begged. ‘I can explain, honey.' Charlotte scoffed behind him, but he
ignored her. ‘Baby, you are my life,’ he continued. ‘Please, please talk to
me!’
The stony silence that
met him left him momentarily at a loss. When he lifted his fist to recommence
his angry hammering, Charlotte snapped.
‘Geoffrey!'
Although refusing
to look at her, Geoff dropped his fist. He sank to the floor and leaned his
head against the closed door.
‘You’ve got to
help me, Charlotte,’ he mumbled, turning to her.
‘Get real, Geoff. You
know where my loyalties lie.’
‘Please?’ he
begged.
She considered him.
What the hell did he think she'd do, convince Emily to forgive and forget? He
looked so desperate; she might have felt sorry for him had the betrayal not
been so unfathomable. It was one thing to cheat on your wife, it was another to
do it with Cassette.
Charlotte
refocused on getting rid of him.
‘Alright, Geoff. I’ll
help you,’ she lied. ‘But you need to help me too. She needs time to digest
what she saw okay? Give her tonight and I’ll bring her home in the morning.’
‘But I need to
explain.’
What possible
explanation could there be? she wanted to ask, but held her tongue.
Keeping the
derision out of her voice, she told him he could explain in the morning. ‘Give
her tonight, Geoff. You owe her that.’
It was Geoff’s
turn to assess the situation. Nervously she watched his mind tick over,
uncertain of what to try next if he refused.
He didn’t.
He virtually
crawled out of the flat. ‘I love you, Emily,’ he called feebly as Charlotte
shut the door in his face, resisting the urge to slam it.
She heard the lock
on the bedroom door give and opened it to find Emily folded on the floor
weeping silently. She picked her sister up, steered her back to the couch and
phoned her best friend.
Ben arrived ten
minutes later and made a beeline for Emily. He pulled her into a tight embrace,
squeezing more tears out of her, all over his t-shirt. Charlotte watched them
from the kitchen, loving Ben for being so rock solid.
Ben
had no idea what to do, so he just kept holding on. God, the number of times
he’d dreamed of being where he was right now. At the lowest point of indulging
in the misery of his unrequited love, he’d even fantasised about the unfolding
scenario: Geoff cheating on Emily and her turning to him for comfort. There was
also the more palatable daydream, where one day she simply walked into Bean
Drinkin’ and told him she was leaving Geoff because she’d discovered she was
madly in love with him. Now, as he held a shaking, snorting, clearly devastated
Emily, Ben desperately wished the latter was the dream that was coming true.
Charlotte busied
herself with the kettle in the kitchen. He steeled his expression. It wouldn't do
to have Charlotte read his thoughts. For four years now he'd been mastering his
impassive face, not reacting whenever Emily walked into the room, ignoring the
way her musical laugh made him certain the world was full of wonder.
Being in love with
a married woman was hard work. But hiding it from your best friend was even
harder.
After some time,
Emily’s sobs and snorts subsided, and she extracted herself from Ben’s arms.
‘Oh God, look at
you,’ she groaned, gripping the dampness on his chest.
‘I’m so sorry,
Em,’ he said quietly, gently brushing her hair back from her face.
Emily sniffed. ‘Me
too.’
Charlotte placed a
tray of steaming cups on the coffee table.
‘Is that…tea?’ Ben
asked.
‘Yes. It’s what
you need in a crisis,’ Charlotte replied, her tone both officious and
sarcastic.
‘You two never
drink tea,’ Ben said.
Emily let out a
weak giggle. ‘Chicken noodle soup and tea will cure most ills, Ben. It’s an old
Evans family tradition.’
‘I thought you
hated tea.’
‘We do.' Emily
giggled properly this time, the kind of hysterical giggle that comes after
hours of weeping. She claimed a cup, took a sip and
ignored her. ‘Baby, you are my life,’ he continued. ‘Please, please talk to
me!’
The stony silence that
met him left him momentarily at a loss. When he lifted his fist to recommence
his angry hammering, Charlotte snapped.
‘Geoffrey!'
Although refusing
to look at her, Geoff dropped his fist. He sank to the floor and leaned his
head against the closed door.
‘You’ve got to
help me, Charlotte,’ he mumbled, turning to her.
‘Get real, Geoff. You
know where my loyalties lie.’
‘Please?’ he
begged.
She considered him.
What the hell did he think she'd do, convince Emily to forgive and forget? He
looked so desperate; she might have felt sorry for him had the betrayal not
been so unfathomable. It was one thing to cheat on your wife, it was another to
do it with Cassette.
Charlotte
refocused on getting rid of him.
‘Alright, Geoff. I’ll
help you,’ she lied. ‘But you need to help me too. She needs time to digest
what she saw okay? Give her tonight and I’ll bring her home in the morning.’
‘But I need to
explain.’
What possible
explanation could there be? she wanted to ask, but held her tongue.
Keeping the
derision out of her voice, she told him he could explain in the morning. ‘Give
her tonight, Geoff. You owe her that.’
It was Geoff’s
turn to assess the situation. Nervously she watched his mind tick over,
uncertain of what to try next if he refused.
He didn’t.
He virtually
crawled out of the flat. ‘I love you, Emily,’ he called feebly as Charlotte
shut the door in his face, resisting the urge to slam it.
She heard the lock
on the bedroom door give and opened it to find Emily folded on the floor
weeping silently. She picked her sister up, steered her back to the couch and
phoned her best friend.
Ben arrived ten
minutes later and made a beeline for Emily. He pulled her into a tight embrace,
squeezing more tears out of her, all over his t-shirt. Charlotte watched them
from the kitchen, loving Ben for being so rock solid.
Ben
had no idea what to do, so he just kept holding on. God, the number of times
he’d dreamed of being where he was right now. At the lowest point of indulging
in the misery of his unrequited love, he’d even fantasised about the unfolding
scenario: Geoff cheating on Emily and her turning to him for comfort. There was
also the more palatable daydream, where one day she simply walked into Bean
Drinkin’ and told him she was leaving Geoff because she’d discovered she was
madly in love with him. Now, as he held a shaking, snorting, clearly devastated
Emily, Ben desperately wished the latter was the dream that was coming true.
Charlotte busied
herself with the kettle in the kitchen. He steeled his expression. It wouldn't do
to have Charlotte read his thoughts. For four years now he'd been mastering his
impassive face, not reacting whenever Emily walked into the room, ignoring the
way her musical laugh made him certain the world was full of wonder.
Being in love with
a married woman was hard work. But hiding it from your best friend was even
harder.
After some time,
Emily’s sobs and snorts subsided, and she extracted herself from Ben’s arms.
‘Oh God, look at
you,’ she groaned, gripping the dampness on his chest.
‘I’m so sorry,
Em,’ he said quietly, gently brushing her hair back from her face.
Emily sniffed. ‘Me
too.’
Charlotte placed a
tray of steaming cups on the coffee table.
‘Is that…tea?’ Ben
asked.
‘Yes. It’s what
you need in a crisis,’ Charlotte replied, her tone both officious and
sarcastic.
‘You two never
drink tea,’ Ben said.
Emily let out a
weak giggle. ‘Chicken noodle soup and tea will cure most ills, Ben. It’s an old
Evans family tradition.’
‘I thought you
hated tea.’
‘We do.' Emily
giggled properly this time, the kind of hysterical giggle that comes after
hours of weeping. She claimed a cup, took a sip and
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