Chapter Text
The moment that Rhona returns to the land of living, she’s aware of several things: she’s in a very uncomfortable position; her mouth is as dry as the Sahara; and everything hurts. Her eyes flutter open and she takes in her blurred surroundings. She’s sprawled on the couch, with a knitted blanket on top of her that she’s sure wasn’t there when she fell asleep. She moves her head slightly and sees a flash of blonde hair in the general direction of the arm chair. Vanessa? Vanessa! She must have arrived with Rhona’s painkillers while she was asleep.
Rhona blinks to try and clear her vision, and her elation turns to disappointment with the realisation that it’s not Vanessa at all. It’s Charity, sitting in the arm chair, with her head bowed, staring intently at her phone. Why the hell is she here?
Rhona starts pulling herself carefully into an upright position and Charity’s head snaps up in response to the movement.
“Finally she’s awake!” Charity announces sarcastically to no-one in particular.
“Where’s Vanessa?” Rhona asks in a voice that comes out far croakier than she’d expected.
In a second Charity’s at Rhona’s side, silently offering her a glass of water that the vet accepts gratefully. As she drinks, Rhona is aware of Charity focusing her gaze about a foot above Rhona’s head, avoiding eye contact. Rhona’s grateful because she can’t help but feel uncomfortable, Charity seeing her like this. It’s bad enough showing weakness in front of friends like Vanessa and Marlon, but Charity’s never been her friend or shown anything even approaching friendliness, so there’s an added awkwardness.
When Rhona’s drained the glass, she makes a move to place it back on the table, but Charity deftly takes it out of her hand with a casual “Careful. Wouldn’t want to burst a stitch”, and moves away, towards the kitchen.
“Where’s Vanessa?” asks Rhona again.
Charity shrugs carelessly as she pauses at the door. “Work. Got a meeting with the guy from Porterfield. Stables contract or summat.”
“I thought Paddy was handling that?”
“Ness said he had to go on a emergency callout,” she frowns. “A parrot in Demdyke or something. I dunno.” And then she’s gone.
Rhona can hear her in the kitchen, turning the tap on and off. She’s back in no time, a fresh glass of water in hand, which she places on a coaster on the side table.
“So, a parrot emergency?” Rhona says, just to say something.
Charity shrugs again. “I didn’t ask too many questions. Parrot fever I think.”
Charity’s acting like she’s trying to recall details from a conversation she hadn’t been listening to in the first place, but Rhona knows that Charity can remember every bloody word Vanessa has ever said to her. Charity never forgets anything where she’s concerned.
“What are you doing here anyway?” asks Rhona. And she knows it comes out wrong, defensive, but she’s in pain, and it’s Charity, and Charity has never been her friend anyway so what does it matter?
“It beats looking after the pub or the kids,” she says, half-joking. When it doesn’t get the response she hopes for, she sighs and says “Vanessa was feeling terrible about abandoning you in your hour of need.”
“So she forced you into keeping an eye on me?”
“Nobody forces me to do anything,” she says lightly. Too lightly. “Especially not Vanessa.”
Rhona snorts. “Vanessa doesn’t need to force you to do anything. Just has to bat her eyelashes and you’ll do whatever she says.”
Charity raises an eyebrow. “She told you that, did she?”
Rhona immediately regrets her comment. Not because of how pathetic it makes Charity sound (because she’s not worried about hurting Charity’s feelings), but because of how manipulative it makes Vanessa seem. Especially because Vanessa’s anything but manipulative. Vanessa’s one of the most honest people Rhona knows. Every feeling she’s ever had has been written vividly across her face. You know where you stand with Vanessa. Not like the mercurial Charity, who at this moment appears to actually be contemplating the value of what Rhona’s just said.
Rhona is just about to offer a half-hearted retraction of her words when Charity shakes her head firmly. “No, Ness wouldn’t tell you something like that. She wouldn’t even think it. She isn’t like that.”
“No,” Rhona agrees. “It was just an observation. Vanessa doesn’t need to say anything. I can see how you are with her. You’d do anything to keep her.”
Charity doesn’t say anything in response. Just looks at her steadily. Rhona feels warm under her gaze, and moves to throw the blanket off. Charity keeps looking at her, and Rhona is aware she’s waiting for something. Maybe an apology? Well she’ll have a bloody long wait. It’s not Rhona’s fault if Charity takes offence. What Rhona said was just a statement of the facts. The entire village can see Charity’s whipped when it comes to Vanessa.
Vanessa. The name sparks a sudden realisation. If Charity’s here in Vanessa’s stead, then—
Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.
“Has Vanessa…” Rhona hesitates awkwardly.
“Mentioned your painkillers?” supplies Charity, easily. Rhona nods uncomfortably.
“Yep.” She pats her jacket pocket. “Got them right here.”
Rhona looks at her speculatively. Vanessa likes to do everything just right, down to the second, but with Charity there’s a chance...
Rhona hates herself for it, but she can’t help but say, “You gonna hand them over to me then?”
Charity glances at the clock on the mantelpiece. “It’s two fifteen,” she says calmly.
Rhona follows her eyes. “So I’m about due then,” she says, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice.
“Yeah, at two forty.”
“Two fifteen, two forty, what’s the difference?”
“Nothing if you’re an addict,” comes the swift reply.
“I need them!” she says, only it comes out high pitched and desperate. “I need them,” she says again, forcing her voice to sound as normal as possible. “I’m in pain. Seriously.”
“I know. And you can have your pills.” Rhona smiles gratefully. “At two forty.”
The smile slips off her lips and she smacks her hand down on the couch in frustration.
“Since when did you start playing by the rules?”
“I don’t. But Ness does, so…” she gestures between them “...here we are.”
Rhona rolls her eyes grumpily. The next twenty five minutes are going to be hell.
They have nothing to say to one another - they never have really, they’ve never been friends - so Charity sits down again and goes back to her phone. Rhona remains on the couch, arms folded like a petulant child, watching the clock. She can’t concentrate. Her whole body feels itchy, there’s a dull ache starting up behind her left eye, and her side is burning in a way that makes her want to rip off her skin. She chances a look at Charity, who is still engrossed in her phone.
Rhona briefly considers using her own phone to pass the time, but the thought of all the messages awaiting her - curiosity, concern, sympathy - leaves her cold. She feels an irrational stab of jealousy at the way Charity can switch off from the rest of the world and immerse herself in whatever it is she’s looking at.
“Looking at anything interesting?”
Charity jerks her head upwards and something like embarrassment clouds her eyes. She hesitates, as though weighing up her options, and Rhona wonders if Charity’s going to lie to her face.
“I’m catching up on some reading,” she says evenly, eyes daring Rhona to laugh. On the back of Rhona’s confused expression she adds, “I’ve got an app. To download and read books.”
“Oh. Right.” Rhona’s sure she must look as disbelieving as she sounds. “I didn’t know—“
“— I could read?” Charity’s eyes flash with what might be anger and Rhona remembers all the times she’s seen Charity go off on someone at the pub.
“No!” Rhona back-pedals furiously. “Obviously you can read. I just didn’t know you liked to.”
It’s not the smoothest thing Rhona’s ever said but it works. Charity turns down the intensity of her glare a few notches. She’s still looking at Rhona with more aggression than the vet generally cares for in her own living room, so Rhona tries to defuse the situation with a question.
“What are you reading? Anything I might have heard of?”
Charity gives Rhona a hard stare until she’s sure the answer won’t be laughed at. ”The Turn of the Screw.”
Rhona nods, nonplussed. If she’d ever given thought to what Charity likes to read (she hadn’t), she’d have assumed chick lit or a trashy biography.
“Do you often read on your phone?” This is the most ridiculous conversation to be having with Charity Dingle, of all people, but Rhona’s suddenly dying to know more.
“Nah. No time, what with the kids and the pub. Most of my reading is done in bed. Ness got me a kindle for my birthday. I only use the phone in dire emergencies like this.” She winks.
“A kindle?” The world has gone mad, surely.
“Yep.”
“A kindle?” she says again. “Really?”
“Best present ever,” says Charity firmly. “I can access pretty much any book I want. It’s backlit so I don’t need to keep the light on and disturb Ness’s beauty sleep. And, I can increase the font size- no squinting and no Ness on my case complaining I need my eyes tested.” She’s actually being serious.
Rhona can’t imagine buying Charity a kindle. To be fair, she can’t imagine buying Charity anything, but it’s not like they’re friends or anything, so why would she? Okay, okay, Charity is her best friend’s girlfriend. Fiancée actually. Maybe even one day wife, if they ever get there. If they do, then Rhona will definitely have to get her a present. You can’t refuse to acknowledge your best friend’s wife, can you?
Charity sighs, bringing Rhona out of her musings. “Has the thought of me reading a book broken your brain?”
“No, no. I just… if you’d asked me to guess what Vanessa got you for your birthday then I’d never have guessed a kindle. Not in a thousand guesses.”
“What would you have guessed then?” Charity looks vaguely interested, in spite of herself. “What would you expected Vanessa to get me?”
Put on the spot, Rhona’s mind is a blank. What does she know about Charity, a woman she’s lived in such close proximity to for years. What does Charity even like?
Money? Too impersonal.
Alcohol? No, she runs a pub.
Being a bitch? Can’t really wrap that up in a bow.
“Lingerie,” she says finally.
“Lingerie?” Charity looks almost disappointed by the guess, like it’s confirmed something she’s always suspected about Rhona.
“For her,” she clarifies quickly. “Lingerie for her.”
“Ohhhh,” a twinkle flashes in Charity’s eye. “Like a ‘come upstairs and unwrap your present’ type thing?” She grins lasciviously and Rhona feels like she’s passed a test she hadn’t even realised she was taking.
Charity gets lost in a memory (or a fantasy- with Charity is there much difference?) for a few moments, and then says, with a smile in her voice, “You were half-right.”
“Half-right?”
“The kindle wasn’t the only gift. There was lingerie too. But I couldn’t wait to get upstairs before the unwrapping began.” She grins again and Rhona feels her cheeks reddening, which makes Charity grin wider.
“Please, no more details.” Rhona holds up her hand in a stop gesture. “She’s my best friend. I do not need to hear this.”
Charity sniggers, but she complies by settling back down in her chair and saying nothing else.
They sit in silence for a few moments, but it’s awkward again because they aren’t friends and haven’t earned the kind of familiarity that leads to comfort in each other’s company. Rhona sneaks a glance at the clock and sees only five minutes have elapsed since she last looked. She briefly contemplates the likelihood of the clock being broken, but she knows it’s not true. It’s just time itself mocking her. She adjusts her position slightly, and it makes her side burn more ferociously. She exhales sharply. Charity says nothing. And it infuriates her. Charity can see she’s in pain, but can’t be bothered to offer her a pill to provide some relief. Really, what difference does a poxy twenty minutes make? Like Charity’s never broken a rule before. Vanessa she could understand- she’s a goody two-shoes. But Charity’s meant to give no fucks and live in the moment. In her misery, Rhona has a sudden urge to say something that’ll shake Charity up and wrest the smirk from her lips. A few thoughts flash through her mind before she settles on something that she’s sure will have the desired effect.
“Things going well between you and Vanessa?”
“Yes. Why? Has someone said something?” Charity’s hackles are up. She can sense something has shifted.
“No, I was just making conversation. As far as I know, Vanessa’s very happy.”
Charity nods uneasily.
Rhona nods to Charity’s hand. “I’m surprised she hasn’t got round to getting you an engagement ring yet.” If Charity figures out what Rhona’s trying to do then it won’t work, so she tries hard to sound casual, like she’s not trying to provoke a reaction.
Charity looks at her own bare hand for a moment, as if surprised by the comment, but then her expression lifts and she says, “I’ve told her I don’t want one.”
“Why not? Too hard to flirt with the punters with a ring on your finger?” The second she says it, Rhona worries she’s gone too far and sounds too bitter. But if Charity notices then she doesn’t show it. She answers the question earnestly.
“A ring doesn’t really mean that much to me. I’ve had more than my fair share of engagement rings already. Big, small, flashy, subtle. I’ve done it all. But that experience has taught me that the ring isn’t the important thing.”
“Then what is?”
“The marriage itself.” Sentiments like that don’t suit Charity. They sound trite falling from her lips. But she looks genuine enough, her eyes open and clear.
“Why did you propose to her?” Rhona’s not sure why but she’s suddenly curious to hear Charity’s answer.
A mean thought flashes into Rhona’s mind but she can’t bring herself to say it. She’s been mean enough already. Rhona would call her own behaviour out of character, but she knows this is a part of her that comes out with her addiction.
Charity must sense the hesitation and what’s behind it, because although she narrows her eyes, she says softly, “spit it out.”
“Was it…” Rhona hesitates before taking a breath and saying in a sudden rush on the exhale, “was it just a panicked reaction to the stabbing?”
For a few moments the only sound in the room is the clock ticking on the mantelpiece, which seems to be beating the same tattoo as the pain in Rhona’s side. She shifts herself again, but she can’t seem to find a position that’s anything less than agonising. She closes her eyes tightly, wishing she could blink herself out of existence, and is so focused on the pain that she doesn’t even realise Charity is speaking at first.
“Well, it took a while, but there it is.”
“What’s that?” Rhona opens her eyes and looks at Charity and almost shrinks back at the anger she sees turned full force on her.
“I always knew you didn’t approve of me.” Despite what she’s saying, Charity’s voice is low and silky. “Suppose I should be glad you’re finally being honest about it.”
“I didn’t mean-“
“-Don’t.” Charity cuts her off sharply. “We both know what you mean. You reckon Charity Dingle, patron saint of mistakes, has made another spur-of-the-moment bad decision without thinking through the consequences.” Without warning, she launches herself out of the chair and stalks over to the window, glaring out of it like the world offends her.
“Why does everyone hold me to standards that don’t apply to anyone else?” She addresses it to the window, her back to Rhona. “Why do I not get the benefit of the doubt?” She spins around and faces Rhona, anger coming off her in waves. “Three times I’ve been married.” She counts off on her fingers. “Chris, Jai, Declan. Some bad decisions there, I grant you. I thought I could grow to love Chris, and for a while I almost did. Until Debbie and Cain and the past caught up with me. Jai I thought loved me. He was different. Well, he seemed different until he wasn’t, and he copped off with another woman and had a secret kid. And Declan…” she laughs mirthlessly. “Declan was a total disaster.”
Rhona watches her carefully, saying nothing.
“Every time I express an interest in anyone, this village assumes it’s going to end in a disaster of my own making. And that my only motive is to get what I can.”
Rhona can’t argue with that. It’s a bang-on assessment.
“What I don’t get though, is why everyone else escapes the judgment.” She looks genuinely mystified as she turns to Rhona for an answer.
“How do you mean?”
“How many times has Marlon been married? Tricia, Donna, Laurel, The Demon Headmaster. And did anyone express any doubts about him marrying wife number 4? Nope. It was treated like some big love story.” She rolls her eyes. “And Paddy. He’s been up the aisle three times, hasn’t he? Our Mandy, Emily, you. Don’t hear anyone suggesting he might be making yet another mistake with our Chas though.” She snorts scornfully.
There’s something about the injustice of it all that prompts Rhona want to offer up her own confession.
“I’ve been married three times as well,” she says, aware that she might be making the situation worse.
Charity narrows her eyes. “Eh?”
“Yeah. You know about Paddy and Pierce. But I was married once before that, years ago. His name was Paul. Didn’t last long. Eighteen months between the first date and the divorce papers getting drawn up.” She shakes her head at the memory. “We were too… too a lot of things. Too young. Too foolish. Moving too fast. Vanessa knew I was making a mistake. Tried to warn me, but I wouldn’t listen. Thought I knew better.”
“She’s a good judge of character,” comes the response. “She can always spot a wrong ‘un a mile off.” Charity frowns, almost daring Rhona to say differently, but Rhona nods to acknowledge the truth of what she’s said.
“I thought I’d got it right though, when I married Paddy. Right up until I found about the affair. And Pierce - well, the less said about Pierce the better.” She grimaces with the memory.
Charity softens slightly. “What happened with Pierce - you didn’t deserve that. No one does.”
“No. It never leaves you though.” She looks back at Charity. “You know that better than anyone.”
Charity nods. “Yeah, I do.” The anger has dissipated now, but her eyes are still stormy.
“Vanessa saw through him as well. Had him pegged the second she met him. Why didn’t I listen to her?” Looking back, Rhona doesn’t understand herself. Why did she choose a man she didn’t know over her best friend?
“Because he was cunning. He hid himself well. Seemed charming and respectable. Put on a good front. Managed to gloss over the evil underneath. And you didn’t know any better.” Rhona wonders whether it’s still Pierce that Charity’s referring to. “Sometimes I wonder though. If Ness is such a good judge of character then what the hell’s she doing with me?”
Rhona tilts her head and looks at Charity for a long moment. “Maybe she’s doing what she always does. Seeing something the rest of us can’t.” Charity drops her gaze, uncertain if Rhona’s insulting her or complimenting her. Rhona’s not completely sure herself if she’s honest. Painfully aware of the tension in the room, Rhona offers up what she hopes is a conciliatory smile and says, “You’re right though. About the village holding you to a different standard to everyone else. They do. We all do. I don’t know why really.”
Charity’s eyes flick back to her. “‘Cos I’m an ex-prostitute. A slag. I’m dirty and damaged, so how could I possibly know what real love is?” The bitterness is back, albeit diluted.
“You love Vanessa.” It’s a statement, not a question, and the mere mention of Vanessa’s name brings a warmth to her eyes.
“I do, yeah.” Charity lets out a deep sigh and makes her way over to the sofa. “Budge up.” Rhona complies, surprised when Charity sits down next to her.
Charity sinks into the cushions and then turns to face Rhona. “So. Paul, Paddy, Pierce. And now Pete. You got a thing for blokes with names beginning with ‘P’? Is Pollard next on your list?”
Rhona can’t help the laugh that bubbles out. “Oh god no.”
“Maybe someone should warn Pearl,” she suggests mockingly.
Rhona laughs again, the first real laughter she’s had since the accident. The movement causes an ache, but it’s almost nice to be aching for a good reason. “Vanessa is always going on about how funny you are.” She offers a smile to Charity. “Funny ha-ha, not funny weird. I think she might be right.”
Rhona can almost predict the response, and it comes as expected: “I’m always hilarious.”
“Hilarious? Try mean.”
“Whatever. Doesn’t mean it’s not funny just cos you don’t appreciate it.” She huffs but it’s clearly only for effect. There’s no malice there. Rhona tries to remember whether she and Charity have ever had a one to one conversation before; whether they’ve ever shared a joke. All she can recall is sarcastic jibes while Charity poured her drinks. She wonders what Charity would be like as a friend. It’s unimaginable: what it would be like to say something meaningful to Charity and get real sincerity back.
When she looks again at Charity, she’s surprised to see a look of indecision on her face.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“I never answered your question,” Charity says.
“My question?”
“About why I proposed.”
Rhona flushes. “I shouldn’t have asked,” she says quickly, regretting having steered them into this conversation in the first place and risking the fragile peace between them.
“You’re worried about Vanessa. You don’t want her to get hurt. I get that.” Charity plays with the edge of the blanket that’s been pushed off Rhona and dumped between them. “How did you feel when you heard Vanessa had been stabbed?” she asks suddenly.
“I was terrified,” Rhona says quietly. “I can still remember Paddy telling me. It didn’t seem real. But her blood - he’d washed it off his hands, but he’d got some on his shirt.” She shuddered at the memory. “And I could see from his face that it was bad.”
“We’d had a fight. A stupid fight over something ridiculously petty. Said some things we didn’t mean. And she stormed off. Next thing I know, I’m getting a phone call from her that doesn’t make any sense. All I could make out was something about her being outside. So I went out and-“ she stops, unable to finish her thought. “She looked awful,” she breathes out. “But the only thing she was worried about was Johnny. Insisted I go and find him.” She won’t meet Rhona’s gaze now, keeps fiddling with a loose thread. “I didn’t want to. I wanted to go to the hospital with her, but she insisted.”
“You saved him,” says Rhona with a small smile.
“I was in the right place at the right time,” comes the dismissive response. “In some ways, it was a blessing. Looking for Johnny gave me something to focus on other than Vanessa. It was like this mantra in my head, Find Johnny-Find Johnny-Find Johnny. And then get him back to his mum.” She bites her lip. “When I got to the hospital and they told me she needed more surgery… I thought my world was ending, that this was it. I’d had my five minutes of happiness and it was time to go back to real life.” She blinks back a sudden onslaught of tears, rubs her eyes roughly with a shaking hand.
Rhona isn’t sure what to do. She’d reach out if it was anyone else, if she wasn’t almost trapped in position by the pain, if she thought Charity wouldn’t respond angrily, if she and Charity were friends. So she stays where she is and says nothing and does nothing and feels like a coward.
After what feels like an eternity, Charity regains her composure. “That first night she spent in the hospital, when the worst of it was over, I didn’t sleep a wink,” she says eventually. “Kept playing things over in my head. Thinking about how much I loved her. Whether I’d told her enough. Whether she knew. And you know what the worst bit was?” She doesn’t wait for Rhona to answer. “I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure if she really knew just how I felt.”
“She knew.” The words surprise Rhona almost as much as Charity. “She knows. She always says…” she catches herself in what she’s about to say, and then forges on anyway. “She says she knows you. That you can’t hide anything from her. That there’s a connection between you she’s never had with anyone else. She gets you.”
A small smile ghosts Charity’s lips. “That’s why I had to propose. I needed to be sure she knew how I felt. How I still feel.”
“Was it nerve-wracking?”
“Proposing?” Charity quirks a smile in Rhona’s direction. “Terrifying. You saw how much I screwed it up.” She chuckles ruefully.
“The first time,” corrects Rhona. Charity looks up in surprise.
“Huh?”
“Things didn’t go so well the first time. But whatever you did the second time obviously worked.”
“Whatever I did? Did Vanessa not tell you what happened?”
Rhona shakes her head. “She told me it was perfect, but she didn’t go into details. Said it was a private moment between the two of you.”
If she’s honest with herself, this is why Rhona doesn’t like Charity. Because of the distance she’s putting between Rhona and her best friend. Vanessa never used to keep things from her. Rhona has heard about every last one of her drunken hook-ups and ill-fated flings. All the details of her relationship with Kirin. Her pregnancy. Finding a sister she never knew she had. Reuniting with her dad. But since Charity, she’s been pulling away. Not a lot - she’s been hovering around Rhona ever since the accident, and she’s always willing to have a girly chat or discuss whatever’s going on - but there’s a barrier now that wasn’t there before. Vanessa has a life with someone else. And someone else gets to hear all her secrets, and take away her pain, and put a smile on her face. And Rhona knows she should be happy for her friend, should celebrate the fact that she’s found someone that makes her so very happy, but Rhona’s in pain, and she’s vulnerable, and her best friend is slipping away, and she can’t do anything except watch.
“I wasn’t very eloquent,” Charity says, pulling Rhona back into the moment. “But I asked the question. And she said yes. Without hesitation.” Even now, she marvels at how readily Vanessa agreed.
“And so now you’re getting married.”
“Yep.”
“Vanessa’s excited.”
Charity rolls her eyes.
“Aren’t you?”
“Why would I be? I’ve had enough weddings to last me several lifetimes.” She shifts a little closer, as though imparting a secret. “To be honest I’m more excited about the marriage.”
“The marriage?”
“Yeah. I can’t wait.” She grins. “Maybe that’s where I’ve been going wrong all this time. Searching for a husband when what I really needed was a wife.”
“So you think you’ll get it right this time?”
Charity raises an eyebrow. Rhona’s obviously not hidden the tone of her voice as well as she hopes. “I hope so. I’ve made a good start with this one anyway. Didn’t propose for money- the way the Vet’s Practice is going, I might be bringing more cash to the table than Ness.” Rhona winces, but Charity ignores it and continues. “Didn’t propose to make a point, or solve a problem, or for the sake of a scam. Didn’t even propose out of revenge. So yeah, I think I might just be onto a winner with this one. Besides, I’ve got a secret weapon this time.”
“And what’s that?” She can’t imagine what the answer might be: a pile of cash? Some diabolical scheme?
“Ness.”
“Vanessa?” Rhona is shocked.
“Yep. Ness is my secret weapon. I might have been married before, but I ain’t ever been married to her. And I reckon that might just make all the difference in the world.” She sits back, pleased with herself, a dreamy smile on her face.
It’s the same dazed look she’s seen on Vanessa’s face a million times: when Charity smiles at her from across the bar; when she gets an unexpected text and doesn’t say who it’s from but sends a reply with a dopey smile on her face; when Charity says or does anything at all. Rhona loves Pete, or at least she thinks she does, but they’ve never had that thing that Vanessa and Charity have. That undefinable ‘rightness’. Rhona doesn’t think she’s ever had that with anyone, and all of a sudden the pain in her side is not match for her loneliness. She’s jealous, she realises. She wants the desperate kind of love that Charity and Vanessa have.
“Here.” Charity reaches over and hands her a pill. “It’s time.” She nods to the clock and Rhona follows her gaze, seeing, with a shock, that it’s now two forty. Rhona stares at the pill in the palm of her hand. It’s almost too embarrassing to take it in front of Charity, but Charity must realise that herself because she says loudly “I’m parched. Fancy a brew?” and is up and heading toward the kitchen before Rhona has a chance to say ‘yes.’ The thought of eating or drinking anything makes her feel slightly nauseous but Rhona’s glad for a break from Charity’s penetrating gaze. She stares at the pill in her hand. So tiny, and yet so powerful. She throws it into her mouth and swallows it with a gulp of water from the glass alongside her. The first few moments after taking a pill, when she worries whether it’ll have any effect at all or whether the agony will continue unabated, is always the worst. Rhona runs a hand through her hair and wonders if she looks as awful as she feels. She can hear Charity moving around the kitchen, and in what seems like an unfeasibly short time later, Charity is back in the room again, balancing two mugs. She hands one to Rhona, saying “here”.
Rhona stares at the liquid dubiously.
“Don’t worry I haven’t poisoned it.”
Rhona reddens and shakes her head quickly. “I didn’t think—“
Charity cuts her off with a laugh, so Rhona tries to put an end to the awkwardness by drinking.
She can’t help the contented sigh that escapes her lips. “Perfect. How did you know how I like it?”
Charity shrugs carelessly. “You’ve had about a thousand cuppas at the pub, made by yours truly. It would be more impressive if I’d managed to forget what you like.”
Ah, the famous Charity Dingle Deflection. She’s heard about this from Vanessa; Charity’s total and complete inability to acknowledge a compliment from anyone. It’s strange really. Charity normally gives the impression of being boastful: playing up how irresistible she is; how funny; how strong. But try to give her a genuine compliment and she won’t accept it. Charity either throws it back in the compliment-giver’s face or undercuts whatever has prompted the compliment with a flippant comment. With a sudden jolt, Rhona realises that despite the bravado, the cockiness, the ready wit, all the things that come to mind when Charity’s name is mentioned, Charity doesn’t like herself.
Now that the realisation has hit her, Rhona can’t understand why she’s never seen this before. She feels like she did after Paddy confessed his affair; when ‘I didn’t know’ became ‘How did I not know?’. It’s obvious. She thinks back to the conversation they’ve been having: Charity’s momentary embarrassment at admitting she was reading; the way her face fell when Rhona’s birthday gift guess was lingerie; how the villagers’ judgments of her past weighed so heavily on her (more heavily than Rhona would ever have guessed); the fact that Charity so clearly blamed herself for everything; that she saw herself as somehow less than everyone else. Charity lashes out: it’s what she’s known for. But Rhona hasn’t ever realised before now how much insecurity has been driving it. And the really sad part is that Charity doesn’t need to be like this. You can trace everything bad that’s happened to her from her terrible childhood, a ripple of turmoil engulfing her.
Back when the Bails trial took place, Rhona read all the details in the paper even though she’d made a show of supporting Charity. Well, no, she hadn’t really supported Charity at all. She hadn’t known what to say or do, because Charity wasn’t her friend, and she had a way of throwing kindness back at people that made Rhona shrink back from even trying. She’d supported Vanessa though. Offering her a shoulder to cry on, a friendly ear to listen. When the details came out in the press, Vanessa was devastated. She knew how much Charity was dreading everyone knowing. So Rhona very deliberately didn’t buy a newspaper when she was at David’s. Later that day though, on her way back from a callout in Hotten, she’d popped into the supermarket to grab a few bits. When she saw the newspapers by the door she couldn’t resist. Bought one, hid it in her shopping bag and read it in the car park surreptitiously.
The details were worse than Rhona could have imagined. She’d stopped reading at several points to take a deep breath and force away memories of her own abuse. But reading it left a stain on her conscience. And afterwards, she’d felt guilty for betraying Vanessa. (Vanessa? Why not Charity?) So she’d scrunched up the newspaper, the evidence of her betrayal, and tossed it in the bin, and the next time she saw Vanessa she pasted on a supportive smile and tried to forget what she’d done.
Rhona can’t help but wonder now: is she really any better than Charity? At least Charity’s crimes are all out in the open. Rhona prefers her shames to remain in the dark. Rhona tries to display a veneer of goodness, hiding the darkest things she’s done, but Charity moves in the other direction. Over and over again, even today, Charity tries to paint herself as the worst. Like the way Charity explained exactly where Vanessa and Paddy were, while simultaneously giving off the impression that she hadn’t been listening; downplaying her decision to play nursemaid to Rhona as as way to skive off work and avoid the kids; her insistence that Rhona wait until the allotted time to take her pills - played off as an excuse to be a bitch; ducking into the kitchen to give Rhona the privacy she needed to take her medication and pretending it was due to thirst. Rhona wonders if it’s her way of softening the blows from others. If she gets in first and draws attention to how awful she is, then maybe it doesn’t hurt so much when other people agree with her.
Rhona doesn’t even know where to start to try and make amends. Doesn’t know whether Charity would want her to. But the silence is stretching out between them and she needs to say something, so she settles on “You make a good cup of tea.” Charity half-smiles. “Better than Vanessa.”
At that Charity snorts. “I don’t know how she has the gall to call that tea. More like milk with a dash of teabag.”
“Good job you’re around then.”
Charity raises an eyebrow. “To make tea?”
“To do whatever it is you do that makes her so happy.”
There’s a moment when Rhona thinks Charity is going to say something crude by way of comeback, but instead Charity looks away.
“Charity? You do know that, don’t you?” Charity doesn’t say anything. “You make her happy.” Charity shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Charity?”
Charity reluctantly looks back at Rhona. “What?” There’s no bark there, the word slipping out softly.
“I’ve known Vanessa for…”, Rhona pauses to try and work out the maths. “Gosh, twenty five years? And for the first time ever, she’s being completely honest about what she wants. This is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. And that’s down to you. It’s all you.”
Charity scoffs. “Ness is a ball of sunshine. She’d be happy whatever.”
For a brief moment, Rhona wants to shake the woman opposite her and yell and scream and make her understand. But it takes years to undo patterns of thinking - if they can be undone at all - and Rhona knows she can’t expect Charity to just take a statement at face value. Not one from her anyway.
“Vanessa is very good at putting on a front. She has been ever since I’ve known her. At uni, she always had a smile on her face. But, she’s been through some stuff. A lot of stuff. She’s told you about her childhood?”
Charity nods. “You mean her mother? Yeah. Practically makes me look like mother of the year material.”
Rhona ignores the self-deprecation. “She grew up more or less on her own. And she’s been on her own - lonely -for a long time. I think-“ she hesitates. “I think that’s why she threw herself into so many relationships and flings. Trying to find someone who would really see her. You know?”
Charity nods.
“You see her. I know you do. She comes alive when you look at her.”
“She sees me,” comes the reply. Charity is looking at Rhona properly now, eyes boring into her, and Rhona is surprised to see the glistening of unshed tears. “People don’t ever really look at me. They think they do, but they’re not seeing me. Not really. They see whatever they think I represent. Bolshiness. Aggravation. Pettiness. Sex. Trouble.” Rhona almost breaks the eye contact, knowing she’s looked at Charity in that same way. But she forces herself to keep looking and listening. “But Ness sees me. And she doesn’t hate what she sees. She loves it. She loves me.” She laughs desperately. “God knows why, but she does.” She wipes at her eyes quickly. “She deserves better than me.” Rhona’s about to protest but she’s silenced by the look on Charity’s face. “She does. She’s worth a thousand of me. I mean, obviously, she’s got a screw loose to keep putting up with me, but hey,” she shrugs resignedly, “it’s working to my advantage so I’m not complaining.”
Rhona shakes her head. “You judge yourself too harshly. You should try looking at yourself the way Vanessa does.”
As if on cue, Vanessa comes bursting through the connecting door to the vets. “Oh my god, I am so sorry it took so long.” She scurries into the living room. “I thought it was just gonna be a quick meeting but he had a thousand questions and I just couldn’t get rid of him.” She reaches the centre of the room and looks at her fiancée and best friend. “Everything okay?” She looks between the two women.
Charity answers with a “fine, babe,” but Vanessa checks Rhona for any sign of dissent. Seeing none, she relaxes a little and lowers herself onto the arm of Charity’s chair. “Rhona, I’m so sorry I had to dash off, but there was an emergency. I had to go to the—“
“Meeting with Porterfield. I know Charity said.”
“Paddy would have gone but—“
“There was a Parrot flu situation in Demdyke.”
Vanessa turned her head to her fiancée with a fond smile. “So you do listen when I talk!”
Charity shrugs, the same smile tugging at her lips. “Can’t help do anything but, babe.”
They’re looking at each other and Rhona can tell that something wordless is passing between them. She coughs to get their attention before asking, “How did it go anyway?”
Vanessa turns to face her. “Oh, good, yeah. He seemed really positive. Said he’ll get back to us with a decision first thing tomorrow.”
Rhona smiles tiredly. “That’s great news.”
Charity agrees, “Well done babe,” and Rhona can see Vanessa flushing with pride.
“Well I did my best.”
“He’d be mad not to pick you. You’re the best vet this side of the Pennines.”
“Oi! I’m sat right here,” Rhona protests jokingly.
Charity rolls her eyes. “And I suppose you’re the second best.”
“Second best? Wow. Well I suppose I should be grateful you think I’m better than Paddy.”
“Shit, I’d forgot about him. Third best then.”
Vanessa’s following the jokey interaction between the two women like she’s watching a tennis match, head flicking between the two of them.
“Right, what’s gone on with you two while I’ve been working?” Her eyes are narrowed, like she’s trying to work out a complex mystery.
Charity and Rhona glance at each other and then back at Vanessa.
“Nothing,” they say in unison.
Vanessa raises an eyebrow, then turns to Rhona. “Has this one been behaving?” She jerks a thumb in Charity’s direction.
“Babe! I’ve been delightful!”
“Delightful?”
Rhona barks a laugh, drawing their attention. Off Vanessa’s uncertainty, she offers a smile. “Actually, Charity’s been great. She’s been keeping me hydrated, sorted out my painkillers, and we’ve had a really good chat as well.”
Vanessa can’t help the genuine smile that spreads across her face. “See, didn’t I tell you she’s like a modern-day Florence Nightingale? She was so good with me when I was recovering.”
Charity stands up, uncomfortable. “You know what? Since you’re here now I might just head back to the pub. Probably a bunch of kids and drunks there that need me.”
“Okay,” Vanessa reaches for her hand. “I’ll be home in a bit, yeah?” They entwine fingers and Charity leans forward and kisses her forehead. Then Charity pulls her hand away and turns to Rhona.
“Rhona, hope you feel better soon. There’ll be a pint waiting for you the next time you come in to the pub.” And with that, she turns and leaves.
Vanessa watches her go with a stupid smile on her face.
“She really was...delightful,” Rhona says, and Vanessa turns back to her.
“Right, what happened while I was gone?”
Rhona shrugs. “We talked.”
“Talked?”
“Yeah. I reckon it might have been the first proper conversation we’ve ever had.”
“And?”
“And,” she pauses, unsure of how much to reveal. “We’ve reached an understanding. I think. Maybe. I don’t know.”
Vanessa keeps staring at her, steadily. It’s a different feeling from when Charity looks at her. When Charity stares it feels like she’s stripping off layers of skin, exposing what’s underneath. But even so, Rhona feels the pressure to provide answers. “She loves you so very much.”
Without warning, Vanessa’s eyes fill with tears. It’s been an afternoon of tears, thinks Rhona. When did she get so good at drawing them out of people?
“She said that?” Vanessa sounds almost disbelieving.
“She did. In fact, she said she can’t wait to be married to you.”
Vanessa nods to herself, a big smile on her face, like Rhona’s just handed her the moon.
“I wasn’t very kind to her today,” Rhona admits. “When I woke up from my nap, I was a bit surprised to see her here. And I was worried she was going to make things difficult for me. With the pills.”
Vanessa frowns and is about to rush to her fiancées defence, but Rhona holds up her hands.
“I was wrong. She was actually very kind to me. Kinder to me than I deserved anyway.”
“What happened?” Vanessa is biting her lip, afraid of what’s going to be said.
“I…” Rhona stops, then thinks of Charity, and how she owns all of her faults. “I tried to persuade her to give me my pills a bit early.”
Vanessa looks shocked.
“I was in pain, and I know it’s not an excuse, but I suppose I thought Charity might be more persuadable than you. I thought she’d be less invested in doing the right thing.”
Vanessa looks torn between offence on Charity’s behalf and desperate worry on Rhona’s.
“She did you proud though Vanessa. Wouldn’t stand for my nonsense. Played everything by the book.”
Vanessa lets out a long breath. “Oh, Rhona.” Her eyes are filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry for running out on you.”
“It’s not your fault.” She shrugs. “I’m an addict. Lying and scheming are part of the job description.” She puts her head in her hands, suddenly feeling so very tired. “I think, I think this needs to stop. You and the pills. I’m dragging you into my problems and I shouldn’t.”
“I’m your best friend.”
“I know. And that’s why I shouldn’t be involving you. It’s not fair to you or me. Tomorrow I’m going to speak to someone. An addiction counsellor. They can help me through this. Help me find another way.”
Vanessa walks over to Rhona and envelops her in a hug. “I’m still here for you okay. Whatever you need to get you through this.”,
Rhona returns the hug. They stay hugging like that for a while, neither one ready to move away.
When Vanessa finally pulls away, Rhona feels the emptiness immediately.
“You should go back to pub,” she says with less conviction than she aimed for.
“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”
“I won’t be. Pete’s due back any minute. Honestly, I’m fine.”
Vanessa knows she isn’t, and that she might not be for a very long time, but she’s willing to pretend if Rhona is.
“Yeah, okay. I suppose it’ll be nice to have a quiet night with Charity and the kids.” She stands up. “If you need anything at all, call me, okay?”
“Okay.”
Vanessa moves toward the door.
“Ness?”
She turns.
“Will you tell Charity-“. She pauses. It’s suddenly seems so important to find the right words. “Tell her thank you for today. And tell her that I think she’s absolutely right about her secret weapon.”