Charlotte Delaney has sworn off men. After one relationship disaster after another- including turning a guy gay!- Charlotte is so over the male species.
Isaac Fletcher had his heart cruelly broken. Yes, it was years ago. No, he never got over it. I...
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Going on a short break holiday with Charlotte Delaney was all kinds of weird, not least because I've never been away with a woman before. I think it was the private plane that made the whole thing surreal, as well as having free reign over a vineyard in the South of France. After having the go-ahead from Ben Copeland that we could fly and not harm the baby, Charlotte was quick to make arrangements so that we could depart London as soon as possible.
There were quite a few things for Charlotte to sort out but for me, my major concern was Martha. Being shy of eighteen, I didn't want her to be left no her own; I'd like to think that this was because I'm a responsible father but really it's because I don't want to come back in a few days' time to a home that's burnt down and a daughter locked up in jail for arson, or something along those lines. There weren't many people that I could trust to watch Martha like a hawk, but I knew exactly who was at the bottom of my list- Sophie Whitaker, Charlotte's sister.
Sophie and I have a strained relationship, mainly because she's a bloody psychopath, and it was for that reason that I didn't want my daughter around Sophie. I trust Dan to keep Martha in line but he's easily influenced by his wife, so that was a no go. Sam could have done the job bar for the fact that Martha would eat him alive. Charlotte offered to send Martha to Dublin for the week to stay with her grandmother, Harlow Delaney. I swiftly said, "Hell fucking no," and left it at that. What type of father exposes their child to that kind of mental instability? At least I know where Sophie gets her loose marbles from. Jimmy and Camille Delaney offered to take Martha in, however, once they'd spent more than a few hours with her, they soon conveniently remembered that they had booked a short city break and couldn't babysit Martha after all. Elias and Jenna Marshall didn't want to expose their nine-year-old daughter, Nola, to Martha's antics, so they were off the list, too.
That left me with one person. Michael Taylor.
Now, Mick isn't one of my closest friends for nothing. We've been through so many things together that I sometimes think he's an extension of me, but he's also one of the few people I would trust my life. He's the only one of my friends that knew about Martha long before everyone else and when I found out that Charlotte was pregnant, it wasn't Dan, Sam or Elias I turned to; it was Mick. We barely hang out because of work commitments and stuff but whenever we do meet up, whether at Poker night or at the pub, it's like we've never been apart. It's rare to have a friend like that, just as it's also rare to have a friend that would be willing to keep an eye on Martha for a week.
"Is she ok?" I ask Mick when I get time during the day to call him. Charlotte and I have been in Lambesc for a few days already and have been busy sightseeing and whatnot but I always make sure that I check in back home, make sure that Martha is still a) alive, and b) not in prison. "Did she stick to her curfew last night? Don't be afraid to Alcatraz her if she isn't listening to you."
Mick laughs. "I have a question for you. Why is it, when you're in France with the woman of your dreams, are you calling me every fucking night, asking how your almost adult daughter is doing?"
