The sun was so hot they were forced to go into the sea frequently. She didn’t want to swim in case her hair ended up like wet seaweed, but Guy leapt in immediately and kept splashing her until she joined him.
He kissed her for the first time in the sea. It was the best kiss she’d ever had, he didn’t force his tongue into her mouth like so many other boys had done, but just teased her with it, his lips warm and salty, and she thought she might die from pure bliss.
Other boys she’d met with June on beaches the previous summer had always been so rough. They horsed around, picking the girls up and throwing them in the water, sometimes they’d even tried to wrench off her bikini top. But Guy wasn’t like that, he wanted to cuddle her, stroke her skin, and kiss her tenderly. She knew right away that this was exactly what she’d been waiting for. It felt like love.
When they came out of the sea they were cold. Guy wrapped her in the towel as though she was a child, and cuddled her dry on his lap. Charlie didn’t care that there were people watching them, she wasn’t even concerned that they might think it shocking to see two young people kissing with such abandon.
Guy licked the salt from her tummy later, and whispered that if they were alone he would lick every inch of her. Suddenly she knew what real desire was; this wasn’t one of those slightly tingly moments she’d experienced with other boys in the past. She wanted Guy. To lie beside him completely naked, to fondle him and let him do the same to her.
‘I’ve never felt quite like this before,’ he whispered after yet another long, deep kiss. ‘I wish I wasn’t with the lads, then I could spend all the rest of my holiday with you.’
Charlie wished that were so too, but she was wary of admitting such a thing just yet. ‘I’ve got to work anyway,’ she reminded him.
In the morning their conversation had centred on getting to know about one another’s background, but now as they lay in the hot sunshine, their feelings became the important issue. Guy told her his father was often very disapproving of him, he wanted him to get his hair cut, to think about his career and find a nice girl from a good family to settle down with.
‘I want that too, eventually,’ he said, his blue eyes looking right into hers as if he believed he’d found the right girl. ‘But I want fun now, adventure and good times. Father doesn’t seem to understand that things have changed since he was my age. Our generation didn’t live through the depression or the war, we don’t need to be so practical all the time. Why shouldn’t we go sailing in the summer, pack a rucksack and go off to India if we choose to? My idea of heaven is to be lying out under the stars, smoking a joint with a girl I love, or climbing a mountain just to see the view at the top, to explore remote places, to experience everything. Do you think like that too, Charlie?’
Charlie had never seen a joint, much less smoked one. She’d never thought of climbing a mountain and visiting a remote place would worry her in case she couldn’t have a bath and wash her hair. But she thought all that would be heaven if Guy was with her.
‘Sort of. Until Mum went into hospital I used to want to be a hippie and go to rock festivals and stuff, in fact I used to get frantic in case it was all over before I got the chance. But I haven’t had much opportunity to think more than a day ahead just recently.’
It was then she saw she couldn’t tell him yet about her real situation, it was too heavy and it might spoil things. Besides, for this afternoon at least she wanted to believe she was free.
‘Once Mum’s a bit better, I was thinking of moving to London,’ she said. ‘I don’t know that I could stand going back to school for “A” levels. I want to share a flat with some other girls, to be free to do whatever comes along.’
He looked pleased at this and moved closer to kiss her shoulders. ‘Won’t your parents kick up a stink? Or aren’t they stuffy like mine?’ he asked.
‘Not in quite the same way,’ she said carefully. She didn’t want to tell lies which might trap her later, but at the same time she wasn’t going to say anything which might alarm him. ‘Mum’s neurotic, kind of wrapped up in herself, and Dad’s away a great deal. But I suppose they want much the same for me as your parents do, a career, the right kind of husband. They’d probably have fifty fits if they knew I was lying on the beach right now with a man I hardly know, planning to pack in school and a wild life in London.’
‘You want to be wild then?’ he grinned.
‘Oh yes,’ she smiled, and meant it. ‘Rock concerts, parties, going to clubs and stuff. Nothing ever happens in Devon. I want to be where there’s excitement, where places are open all night. I want to dress as I please and see who I want.’
‘I knew you were my kind of girl the moment I saw you,’ he said, bringing his lips down on to hers for another long, lingering kiss that sent tingles down Charlie’s spine.
‘If you get a flat in central London we can have such good times,’ Guy said later as they began to pack up their things. It was after five now and getting a little cooler. ‘Had you given any thought to what sort of job you’ll get?’
‘I thought of banking,’ Charlie said on the spur of the moment. She had never for one moment considered this before. ‘I’m good at maths. Or something in the Civil Service.’
Guy looked surprised. ‘I think you ought to try modelling,’ he said. ‘You’d make a fortune with your looks. Surely you don’t want to work somewhere as dull as a bank?’
‘I was only thinking I’d earn plenty of money,’ she said quickly. ‘Do you really think I could be a model?’
‘I know you could,’ he said, standing up and pulling her up into his arms. ‘I can just imagine showing the chaps at work a copy of Vogue, with you on the cover, I’d say “That’s my girl. Isn’t she something?” and they’d all be green with envy.’
It was ten past six when Charlie got back to the pub, but despite the early hour it was already busy. Her heart sank, she’d banked on it being quiet enough for Beryl to give her the night off. Guy had said he was going back to the boat to have a shower and change and he’d come round later to see if she could get away. He’d joked that if it was busy he’d let off a couple of stink-bombs to clear the place.
Worse still, Beryl looked harassed behind the bar. Charlie knew she couldn’t add to it by asking to be excused tonight.
She shot upstairs, showered, washed the salt out of her hair, and changed into her white mini-dress. If all else failed she could still have an hour or so with Guy after closing time.
Right up until nine Charlie was run ragged, collecting glasses, washing and drying them and taking them back to the bar just to get them used all over again. Guy was in there, but she got no chance to speak to him and she was beginning to despair.
To her surprise and delight, at nine-thirty there was almost a mass exodus from the pub. Charlie wasn’t sure if it was just luck, or whether there was something else going on in another pub. But suddenly the bar was almost empty.
‘Thank God for that,’ Beryl exclaimed as she brought a tray loaded with glasses in for Charlie to wash. ‘I must be getting old because I don’t get the same high as I did once from taking money.’ She paused to look at Charlie. ‘You’re all dressed up tonight!’ she said. ‘Who’s that in aid of?’
‘The blond man at the end of the bar,’ Charlie said with a giggle. ‘He’s lovely, Beryl. I spent the afternoon with him today at the beach.’
‘Guy Acton-Bond eh?’ Beryl looked knowing. ‘He is a handsome devil, I’ll give you that. But isn’t he a bit out of your league?’
Charlie bristled. ‘He likes me,’ she said with some indignation.
‘I’m sure he does,’ Beryl said more gently. ‘I’m getting old and crabby, dear, forgive me. It’s just that I always found the handsome ones were the rotters. I wouldn’t like you to get hurt.’
‘He won’t hurt me,’ Charlie said confidently.
‘Well, you’d better rush off and join him then, dear,’ Beryl said with a smile. ‘But mind you’re back by twelve, or you’ll f
ind yourself locked out.’
Chapter Five
‘I know I’m an old fogey, Charlie, and probably out of touch with the younger generation. But mind you don’t get out of your depth,’ Ivor growled.
It was Thursday morning, three days after Charlie spent the afternoon on the beach with Guy, and since then she’d spent every available free moment with him. Even now she was standing at the door of the shack bleakly watching him sail the Chloë out of the harbour, despite knowing he would be coming back tonight.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she snapped impatiently without turning to face Ivor.
A few moments later she felt ashamed of herself. She came into the shack, over to where he sat mending a lobster pot, and put one hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, you aren’t silly. Just a bit of a worry-guts. It’s just that everyone keeps warning me off Guy. I don’t understand why, we’re really alike and we’re so happy together.’
Ivor patted her hand with affection. He wasn’t going to attempt a lecture, he knew she was deaf to everything except the words Guy whispered in her ears.
Salcombe was a tight community. Everyone knew everyone else and even in high summer when one would imagine the tourists would act as a distraction, still everything that happened was noted and gossiped about.
Charlie had been a source of great interest since she arrived in the town. Along with her striking appearance, there was the fact she worked for Ivor. Beryl had told him just a few nights ago that some people were actually claiming she was his daughter, a love child born to a Chinese mother when he was in the navy.
As Beryl was the soul of discretion when she cared for someone, she had merely laughed at this fanciful tale. As she’d pointed out to Ivor, such a rumour was in fact less potentially damaging to Charlie than the truth about her real father. She found it quite astounding that no one had yet made the connection between this girl and the brutally attacked woman in Kings-wear, whose Chinese husband had disappeared owing a great deal of money.
While Charlie might be a bit of a mystery to the people of Salcombe, Guy and his family were quite well known. He’d been coming here for holidays since he was a small boy, and latterly sailing in, sometimes with his father, but more often with friends. On almost all the recent visits he’d managed to put people’s backs up, rowdy parties on his boat, getting drunk, or acting belligerently towards other people moored in the harbour. And on each visit there had been a different girl.
Mostly the girls came with him, arrogant ones with plummy accents and braying laughter; they strutted around looking at ordinary folk as if they had a bad smell under their aristocratic noses. But Ivor had heard that on two occasions Guy had found a local girl to be his entertainment for the duration of his stay, and both girls had been heartbroken and humiliated when he shipped out without even saying goodbye.
So it was hardly surprising that all eyes were focused on his new romance with Charlie. They made a very attractive couple, but because of Guy’s track record, everyone anticipated trouble. Just that morning Ivor had been informed by his next-door neighbour that Charlie had spent the whole night on the Chloë.
Ivor knew this wasn’t true. He was still at the pub at midnight, talking to Beryl, when Charlie arrived home. She may very well have got up early and gone down to the yacht to see Guy in the morning, but that wasn’t quite the same thing. Even so, his paternal instincts were aroused. Charlie might think she was an adult, but she was still a vulnerable child in his eyes and as such he wanted to protect her.
‘Have you told him the situation about your father?’ Ivor asked gently. He hadn’t actually met Guy’s parents, they weren’t the type to buy anything from a harbourside shack, but he knew a little about them. They were extremely wealthy and both came from illustrious families. Ivor didn’t think they’d take too kindly to their only son and heir taking up with anyone who wasn’t out of the top drawer.
Charlie looked awkward, her eyes dropped from his and she shuffled her feet on the floor. ‘Not exactly,’ she mumbled.
Ivor kept quiet.
‘Why does it matter anyway?’ she said defiantly after a few minutes. ‘Guy isn’t the kind of person who cares about class, money and all that. He likes me just for myself.’
Ivor sighed. He didn’t doubt that Guy had made such statements, and indeed meant them, right now. But it could well be a different story once he’d introduced Charlie to his folks. People like the Acton-Bonds would want to know every last thing about any girl their son was keen on. They’d almost certainly be dubious about her because of her mixed race. If they were to discover the truth about her parents they would undoubtedly demand Guy dropped her.
Maybe Guy had fallen heavily for Charlie, Ivor thought proudly that it would be hard for any man not to. But would he see her in quite the same romantic light if his father curtailed his sailing, cut off his allowance, and told him to make his own way in the world?
‘I’m glad you’ve found someone to care for,’ Ivor said. He wasn’t normally one for choosing his words carefully, but he knew he must while she was in such an emotional state. ‘And I really hope it works out for you with Guy. But just try to keep your feet on the ground, sweetheart. Don’t pin everything on him.’
Charlie felt aggrieved all day. She barely spoke to Ivor again. She didn’t understand why he was so doubtful about her and Guy.
It was like they were made for one another, they made each other laugh, they had so much to talk about. He had only to touch her hand and she wanted him, when he held her in his arms she melted into him. Just an hour away from him was too long, and she knew he felt exactly the same. It was true love. It wasn’t a silly girlish crush. Why did everyone keep making those dark hints about how rich his family were? Did they think that was the only reason she liked him?
Anyone would think she was a girl from the slums. Hadn’t she been brought up surrounded by wealthy people, just like Guy? They laughed at snobs together, they found social climbers pathetic. They both wanted a life where class, money and the establishment meant nothing. To travel the world, to try everything, see everything.
Around eight that same evening Beryl went into the kitchen to make a ham roll for a customer. Charlie was standing at the sink washing glasses. She was wearing a slinky pink sleeveless maxi-dress. Clearly she was intending to meet Guy later.
‘I haven’t seen that dress before,’ Beryl said. ‘Come on, give us a twirl, is it new?’
Charlie spun round from the sink, she was flushed, almost as if she’d been woken suddenly from a dream.
‘I didn’t hear you come in,’ she said. ‘I must have been miles away.’
‘I can imagine where you were,’ Beryl said wryly. ‘Under swaying palm trees with the man of your dreams.’
Charlie giggled. ‘Not exactly,’ she said. ‘I was thinking maybe I ought to go up to London for the day soon and see if I can find a job there for the end of the season. What do you think of my dress then? I bought it in that boutique up the road.’
‘It’s super,’ Beryl said with the utmost sincerity. Even at sixteen her own body had never been as firm and shapely as Charlie’s. Her stomach was flat, her bottom like two grapefruits, and the slit up the front revealed those perfect long brown legs.
‘I was a bit rash,’ Charlie said shamefacedly. ‘I just couldn’t resist it. I read in a magazine that no one in London is wearing minis any more.’
‘And you didn’t want Guy to think you were a bit square?’ Beryl said. ‘Was that it?’
Charlie giggled. ‘I suppose so.’
She turned back to her washing-up, and Beryl, sensing the girl wasn’t in a talkative mood, got on with making the ham roll. Ivor had been expressing his anxiety about Guy to her over the bar just a few moments ago, but she wasn’t exactly sure where her sympathies lay. Ivor was being protective, he had grown very fond of Charlie, so of course he was wary of anyone who might hurt her. Beryl had watched the lad with Charlie on several occasions, and she had got
the impression he was every bit as smitten with Charlie as she was with him. Being something of a romantic, and somewhat charmed by Guy herself, she wanted it to work out for them.
On the other hand she knew both the other local girls who’d fallen for him in the past, and remembered how callous he’d been with them. Of course men could change when they fell in love, she’d seen it happen dozens of times.
But the main thing which worried her was that Charlie might give too much of herself, too soon. It would be understandable, the poor kid was so young and naïve. It crossed her mind that maybe she ought to give her some advice about contraception.
But even as she thought it, she knew she couldn’t. Charlie would be terribly embarrassed, and anyway kids these days probably knew more than she did.
Beryl put the roll on a plate and looked across at Charlie’s backview. For some unfathomable reason she suddenly had a rush of unexpected tenderness for the girl. Perhaps it was just the combination of those childishly narrow shoulders, the glamorous dress, chosen to please a man, yet there she was up to her elbows in soapsuds like a scullery maid. She deserved better, Beryl thought. She had earned her keep five times over in the time she’d been here.
‘Finish those few and then you can go and meet him,’ she said. ‘But make sure you put on some hand-cream before you go. Dishwash hands don’t go with that dress.’
She wanted to add some warning about being careful, but she couldn’t bring herself to. The young didn’t heed warnings, and first love, as she remembered, was too heady and reckless to think of tomorrow.
The last rays of daylight were just fading in the sky as Charlie walked across the road into the harbour. To her delight the Chloë was back and Guy was just leaping from it to the harbour wall. Even before she could call out his name, he saw her and ran to her, arms open wide.
‘Have you got off work?’ he asked as he hugged her tightly.
‘Yes. Beryl let me come and meet you,’ she said. ‘We’ve got hours together now.’
Charlie Page 13