Charlie (22 page)

Before going there, Charlie had spent a great deal of time and energy compiling a list of things they wanted to keep. To be curtly told by the official that the dining-room table and chairs weren’t a necessity, and that the gate-leg table in the hall was quite adequate for their needs was humiliating. He sniffed at her request for the cream three-piece suite in the drawing room, and insisted they must have the shabbier green one in the small sitting room. By the end of the morning’s haggling Charlie felt entirely drained and close to tears. To know she was never going to see all those lovely antique pieces of furniture which her father had collected ever again, that some other family would be walking on the Persian rugs, was too hurtful. She had worked out for herself, just by checking antique shop prices, that the contents of their old home must be worth far in excess of her father’s debts, yet the official just shrugged when she pointed this out and said the Receivers had chalked up considerable expenses which had to be deducted before anyone was paid out.

It was the day of the creditors’ meeting that tipped Charlie over the edge. Mr Wyatt took Sylvia in her wheelchair with him, saying that although it might be harrowing for her mother to come face to face with the people Jin owed money to, he felt her presence was essential to ensure that some of the funds which had been raised by the sale of the house and effects should be set aside for her.

As Charlie wasn’t allowed to attend, she spent the morning of the hearing in the shack, on tenterhooks. She was afraid her mother might be abusive if things didn’t go her way, and that afterwards she might just plunge back into even deeper depression.

To her surprise Mr Wyatt came into the shack at one o’clock, beaming from ear to ear, and insisted she came out to lunch with him so he could tell her everything. Charlie assumed this meant he had good news and her spirits rose.

It wasn’t until they were in the King’s Arms with steak and kidney pudding in front of them that Wyatt began to explain what had happened. ‘Only three creditors turned up in person so it wasn’t too bad for Sylvia. It was agreed that she was entitled to some of the funds, and two thousand pounds was set aside for that.’

‘That’s good?’ Charlie said in surprise. She thought it should have been much more considering her mother’s disability.

‘Well, she was lucky to get anything, the Inland Revenue don’t care for sob stories,’ Wyatt said somewhat callously. ‘But wait till I get to the good news! Miss Fellows, your headmistress, has granted you a free place to continue at school.’

Charlie stared at Wyatt in surprise. ‘When did she contact you?’

‘She was there today. The school was one of your father’s creditors.’

Charlie felt herself blush with shame.

‘Why didn’t you tell me that before?’ she asked.

‘The creditors weren’t your concern,’ he said. ‘You’re too young to worry your pretty little head about that sort of thing.’

That condescending remark angered her and reminded her that she’d never seen any list of creditors, or even had any idea exactly how much her father owed. She wondered if her mother had been properly informed. Perhaps at another time she might have been pleased to think Miss Fellows thought enough of her ability, even in the face of unpaid bills, to offer her a free place, but coming at such a time it felt like the ultimate humiliation.

‘I can’t go back there, not now,’ she said.

‘Why on earth not?’ Wyatt’s schoolboyish smile faded and he looked churlish. ‘I thought you’d be thrilled. It’s a very generous offer under the circumstances.’

‘I expect they said that sort of thing to people who got thrown in the workhouse,’ she said tartly. ‘It was very kind of Miss Fellows. But I have some pride. I couldn’t hold my head up there with everyone whispering about me.’

‘Why should they do that?’ he asked. ‘Young girls aren’t concerned by such things as bankrupts.’

Charlie had begun to see some time ago that Mr Wyatt wasn’t quite the fatherly figure she originally took him for. He had been so condescending and evasive about so many matters, and it had crossed her mind that they ought to have got a lawyer to act for them who was an expert in bankruptcy. None of that really mattered now, as it was over, but suddenly she saw that he was just like she used to be, so wrapped up in himself, so sheltered from real life that he had no real idea what the world was like outside his own front door.

‘Young girls are concerned by anything which has a breath of scandal attached to it,’ she said archly. ‘They are also cruel and will take any opportunity to kick someone when they are already down.’

‘Come now, that’s a bit strong,’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘These girls are your old friends.’

‘And not one of those old friends has shown the slightest concern for me since all this started,’ she said bitterly. ‘Just as all my parents’ so-called friends have abandoned us. A fine lot they turned out to be. They drank Dad’s booze, ate his food, and the minute everything came crashing down, they pretended they never knew us.’

This was a direct dig at Wyatt’s wife Rachel. She had been particularly friendly with Sylvia, yet she hadn’t so much as visited her in hospital or sent along a bunch of flowers. Nor had anyone else in the same social set. ‘In fact,’ Charlie went on, ‘things will be so bad for me in Dartmouth, I probably won’t even be able to get a part-time job there. I think it might be better if I moved to London.’

‘And leave your poor mother on her own? Charlie! I can’t believe you could even consider something so callous.’

Charlie hadn’t really meant to say this. It came out in the heat of the moment. But when Wyatt retaliated so strongly she saw that he was in fact a twat, as her mother had called him. Sylvia must have reverted back to her old act, the charming, flirtatious, helpless little woman today. That he was stupid enough to be taken in by it, when he’d already had plenty of evidence of how impossible Sylvia was, made her seethe.

‘You can call it callous if you like,’ she said defiantly. ‘I’d like to see you put up with her for more than a couple of days without being tempted to do a runner.’

Wyatt changed after that. He dropped the caring, protective persona he’d been adopting all this time, and briskly ran through other minor details that had been brought up this morning. Charlie despised him then. He didn’t care one bit, it was just business to him, and he wanted to wind it all up with all speed so he could claim his fees from the Receivers and bow out.

Charlie half expected him to bring up his advice to her about the miniatures, she was even beginning to think he might be low enough to sink to a spot of blackmail. But fortunately he didn’t. She might have been tempted to tip the remains of her half-eaten lunch over his head if he had.

‘Well, I have to say I’m disappointed in you, Charlie,’ he said as he made a move to leave to go back to his office. ‘I had prided myself on acting in your best interests today. Perhaps you should try to be a little less selfish and consider all those who have tried to help you.’

‘You get paid for what you’ve done,’ she snapped back. ‘I don’t actually remember any help coming from anyone else.’

Back in the shack, shaking with rage, Charlie told Ivor what she thought of Wyatt. ‘He was so bloody pompous. How dare he think he knows better than me how it will be at school, or what Mum’s like?’

Ivor put his arms round her; he had never seen her so angry and it frightened him. ‘Lawyers are all like that,’ he said. ‘They live in ivory towers and haven’t the first idea how it feels to be broke, hurt or confused. Blame him, but not Miss Fellows – she must be a decent sort, and she must have great belief in you to stick her neck out.’

‘I can’t go back to school. I don’t know that I can even face Dartmouth again,’ she sobbed. ‘I dread even visiting Mum, so how can I possibly look after her?’

Ivor just held her and soothed her, every instinct urging him to say she could stay with him and let her mother take care of herself. He felt like sobbing too. He’d grown to love Charlie, his thoughts about her were as pure as if she were his own daughter. He wanted her to finish school, go to university and make something of herself. But to lawyers she was just a pawn they could push around their chessboard, and fit in somewhere it suited them best, regardless of what she needed. Like looking after a half-mad woman who they knew was going to be trouble.

‘Just give it a try first,’ Ivor said, feeling like Judas. ‘Go and see Miss Fellows, and see how you feel about school while you’re there. Settle your mum in that flat, and wait and see what happens. If it is terrible, at least you can say you tried. You can always come back to me. I won’t ever turn you away.’

‘But I’m going to miss you so much,’ she said in a croaky voice against his shoulder. ‘I’ll miss being so close to the sea, the smell of this place, your cooking, Minnie and Beryl. But most of all you, Ivor. I don’t know how I’m going to cope without seeing you every day.’

‘Nor me,’ he said in a gruff voice, and when she moved back slightly to look up at him, his eyes looked damp. ‘It’s a long time since I really cared for anyone,’ he said.

Charlie had once thought he looked odd, but now his red hair, bushy beard and even his uptilted nose had become so dear to her, that other more conventional-looking men seemed bland. She remembered in her first few days here thinking he ought to wear smarter clothes and trim his beard because it would make customers less nervous of him. Of course in those days she was something of a snob, judging people by outward appearances. She hoped she’d never again judge anyone by their clothes, or the amount of money they had. Ivor would always be the man she measured others by.

Chapter Seven

The day after the creditors’ meeting Charlie woke from a terrible nightmare. She had dreamed she was balancing on the stone balustrade in the garden at ‘Windways’, looking down at the sea below, and behind her people were shouting viciously.

She didn’t dare turn to look at them for fear of falling. Her mother was screaming at her to get down and come and give her a bath. Mr Wyatt was shouting that she was selfish and cruel to neglect her mother, and Miss Fellows kept saying over and over again that she’d never make anything of herself unless she worked harder.

There were other softer, taunting voices too. One was Guy’s – he was saying she was a liar and a fraud. June was saying she was spoilt rotten and too big for her boots. Ivor was there too, his gruff voice entreating her to hold on just a little longer.

As she teetered precariously, so she heard thundering feet running towards her. Her mother screamed as she had that day in the garden, and Charlie knew the two men had come back for her.

She jumped, down into the sea, and the dream went into slow motion then as she spun round and round, clutching at plants as she passed them, but they all came away in her hands. Below her she could see waves breaking on the rocks and she was heading straight for them.

Charlie sat up, soaking wet with sweat and panting as if she’d run a mile. It was just on daybreak, a grey, eerie light filling her small room and making it seem like a prison cell. She knew she had to get outside in the fresh air; if she didn’t, she’d fall asleep again and the dream would come back.

She got up, pulled on jeans, a sweater and her plimsolls. The only clear idea she had was to walk until her head cleared of all those horrible images.

Ivor always got up at daybreak, summer and winter alike. It was a legacy left from his time as a fisherman. Now he was getting older and stiff, sometimes he wished he could break the habit and stay in his warm bed, but he found he couldn’t. His routine was the same every day, out into the yard to the lavatory, then a swift walk along the harbour with Minnie just to fill his lungs with fresh air before he made his breakfast.

There was an autumn chill in the air this morning – almost, but not quite, an early frost. He noted there were far more seagulls than usual, wheeling around screeching, and that suggested bad weather was on its way.

He liked the harbour best at this time of day, deserted but for the birds and the odd prowling cat. On warmer days he liked to sit and watch the sun come up, to marvel how the sea turned from black to dark green and slowly to blue. But today the sea was determined to stay a sullen grey-green, and he decided to take the
MaryAnn
out now to collect his lobster pots rather than wait until after breakfast.

The pots were disappointingly empty, and as he turned the boat around to go back to the harbour, he spotted a figure in the distance, walking up by the Marine Hotel. He idly wondered why anyone was about so early; except in high summer he never saw a soul on his morning excursions. He came to the conclusion it was one of the hotel staff returning from a night on the tiles. The thought made him smile. He could remember a time when he too could stay out all night and still do a day’s work after it.

Ivor had finished all his chores, washed his shirt and underwear, swept and mopped over the kitchen floor, and laid a fire for later. It was only the pips on the wireless that made him look at the clock. It was nine, and Charlie hadn’t turned up.

He wasn’t the least concerned as there was little for her to do now the only holidaymakers were a handful of pensioners; besides, it was raining now and that would deter any would-be customers.

Ten o’clock came, then half past, but there was still no sign of Charlie. He stood in the shack doorway looking out at the heavy rain, and wondered if she was still upset about the events of the previous day.

By eleven the rain was torrential, so dark Ivor couldn’t see well enough in the shack to do anything, and as Charlie still hadn’t turned up, he put his pipe in his pocket, locked up and walked over to the pub, Minnie padding silently behind him. Mrs Maggs the cleaner was just mopping down the bar floor as he stepped inside. ‘We’re not open yet,’ she bawled at him, as if he didn’t know the opening hours.

‘Just wanted to see Beryl for a minute,’ Ivor said. Maggs was a harridan of over sixty, she had only one brown tooth and the worst varicose veins Ivor had ever seen, yet she not only cleaned here, but in several private homes too. Beryl called her a treasure.