Ah.
‘I sort of went out with him to the Vibe Lounge again last week. We had a nice time. I thought everything was OK between us again.’
‘What are you like? You could give Mrs Gullible lessons in being gullible.’
‘I know. That’s it though. I’m finished with him.’
‘I don’t mean to be mean, but it sort of sounds like he’s finished with you.’
‘Thanks, Charlie.’
She puts her arm round me. ‘Don’t be down, we’re going to be immersed in all things Gazza Bazza and you won’t be able to stay miserable for long. A little dose of Gary cures all ills.’
So we head off to the hotel and I’m surprised to see that it’s already packed when we get there even though it’s not yet eleven in the morning on a Sunday and, by rights, as I’m not at work I should still be in bed. Take That music fills the air.
There are a few hundred women of all shapes and sizes, many of them wearing similar T-shirts to our own. Amid the women, I spot a solitary bloke. Nice Paul is standing chatting in a little roped off area reserved for those fans bearing the coveted Platinum ticket. ‘Hey,’ I say. ‘Your mate is over there.’
‘Oh,’ Charlie says and, if I’m not very much mistaken, she brightens considerably.
We queue to exchange our tickets for two wristbands and, as we finally head towards Nice Paul, he sees us and swiftly brings over two glasses of prosecco. Might as well start as we mean to go on.
‘Good to see you, girls.’ We clink glasses together. ‘Here’s to a great day,’ Paul says.
So we drink prosecco, go to talks about Gary and his life, buy Gary memorabilia – not me, but Charlie and Paul. I watch them, heads together, cooing over old photos of Gary, autographed posters or coasters with Gary’s photos on them as if they were priceless antiques. All of the Barlow stuff you could ever require is here to buy. While they’re busy I grab them both a mug that says ‘Keep Calm and listen to Gary Barlow’ and quickly pay for them, before secreting them in my handbag. They will soooo love them.
At lunchtime we avail ourselves of the barbecue buffet and sit outside on the grass while the fluffy clouds drift above us in a sky that’s, quite fittingly, sky blue. We listen to a set by one of the foremost tribute acts and, I’m no expert, but he certainly gives it a good go. Mr Barlow’s fans seem more than appreciative.
We are all proseccoed out by mid-afternoon and in desperate need of the more traditional British refreshment – a good cup of tea. So Nice Paul goes off in search for one for us.
I lie back on the grass, enjoying the feeling of the sun on my face and realise that I spend far too much of my life indoors. ‘He’s nice,’ I say.
‘Yeah,’ Charlie agrees. ‘He’s not Gary but he’s pretty good.’
‘I don’t mean the tribute act. I mean Paul.’
‘Oh. Yeah. He’s great too.’ Though she still sounds quite non-committal about him. Surely his quiet charm must be having some effect on her?
‘I’m having a lovely time,’ I start, ‘and I get that Gary is a totally fabulous human being.’ All these ladies can’t be wrong. ‘But why spend your life following someone unattainable when there’s a great bloke right next to you?’
‘Paul?’
‘Who else? He seems so nice and you patently share the same interests.’ Actually make that ‘interest’ in the singular. ‘He clearly likes you. It could be the start of something special.’
‘I’ve been married, you know.’ Charlie picks at her fingernails. I look at her aghast. ‘Seriously? I thought you were resolutely single? All the time I’ve known you and yet you’ve never said a word about that?’
Charlie looks at me with tears in her eyes. ‘There’s a very good reason for that, Ruby.’
Chapter Forty-One
My brain tries to make sense of this unexpected revelation. I’ve known Charlie for months now. She’s my best mate in the world and I’d no idea she was hiding this from me. As she said, there must be a very good reason. I thought we told each other everything. She knows all about my dismal marriage, especially Simon and the Crystal Vajayjay. She’s had chapter and verse on that. She probably feels as if she’s seen it herself. I know I do.
Charlie looks down at her feet as she continues. ‘I try very hard to pretend that he doesn’t exist, that he was never in my life at all. I don’t even like to say his name. ’
‘Oh, Charlie, why? Was he that bad?’
She nods, clearly upset to be recalling their time together. ‘A shocker.’
I can tell from her expression that it’s clearly painful for her, so I put my arm round her. ‘My poor girl. No wonder I’ve never heard you talk about him. But we’re friends. You know you can tell me anything.’
Charlie gives me a sideways glance. It looks as if she wants to tell me.
‘You know about my tacky threesome,’ I remind her with a nudge. ‘It can’t be any worse than that.’
She tries a laugh. ‘Nothing’s worse than that!’
‘There you go then.’
She sighs at me. ‘He was a nightmare, Ruby. A proper nightmare. Abusive in every way that you could think – emotionally, physically.’ I feel sick that she hasn’t been able to confide in me until now. ‘I didn’t mean to keep it a secret. I just never tell anyone.’
‘He sounds like a total shit.’ At least with all our troubles, Simon never threatened me. I don’t know how I would have coped with that. ‘He’s gone now though.’
‘Yeah. At least I hope so. Knob.’ She tries to make light of it, but I can tell that it still hurts her. ‘Even though the bruises had long gone and I had new locks on my door, it still felt as if he was in my life. He’d ground me down for so long that I struggled to manage without him.’
‘Oh, Charlie.’
‘Seems a stupid thing to say, right?’ I look at the tears welling in her eyes and want to brush them away. ‘It’s OK. Everything’s fine now. His job took him to another part of the country – thank God – and slowly my life returned to normal. More or less.’ Charlie studies the floor. ‘There are still times when some small thing reminds me of him and I’m right back there. I feel sick just thinking about him. Unless it’s happened to you, you don’t know how it feels. How it saps your confidence, drains every ounce of joy out of life. It took me so long to recover, I couldn’t return to that.’
‘I don’t blame you.’
‘So that’s why I stick to Gary. He’s never going to hurt me or let me down. He’s never going to break my ribs or knock out my teeth or pull out chunks of my hair. Gary sings me to sleep every night and I don’t have to do a single thing in return. I don’t have to worry about what mood he’s going to come home in because he’s never going to do that.’