Two years later Joseph died of pneumonia following a bad attack of bronchitis. Ivor was the only person who was surprised that he left his shack, cottage and business to him; everyone else considered it appropriate. To a man who once felt he had no wish to live, such generosity was proof there was every reason to. For Joseph’s sake he determined to put his bitterness behind him and start afresh. Now, some twelve years later, he rarely thought about the past. He had learned the simple art of being happy with what he had.
‘Come on,’ Ivor said impatiently. ‘Either tell me the truth, or ship out.’
At this somewhat callous command Charlie withdrew her hands from her face, wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and braced herself to tell him to mind his own business. But as she opened her mouth to speak out, the man’s greeny-blue eyes halted her. His appearance might be fearsome, his facial expression one of distrust, but his eyes were full of compassion, and she felt she was looking into his soul and seeing a good, kind man.
She was beyond hoping for a job now. Her only motivation in telling him the whole sorry story was the need to unburden herself. She held nothing back, everything – her mother’s spiteful revelations about her father, the impending bankruptcy, even the situation back in Dartmouth – came out in a torrent.
‘So that’s why I’ve got to get a job,’ she finished up, and found herself crying again.
Ivor had heard many sad stories over the years, but he didn’t remember ever being quite so moved as he was now. She was only a child, it wasn’t just a job she needed, but a caring adult to help and advise her. From the way she’d described her home life until all this happened, he could see exactly why there was no stalwart friend of the family to take her under their wing.
That she’d broken down on his doorstep seemed like fate. He could remember pouring his heart out to Joseph Fear, here in the same place, and Joseph hadn’t turned him away, but offered a hand of friendship, knowing even less about Ivor than he did now about Charlie.
‘Even if I was to give you a job,’ Ivor said cautiously, ‘I couldn’t pay you enough to find somewhere to live.’
‘I could try and find another job too,’ she said quickly. ‘Maybe as a waitress in the evenings. I have to stay somewhere near Dartmouth so I can visit my mother.’
Her desperate plea twisted Ivor’s insides. Was it because of Kim, his own daughter? Or could it be that Charlie reminded him of some of those pretty young Chinese girls he’d met in Hong Kong brothels all those years ago, who if they’d had someone to lean on, might not have ended up in that dangerous trade?
‘What’s your dog’s name?’ Charlie asked, interrupting his thoughts. His dog was a good judge of character, she rarely made a fuss of anyone, but she was sitting now with her chin on Charlie’s lap, looking adoringly at the girl as she stroked her.
‘Minnie,’ he said. ‘Looks like she’s decided you’re a friend.’
‘I love dogs,’ Charlie said. ‘Mum would never let me have one, she was too houseproud.’
It was that little remark which made up Ivor’s mind. Somehow it encapsulated everything he sensed about this girl’s childhood. ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ he said, compassion elbowing out common sense. ‘I’ll take you on for a trial period, and meanwhile I’ll ask at the pub tonight and see if anyone there can put you up. But I’ll tell you now, if you aren’t any good, I’ll have to send you packing. There isn’t room in this business for passengers.’
Her expression drove away the last of his reservations. Her smile spread from ear to ear, her eyes were alight with joy. She reached out and caught hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly. ‘Thank you so much, Mr Meeks. You won’t be sorry, I promise you.’
Minnie seemed to appreciate a bargain was being struck. She put her paws up on Charlie’s thighs and began licking her face rapturously.
‘Let’s hope not,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘Well, Minnie’s clearly decided you are here to stay, so you’d better call me Ivor. Now, how’s your tea-making? We can make a start with that. But then you’d better go back to Dartmouth and pack your things. Make sure you come back in the morning dressed in something practical. What you’re wearing now won’t do at all.’
As Charlie rode home on the bus in the early evening, for the first time since the attack on her mother she felt like smiling. It might not be much of a job, it only paid £10 a week, but it was a start and she’d be away from Dartmouth.
Going into Ivor’s tiny cottage to make the tea had been an awful shock. She’d never seen anywhere quite so, well, bleak was the only word that sprang to mind. It was clean, but there was no comfort in the one room downstairs. Just a sink, cooker, two upright chairs, a small table and an easy chair. He didn’t even have a bathroom, only an outside lavatory. Charlie had never met anyone before who lived with so little.
But odd as Ivor was, she’d felt comfortable with him, he wasn’t the least bit creepy. He really listened, and even though she’d told him all that stuff about her father, he hadn’t uttered one judgmental word. She thought he could be described as inscrutable. Minnie was lovely too, so quiet, obedient and affectionate. She hoped Ivor would let her take her out for walks.
She hoped too she could really learn everything about the fishing and boat stuff – those maggots had made her feel quite ill. She wondered too if Ivor knew that she’d bluffed her way through the tea-making, calling out to ask how many spoons of tea he liked in the pot, then trying to remember everything she’d seen Mrs Melling do, like warming the pot. He’d probably think twice about taking her on if he knew how few practical skills she had.
‘You’re going to work in a fishing tackle shop?’ Mrs Melling looked appalled when Charlie broke her news that evening. ‘And where are you going to live?’
‘Mr Meeks is going to arrange a room for me at the Victoria Inn,’ Charlie lied. Ivor had hinted he might be able to arrange it, but it wasn’t definite. She wasn’t going to admit either that the ‘shop’ was in fact a wooden shack on the harbour. She had a feeling that if the woman knew what Ivor Meeks looked like she’d blow a fuse.
‘I don’t think your mother will approve.’ Mrs Melling shook her head. Her mouth was pursed up like a cat’s behind. ‘But I suppose I can’t stop you.’
‘Mum is in no position to disapprove,’ Charlie said tartly. ‘And I can’t keep sponging off you. You’ve been so kind, Mrs Melling, but it’s time I looked after myself.’
‘Charlie, you can’t do the simplest thing for yourself!’ Diana forgot she had wanted Charlie to leave and her maternal instinct took over. ‘Do you know how to wash and iron your clothes? Can you cook anything?’
‘I can make sandwiches, cups of instant coffee, and I mastered tea-making today. As for the washing and ironing, I’ll just have to learn, won’t I?’ Charlie said defiantly.
Diana looked doubtful. ‘You can do a bit of ironing for me tonight to get a bit of practice, once you’ve packed your things,’ she said. ‘And I’ll try to explain to you which things need cool water, and which need hot.’
It occurred to Diana as Charlie ran away to pack that the Weishes hadn’t prepared their daughter in any way for the outside world. It made her feel quite ill to think the girl would be living above a public house with no proper supervision. But then she wasn’t responsible for Charlie, her mother was, and it was a relief that she was finally off her hands.
*
‘My word, you come with a lot of baggage,’ Ivor joked as he took Charlie’s two large suitcases from her the following morning. Minnie jumped up and gave her an enthusiastic welcome. ‘And to think that yesterday I thought you were a runaway!’
He had been getting his stock outside as Charlie came staggering around the corner with her luggage. He’d rushed along to help her, amazed that she had so much. He doubted he could fill one carrier bag with his stuff.
Charlie was just about to say these were merely her summer clothes, that she had as many winter clothes again back at ‘Windways’. Bu
t she stopped herself, she must forget she was once spoiled rotten. ‘Mr and Mrs Melling are going on holiday next week. I think they wanted me to take everything,’ she said instead. This was true, she’d had the distinct feeling they had closed the door on her for good.
Ivor normally slept very well, but last night he’d hardly closed his eyes for worrying about what he’d taken on. He might have arranged a room for Charlie, but ultimately she would be his responsibility. What if she spent the time when he was out on the boat chatting up young men, or worse still got herself into trouble?
Still, he was pleased to see she’d dressed sensibly – she was wearing jeans and a pink tee-shirt, with plimsolls on her feet. She still looked like a young model though. He hoped she wouldn’t distract the young men from buying their bait and other fishing tackle.
‘I’ll put it out back for now,’ he said, humping the suitcases in through the shack. ‘I’ve spoken to Beryl Langley at the Victoria Inn opposite. She’ll give you a room in return for a bit of washing-up in the evenings. You’ll be safe with her, Charlie, she’s a good sort. I’ll take you over there at the end of the day.’
Charlie was surprised to find the morning flew by. She spent most of the time inside the shack, helping Ivor tidy it up and sticking price labels on everything so she would know what to charge when he went out on the boat later in the day. When someone came in, Ivor stood back and let her serve them and as they were mostly just holidaymakers with time on their hands it didn’t matter if she was a bit slow.
‘What’s this for?’ she kept asking, holding up all sorts of odd things she found lying on dusty shelves.
Ivor seemed pleased by her enthusiasm, and explained things very clearly. ‘If it’s a fine day on Sunday, you can come out fishing with me. That way most of it will just fall into place for you.’
She was helping some children pick out buckets and spades when the men booked for the afternoon fishing trip arrived. They were Londoners, in their late twenties, and rather rough types she thought, with sleeveless singlets showing big bellies and the sort of nylon shorts that footballers wear. They had a crate of beer with them, but it looked as if they’d already had a few pints in the pub, and all of them leered at her and made suggestive remarks.
Ivor took Charlie to one side. ‘Don’t mind them,’ he said. ‘They’re harmless really, they only go on that way because they’re mob-handed. Now, keep the money drawer locked, and stow the key away in your pocket. I’ll be back by five.’ He looked over his shoulder at the men, one of whom was passing out bottles of beer, and grinned wickedly. ‘Maybe earlier if they’re all sick. Keep an eye out for me coming in, I might need you to help with the mooring. I doubt if any of them will be capable.’
Suddenly Charlie was nervous about being left alone. ‘What if someone wants something you haven’t told me about?’
Ivor shrugged. ‘Use your initiative,’ he said. ‘You seem pretty smart to me. Minnie can stay with you today, she’ll look after you.’
There was little to do once she was on her own, most of the customers were just children wanting fishing nets or buckets, and she sold three pairs of rubber sandals too. Between customers Charlie sat outside on the stool, petting Minnie, watching the boats going in and out of the harbour, and tourists wandering aimlessly past. She wondered how Ivor was coping with those drunken men.
It was about four-thirty when she became aware of a young man watching her. He was on a very sleek yacht moored further along the harbour wall. He was deeply tanned, with fashionably long blond hair, wearing nothing but a pair of cut-down Levis, the sort of man she and June had so often dreamed of being chatted up by.
Just thinking of her friend made Charlie feel desolate again. She hadn’t been much of a friend recently, but they had shared so much, for so long, she couldn’t really believe it was over for good. Charlie wondered whether her life would go back to being just as it was before if her father was to come home and sort everything out, and her mother’s injuries miraculously healed perfectly.
Somehow she knew it wouldn’t. Overnight the giddy, spoilt Charlie had been forced to grow up. Adults were fallible, friends were fickle, and most people were quick to condemn on just the flimsiest of evidence. Where were all those so-called friends of her parents? Those people who had accepted so much generous hospitality in the past? Not one of them had called at the hospital to see Sylvia, or made inquiries to see if they could do anything for her. As far as Charlie could see there was only one person she could depend on now, and that was herself. Even if a miracle did happen, and she could return to living at ‘Windways’, go back to school, and her parents became the happiest, most loving couple in the world, she had a feeling she would still never really trust anyone, or anything, implicitly again.
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.
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