A Proper Charlie (28 page)

Charlie said nothing. She couldn’t. She was battling with her breathing. She continued to stare at him.

‘
I didn’t connect that it was you until after we’d sorted out the overly large stationery order.’ He finally stopped pacing and turned to look at her. ‘Stop looking at me like that! I’m not the abductor. The idea is lunacy.’ He gave a low chuckle. It didn’t hold any humour, but to Charlie it didn’t matter. Her hackles rose. ‘Madness,’ he muttered. He moved towards the armchair as if to sit down, but Charlie launched herself from the settee and began striking him on the chest and shoulders.

‘
Don’t you dare laugh at me!’ she yelled.

With all the fist waving and batting of hands, her fist connected with something hard, and with a grunt Ben was knocked backwards against the chair. The momentum caused him to sit down hard so that the chair went backwards, and with him in it, tipped all the way over.

Charlie cupped her mouth in shock. Ben, his feet in the air, didn’t move. Oh, God, had she killed him?

Clutching her throat in horror she peered around the chair. He was lying on his back with his hands over his face. He brought them down, and Charlie could see that he was struggling not to laugh.

His wide generous mouth twitched and from it came a chuckle deep in his throat.

THIRTY SEVEN

H
e could hear the heavy breathing of Charlie and expected her to come round and laugh along at the absurdity of the situation, or at the very least, offer sympathy. That’s what should have happened. Instead, she came round, and said,

‘
Bastard.’

‘
I haven’t done anything,’ he protested. He scrambled to his hands and knees and stood up. ‘For God’s sake Charlie, engage your brain for a moment, would you?’ He brushed himself down. ‘I wasn’t laughing at you. I was…’ he raked his usually neatly combed hair, wondering fleetingly where his hat had gone ‘… laughing at the situation. It’s crazy.’

She looked so deflated and miserable, his heart swelled for her.

‘
I wasn’t laughing at you, Charlie. Look, I’ll make us a cup of coffee, shall I? Through there?’ He pointed to the beaded curtain that partitioned off the kitchen from the lounge.

She glowered at him, but then nodded her consent.

‘
OK, I’ll make us coffee, and we’ll talk.’

‘
Oh, and by the way I resign!’ she yelled after him.

He ignored her and grabbed the kettle. He filled it with water and flicked the switch. Coming back into the little lounge, he saw Charlie sitting on the settee hugging her knees. She looked pale beneath the thick makeup, and Ben didn’t like the sound of her breathing, it sounded erratic. Her eyes had a glassy look to them as she watched him in the kitchen doorway warily. She stood up suddenly, her hands clutching her chest. Ben didn’t hesitate, he rushed back into the kitchen where he’d seen a discarded paper bag in the bin, and snatching it up, he rushed back to Charlie.

‘
Breath into that,’ he instructed, holding it against her mouth. And as if she was used to such things, began filling it with breath, before sucking it back up again like a lifetime smoker drawing on nicotine.

Ben sat her back down as she clutched the bag to her face. Slowly she lowered the bag.

‘
Better?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘You’ve done that before.’

‘
My mum used to get them,’ he said. ‘What caused yours just now?’ he asked gently. ‘I’m no mad abductor, Charlie, and you’re perfectly safe.’

Charlie sat back, away from Ben on the settee like some wounded animal seeking to escape its tormentor. She lowered her head, and didn’t answer. Ben felt awkward. ‘I’ll go and finish making the coffee, shall I?’

She still didn’t answer. But this time it was because she was silently crying. Her small shoulders convulsing with each sob. Ben dropped to his knees in front of her and pulled her against him. Instead, of resisting as he expected, Charlie turned her head towards his chest, and cried louder.

‘
I k-killed h-er,’ she sobbed.

‘
Darling, who?’ The endearment slipped out, but he doubted she noticed. He hugged her shaking body, while his other hand came up to stroke her hair.

‘
S-Sally Readman. She’s dead, I know it! The others are too, and it’s all m-my fault...’ She pulled back and wiped a hand across her nose. ‘
You
took her,’ she said. ‘I saw her get into your car!’

Fearing she was going to become hysterical, or have another panic attack, Ben set her slightly away from him, and with one hand on her chin, forced her to look at him. ‘Let’s get one thing straight. I did not take, or kill for that matter, Sally Readman.’

Charlie hiccupped ‘But I saw her get into your car! I reported it to the police.’

‘
Ah, so you were the person who became my unintentional alibi,’ he said. He smiled, and said softly, ‘I didn’t kill her, sweetheart. I took her home and left her there. She was high on drugs or something, and became furious because I didn’t want her, er, services. If anything I’m the one who should be feeling guilty, because out of the two of us I was probably the last one to see her before she vanished.’

‘
But what w-were you d-doing picking up call-g-girls?’

‘
I could ask you the same thing about
acting
like a call girl. Oh no!’ He smacked a hand against his forehead. ‘How could I have been so dim! The writing dream,’ he said. ‘This is what this is all about, isn’t it? You were reporting or rather researching.’

Charlie nodded, but didn’t make any move to distance herself from his arms. Ben liked holding her. She was soft and curvy, not bony and skinny like the other women he had dated, and she smelled nice. She had a delicate, flowery perfume and…

‘
What are you doing?’ She pulled away and looked up at him in surprise.

Ben reddened. Oh, God he’d been sniffing her hair! He gave a sheepish grin. ‘Why don’t you go and, er, tidy yourself up, your eye makeup is all smudged,’ he added, ‘and I’ll finish making the coffee.’

She pushed away from him. He let her go, and sat back on his knees as she made her way towards the bathroom. He heard the shower. The armchair was still on its back and Ben righted it, and picking up a pink and orange fluffy cushion he went to place it back on the chair but instead he raised the cushion to his nose and sniffed. Its scent was Charlie, and he was reminded of Bluebells in May.

The whole room was Charlie. Chaos of colour and odd ornaments. He placed the cushion back and moved towards an opened laptop, which looked as if it had seen better days. He touched the keyboard imagining Charlie’s fingers racing over the keys. The computer flared into life surprising Ben and causing him to step away guiltily.

Frowning, he moved forward again. The computer had brought up a page of text that was clearly a story. He read the first couple of lines about a girl called Sally who was trying to find a suitable place to sleep on a London street. It was night, and the place was full of revellers and tourists, yet this girl was alone and clearly frightened. Charlie had described the girl’s fear so well Ben could taste it. She was clearly an excellent story-teller.

Hearing the shower shut off, Ben went into the kitchen where he re-filled the kettle. He found mugs, coffee and sugar and set about making their drinks. Feeling, rather than hearing her behind him he turned. He smiled at her. Her face was freshly scrubbed of makeup and looked young. Her hair, damp, was a mass of red ringlets around her face.

‘
How did you make your hair dark?’

She half smiled. ‘Clip-on hair pieces. I bought blonde ones, too but I thought they made me look too tarty.’

Ben couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. He pointed to the cups. ‘Just in time,’ he said, and turned to pour. ‘How many sugars?’

‘
I don’t,’ she moved towards him, and reached up towards the cupboard. The movement brought them close together, and for his peace of mind, Ben had to move away. ‘I prefer this,’ and she unscrewed the top of the sweetener. She put one spoonful in the coffee. Then she picked up her coffee and looked at him over the rim. ‘Don’t you want yours?’ she asked.

Ben mentally pulled himself together, nodded and reached for his drink and followed her back into the lounge area. He glanced at the computer guiltily, but thankfully the screen had reverted to power save once again

‘
So who wants to go first?’ he asked.

Charlie sat stiffly on the settee. ‘With what?’

‘
The story. The story on how you became a prostitute and I a kerb-crawler.’

Charlie lowered her head. ‘You’ll sack me.’

‘
You’ve already resigned,’ he reminded.

Charlie drank from her cup before speaking. ‘I
told
you I wanted to be a writer,’ she said, almost petulantly. ‘I’ve always wanted to write, and thought I could use my skill to become a journalist. But I was a crap reporter.’

A chill was sweeping up Ben’s spine.

‘
I had been trying to interview the women but it wasn’t going well. Then I had an idea of turning my reports into a fiction novel, but the only way I could do it properly was pretend to be a prostitute. But instead of finding hookers and whores on the street, I found people. Young women addicted to drugs, bad men or lost due to family breakdown.’ Ben had an incredible urge to gather her up in his arms as her face revealed a cascade of distress. He resisted, realising she needed to talk. ‘I met a girl, Jan, she’s only seventeen. Seventeen! Her life should be worrying about acne and the latest fashion not hoping that the next man will be as gentle as the last.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘And I’m frightened for her. When I heard of Sally Readman’s disappearance, it became personal. Sally...’ she said on a swallow ‘...was a victim of her own bad luck brought on by family breakdown, drugs and... and
men
out to make money from her.’ She spat out the word
men,
and glared at Ben so furiously he was startled.

They sipped their drinks in silence.

‘
So you’re writing a book based on these women?’ He felt he had to come clean. ‘Sorry, I knocked your computer and it came on. I only read a few lines, I promise,’ he protested, but Charlie only shrugged.

‘
It’s rubbish. What I feel,’ she poked herself in the chest, ‘is getting in the way. I’m too angry.’

‘
At the prostitutes?’

She shook her head. ‘At life. At the way it turns out for some people. Some have all the luck in the world, yet others are dealt a crap hand. Why is that? Why is life like that?’

Ben couldn’t answer. He didn’t think Charlie wanted one anyway.

‘
I need to find Jan,’ she said. ‘Give her a reason to give up prostitution.’

‘
You took one hell of a risk going out onto the streets like that,’ he said, suddenly angry. ‘I don’t know whether you’re incredibly brave or utterly crazy. Maybe both,’ he muttered. He looked at her as she sat curled up in the corner of the settee, her hands cupped around a mug of coffee with the
Fifi and the Flowertots
logo. ‘And the men? Did you interview any er – clients?’

‘
Only on the kerbside, I refused to get in anybody’s car.’

‘
Apart from mine.’

‘
Apart from yours,’ she agreed.

‘
But the first time you were in my car… you knew that was me?’

She shook her head. ‘I thought you were the abductor and Jan was about to get in your car. I had to save her.’

Ben stared at her, unable to speak.

‘
So,
if
you’re
so
innocent why are you picking up business?’ she asked.

‘
My God, Charlie what if…’ he drew in a deep breath.

‘
Well?’

‘
You’re the bravest, or stupidest, women I’ve ever met. Do you know that?’

She glared at him over the rim of the
Fifi
mug. ‘Aren’t you going to answer me?’

‘
My little sister has gone missing. She was last seen with a woman called Sally Readman.’

Sitting upright with one hand flying to her mouth as coffee slopped over the sides of her cup onto the arm of the settee, she said, ‘Oh, my God! Oh, my, bloody God!’

‘
Camilla, my sister, took off over almost two months ago,’ he said. ‘She left after a, er, family row. We haven’t seen her since. You know what kids are like. They think the world revolves around them and when it all goes pear-shaped they think it’s because of them. All I want to do is find her and tell her that she’s not to blame for anything, and that Father’s OK.’ God’s sake, he can’t cry! But tears had sprung to the back of his eyes, and he buried his face behind his coffee cup before Charlie could see. But her small hand lay on his arm, telling him that she’d noticed.