‘You’re crazy,’ laughed Molly.
‘No, he’s crazy. Crazy in love.’
Molly watched Annette sauntering away, holding her tray aloft as she swished her way through the tables. What did she know? Nobody could explain what being in love felt like.
But suddenly Molly realised that she couldn’t either. She’d never been in love. For sure, she loved and admired George. But this feeling, the sense of two parts making a whole, creating electricity – well, that was something she had only experienced with one man, across a counter, holding a box of pencils.
She left it a couple of days just to be sure that she was really feeling the beginning of a genuine and pure emotion. For nothing less would she consider hurting George. Then, when her heart urged her to press forward, she invented a list of items and approached the supply room.
He was reading through a stock-sheet at his desk, so she called out to him. His delight at her arrival was palpable, and he spoke her name aloud as if it were the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. Electricity had passed through their fingers again as they touched.
And he passed her something – a note, a personal note – with such hope and anguish in his eyes that she couldn’t help but know that his intentions were true, and that this train had already left the station.
Their first conversation was at the lunch table, with Annette talking more than either of them. They met again in the cafeteria, not every day so that people commented, but often enough to be able to talk and share stories. To begin to know each other. The notes continued to come regularly, handed to her at the supply office or passed on to her by her willing accomplice, Annette, and in time she began to respond, replying on requisition notes or order forms or whatever paper she had to hand.
Finally, they dared to meet outside the cafeteria. Avoiding evenings where they might get too caught up in their emotions, Charlie took her to a little restaurant not too far from the factory. It was so simple compared with the lavish settings in which she and George dined that Molly was a little taken aback, but it was charming and quiet, and that was what Charlie had wanted more than anything.
They ordered quickly, and then leaned toward each other across the table as if magnetized, Molly aware of the warmth of Charlie’s knee against her own.
‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ said Charlie with his usual intense gaze. ‘I can hardly believe it.’
‘It’s probably against my better judgment.’ Molly toyed with her napkin, more nervous than she cared to admit. ‘But I’m happy we’re here too.’
Charlie reached out his hand. ‘There are … I want to tell you some things. I know they may change this, and whatever you may feel about it, but I have to be completely honest with you if we have any chance of being together properly.’
‘Okay,’ said Molly hesitantly. ‘Is this about you being married? Because I already know that.’
‘It’s about …’ Charlie didn’t seem to know quite where to start. ‘Well, before I got married, I was … I was in prison. For twenty years,’ he blurted. ‘I was involved in a bank robbery at the age of fifteen, and I was only meant to be the driver so I really didn’t know what I was getting into. Anyway, it was a blood bath, and fifteen people died including some law-enforcement officers and some innocent bystanders. I was spared from the chair because of my age and so on, but sentenced to life imprisonment. I was paroled after two decades when they changed the regulations for lifers, particularly those with exemplary records.’
He looked at Molly with fear in his eyes, then paused for the waiter to put down their plates.
‘Would you say something?’
She hardly knew where to start. ‘Did … did you—? She couldn’t bring herself to use the word “kill”, ‘hurt anyone?’
‘Not a soul,’ said Charlie earnestly. ‘I couldn’t hurt a fly, and I would never hurt a human being, least of all you.’
‘And you didn’t know what you were doing?’
Charlie placed his hand over his heart. ‘I swear on the lives of my babies that I did not know what I was involved in.’
Molly could see how serious he was. ‘I don’t really know what to say, but … thank you for telling me.’
‘That’s not all I wanted to tell you, though, Molly,’ said Charlie, his eyes haunted as if he was plowing on through this fears. ‘I got married straight out of prison. Muriel’s much younger than me, and, you know, very fertile.’
‘You’ve got three children.’
Charlie nodded, then sighed. ‘And another on the way. The baby’s due in a few months.’
‘Another? Muriel’s pregnant – right now?’