CHAPTER 1: CHARLEY
Ah, the wonderful world of shit. I had just delivered a presentation on the rebuilding of the London sewer system, to the German Society of Civil Engineers, in Berlin. In German. I had done my Masters at the University of Munich and, whilst not totally fluent, my German is pretty good. I had not been to Berlin for ages, and a lot had changed. We civil engineers love building sites. I had been put up by a delightful lesbian couple; engineers both. Georgia was dead jealous. She probably thought we were engaged in threesomes, all night long. I missed Georgia and Thomas so much that my heart physically ached. When I spoke to Gorgeous that morning, she had not been right, saying that her tummy really hurt. Mind you, she is a complete hypochondriac. Even so, something was amiss. Thomas was his usual cheeky self.
Georgia had not been herself for the last month. The amount of puking she was doing, you would think that it was she who was pregnant. When I had reached sixteen weeks the morning sickness passed, more or less. Georgia was usually totally laid back, but had been really snappy, with me and Thomas. She blamed work, but I knew it was something more. I could tell when she was lying. She would tell me in her own time. It seemed to start at the christening. Before that, she had been unnaturally high, after winning her first high profile Crown Court case.
I was godmother to Holly's first child, my niece; a lovely little girl called Grace. When I came out, as a lesbian, my mother disowned me, but Holly did not, and we became very close. She liked the shock value, I think, of her lesbian sister and her unbelievably attractive lover. When Thomas was born, Mum decided to acknowledge my existence, albeit grudgingly. Thomas' christening was OK, especially as Georgia's family had taken me in as one of their own. Outnumbered, mum behaved. Dad did not reply to my invitation.
However he came to Grace's christening. So much for me being his favourite. The scene was set for fireworks. Mum got drunk and lit the blue touch paper. She did not step back. The recriminations came thick and fast. In the church, there were just dark muttering and venomous stares. At the reception, I discovered who the homophobes were. Number one being my father. This put my mum in the awkward position of agreeing with him, which she neatly countered by blaming him for putting me off of men. Quite a lot of red wine was thrown. It felt like I caught most of it, on my white dress. Georgia eventually stopped flirting with Rick, Holly's husband, slapped Mum and dragged me away. I cried all the way down the M1. Georgia ranted intermittently. Holly rang me on my mobile and we blubbed inconsolably at each other. Thomas slept peacefully, behind us, in his car seat.
A nervous looking woman came up to me.
"Fraulein Dr Matthews? I have a message. Please ring this number urgently."
Strict conference rules. Switch off mobile phones, or leave them at reception. It felt like everyone was staring at me as I picked up the phone. It was Imogen, Georgia's sister.
"Thank God, Charley. It's Georgia. She's collapsed. They're operating now. An ectopic pregnancy......I mean......I'm not sure."
Through my panic, I thought I could hear Imogen furiously bolting the stable door.
"Charley, are you still there? Georgia said you weren't due back until midnight. Michael has booked you a flight from Tegel to London City. Lufthansa. It leaves at 2pm. He'll meet you. Charley, are you there?"
My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. My legs had failed me, and I was sitting on the floor. I rubbed my tummy and the baby did a little somersault. Our baby. Ectopic. Operating. No, please no. My secretary's sister had an ectopic pregnancy the previous year. She died. No. Not Gorgeous. Goddesses are immortal.
"Sorry Imo. I'm still here. I'm ten minutes from the airport, on the U-bahn."
My finger shook as I struggled to send a text. Georgia checked her mobile constantly. It drove me mad. I kept it short.
"I love you. I'm on my way."
I looked up and through the fog of tears, I recognised Brigitte, my host from the night before. Miraculously she understood my incoherent mewling. She sat me down, rang Imogen, to get the flight details, then took me to Tegel airport by taxi, booked me in and guided me into security, where I was met by one of her friends; a security guard. I can't even remember the woman's name, but she was very kind, and walked me to the first class lounge (typical Clarke touch there) and sat next to me, quietly holding my hand and passing me tissues. Lots of tissues.
The flight was a blur. I had hand luggage only, and took next to no time to clear Customs. Michael was there with Gordon, my father in law. Well that was what I called him. They both looked dreadful.
I dropped my case. I felt faint.
"No. Please no. I'm too late, aren't I? She's dead. I should never have gone away."
Gordon hugged me tight. He was my father now.
"Shh, Charley. She's OK. Well physically, at least."
"Oh God, Charley, I'm so sorry."
Michael was on his knees, his face contorted by some emotion I could not quite fathom. I was looking at a stranger. I knew the suave, sophisticated, charming Michael, who had fallen from the same tree of gorgeousness as Georgia. I was, after all, carrying his child: our second.
People were staring. Gordon looked exceedingly uncomfortable; almost as shame faced as Michael. I knew that I was blushing furiously. I was, of course, relieved. The goddess lived, however I sensed that a huge "BUT", made of cast iron, was about to drop on my head.
Gordon dragged Michael to his feet.
"Don't do this Michael. Think of the baby."
