gone to Mum’s. She’s feeling down. See you later xx
Charlie’s mum had recently been widowed. Grace was, understandably, grieving and sad. When Charlie didn’t come home Sunday evening, Willow tried not to mind. Nor did she text Charlie to ask if his mum was okay. Better to wrap her dignity around her like the duvet she was later huddled under, alone.
When Monday morning rolled around, she was surprised to discover that at some point Charlie had come home, showered and gone to work. She must have been out cold not to have heard him. Willow had duly crawled out of bed and into the shower before setting off to work at Mosley Library.
And now, as she stirred her first coffee of the day in the library’s tiny kitchen, she briefly wished she was colleague Jean’s daughter, recovering in plaster from a broken wrist. Because a broken wrist would heal far more swiftly than a broken heart.
Two
Charlie was behind his London desk long before any other staff began filtering into the trendy open-plan office block that overlooked the River Thames. A desire to distance himself from Willow before she was properly up and about had been his number one priority. The last thing he wanted was twenty questions on why he didn’t want to get married.
He’d spent some of the remainder of the weekend at his childhood home where his widowed mother now lived alone. Grace had expressed surprise upon seeing her son on the doorstep without Willow. She knew it had been Willow’s birthday, but Charlie had made an excuse about his girlfriend having a migraine and needing to be left alone to quietly sleep it off. On Sunday, he’d taken his mother out to lunch at a local carvery. Over coffee, he said that Willow had texted saying she was fine now, so he’d better get back.
As soon as Grace had waved him off, Charlie had taken advantage of his car’s Bluetooth and rung a number saved on his mobile simply as “Kev”. However, Kev wasn’t a man. Moments later a female answered. It was the same woman he’d spent two hours with prior to turning up on his mother’s doorstep to establish a cast-iron alibi.
As he waited for the number to connect, Charlie told himself it was unlikely Willow would check up on his movements, but it was best not to take chances, hence using his unsuspecting mother as a means of cover. The number began to ring, and was answered almost immediately.
‘Hey, sexy lady,’ he said, making his voice deliberately husky.
‘Hey yourself,’ said the woman, clearly pleased to hear from him.
‘Fancy a re-run of last night?’
‘If you insist,’ the woman giggled.
‘I do, I do,’ Charlie murmured, and then blanched.
God, those two hideous words again.
‘The coast is clear for the rest of the day and all of tonight,’ she said.
‘In that case, I’ll stay over – as long as you don’t mind me disappearing before the sun comes up. I’ll try not to wake you in the morning.’
‘Can’t you go to work from mine?’
Charlie could imagine her lovely mouth pouting at the other end of the line, and he smiled.
‘You are very demanding. In more ways than one.’
‘I can’t help it where you’re concerned,’ she said, voice teasing again.
‘Good,’ said Charlie smugly. ‘Unfortunately I don’t have a suit with me, so have no choice but to get up with the dawn chorus.’
‘Never mind. I’ll take what I can of you,’ she said happily.
‘See you in ten minutes.’
Charlie had hung up and floored the accelerator.
He hadn’t meant to start an affair. He hadn’t meant to start anything. Their paths had, from time to time, crossed over the years. And yes, there had always been banter. But Charlie bantered with all the ladies. Some women called it flirting. But most of the time it really was meaningless in Charlie’s case. After all, he bantered with the old girl who cleaned the office and vacuumed around his legs if he was still working on a report. Just because he made risqué comments about the sucking power of her nozzle didn’t mean he was hinting at a blow job, for goodness sake.
That was the trouble with females. They had a propensity to misunderstand things. If Charlie meant business with a woman, then he would leave her in no doubt of his intention. All it needed was a raised eyebrow, a loaded silence, and a few smoulders. There was no need to muck about wasting precious shagging time on meaningless banter if he