Charlie (11 page)

The young man disappeared below decks, some twenty minutes passed and Charlie had almost forgotten about him when he suddenly reappeared and leapt off his boat on to the quay. As he walked towards her with a springy athletic step, smiling, Charlie gulped: close to he was even better-looking, with angular cheekbones and bright blue eyes.

Minnie barked furiously. ‘It’s okay.’ Charlie bent down and patted her. ‘It’s just a customer.’

‘Hi there,’ he said as he reached the shack. ‘I say, can you help me with a fishing rod?’

He had the kind of plummy accent so common to the yachting fraternity in this area. She wondered if it was his boat or his father’s. Minnie slunk away, taking up a position out on the quay where she could watch.

‘I will if I can,’ Charlie said, hoping she wasn’t blushing. ‘It’s my first day minding the shop for Ivor and I don’t know too much about rods yet. Take a look at them and see if there’s one you like.’

Ivor had said which ones were for sea fishing this morning, but she couldn’t remember which were which. She made a mental note to ask him again.

He went over to the rack where all the rods were kept, touching each of them and occasionally getting one out as if to feel the weight.

‘What did you want to catch?’ she asked, feeling she must say something.

He turned back towards her. His smile was slightly lopsided and very attractive. His teeth were dazzling against his tanned skin. ‘Something about five foot five, with black hair and almond eyes,’ he said with laughter in his voice. ‘I think her name must be Suzie Wong.’

Charlie had been called Suzie Wong derisively many times before, and knowing it came from a book about a Chinese prostitute, she found it very insulting. ‘You’ll need the most expensive one to catch her,’ she said haughtily.

‘Oh will I?’ he laughed. ‘Well, I guess I’d better take this one then,’ and to Charlie’s amazement he picked one from the rack which cost £60 and pulled a wallet from his pocket.

Ivor had said this morning that he rarely sold any expensive rods, and for a moment Charlie almost took it from the man’s hands and urged him not to be silly. But he was looking her up and down with pure arrogance, the yacht he’d come from said he could afford it, and besides, she was here to sell things, not to advise against them.

‘Sixty pounds please,’ she said, trying very hard to appear casual about it.

His wallet was stuffed with money. He made a great play of showing her just how much he had as he peeled off six crisp £10 notes.

‘Would you like to join me for dinner later tonight?’ he asked as he handed it over, his hand lingering on hers. ‘I’m Guy Acton-Bond by the way, and you?’

‘Suzie Wong,’ she replied with what she hoped was a deadpan expression. ‘And I’m sorry I can’t tonight, I’ve already made some plans.’

‘That’s a shame, I’m off to Cornwall at first light,’ he said, his tone cooler now. ‘Maybe some other time.’

In her dreams Charlie would have said,
Don’t count on it
but all she did was smile a little foolishly.

‘I’ll be off then,’ he said.

‘Have fun fishing,’ she said, and as he walked away she had a tinge of regret that she hadn’t been warmer. June would have said she was crackers.

It was only a few moments after she’d locked the £60 in the drawer that she saw Ivor’s boat the
MaryAnn
coming into the harbour. She ran along to the mooring and waved. Minnie raced along with her, barking with joy at her master’s homecoming.

‘Can you catch the line and pull it in?’ Ivor yelled out. Charlie felt quite confident about this, she had been sailing a few times with her father and seen him do it.

‘Ready when you are,’ she called back. All the Londoners looked green, one was out cold in the bows. To a man they all had sunburnt shoulders and arms.

Ivor threw the rope, she caught it, and winding it round a cleat she pulled the boat in.

‘Good girl,’ Ivor called out. ‘Now the stern line.’

Minnie sat by Charlie’s legs and they watched as one by one the Londoners came unsteadily up the ladder. There were no leers now, they just looked grateful they were back on dry land. Ivor had some difficulty assisting the last one up, his legs appeared to have turned to rubber. But at last they were all out of the boat and Ivor leapt nimbly out holding a plastic bag of mackerel.

‘Your fish,’ he said to the men. But they shook their heads and made the kind of gestures with their hands which said they never wanted to see another fish or boat as long as they lived.

‘Looks like we’ll have to eat them then,’ Ivor said as he walked back to the shack with Charlie. ‘Do you like mackerel?’

‘I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘I’ve never tried it.’

‘Well, you soon will,’ he said with a wide grin. ‘I’ll cook some for you before we go and see Beryl at the Victoria.’

An hour or so later, Charlie found herself wondering how a meal of plain fried fish with bread and butter could taste so wonderful, and why the company of a man old enough to be her grandfather and his scruffy mongrel should be so much fun. He had made her laugh fit to bust when he said how he’d purposely taken the Londoners further out to sea than he normally did.

‘They were so know-it-all and flashy,’ he said, and his eyes twinkled with mischief. ‘They spoke to me as if I was some dim-witted yokel who’d never been out of Salcombe. But by the time I had them all throwing up yesterday’s dinner, they were a little more humble. With luck they’ll take their holidays in Benidorm in future, that’s where they belong.’

He was amazed that she’d sold the fishing rod, and laughed heartily when she told him what had passed between her and the man called Guy Acton-Bond.

‘We get a lot of his type down here,’ he said. ‘Public school prats with fat wallets and nothing between their ears but air. I expect dozens of them will chat you up, my dear, but just take a word of advice from an old codger. Watch your step with them. It’s easy for a young girl to be swayed into thinking a man really cares for her when he lays on the charm with a shovel. But some of these chaps are rotters, and you, my dear, are a little vulnerable right now.’

Charlie smiled. She thought she knew how to handle men.

At half past seven Ivor took her across the road to meet Beryl Langley, Minnie following them with the calm assurance of a dog who was used to shadowing her owner.

‘This is my new first mate,’ he said by way of an introduction to the woman behind the bar. ‘And I can boast that today she’s already trebled my usual takings.’

‘Well, my lover,’ Beryl said to Charlie in a similar Devon accent to Ivor’s, ‘you’re a pretty little flower and no mistake. Let me show you your room. It’s not much to write home about, I’ll warn you, just a little old attic room. But if you’ll put in a couple of hours a night for me when we’re busy, you’re welcome to it.’

Charlie felt she was going to like Beryl. Aside from her warm smiles and welcoming manner, she had a rather amusing appearance which reminded her of a pantomime dame: about fifty, slightly overweight, with tightly permed orange hair which vied for attention with her shiny pink, ruffled dress. Just the way she came rushing round the bar, picked up one of Charlie’s suitcases, then admonished all her customers to behave themselves while she was gone, suggested she was a fun-loving person.

‘Watch yourself on the stairs,’ she said as she swept out through a back door, leaving Charlie to follow with the other case. ‘The stair carpet’s as old and worn as me.’

The inn seemed like a rabbit warren with its narrow dark passages, winding stairs and dozens of doors. Beryl led her to the top floor and a room at the back.

‘This is it,’ she said. ‘Sorry it hasn’t got a sea view, but then you’ll be looking at the sea all day over at Ivor’s.’

‘It’s lovely,’ Charlie said weakly. In fact she had never seen such a tiny, cheerless room before. All it held was a single bed, a narrow wardrobe and a chest of drawers. The ceiling sloped so steeply it was only possible to stand upright in the middle of the room. But she reminded herself that she was lucky to be offered a bed at all. ‘It’s very kind of you to let me have it, Mrs Langley.’

‘Beryl’s the name, Beryl the Peril to some,’ she laughed. ‘I’ll throw in an evening meal any time you want it,’ she added, humping the case she carried up on to the bed and opening it. ‘You’ll have to help yourself to a bit of breakfast, I’m not usually about early in the morning. Oh, what nice clothes you’ve got!’

Charlie might have been offended at anyone else opening her case and pulling out items unasked, but the woman did it in an almost motherly way and her approval was welcome.

‘My parents were rich,’ Charlie said, feeling she had to give some sort of explanation. ‘But everything’s gone wrong for them. Did Ivor tell you about it?’

‘All Ivor told me was that you needed a home,’ she said, patting Charlie’s shoulder. ‘I put two and two together when he said you were Chinese, because I read about your poor mother in the paper. But I don’t pry, my lover, if you wants to tell me anything, I’ll be all ears, but don’t feel you’ve got to. From what I can see, I reckons you’ve had a basin full of people poking their noses in.’

‘You’re very nice,’ Charlie said, and suddenly her eyes were prickling with tears. In just a few words this woman with her odd dress and hair had made her feel at home and secure. She was so very glad she’d come to Salcombe. ‘Shall I come down now and do some washing-up?’

‘Certainly not, tomorrow will do for that,’ Beryl said firmly. ‘You stay and unpack, make yourself at home. If you want to pop down later for a cup of tea or anything, you know the way.’

Charlie got into bed at ten. From down below she could hear the sound of laughter and clinking glasses and bottles. Although it was dark outside now, people were still walking about. She could hear the sea in the distance and it was a soothing sound.

Her clothes were all unpacked. Her little radio, alarm clock and a photograph of her parents were placed on the locker by her bed. Beryl had popped up just once to bring her a cup of tea, cake and some clean towels. She used the excuse that she’d forgotten to tell Charlie where the bathroom was, but Charlie guessed the woman wanted to make sure she wasn’t sitting up here alone and crying.

She did feel tearful, but only because she’d been made so welcome by both Ivor and Beryl. She wondered why some people could be so kind, yet others so cruel. Were the kind ones like that because they’d had some period of terrible unhappiness in their lives too?

She picked up the photograph of her parents. Charlie had taken it last Christmas with the camera she’d been given. They were cuddled up together on the settee in the drawing room with the Christmas tree behind them. It was often said by other people what a striking couple they were, her mother’s silky blonde hair and fair skin a perfect foil for her father’s olive skin and jet-black hair. In this picture Sylvia was wearing a pale grey cashmere dress, her father a maroon jacket, and they both held glasses of champagne.

At the time when she got the photograph developed Charlie was pleased with the sophistication of the picture. But in the light of recent events, it looked phoney. Everything, the adoring way they were looking at each other, the elegant glasses of champagne and the tree behind them, was posed. Until she suggested taking the picture they had been sitting on opposite sides of the room. It wasn’t representative of how they really were alone at home with one another at all.

Why was it that with such a wealth of evidence, her mother’s strange moods, her father’s long absences, and the rows she overheard, she had continued to believe her parents were deeply in love with one another, and that their life together as a family would never change?

Now she was here in a funny little room above a pub, working in a fishing shack. Mum was in hospital and would perhaps never be able to walk again. And Dad, where was he? Was he, as her mother believed, off with another woman, financing a new start with the money he’d cheated his wife and daughter out of?

Charlie knew this was the most likely scenario. She could even see for herself that Jin might have got so tired of Sylvia’s moods and her ever-increasing dependence on him that he felt he had to walk away. If he’d also fallen in love with someone else he could be really happy with, maybe he thought it was right to take everything he’d worked for too.

Yet however likely that was, she still didn’t believe it, not deep down inside. Her father just wasn’t a callous man. Besides, he had loved ‘Windways’. Charlie could remember the many occasions when he’d just come back from abroad. The first thing he would do was insist Sylvia and Charlie join him in wandering around the garden. He would smile with delight over each new flower, drink in the sea air and cuddle them both as they all admired the view. Would any man willingly walk away from something he loved that much?

‘Come back, Daddy,’ she whispered in the dark. ‘Even if it’s only to see me and explain.’

Chapter Four

On Charlie’s third day working for Ivor, he came into the shack around three in the afternoon and announced it was her turn to make their evening meal.

‘Me?’ she said, dropping the pile of sun hats she had in her hands in surprise.

Ivor was pleased at the way Charlie was shaping up in the shop. She had a nice manner with the customers and she was so enthusiastic to learn about boats and fishing. He’d fed her for the last two evenings because it was as easy to cook for two as it was for one, and he enjoyed having her company, but if a shared meal was to become a regular thing, he thought she should take her turn cooking too.

‘Yes, you,’ he grinned. ‘I’m not your slave. Go over to the butcher’s and get some pork sausages. I’ve already got potatoes in.’

He shoved a 10-shilling note into her hands and sat down outside to fill his pipe. Charlie didn’t have the nerve to tell him she’d never cooked a sausage in her life.

She reasoned with herself as she went over to the butcher’s that it couldn’t be that hard, she’d seen her mother do it often enough. You just put them in a pan and fried them till they were brown. And potatoes only had to be peeled and put in water.