Page 42 of Famous Last Words

51.52484054385982, -0.09271149661234793

9 p.m.

Sent from textanon.com

Funny, spam is usually purporting to be someone, isn’t it? To get you to do something? Cam replaces her phone in her jeans pocket and heads back out to Charlie, telling herself that the text is nothing. That she’s rattled by a stupid steak and a milkshake. That’s all. And overreacting to spam.

She filled in a form last night, to officially declare Luke dead so that she can sell the house, finally, and move on. That will be why she feels weird. She had to wait seven years to do so. And, as she filled it in, having convinced herself it was the right thing to do, she found herself thinking the thought she never admits to anyone: that, deep down, she thinks he is alive.

She approaches Charlie, and he doesn’t look up yet, is immersed in his phone, possibly work. Cam sometimes finds herself thinking, when she is with him, that he is not unlike herself.

‘Are we seeing Libby this weekend, did you say?’ he asks.

Cam winces. She did say that, didn’t she? In a moment of generosity to Charlie, she’d offered up a barbecue atLibby’s in return for not being committed enough. Because that’s the way it is for Cam: a brilliant day with Charlie, then three days full of doubt follow it. God knows what he thinks.

‘I don’t know – she’s struggling a bit,’ Cam says. ‘Latest round of IVF failed.’

‘Oh,’ Charlie says, his face falling. For two reasons, perhaps: disappointment for Libby, but evidence, too, that when Cam receives news like this, she doesn’t always reach out to tell him.

‘Is she with Polly tonight?’

‘Oh yes,’ Cam says, thinking that, these days, she couldn’t keep Libby away from Polly even if she wanted to.

She smiles as she thinks of her. That baby who laughed at everything and threw balls with abandon is now an almost-eight-year-old who laughs at everything and throws balls with abandon. Funny how sometimes everything changes and sometimes nothing does. Polly was Polly from day one.

Charlie nods, but says nothing. There is something in his history, Cam thinks, that triggers him. Perhaps he wanted children, perhaps he didn’t, but he won’t be drawn on the topic of parenthood. She supposes some people might have had that conversation by now, but they haven’t. Funny how long you can float along without a plan.

He looks up, smiles, and says: ‘Maybe we could send Libby something?’

And Cam thinks this is the exact wrong thing to do.

‘I don’t know,’ Cam says. ‘She doesn’t like to … to show vulnerability, I suppose.’ The thing Cam wants to say to Charlie is that he doesn’tknowher sister. You can meet someone, be present in their life, even act like you know themwell, but he doesn’t know Libby the way Cam does; doesn’t know that Libby would want to throw a bunch of conciliatory flowers in the bin.

Only the other week, the way that Libby chose to tell Cam that the IVF hadn’t worked was to say, ‘Well, I can eat whatever the fuck I like now, because the bugger didn’t stick around.’

It wasn’t out of character for Libby, but Cam had been surprised, nevertheless, that her sister’s cynicism pervaded so deeply. Her words were laced with pain that, clearly, she thought she was hiding well.

‘I’m trying to think what I would like if I were in a shitty situation,’ Charlie continues. ‘Like – probably just someone to make me my dinner and let me rot in self-pity.’

Cam lets out a surprised laugh, thinking that Charlie really understands and empathizes with people’s darkness sometimes.

‘Let’s just do that ourselves,’ she says.

‘It’s a date.’

Cam’s mind keeps going to that text message. It’s a strange kind of spam.Nine p.m.? What spam includes a time?

‘I just feel for them,’ Charlie says earnestly. A beat, then he adds: ‘My ex didn’t want kids.’

And Cam looks at him, thinking she needs to forget that text, concentrate on him. She can tell that this admission has cost him something. It spills out of him with a wince: unusual for Charlie, ordinarily so slick.

‘Oh – I’m … I see,’ Cam says, wondering if she really wants to go here now. Evidently, he decided while she was in the bathroom that he did.

‘Yes. She left because I wanted kids and she didn’t.’ His gaze lands on hers, an even gaze. It makes sense. His tensionsometimes when she talks about Polly … ‘It was an ultimatum from me, really, but she is the one who left – I wouldn’t have left her, actually.’ He sucks his bottom lip in, his expression slightly guarded. ‘It’s her prerogative, naturally,’ he says, in his typically overtly thoughtful manner. Cam is suddenly struck by the thought that Luke would think Charlie insincere, even though she doesn’t.

No. Leave, she commands Luke.Your opinion doesn’t matter to me now.

Charlie pushes his food aside. ‘She said I’d end up resenting her. Smart woman,’ he adds.

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