Charlie (20 page)

He was a lying maggot, she hoped he’d drown at sea somewhere between here and Southampton. In fact she hoped he would be in the sea for hours before he finally drowned, freezing cold, terrified and with enough time to reflect what he’d done to her.

It wasn’t until she reached the station and found there wasn’t a train for over an hour that she noticed a piece of white paper sticking out of the side pocket on her travelling bag. She pulled it out and found it was a hastily scrawled note from Guy.

‘I’m sorry, Charlie, I know what I’ve done to you is awful. I shouldn’t have asked you to come with me and meet my parents, I know now they wouldn’t approve of you and I thought it better this way rather than let you be embarrassed.

I really did care for you. I’m so sorry.

Love Guy.’

Charlie stared at the note for some ten minutes until she could no longer read it through her tears. Perhaps it would have been better if he hadn’t tried to explain himself; that way she could have believed he was just a rotter. But his note suggested something far worse, that she was an embarrassment to him.

She had been brought up to think she was something pretty special. And she’d expected her life to be golden. It was bad enough to have all the material things snatched away, and to find her parents weren’t the people she had believed them to be, but she’d managed to live with that. But now Guy had destroyed the only thing left. Her pride in herself.

Chapter Six

Charlie limped back into Salcombe at three in the afternoon soaked to the skin. As she had spent all her wages on the pink dress, she thought she ought to hang on to the change from Guy’s £10 note, so instead of catching a train, she hitchhiked home.

She’d got to Torquay easily in two lifts, but then she got lost, ended up on the wrong road, and by the time she’d walked to the right one her feet were hurting and she felt like lying down and crying.

Yet a steely resolve kept her going, even though it began to rain heavily again. Guy might have made a fool of her, but he’d be the last man to do so. From now on her heart was going to be locked away. Any man who wanted her in future would pay, one way or another.

There were five more lifts before she was finally dropped on the outskirts of Salcombe, and in each one of them the driver had attempted to discover why she seemed upset. But she told them nothing, and she was determined not to reveal the truth to Ivor and Beryl either.

The door of the Victoria Inn was locked for the afternoon as she’d expected. She could have rung the bell, but Beryl often had a nap in the afternoon, and she knew that if she disturbed it, there would be no way to get out of talking. As it was still raining and she was so wet, Ivor’s was the only place to go.

He was sitting on a stool mending a lobster pot in the shack as she walked in. As always Minnie gave her a big welcome, but today she couldn’t respond, and pushed her away.

‘Charlie!’ Ivor exclaimed in surprise. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Nothing, I just jumped ship in Weymouth,’ she said airily. She had rehearsed this explanation all the way home and hoped her contrived bouncy manner was convincing.

‘Why?’ he asked, getting up.

‘Make us a cup of your magic coffee and I might tell you,’ she said, forcing a grin.

Ivor came back from his cottage with two mugs of coffee a few minutes later. Charlie cupped her hands round hers, she was very cold and a little shaky. ‘Well?’ he said, raising one bushy eyebrow.

‘It was all a bit of a disaster really. It rained all day yesterday and I was stuck in the cabin. Guy was cross because we only made it as far as Weymouth last night, and then I blew it by telling him about my parents.’ She paused for a moment to gather herself. ‘He said it didn’t make any difference but he went all quiet on me afterwards and I knew he was having second thoughts about taking me home with him.

‘Anyway, this morning I decided it was better to slope off and save us both more embarrassment. From what he’d told me about his mother she sounded like a terrible snob anyway. So I came on home.’

Ivor knew this wasn’t what had happened. She wasn’t meeting his eyes, her explanation was too pat, and he could see she was close to tears. But he decided against probing any deeper. From personal experience he knew it a darn sight harder to strive to retain some dignity when your heart was breaking, than to cry and gain some sympathy. He thought she had real guts.

‘Well, I’m really pleased to have you back,’ he said, putting one big hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. ‘I missed you. And just by chance I’ve got enough mackerel for both of us for tea.’

Charlie didn’t know how she managed to get through that long day without breaking down. After sharing a meal with Ivor she went back to the pub to find it was very busy. She had no choice but to pitch in and help. It wasn’t until after closing time that Beryl asked why she’d come back two days early.

Although she was exhausted, drained and grieving, somehow she managed to give Beryl the same story she’d told Ivor, then pleading tiredness she managed to escape to her room before her bottled-up tears overflowed.

A strong wind was whipping up the sea and she could hear waves slapping loudly against the harbour wall, and that was another unwanted reminder of Guy. In reality she had known him for such a short time, yet she felt that in just one week she’d left her girlhood behind and become a woman.

How could she ever forget him? He had taken her heart, her soul and her mind. All the memories of him were so sharp. How could she go to the beach without remembering his salty kisses, or look in the high-street souvenir shops without thinking how he used to laugh at them? She could smell his skin, his hair, see his blue eyes and feel the silkiness of his blond hair. She would hear his deep tender voice telling her he would love her forever.

Why had he spun all those dreams for her about sailing to the Med, going to parties and rock concerts in London, if he didn’t mean them? Why would anyone pretend to care so much then run away without even saying goodbye?

She could just picture what he was doing now. He’d be all cleaned up in a clean shirt and trousers, sprawling gracefully on a settee in the drawing room of his grand home, sipping a gin and tonic and spinning the kind of yarns for his doting parents that would make them think they were fortunate to have such an adventurous son.

Charlie had believed he was a real man, strong, dependable and courageous. How wrong she’d been. He was a mummy’s boy. A cowardly, weak and lying bastard. She just wished she could think of something to hurt him twice as much as he’d hurt her.

But he’d burst her bubble now and she had to face reality. There would be no job, or flat in London. No parties, rock concerts, night-clubs or holidays in exotic places. The truth of the matter was that she’d been fooled into thinking she had some choice about her future. There was only one option, living in a council flat and looking after her mother.

On Monday morning Charlie received her exam results through the post, sent on to her by Mr Wyatt. Because of everything that had happened during the last week she had forgotten they were due. When she opened the envelope her mouth fell open in surprise.

All her teachers had assured her of good results, but they hadn’t led her to expect more than a few ‘B’-pluses. Yet she had five ‘A’s, two ‘B’-pluses, and the lowest mark was ‘C’ for History. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined getting an ‘A’ for maths. It was incredible.

After the last two long miserable days of feeling completely worthless, it was good to have something to distract her and feel proud of. Beryl was still in bed, and not liking to wake her, Charlie got dressed hastily and ran round to Ivor’s.

As always, Ivor didn’t let her down. He didn’t reproach her for interrupting him washing, or dither about looking for his shirt and reading glasses. Bare-chested, he just hauled her into his cottage and demanded she read the results to him.

‘You clever girl,’ he exclaimed, and his wide smile was one of pride in her. ‘Of course it’s what I expected. I knew right from the start you were as smart as new paint.’

He put a spot of rum in their coffee to celebrate, and made her a bacon sandwich. Then, putting his glasses on at last, he read the certificate again.

‘Well done, Charlie. These results will get you the kind of job you deserve. Something a great deal better than weighing up bait. I think you ought to get straight off to Kingsbridge and tell your mum. She’ll be thrilled.’

Charlie’s face fell. Having spent the whole weekend thinking about what living with her mother would really mean, she couldn’t face her yet.

‘She won’t be thrilled. She’ll just tell me not to be so smug.’

‘Then you must tell her you have a right to be smug.’ He waved the certificate at her. ‘This is all your doing, sweetheart, your brain, your hard work. No one but you can take credit for it.’

Those last words of Ivor’s warmed the icy place in Charlie’s heart as she rode in the bus to Kingsbridge later on that morning. Maybe losing Guy was the last of her bad luck, and from now on things would improve.

Her mother was sitting alone in the day room. All the other patients were either receiving some kind of treatment or they were in the conservatory or garden. Her isolation was a bad sign, though; Charlie felt she must still be upsetting everyone.

Sylvia showed no surprise or pleasure at this unexpected visit. But undeterred, Charlie took out her exam results, along with more cigarettes, and gave them to her mother.

She did look pleased at the cigarettes and opened one of the packets with some eagerness. But Charlie had to draw her attention back to the certificate in her lap.

With only a very cursory glance at it, she sniffed. ‘Very good, I’m pleased to see we didn’t waste our money on your education.’

Charlie’s heart sank. She hadn’t expected her mother to go overboard with praise, but she had hoped for a little more warmth. ‘It means I should be able to get into banking or something like that,’ she said, kneeling down by her mother’s wheelchair. ‘I’ll be able to help take care of you.’

Sylvia folded the certificate and handed it back to her daughter. Her blue eyes were cold and her mouth pursed. ‘You’ll have to do that sooner than you expected,’ she said. ‘I’ve been offered a flat. It seems they can’t wait to get rid of me here.’

Charlie felt she’d been dealt another body blow. She might have been thinking about this eventuality all weekend, but she hadn’t anticipated it happening for weeks, maybe even months. ‘That’s great news,’ she managed to say, getting up and turning to find a chair. She wondered if Sylvia had engineered this herself, suspecting that Charlie might find another job and home if she was in here for too long.

‘Great news?’ Sylvia sneered. ‘Expecting a crippled woman to cope with living alone?’

Charlie recognized this remark as an opener to moral blackmail. All her childhood she had seen her mother use similar wiles to get people to do what she wanted. If Jin wanted a night out with a few friends, Sylvia suddenly came down with a bad stomach upset. Mrs Brown was often coerced into working extra hours when she wanted to get home to her family. She knew she was expected to assure her that she’d be there too, but some perverse instinct stopped her.

‘They’ll give you a home help,’ she said instead. ‘Besides, you’ll be a lot happier with your own things around you again.’

‘You selfish little bitch,’ Sylvia snapped viciously, rising out of her chair by her arms as if intending to box her ears. ‘Don’t for one moment think you’re going to clear off and leave me on my own. You are only sixteen, remember, too young to leave home, and I think it’s time you repaid me for all I’ve done for you.’

A cold chill ran through Charlie’s veins. She might have been fully intending to look after her mother, but she was not going to be forced into it.

‘I didn’t cause your injuries,’ she retorted, gathering her fast-diminishing store of courage. ‘I’m not in debt to you either, so don’t try and blackmail me. You speak to me like that one more time and I’ll walk out the door and you’ll never see me again.’

To her astonishment her words had quite the reverse effect to what she’d intended. Her mother’s face turned purple with instantaneous rage.

‘I’ll have you made a ward of court,’ she screamed at the top of her lungs. Her eyes went dark, and even more frightening, there was froth on her lips. Charlie fully expected one of the nurses to come rushing in, the whole nursing home must have heard her.

As no one burst in, Charlie got up and made for the door. She was really frightened now, her mother was demented. ‘You try and do it,’ she said, poised ready for flight at the door. ‘They’ll have to find me first and if and when they do, I’ll tell the court a few home truths about you.’

‘Don’t you dare walk away from me, you hateful little bitch!’ Sylvia yelled.

Charlie ran as her mother screamed more abuse. Down the corridor, past a surprised-looking nurse and out the front door. She didn’t stop running until she was some 200 yards away from Franklin House and she had a stitch in her side.

It was a warm sunny day, but Charlie was cold. Her hands were shaking and once she stopped running her legs felt as if they wouldn’t move again. She wanted to cry but she was too angry.

She had no idea where she was intending to go, she was heading in the opposite direction to the town centre and the bus home, towards open countryside. But she carried on walking aimlessly until she came to a five-barred gate. She climbed over it, skirted round the edge of a cornfield, and once she was far enough away from the road she lay down and cried.

She couldn’t understand why she was being singled out for so much misery. Every other old schoolfriend of hers had spent the summer enjoying themselves, while she had worked. She’d had her home, her father and school snatched away from her, the man she believed loved her turned out to be a rat, and now her mother was slowly going mad and threatening to keep her in some kind of slavery.

It seemed like hours that she lay there crying. The sharp stalks of the corn were digging in all over her, and ants kept crawling up her legs. Thirst and the lack of a dry handkerchief finally made her get up. She didn’t want to return to Franklin House, yet she knew she must.