the location manager. It’s my job.’
‘Cassie’s the assistant location manager, and that makes it her job. It’s called delegating, Ed. Anyway, you look exhausted.’
‘I am exhausted.’
‘Then go home and try to put your feet up for a while. Spend some time with Charlotte and those gorgeous children of yours. You all look like something out of a Boden advert.’
Ed let out a humourless laugh. ‘Looks can be deceptive, Pen.’
Penny put down her cuppa and leaned closer.
‘What’s the matter, Ed? You and I have worked on umpteen productions together over the years. I’ve seen you go from junior runner on Blue Peter to location manager on a Woody Allen movie, and, no matter how demanding the job, you’ve shown up for work full of enthusiasm and energy. I’ve never seen you out of sorts – until now. You’re usually so cheerful – too bloody cheerful, in fact!’
‘But it hasn’t affected my work?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Has anyone said anything?’
‘No of course not. Don’t be silly.’ She batted away his anxiety with a wave of her hand. ‘No one’s noticed a thing. Except me, and that’s only because we’ve known each other such a long time.’
Ed wiped his glasses clean on the corner of his SuperDry T-shirt and let out a sigh.
‘Oh, I don’t know…’ He hesitated, wondering how to articulate what he was feeling without making it sound melodramatic? ‘Alex has been a bit difficult lately. She’s not been herself and Charlotte’s worried something’s up at school.’
‘She’s fifteen,’ Penny reasoned. ‘They’re unknowable at that age. You and Charlotte are there for her, though. You’re solid, right?’
Solid, thought Ed. Before all this had happened he wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. They both adored the kids and put their needs first. For Ed that involved taking on work that meant they could leave London and buy a large house on the seafront in Worthing, and cover school fees so that both kids got the best education possible, plus a bit left over for long summer holidays in the South of France so they could spend time as a family. For Charlotte it had meant giving up work until the kids started school. Then she had become involved with a local theatre group, helping out with set design – always fitting it around the children’s needs, because Ed wasn’t around to help as much as he would like. In order to command the big salary he had to spend large chunks of time away on location. The last couple of years, he seemed to have spent most of his time at the opposite end of the country to Charlotte and the kids.
‘I think so,’ he replied, trying hard to keep the uncertainty out of his voice. ‘Charlotte says I’m away too much.’
‘Are you?’
‘Perhaps, but only the last year or so. You know how it is in this business, Pen. Projects are tied up years ahead, you sign your life away.’
‘You’re one of the best in the business, Ed. You can pick and choose your projects now.’
‘I’m not so sure. People have short memories.’
‘Only for people they want to forget.’
Ed laughed at this. ‘Point taken.’
But the thing that was really worrying him was the one thing he couldn’t bring himself to tell Penny. Over the past year the distance between him and Charlotte had been growing, and it was a distance that had nothing to do with being at opposite ends of the country. They always used to make the most of the weeks when he was at home, but now Charlotte seemed to spend every minute she could at the theatre. Worse still, she’d taken to sleeping in the spare room, citing his fidgeting in bed as the reason. ‘I’ve got used to sleeping without you, Ed,’ she’d told him bluntly.
Ed felt sure there was more to it. Whatever their ups and downs over the years, the two of them had always been physically close. It made this new distance between them all the more painful. Then four weeks ago, during his last stay at home, he’d waited until Charlotte had gone to take a bath before sneaking into the spare bedroom and picking up her phone. Though he hated himself for it, he clicked on her inbox and scrolled through the messages. Among them he found one that made his heart stop. It was a text message from Henry, the director at the theatre. He could hardly bear to think about the words he’d seen: I love you …can’t live without you …
The thought that his wife was in love with someone else tore at his insides. He pushed it away.
‘Look,’ said Penny, pulling him back to the present, ‘what you need is a break. Why don’t you bring them all down here for the weekend? One of the cottages in the village is for rent. It’s recently been bought by some second-homers who’re letting it out when they aren’t here. It would be perfect for you and the family, and the best thing about it is that it’s got this amazing beach cabin on Shellsand Bay that comes as part of the package.’
‘How do you know it’s available?’
‘Queenie told me. The owners have engaged her as their key holder. I can easily get their number off her.’ Penny picked up her phone and started to call Queenie.
‘Hang on, I’m not sure. I’d need to check with Charlotte – they might have plans.’
‘Ed, stop procrastinating. You need to spend some time with your family and that’s that.’
Ed did as he was told. Now that the idea was in his head he ached to see his kids. The last four weeks he’d avoided going home, citing complications with the production. Anything rather than confront the situation and risk Charlotte telling him that she no longer loved him, their marriage was over.
Maybe Penny was right. They hadn’t been seeing enough of each other, that was all. He’d been letting his imagination run riot. Yes, they could sort this all out – a little holiday was exactly what they needed.
‘Please can you get off my foot, Molly?’ Charlotte looked down into the soft adoring eyes of their bearded collie. Molly was a shaggy-coated four-year-old, absolutely enormous and intent on getting as close as she could to Charlotte, which meant that crushed toes were part and parcel of being a dog owner in the Appleby household.
Charlotte eyed the ingredients in front of her. Prawns in their shells. Coconut milk. Now what else was it that Nigel Slater had said should go in? The recipe had been in the Observer at the weekend, but she’d forgotten to tear it out before chucking the paper into the recycling box. She’d decided to give it a go anyway, hoping that she could rely on her memory. A green curry – would that be Indian? Or Sri Lankan? She rummaged in the cupboard and fished out some curry powder. What else? There’d been a green herb of some sort…And was it a lemon or a lime he used? She went to the fridge: there was no lime, so it would have to be lemon, and the only green herb she could see was a slightly withered stalk of parsley. That’d do. Maybe chuck in a carrot or two? And mangetout – she had plenty of mangetout and it was definitely one of Nigel’s ingredients.
Any other evening Charlotte would have abandoned all thought of making the dish as soon as she discovered the recipe was lost, but tonight she was glad of the challenge. She needed something to distract her from the worries racing through her mind. Alex should have been home an hour ago. They’d agreed that she could go
