The Life and Afterlife of Charlie Brackwood (The Brackwood Series Book 1) (6 page)

Chapter Five

I still sat loyally by her side when Lucy woke up. Her peaceful expression was replaced by a look of confusion and eventual devastation when I told her what had happened. 

I watched the friend I had known and cared about for so long crumble in front of me, while  feeling helpless in the face of her misery. I held Lucy close and told her everything would work out.

Eventually she accepted the missed exam as a mishap, but even though she knew she had the option to re-sit the following year, her anxiety worsened and her medication was increased. 

Russ and I, now both eighteen, were about to leave school. In fact, I didn’t see him for a while after he’d told me he was about to chase up his girlfriend and find out what had happened just before the biology exam. Though I tried not to show it in front of Lucy, I was still angry with Russ and blamed him for Amy’s actions. 

I hated the fact that I was the one who had to break the news to Lucy that day, and comfort her as her hopes were crushed.  All because Russ couldn’t resist playing games with Amy by using Lucy to make her jealous. For the first time in my life I was ashamed of him.

In the days that followed I watched Lucy closely.  I was worried about my friend, and my inclination to protect her grew stronger. From her nursing job my mother knew about the long-lasting effects severe bullying had on the victim, often changing their personality and causing them to become untrusting, paranoid, and subject to feelings of suppressed anger that could corrode even the sweetest of souls.

Amy was a clergyman’s daughter; her father was vicar of our parish and a very strict and strait-laced man.  His children were expected to maintain high standards of behaviour and, so far as he knew, they did. In fact, her deluded father believed Amy to be as blameless as any angel residing in Heaven.

Amy was, however, a mistress of manipulation.  She had enough intelligence to analyse people and find out what they cared about so that she could use that in order to hurt them.  In most cases she would befriend someone, lead them into a false sense of security, get them to give up their secrets, and then humiliate them by telling the whole school.

I realised, albeit too late, that Amy had spent every lunch hour that she shared with the three of us analysing Lucy in order to find out what motivated her and to use whatever that was to destroy her.  Lucy had high hopes for her future. She wanted a career, independence, and to break the ties and restrictions imposed on her so far.  Her parents weren’t well off and she had experienced disappointment and sorrow in her childhood.

She had decided at an early age that she would take charge of her own future happiness and work as hard as possible to reach her educational goals.  Determination was one of Lucy’s many fine qualities and it was one I greatly admired.  She was truly unstoppable at times.

Now her dreams had been dashed by a selfish, spiteful bully, the worst part of it being that Amy had shown no remorse for her actions.  Not so much as a sympathetic glance was thrown Lucy’s way.

The weekend after the disastrous biology exam the village’s annual Summer Fair was held.  This yearly event involved a bouncy castle, coconut shy, dog show, helter-skelter, beer tent, and many more activities.  But Russ and I mainly went along for the beer.  There was always a great atmosphere at the village fair when the whole community came together.  Most of the villagers took part and the committee members were greatly admired for giving up their free time to organise such a popular event.

The sun was high and the crowd was noisy as I pushed my way through in the search of Lucy. I felt a rush of anticipation at the thought of being in her presence.  As I passed Lucy’s neighbour, a large, buxom bossy woman in her seventies, I heard a snippet of conversation.

“... yes, I could hear it through the walls… nearly broke my heart it did, sobbing her little heart out she were,” the neighbour said as she dramatically placed a chubby hand on her chest.

“Who do you think it was that had got their self into such a state?” said her nosy companion.

“It’ll have been the younger girl. I often hear her... breaking her heart over summat and nowt.”

“Or some boy or other,” the blue-rinsed companion said, nodding wisely.

I knew they were referring to Lucy.  The realisation that my friend had become the subject of village gossip saddened me and I vowed to keep the information I had just heard to myself.  I gave the two gossiping women a frown and continued my search for Lucy.

It was a warm day with a hint of a breeze in the air.  Giddy children holding big clouds of fluffy pink candy floss pushed past me on their way to the helter-skelter.  Light-hearted cries of disappointment wafted my way from the direction of the coconut shy.  The village green was buzzing with activity and underneath it all the river hummed its endless tune. 

It was here that I finally found Lucy, gazing into the water.  She seemed to have the weight of the world on her shoulders.  I watched her for a while.  Her hair was tied up high on her head but a few unruly strands had broken free and were gently blowing in the breeze.  The sunlight hit the clear water and was reflected back on to her face, giving her an ethereal appearance.

I tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

“Are you OK?” I asked gently.  She jumped slightly at my touch.

“Of course,” said Lucy, smiling when she saw it was me. “The river is my favourite thinking spot.”

“I know,” I said, and noted how different the green of her eyes looked in the bright light.

She glanced behind me towards the bustle of the fair.

“There seems to be a bigger turnout than last year,” she said, indicating the crowd.

“Yes, more proceeds for the church, I guess.”

She nodded and we fell silent for a few minutes.

“Luce, are you really all right?” I said, thinking back to the conversation I had just overheard.

She looked straight at me and for a minute I could see the full extent of the pain and sadness she was experiencing.  Then she smiled in a half-hearted attempt to reassure me.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Charlie... do you want to try the coconut shy?  I bet you can’t win one,” she said with a grin.

I knew Lucy was putting on a brave face but I indulged her, hoping that it might take her mind off things.  

The annual crowning of the Village Princess was in full swing as we reached the coconut shy.  The crowning was another tradition in our small village and the highlight of the fair.

“I hate this part,” Lucy said, rolling her eyes as we waited in line, “everybody knows Amy will be crowned yet again, like she is every year.”

“Most likely, which is ironic when the queen is supposed to be chosen based on her pureness of heart and the number of Christian duties she has carried out throughout the year,” I replied.

“Everybody knows she only wins because her dad is the vicar.  No doubt she’ll be wearing yet another vulgar new dress.” Lucy added as we moved up through the queue.

Before the crowning the village girls were given some time to address the crowd and talk about all the godly, do-gooding work they had achieved that year. The candidates for queen were always introduced one by one by the fair’s host.

The microphone crackled and emitted a high-pitched whine that caused a few members of the crowd to cover their ears and an elderly gentleman nearby to turn off his hearing aid.

“Hello... one... two... one... two.”

Lucy’s eyes widened and she whipped her head around to look at me before we both turned to stare at the stage in astonishment.  That voice was familiar.  In fact, it was a voice we’d both been hearing regularly since we were all kids.

“Ladies and gentlemen, time for the best event of this entire show to start. It’s been a tradition in this village for many, many years, and helps our show make others in Yorkshire pale by comparison.  Oh, yes, this is a well-loved show indeed...”

“What is he doing?” Lucy whispered.  I shook my head for reply, still astonished by the sight of Russ onstage.

“... but it is also a show that promotes deceit, corruption, and the sexual objectification of young women.  The crowning of the village queen should be a fair competition, with a winner who is beyond reproach. I should imagine that at one time such was the case.  But making Amy Hale our queen for the third year in a row would be a disastrous mistake,”

The crowd gasped in unison and Lucy gaped slightly in shock.

“Since to be considered for the role of queen the contestant should be the perfect example of a good Christian woman, Amy Hale should never have entered this competition in the first place.”

I looked over at Reverend Hale whose face wore an expression of complete shock.

“Amy is conniving, bitter, dishonest and conceited,” Russ announced.  “She tortures, intimidates and disparages others for her own enjoyment, and is so arrogant that she freely admits to these crimes when challenged.”

My eyes met Lucy’s and I wondered whether she realised that Russ was talking about her, that this whole speech was for her.

“Amy Hale deserves no golden crown.  She deserves no lavish ceremony, and she certainly doesn’t deserve anybody’s respect.  So far she has successfully pulled the wool over the eyes of all of you.  Consider this a warning. Each and every one of you, in future, be careful whom you place on a pedestal…”

“OK, that’s enough,” a voice shouted from behind Russ.  It was shrill and girlish and belonged to Amy Hale.

Her face was transformed by fury as she strode towards Russ. Amy was wearing a huge baby pink ballgown with a skirt that stuck out like the one on a a toilet roll cover I’d seen at my gran’s house.  Amy snatched the microphone from his hand and glared at him.  She held the mic in her right hand but let it dangle at her side, perhaps thinking that placing it there would prevent the crowd from hearing their conversation.

“What are you doing?” she said to him through clenched teeth while still attempting to smile at the onlookers.

“We’re over, Amy. The last stunt you pulled was the final straw.  You really had me fooled, though. I did think for a while that you were different.” Russ stared at her in disdain while he replied.

“Oh, I’m so heartbroken,” Amy said sarcastically. “It’s not like you were any good in the sack anyway.”

The crowd gasped upon hearing these words and the illusion of Amy as a good, sweet Christian girl was shattered instantly.  Russ grinned slyly as the realisation that the crowd had heard every word hit Amy hard.  He leant towards her, a triumphant expression on his face.

“Ditto,” he said smugly, before walking off-stage.

Still in shock, I turned to look at Lucy.  Gone was the anxious expression I’d seen on her face earlier.  For the first time that week Lucy wore a wide smile.

Chapter Six

My dad was adamant that I was destined to carry on the family tradition of sheep farming and after the summer ended I enrolled at agricultural college.  I also started to help out on my old man's farm for menial wages.  I had lived there my whole life and I always felt like I belonged there. It seemed natural that I would end up following in my dad’s footsteps but I often wondered whether I was doing it for myself or to help my father out.

At first I was content being a farm hand. I made it my mission to ensure the welfare of the animals in my care was as high as possible.  As my gramps always said: you can tell a man's true character by the way in which he treats animals.  My father and I would often have arguments about animal welfare and the financial burden attached to it. 

If an animal was clearly suffering I’d argue with my dad for days to try and get him to call a vet to save its life, but he would always argue that it made better financial sense to have the animal destroyed instead.  This was the part of farming that I found frustrating, and quite often heart-breaking.  I struggled with the concept that the farm animals in my care were first and foremost my family's livelihood and, in the end, I realised I was not cut out for the life I had always hitherto seen myself living.

Russ ended up with very bad A-level results and had no ideas about his future career.  Eventually he decided he wanted to work in construction and so enrolled in a relevant course at the local college.  He actually appeared to enjoy it and hoped one day to master the art of dry-stone walling.  That was an important skill to have when you lived in the Yorkshire countryside and in time he was in high demand.

One evening in August Lucy came to see me as I was at work in the fields.  I saw her approach as I loaded lambs into a truck before I transported them to a field with better grass.  I had just captured an escapee and was out of breath.  The lamb in question had been making its way towards the intriguing sight of Mrs Brown’s bloomers hanging up to dry in her garden.  Just before he was about to take a bite out of the frilly specimens I caught him, threw him over my shoulders so that his legs dangled down to each side, and carried him back to the truck, ignoring his very vocal protests.

Lucy was wearing a white blouse decorated with small embroidered flowers, and denim cutoff shorts.  She was grinning, half running towards me.  I set off to meet her with the lamb still draped around my shoulders, seemingly relaxed now as his protests had come to an end.

“Guess what?” Lucy said, practically jumping up and down.

I wracked my brain and tried to come up with a reason for her change of mood.

“You’ve found Archimedes?” I asked hopefully.

Her shoulders slumped.

“Sadly not,” she said, and paused for a minute before whipping her arm from around her back and waving a piece of white paper in front of my face. 

I managed to grab it off her. “What is this?” I asked.

“It’s my exam results,” she said proudly.

“Wow, you got straight As,” I said as I scanned the information on the flimsy sheet.

“Yes, but look at the grade for biology.”

It took me a while to find it but when I did I gasped in disbelief.

“A-star?” I exclaimed.

She grinned and nodded, the look of disbelief on her face matching my own.

“But how?”

“I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine. I actually thought you might’ve had something to do with it.”

I shook my head.  “Definitely not.  I wish I had.  Maybe they gave you your predicted grade instead?”

“No, they only do that in cases of severe illness, and because I wasn’t ill they put me down as a no show.  I should’ve got a fail for that exam.”

“Maybe someone made a mistake?  Either way, I wouldn’t shout your mouth off about it.”

She nodded, suddenly serious, and I instantly regretted the lecture.  In an effort to lighten the mood, I waved the paper at her.

“This is bloody fantastic, Luce!” I exclaimed before folding her in my arms for a celebratory embrace.

I was proud of my friend but also relieved that the biology grade had worked out OK in the end, just like I’d promised.  However, I hadn’t made it happen.  Which set me wondering: who had?  Whoever it was deserved my thanks and Lucy’s gratitude, but sadly I would only find out the answer to that burning question after my death.  For years I assumed that a kind-hearted teacher had taken pity on Lucy and given her a predicted grade.

In the years that followed, as Lucy matured I began to notice things about her that I had missed before.  Sometimes she would seem disconnected from reality and enter a mysterious world that only she could see.  She would often look hopeless and lost, with a glassy expression in her eyes that made her seem beyond my reach.

She would never open up to me and I knew better than to push.  Sometimes people only let you see a certain part of them; the rest they kept hidden in the depths of their soul, too scared of rejection to reveal themselves in their entirety.  During these moments I felt like an outsider, with no way of knowing what was causing her such agony. It would be a few years before Lucy let me in on the secret.

The years that followed involved fishing trips, driving lessons, and days out to the clearing in the woods to see if we could spot Archimedes.  Lucy and I hadn’t forgotten about him and every year our hopes were renewed and we would swear to each other that this would be the trip we would catch a glimpse of him. 

Not long after I started working on the farm I began dating a girl named Georgina.  I was a member of a group called Young Farmers, as were Lucy and Russ, and I met Georgina at a social gathering put on by the society.  Young Farmers was an organisation set up for people between the ages of ten and twenty-six, and the idea was to learn new skills and meet new people who shared a love of the countryside and rural life.  Most of the time it was an excuse to get dreadfully drunk, meet new people and, if you were that way inclined, sleep with as many fellow members as humanly possible.

Georgina was a red head and extremely fiery by nature.  The relationship didn’t last long and at the time I put it down to her jealous tendencies but I probably should’ve made more of an effort with her.  She was smitten with me and everyone could see it, but I didn’t know how I really felt about her.

At around the same time I started to date Georgina I was giving Lucy driving lessons in my old Mini in the evenings.  She had recently turned seventeen and was now legally able to drive with a provisional driver’s licence.  Lucy didn’t have enough money to pay a professional instructor for lessons and her parents didn’t have the time to teach her, so I offered to step up to the task.

She was a quick learner who listened carefully to my instructions and we quickly made quite a team. The lessons were always light-hearted as we poked fun at each other and before long my little car would be full of banter and laughter.  I got so used to the sound that I missed Lucy’s presence while driving alone.

Unfortunately, Georgina hated me seeing Lucy and would often try to interrupt the driving lessons by ringing my mobile or creating an emergency that required me to see her instead of taking my friend out on a lesson. 

Within three months of our getting together my girlfriend had become suspicious and touchy and arguments between us became common. One night I was driving Lucy back to my parents’ house to watch an episode of
Friends
after her lesson when I noticed a figure sitting on the front step.  The month was September and the evenings were growing increasingly dark.  I squinted in the moonlight, trying to make out who was lurking in the shadows.  

The slim figure stood up and made its way towards us. Georgina straightened her short denim skirt before folding her arms over her flat chest and striding up to the driver’s side of the car. 

“Did you get my calls?” she asked in an angry tone.

“Yes,” I sighed as I slammed the car door, “all five of them.”

“So… what?” she said, holding the palms of her hands upwards and shrugging her shoulders. “You just decided to ignore them?”

“I was teaching Lucy how to drive at the time. Any distractions were unwelcome.”

“Erm... I think I’ll just head off home,” Lucy interrupted sheepishly.

Suddenly, the situation embarrassed me and I felt angry with myself for allowing my friend to witness this undignified scene. I was rarely argumentative and usually strove to keep the peace, but Georgina stirred up feelings of resentment, stress, and a never-ending supply of pressure.

“Don’t go, Luce,” I said, holding out my arm to stop her. “We had plans. They haven’t changed.” She stopped dead in her tracks, still looking uncomfortable.

Georgina turned to Lucy and stared daggers in her direction.  She raised her voice.

“Don’t listen to him, go!  Skip off back home, little girl. You have no business here!  This is between me and Charlie.”

“Hey!” I yelled angrily. “You don’t need to talk to her like that.”

“Oh, yeah, because it’s all about her, isn’t it?  You’d prefer to spend time with that,” she pointed at Lucy, “than your own girlfriend!”

Lucy’s hands went up defensively. “I’m going home, this is none of my business.”

My eyes followed her as I watched her leave.  I hated what I had allowed her to be subjected to.  I stared at Georgina, whose expression was so full of hatred that I wondered why we were even bothering.  Why should she care who I saw?  She clearly detested me, and after listening to the way she had just treated Lucy I knew I could never see Georgina in the same light again.  It’s not often that I feel the powerful emotion of hatred, but in that moment I despised the person standing in front of me.

“This isn’t working, Georgina, we can’t even be around each other without fighting.”

“That’s only because of
her
. Because you’d rather spend time with
her
.”

“Yes, because all
we
do is fight... what would you have me do, drop my friendship with Lucy to save our relationship?”

Georgina sighed before saying, “Yes, that’s exactly what I want.”

I shook my head as I looked at my feet.

“Not for the whole wide world,” I said quietly.

Georgina was quiet for a few minutes.  I couldn’t look at her so continued indulging in a close inspection of my trainers.  When she spoke next her voice shook with emotion.

“Well, I suppose I know where I stand now.” she muttered.  I shuffled my feet guiltily.

“Goodbye, Charlie.”

I nodded. She turned away and got in her car.  I entered the house feeling a mixture of relief and guilt that was extremely unsettling.