna that he cares, that he’s still trying even if she’s intent on putting big obstacles in his way. He actually feels a little chuffed to remember that she doesn’t like receiving flowers because they always wilt and die.
He hopes she’ll make the connection, but it still sits on the countertop whilst she bags up pink sugar-coated almonds into dainty gauze bags.
“I can’t believe Jaz has roped you into doing all of this literally the week before her wedding,” he says, trying to give her some sympathy as he sits down to help.
Anna keeps her eye on the task at hand and doesn’t smile back. “Well, I’m officially a month behind on the rent now, so it’s the least I can do to stop her from turfing me out on the street.”
“She wouldn’t do that, you’re her friend and she must understand the situation.”
“Jaz has too much on her plate with this wedding shit to care about what happens to me, Charlie. Besides, it’s not her fault, is it? It’s mine. My problem.” The way she clenches her hand as she speaks tells him it’s best not to press the issue any further and so he changes tack.
“So that little guy over there—‘Clive the Cacti’ as I’ve named him—only needs watering about once a week. They’re quite resilient little buggers too so it won’t wilt or die like a bunch of roses would. Thought you could keep it by the window in your room so it gets lots of light and warmth to keep it happy.”
She mutters a quiet thanks and passes him another bag of almonds to add to the pile marked
‘finished’
and carries on scooping up another handful until one rolls off the table.
“For fucks sake! Seriously, who even eats these damn things? No one gives a shit about having these at a wedding,” she shouts, the anger and frustration in her voice unsettling to hear.
Charlie picks up the rogue almond and quietly laughs. “Usually it’s the guests who’ve drunk too much and not eaten enough. If you see anyone tucking into a bag of these it’s because the food was likely terrible.”
She shrugs and replies curtly, “I suppose so.”
“I know this because I once ate three whole bags of the stuff at my cousin’s wedding to fill the void of hunger left by dry liver
pâté
and undercooked chicken.” He hopes his humour will cut through her frosty demeanour and that if he packs in enough almonds she’ll cut him some slack.
Because it’s exhausting to jump over every hurdle she throws his way, applying the pressure onto him as well, all her frustration and anger. It leaves him longing for the past, to get back all the laughs and jokes, cuddles and comfort, because now that pleasant side of Anna hides beneath a veil of disappointment and a face set constantly in a frown.
“How I am I supposed to get all these name cards finished too when morons insist on spelling their names stupidly?” She scowls as she finishes the last of the almonds and starts on the table guest list. It just serves as another batch of annoyance for her to feast on.
“It’s spelt Chloe, not fucking Klowee. Is this person actually a three year old?”
Charlie thinks it’s best to humour her. “Oh wow, that’s terrible, and here’s me thinking I’ve got the worse one.” He holds up a name card written in gold ink.
‘Jorja Loxwood’
—what kind of name is that?”
With a faint giggle, Anna tosses her card into the pile and starts on another without saying a word. She continues on in silence until he suggests they stretch out their legs and take a break. He offers to put on the kettle and sort out something to eat that’s a bit more nutritious than the cereal and packet dinners she’s been living on.
Searching through the contents of her fridge, he feels the familiar warmth of her arms round his waist and her head coming to rest against his chest. He’s not sure what’s bought on her sudden change of character, but he embraces it nonetheless. Doesn’t ask why and just holds her tight.
Her fingers brush across the cactus needles and trace the pattern on the pot.
She whispers, “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Loosening her grip, she gazes up. “It’s cute. I like the little paintings on it. It’s really pretty.”
“Reminded me of you—tough, strong. Bright, beautiful.”
Charlie’s sure he sees her quickly rub her eyes with a balled-up fist, believes she’s not just welling up because of exhaustion from all the wedding prep.
And it gives him a faint glimmer of hope that all is not lost. That maybe the Anna he adores is still in there, somewhere amidst all the sadness.
***
After all the wedding favours, place cards, and miniature gold hearts are done and packed, Charlie follows Anna into the bedroom.
From the edge of her bed, he admires all the various dresses she slips on in a bid to find the perfect look for Jaz's big day. The way she stands on tiptoes in front of the mirror warms his heart. He loves the way she scrunches up her face before undressing again to pull over another dress, and he doesn’t tell her that they all look pretty much the same but he does let her know that she looks beautiful in each and every one.
He hopes that she can see he’s making a real effort to engage in talk about the impending wedding as she moans about the formal sit-down dinner and restrictions on wine. She’s particularly incensed that Jaz's soon-to-be-husband is ridiculously wealthy but won’t splash out for a free bar.
Anna muses about all the fine details like which bands are to play and who to avoid getting caught in conversation with. It’s not much, but at least she’s talking more than earlier, without frowning too.
When she struggles to zip up the back of another near-identical floral dress, Charlie steps in to lend a hand. Standing behind her petite frame, he slowly pulls up the zipper to the nape of her neck. Unable to resist, he plants a soft kiss to the side of her shoulder. Brushing away her hair to stroke her neck and show he still cares, in spite of all her mood swings.
Sliding off the strap of her dress, he continues to plant small kisses until it falls to the carpet and Anna’s bare skin reflects back in the mirror.
He’s happy to find her hand move back and pull at his jean button. The warm sensation of it inching down sends a shiver through his body and he spins her round. As he presses his mouth to hers, soft moans encourage him to find the warm spot between her thighs. He does so with ease and her gasps grow louder when he pushes aside her knickers, caressing her face as he does.
When she arches her back and shudders against his chest, she leaves her hand to linger over his boxer shorts.
“I’ve missed you, Anna,” he whispers, holding her close. Caught up in the moment, he lifts her up and kisses her with hunger. Lays her on the bed and pulls down his jeans. “It’s good to see you smile again.”
But just as quickly as the glimmer of hope sparks, it dulls again when she flinches, her body jerking away from his gentle yet eager touch. Charlie realises he’s been a fool to believe things will get better.
“Sorry. I’m just tired. Think I ought to have a shower. Been a long day,” Anna says, quickly grabbing the dress off the floor to slip it back on as if she hates for him to see her naked body, even after she’s just allowed him to explore it for those few minutes before.
“But wait, I thought you wanted to?”
“I did. I do. Just not right now.” The delivery of her words sounds so unbelievable that he can only shake his head, before backing away.
“Okay. Fine.”
“Sorry.”
“I’ll just go watch TV, or something.”
Anna casts her eyes down, rolls over to get up, and then looks past him towards the door. “Maybe it’s best if I just finish off the last of the wedding stuff myself. Get an early night’s sleep. You can go, do something more worthwhile.”
“You want to get rid of me that badly, do you?” He sighs, feeling deflated, picking up the discarded jeans on the carpet. “Just say it.”
“I just don’t want to have sex right now.”
“It’s not about that, Anna. Just seems like you really don’t want me here. It’s fine on your terms but then you just switch back to cold and it throws me off balance.”
“Let’s not do this now. I’m going to have a shower. If you want to stay then you can.” She’s already walking towards the bathroom like she doesn’t care for his reply.
“Don’t worry, I’ll let you get on. Have a nice evening.” He can’t mask his annoyance, frustration any longer. “I hope you feel better.”
When she turns to hang up her necklace on the edge of the mirror, her gaze finally meets his reflection. Charlie sees the well of sadness in her eyes and it takes him back to the cold, windy Thursday evening when she’d caught his attention and won over his affections. Her eyes now are exactly the same and the realisation breaks him.
How Anna’s dark, beautiful brown eyes are once again wishing to be somewhere else entirely.