Charlie (30 page)

‘I think I would too if I had to put up with everything you have,’ he said truthfully. ‘But you still looked after her – if this hadn’t happened you would have gone on doing so.’

Charlie broke down then and cried for her sad, weak mother who chose death rather than try to make a new life for herself, and because she hadn’t seen this coming and found some way to avert it. Andrew sat down beside her and held her tightly in his arms until her sobbing finally subsided.

‘Come on now,’ he said gently. ‘Go and wash your face while I finish clearing up, then we’ll go. I’ll put the sheets and blankets in a bag and take them back to Beryl’s to wash them properly.’

‘I can’t stay there,’ she said in alarm. ‘It wouldn’t be right. I must be here in case the police need me.’

‘They won’t need you today,’ he said. ‘I told the police I was taking you back to Salcombe. Right now you need looking after.’

‘Is she asleep?’ Beryl asked Andrew as he came back down into the bar just after closing time that night. Ivor was sitting on a stool nursing a pint. He looked forlorn.

Andrew nodded. He felt very shaky and disturbed after listening to Charlie talking about her childhood.

It seemed to him that while Jin appeared to be the more caring parent, his habit of turning each visit home into almost a circus of indulgence, then suddenly leaving again, was in fact the most harmful force in Charlie’s young life. She’d put her father on a pedestal, subconsciously blaming her mother for his departures. Yet in fact Sylvia had needed him there even more than her child.

Beryl poured him a large brandy. ‘You look as if you need it,’ she said. ‘And I’ll join you because I want to blot out the appalling things which keep happening to that poor kid.’

The last of the straggling drinkers left and as Andrew sat down beside Ivor, the older man turned to him, his face deeply concerned.

‘Drink up, son. You look shattered,’ he said.

Andrew downed the brandy in one and grimaced as the spirits burned his throat. ‘I was wondering if it might be better if I went back to London tomorrow,’ he said.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Beryl exclaimed. ‘You can’t go now, Charlie would think you were running out on her.’

‘I don’t want to go,’ Andrew sighed. ‘But she’s so very upset and I’m worried that she’ll regret blurting out so much to me later.’

‘It’s a darn sight more healthy for her to talk than keep it bottled up, son.’ Ivor shrugged. ‘Of course there’s a chance she might regret it later, but I think it’s far more likely to make a stronger bond between the two of you. What you’ve got to ask yourself right now is whether you want that.’

‘I do,’ Andrew replied, looking Ivor straight in the eye.

Ivor felt a lump come up in his throat. He’d met Andrew many times before while he was staying with his aunt for holidays – even as a twelve-year-old he’d been a bright and amusing lad, so he’d been delighted when he felt the mutual attraction between him and Charlie. But it was only today that he’d seen Andrew had grown into a caring, deeply sensitive man, and he’d won Ivor’s respect. ‘Well, that’s settled then,’ he said crisply. ‘No more talk of going back to London.’

‘Hullo, sweetheart! There’s a surprise,’ Ivor exclaimed as he answered a tentative knock on his door and found Charlie standing there.

It was the following Thursday, six days since her mother’s death, and the funeral was arranged for tomorrow afternoon.

‘I felt I had to come out and get some fresh air,’ she said. ‘But once I was out I didn’t know where to go.’

Ivor knew exactly what she meant. He’d been like that after Sarah and Kim were killed. There was only so much aimless wandering one could do, and always the fear of running into someone who’d ask questions you couldn’t cope with.

‘Well, I’m glad you came here,’ he said. ‘And so’s Minnie.’ Minnie was already sniffing around Charlie’s legs, but because she sensed something was wrong, she wasn’t jumping up as she usually did. ‘Come on in and sit by the fire. It’s too cold to go walking anyway.’

Charlie sat down in her usual chair, and Minnie sat beside her, resting her chin on Charlie’s knee and looking at her mournfully.

Ivor watched Charlie petting his dog and wondered what he should say. Her face was set like pale concrete, cold and distant. He guessed she was wrung out with crying, talking, listening to platitudes, advice and sympathy. Maybe what she needed now was just peace to gather her own thoughts. He made her a cup of his special coffee and added a little rum, then sat down beside her and lit his pipe.

‘If I hadn’t been forced to get up each day to make the funeral arrangements and do all the other stuff like registering the death and telling the Council and the Social Security what’s happened, I think I would have stayed in bed all this week,’ she said eventually, and the eyes which turned towards him were bleak.

‘It wouldn’t hurt you to have a day in bed,’ he said. ‘After the funeral tomorrow you’ll be able to.’

‘You’re the first person to even mention afterwards,’ she said. ‘What am I supposed to do, Ivor? I don’t know.’

Ivor’s eyes prickled at her question. He knew from his own experience that would be the real test of her character. ‘You try to pick up where you left off,’ he said gently. ‘You go back to school and prepare for those final exams. You’ll get money each week from Social Security to keep you, so you mustn’t worry about that. By the time the exams are over, you’ll have your head straight again and then you can decide what you want to do. Are you nervous about staying in the flat alone?’

‘No, not really,’ she said with a big sigh. ‘But it will be strange, won’t it?’

Ivor agreed it probably would be and maybe very lonely. ‘You can come over here every weekend if you want to,’ he said. ‘And I’m sure Andrew will want to come down and see you.’

‘I don’t know if I can cope with that,’ she blurted out.

‘Andrew is a sensitive lad,’ he said carefully. ‘He’ll know better than to push you too hard. But if you’d rather he stayed away until you feel able to cope again, then you must tell him. He’ll understand.’

‘But will he? Isn’t he more likely to be dreadfully hurt and think I don’t care about him?’ she whispered. She was so confused. One minute she wanted to be alone, then when she was, she got scared. Her heart said she wanted Andrew as a lover, yet her body and mind were shying away from it. At times she thought she was getting as crazy as her mother. ‘You see, I couldn’t bear to lose him, Ivor, he’s the only good thing which has happened in a long time.’

Ivor thought it was time for plain speaking. ‘I don’t believe you will lose him, he cares too deeply about you, Charlie. But at the same time it isn’t right to string him along with promises you don’t know you can keep. Admit you are confused right now. Tell him you need time to sort out your feelings and in the meantime he must go back to London and pick up his life too.’

Ivor saw her face tighten. He guessed she was afraid Andrew might meet someone else while she was down here all alone. He wished he could promise her that wouldn’t happen.

‘You have to trust,’ he said gently. ‘Not just Andrew, but your own judgement too. It will come right in the end.’

She bent over Minnie to stroke her and Ivor sensed she was trying to hide tears. He wished he could find the right words to convince her that the sun would shine on her again, that one day soon she’d wake up to find the hurt was gone. But he knew only too well that would be a long time coming.

At four the following afternoon Charlie and Beryl were in the kitchen at Mayflower Close. Sylvia’s funeral had taken place two hours earlier, first the service at St Saviour’s in Dartmouth, then on to the burial at Longcross cemetery. The few people who had come back to the flat afterwards had now gone, and they were washing the last of the dishes. Ivor and Andrew were in the living room.

‘The Mellings are nice people,’ Beryl said more brightly than she felt. ‘You heard what Diana said, didn’t you? That you must go and have tea with them at least once a week.’

‘Yes, I heard,’ Charlie sighed. ‘It was very nice of her. Now, stop worrying about me, Beryl. I am okay, really I am.’

Beryl was worried. She had never before attended such an emotionless funeral. Even Charlie had remained dry-eyed, straight-backed and composed throughout it.

It hadn’t helped that the vicar had never actually met Sylvia. When he spoke of her fortitude in the face of her disability it sounded as if he had mixed up his notes with those of another person. Beryl was appalled too by how quickly afterwards some of the people scuttled away. She thought if they had that little interest in Charlie’s welfare, they might as well not have bothered to attend at all.

Mr and Mrs Melling and their daughter June came back for tea, along with Mrs Brown, Sylvia’s old housekeeper, and Reg the gardener. They at least had shown genuine concern and affection for Charlie. Yet Beryl couldn’t help but think, if it hadn’t been for the neighbours from this road, herself, Ivor and Andrew, to give some semblance of mourners, it would have been a very sorry affair.

‘I wasn’t so much worried as wanting to get some sort of response from you,’ Beryl said sharply. ‘It’s not good for you to keep everything inside.’

Charlie shrugged. Her eyes gave nothing away. ‘What is there to say, Beryl? What a shame a few more people didn’t come? Why did Mr Wyatt leg it off so quickly? It’s about what I expected.’

‘Is it?’ Beryl was surprised.

‘Yes,’ Charlie said. ‘In fact I expected less. If the staff from Franklin House had come back here I wouldn’t have known what to say to them, they didn’t get on with Mum after all. All the people I hoped might come, like the Mellings, Reg and Mrs Brown, managed it. That’s enough for me.’

‘You’re being very stoic,’ Beryl said.

‘I’d call it resigned,’ Charlie said. ‘My parents’ friends were the fair-weather kind and if any of them had turned up after all this time and sobbed their way through her funeral I’d have wanted to punch them. And if you really want to know what I feel now, it’s just relief that it’s all over.’

Beryl thought that was perhaps a little
too
honest.

‘Don’t look like that,’ Charlie said indignantly. ‘You wanted to know what was going on inside my head. And that’s it. Now I just want to be on my own and think things through.’

Beryl had always admired Charlie’s dignity and control of her emotions. She had been at least thirty before she’d come even close to being poised. Yet today Charlie’s control had been chilling rather than admirable. Even the black roll-neck sweater and long skirt she’d chosen to wear gave her a forbidding appearance. She was too elegant, too adult. Beryl pulled herself up sharply and decided she must say what was on her mind.

‘You might think it’s a bit odd, and a bit late for me to say this now. But I liked Sylvia,’ she said bluntly. ‘I didn’t approve of the way she leaned on you, but I actually liked her for herself. I’m telling you this now, Charlie, because as far as I can see there isn’t anyone else to speak out for her.’

Charlie looked staggered. She leaned back against the kitchen sink and folded her arms across her chest. ‘You only met her a few times!’

‘I came to see her nearly every week since you moved in here,’ Beryl said sharply. ‘I should imagine that amounts to some sixty or more visits. I didn’t tell you how often I came, because Sylvia didn’t want me to.’

‘Why?’

‘You of all people should know how secretive she was!’ Beryl half smiled: she had Charlie’s full attention at last. ‘Do you want to know what we talked about?’

‘Yes. Yes, of course I do.’ Charlie pulled out a stool and sat down. ‘I can’t imagine what you had in common.’

Beryl shrugged. ‘Sometimes it’s opposing viewpoints which make for a stimulating friendship. I’ve seen a great deal of life, but only from a safe viewpoint across the bar. Now, your mother experienced first-hand just about everything anyone could throw at her. I know she told you about her childhood and the tragic events when she was thrown out of her first job, but you and I, Charlie, can only empathize to a certain degree with that terrible ordeal. Neither of us knows what it’s like to be raped, lose a baby, or to be that hungry and neglected. You can say you know how it feels to have your mother commit suicide, but not those other things.’

‘Okay, I’ll go along with that,’ Charlie said. ‘So what did you gather from her?’

‘I’d say her biggest problem was that she actually believed herself to be utterly worthless,’ Beryl said emphatically. ‘To make up for this she became like a chameleon, changing colour to suit the people she became involved with. DeeDee was one of the strongest influences.’

‘I should think she was, she stole Dad away!’

‘I’m talking about long before she met him,’ Beryl said. ‘From what I gathered Sylvia was just a little grey mouse, hiding herself away until then. DeeDee took her in hand, showed her how to dress, style her hair, made her over if you like. Sylvia said she was the first real friend she’d ever had, she made her believe she could amount to something. They had a great many good times together and it was she who introduced her to night-clubs.’

Charlie sniffed disapprovingly.

Beryl looked at her sharply. ‘Do you want me to tell you my views on your mother or not?’

Charlie nodded.

’Well, as I see it she tried to emulate DeeDee, made herself seem equally tough, bold and ruthless. But then when she met and fell in love with Jin, she changed again. She kept the glamour, but she became softer, generous, warm-hearted, and ambitious for him. I have no doubt that she was the driving force that made your father a successful businessman, Charlie, she’d learned a great deal from hard-headed DeeDee.

‘Then when you were born, so was another Sylvia, a loving mother, dedicated wife. It’s my belief that those early days in your childhood were the happiest, most fulfilling times of all for her.’

‘She didn’t seem happy to me,’ Charlie retorted.

‘She was,’ Beryl assured her. ‘I might not have known her then, but when she talked about that period in her life she glowed. There had been the hiccup when she found out about Jin’s affair with DeeDee, but they moved down to Devon and it was all forgotten. Everything was fine right up till when you were about eleven. If you look back carefully I’m sure you’ll have some memories of events at that time. She took you up to London for a shopping trip and you stayed in a hotel in Kensington.’