“Not today. Sorry."
“Okay,” Joanna said.
Charlotte took the Tube to Harriet’s neighborhood, which saved her some time but cost her a few credits. When she arrived at the house, the sun was just beginning to rise, and she knew this cast her in shadows at the front door. The lights were off inside when she rang the bell.
Charlotte was about to give up and leave when Harriet opened the door, uncharacteristically wearing pajamas – a matching set of cream-colored, satin trousers and camisole – rather than her usual crisp, tailored dress clothes. “You came,” she said. “I thought you wouldn’t, that maybe you hadn’t received my note. You didn’t write back.”
“I got it,” Charlotte said.
“Come in,” Harriet replied, moving aside and then closing the door behind her. She pulled Charlotte into an embrace and whispered in her ear, “I’ve missed you.”
Charlotte pulled back and asked, “Have you really?”
“Of course I have,” she said, her brow furrowing. “What’s wrong, Charlie?”
Charlotte studied her face, still feeling the residual warmth of her body. She decided to be straightforward. She swallowed hard and asked, “Have you asked me here because you don’t want to see me anymore? You thought you’d do the right thing and tell me in person?”
“Are you having a laugh?” Harriet asked incredulously.
“No,” Charlotte said, feeling her cheeks begin to burn. “It’s just, with everything I’ve been doing lately… and you haven’t seemed to even want to see me.”
“What do you mean by ‘everything you’ve been doing lately?’ What have you been doing?” Harriet asked, the corners of her mouth tugging downward into a frown, her eyes looking worried.
Her mind raced to catch up as Charlotte replied, “Just, you know, Thomas and the Birds’ Nest, then the rendezvous with the medical supplier, and going to the meeting the other morning, where I thought I’d see you.”
“Oh dear God,” Harriet said under her breath as she steepled her fingers in front of her mouth. She dropped her hands and said, “I hadn’t known that was you. That shouldn’t have been you. I told Joanna to get someone to go, but…”
“You didn’t know.”
“No,” she replied. Somewhere in the background, a grandfather clock ticked. It seemed louder than Charlotte had never noticed. Harriet said in a resigned voice, “So you’re involved.”
“Yes, I’m involved with the organization.”
“Whether I like it or not,” she said. “Joanna’s made sure of that.”
“I thought… really, Harriet, I thought you’d be pleased. I’m sorry you’re not,” Charlotte said quietly.
Harriet’s chin rose slightly as she asked, “Tell me, Charlie, are you my lover or are you a soldier in my army?” Charlotte heard the subtle contempt in her voice as she said “soldier in my army,” as though she were accusing Charlotte of still thinking of the organization as a militaristic rebellion.
Charlotte felt agitated and responded without care. “I didn’t think it was an either/or situation. I doubt Thomas sees it that way either.”
“And you saw what happened to him.” Harriet said something that sounded like “I need a drink” and walked into the kitchen. Charlotte followed her, and watched as she poured herself a dram of scotch. For a fleeting moment, she thought with surprise about how Harriet not only kept illicit books in her house but also alcohol. Harriet sipped from her glass, leaning back against the counter, and looked at Charlotte. “Would you like some?”
“Yes, I think so,” Charlotte replied, and took a glass of the smoky-tasting liquid from her. She felt the weight of the glass in her palm and took a small drink. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Harriet. I’m sorry.”
Harriet took another sip of her drink and then stared at Charlotte for a long, silent moment. Charlotte felt like she could see the wheels in her mind spinning.
“I wish you’d say something,” Charlotte said to her.
“Thomas is in the countryside,” Harriet said at last.
“Yes, I’ve heard. And I guess you went out to see him.” She tried not to sound too sullen as she spoke.
“He’s not coming back,” Harriet said.
“Okay… but I thought he was doing better. I mean, at the meeting, they acted like I was some kind of hero for helping him.”
Harriet closed her eyes, squeezing the bridge of her nose, and then said, “He’s all right. But he wanted a different assignment. He thought things were too… ‘intense’ is what he said, I think… here in the city. Here with me. I went out there to try to convince him otherwise, that we need him here, but it didn’t work. I could have ordered him back, but what would have been the point of that?”
“Oh,” Charlotte said quietly. “I’m sorry, Harriet.”
“Yes, so you keep saying,” she replied. She downed the rest of her drink, and sighed, still holding her glass, perhaps deciding on whether she needed another drink.
Charlotte set her glass on the table nearby, and stepped closer to her, deciding to push her luck. She reached up and stroked Harriet’s cheek, telling her, “I’m not him. And I’m stronger than you might think.”
Harriet grabbed Charlotte’s wrist with her free hand, squeezing it slightly harder than was comfortable and stopping her from continuing her caress. “Sometimes I think I’ve been foolish with you, letting my guard down as I have.”
Charlotte felt as though she had been slapped across the face, but she continued listening, stunned by her words.
“You see, I don’t bloody care what happens to me, but I don’t want to ruin yet another life. If something happened to you…” Harriet said, her voice trailing off. Her gaze had lowered to her lips but she looked Charlotte in the eye again as she said, “If you started to resent me… to blame me for getting you caught up in what sometimes appears to be a losing battle….”
“I won’t,” Charlotte said firmly.
“But you might,” Harriet said.
“No. And I’m not going anywhere,” Charlotte said. Harriet released her wrist, allowing Charlotte to grip her hand. “I’m not going to leave you, and nothing is going to happen to me.”
“You can’t promise that,” she replied stubbornly.
“If I have any control over it, I won’t ever leave you,” Charlotte told her. “That I can promise you.”
Harriet studied her for another long moment, her eyes glistening. She then surprised Charlotte by leaning forward and kissing her softly, and murmured against her lips, “I love you, Charlie.”
Although she wasn’t proud of it, Charlotte’s first thought was ‘So Joanna was wrong. Harriet does love me.’ After what she hoped was an imperceptible delay, she replied, “And I love you, Harriet.”
As she held Harriet close, Charlotte realized that her heart was breaking tonight after all as she was finally letting go of Maggie and allowing herself to fall in love again.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Five weeks passed, and Thomas hadn’t returned. It also happened to be Erin’s birthday, so Charlotte and Erin celebrated with a midnight lunch at a curry restaurant on Gray’s Inn Road. The restaurant was so close to King’s Cross Station that Charlotte couldn’t help but think about that initial meeting with the medical supplier at the nearby hotel all those weeks back, or about the two subsequent meetings that had taken place in more recent weeks.
“Are you still helping out with, well, you know what?” Erin asked over lunch, seeming to read Charlotte’s mind.
“Yes,” Charlotte admitted. “Just here and there, where I can. But I’m careful.” Charlotte didn’t tell her how it was an ongoing source of tension with Harriet, how Harriet told her that she felt conflicted over genuinely appreciating what Charlotte was able to do for the organization but wishing it could be someone else taking those risks instead, and then feeling guilty over those feelings and wishes.
“I suppose Harriet does what she can, too? She also helps out?” Erin asked.
Charlotte thought, ‘That’s an understatement.’ Aloud, she said, “Yes, she does.”
“At least you’re on equal footing then. Remember what I said about not being taken advantage of,” Erin said. Charlotte knew she was only looking out for her but Erin was mistaken about so many things.
“She gave me a key to her house a couple of weeks ago,” Charlotte said.
“Did she now? Well, that’s something. Does she want you to move in with her?” Erin asked, tearing off a piece of naan and using it to soak up some of the sauce on her plate.
“No, I don't think so. I mean, she hasn’t asked. She just said it’d be better if I had a key so that I could come and go more easily.”
Erin was quiet for a while before she said, “I thought you said she was married.”
Charlotte hesitated before replying, “Yes, I did. But the husband is sort of out of the picture now.” She didn’t tell Erin the story that Harriet had created and relayed to her nosy neighbor – that she and Thomas were going through a rough patch and might divorce, and that Charlotte, her “cousin,” was helping lift her spirits.
“Wow,” Erin said, her eyebrows lifted. “I didn’t take you for a home wrecker.”
“It’s not like that. I mean, it wasn’t because of me,” Charlotte said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice.
“It just seems a little sudden, and more than a little convenient,” Erin replied.
“Convenient, maybe, but it wasn’t sudden. I just didn’t realize how things were between them when I met her,” Charlotte said.
“If you say so,” Erin said.
“Well, I do,” Charlotte replied, pushing her food around on her plate. “Anyway, let’s talk about something else. How’s work been?”
“Nothing exciting.” Erin worked as a personal assistant for a patent attorney.
“Did your boss get you anything for your birthday?” Charlotte asked hopefully.
“Actually, yes,” Erin replied and smiled, and went on to describe the hideous scarf that her boss seemed absolutely certain that Erin would love. Charlotte listened with relief, just wanting things to be easy between them again.
#
Charlotte had been spending more and more time at Harriet’s place. The neighbors stopped eyeing her suspiciously – there was something of a neighborhood rumor mill, so everyone knew, and apparently accepted, Harriet’s story of her impending divorce and compassionate cousin. Perhaps they thought Charlotte was a poor relation, given that she often arrived at Harriet’s door wearing ill-fitting trousers and the same baseball cap.
She had only used Harriet’s key for running out to complete errands while Harriet cooked, showered, slept, or was otherwise occupied in the house. But a few days after Erin’s birthday, Charlotte received a diginote from Harriet while she was at work. It read, “Might be running late today. Let yourself in.”
Winter was approaching, the weather was becoming more bearable, not quite as swelteringly hot, but the daylight hours were also shrinking. Charlotte arrived at Harriet’s door when the sun, although rising, was still too low in the sky to provide any direct light to Harriet’s street. She fumbled briefly with the key before managing to open the front door and closing it quickly again behind herself.
“Navigator,” she spoke to Harriet’s house computer, “Lights at fifty percent.” Harriet had programmed the computer to respond to Charlotte’s voice as well as her own. Charlotte didn’t ask whether she had deleted Thomas’s voice file.
Charlotte set her bag and jacket down on the floor against a wall and decided to lie down on the couch until Harriet would arrive home. She walked into the sitting room, but the sight of something new that dominated the space stopped her in her tracks. Her eyes were fixated on the baby grand piano that stood majestically in Harriet’s sitting room, the furniture pushed into a more compact formation to make room for the new addition.
She approached the piano slowly, reverently, and ran a hand lightly over its lid until she reached the front. She pulled the bench out and sat at the piano. She closed her eyes and enjoyed just simply sitting at a piano again, not that she had sat at one like this before. She had only had keyboards and, for a while, an upright piano. She felt her heart beating in her chest and hesitated before gingerly lifting the fall to reveal the keys. She looked them over, pleased. She set her fingers upon the keys and allowed them to twitch and tap on the keys without depressing them. She played Für Elise in her mind, her fingers gliding over the keys without making any sound.
“Will you play me a song?”
Charlotte turned. Harriet leaned against the doorframe at the far side of the room. She looked happy and relaxed, one ankle crossed over the other.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” Charlotte told her.
“I’m quiet. It’s not a bad skill to have when one’s in my position. Besides, I came in the back door,” she replied, crossing over to Charlotte.
Charlotte stood and embraced her, and said, “Welcome home.”
“I could get used to hearing that,” she replied, smiling.
Charlotte gestured to the piano and asked, “How did you – I mean, I didn’t even know there were pianos around still to buy, and I can’t even imagine how much this must have cost you, Harriet.”
“Then don’t worry about it, my darling,” she said, giving Charlotte a quick peck on the cheek. “So will you play me something?”
“It’s been a long time… I’m probably incredibly rusty.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Charlie. I’d just like to hear you play – anything, really.” She moved to sit in a chair, turning it so she could face the piano. “There’s no pressure,” she added, seeming to try to reassure her. Charlotte couldn’t help but think that the expense of the instrument meant there was indeed some pressure to perform.
Charlotte lifted the lid onto its stand then returned to her seated position on the bench. She ran her fingers over the keys playing a few scales, listening approvingly that the piano had been properly tuned. Charlotte took a deep breath, wondering why she was feeling so suddenly nervous, before playing Liszt’s Liebestraum No. 3, followed by La campanella. She had tried to show off by playing the latter piece. She faltered during her playing of it, hitting a wrong key more than once, but she was elated at the muscle memory of her fingers.
“That was beautiful,” Harriet commented.
“Thank you,” Charlotte said quietly, lowering the fall over the keys again and turning to face Harriet. “Obviously I need to practice.”
“Really now, a lack of confidence isn’t becoming,” Harriet replied, and although she smiled, Charlotte sensed there was some truth to that statement, that Harriet preferred confidence and strength.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Charlotte didn’t know why she still scavenged. Her salary was sufficient; indeed, she had a relatively healthy savings. Maybe it was out of habit that she kept the spare bits of metal, glass, and circuitry, and felt it worth her while to haul them across town, to have only a few digicredits added to her account.
With her bag slung over her shoulder, she turned the corner to approach the recycling buyback station. Between the station and where she was, three police officers stood in her path, questioning a young man.
She knew they weren’t looking for her and that she had every right to walk down the street and trade in her bits of scrap. But the sight of the officers spooked her, and she turned on heel to go back around the corner and return another day.
“You there, stop!” Charlotte heard a voice call after her. She felt her spine stiffen and she was tempted to run. She stopped and turned back to face the officer, who was looking at her, confirming her fear that he was indeed talking to her.
The officer quickly closed the distance between them and asked, “Where are you headed?”
Charlotte’s heart pounded in her chest. She replied, “I was… I was just going to the buyback station up ahead but I… changed my mind.”
&n
bsp; He stared at her. “You don’t sound like you’re from here. Where are you from? Let’s see your identification.”
Charlotte held still, tensely, as the officer’s handheld retinal scanner flashed in front of her, and then she placed her thumb upon the designated square to complete her ID lookup.
“Just as I thought,” he said, reading his screen, which displayed Charlotte’s photograph and a number of personal details. “You’re a foreigner.”
“I’m a citizen, actually,” she said, starting to feel angry.
“Yes, I can read. It also says you were born in North America.” He looked up from his screen to her face, meeting her eyes. His expression was flat. “That makes you a foreigner in my book.” He put his digireader away in its holster.
Charlotte decided it was in her best interest not to reply.
He said, “I didn’t think we let your kind into the Union anymore.”
“You don’t,” she replied.
The officer continued, “What’s in your bag?”
“Scrap,” she replied. “I told you, I was on my way to–”
“I heard you the first time. You changed your mind for some reason. Let’s have a look in your bag.”
Charlotte lifted the bag off and over her head, and moved to hand it to the officer.
“Open the bag,” he demanded.
Charlotte gritted her teeth and pulled the flap back on the canvass bag, positioning it so he could see inside.
He peered inside then waved for her to close the bag, almost as though he were disinterested in the contents. “Do you work?” he asked.
“Yes, if you just looked at your–”
“Yes or no is sufficient. Besides scavenging, do you work?”
“Yes,” Charlotte replied.
“That’s surprising. I didn’t think you lot had much of a work ethic. So you just like to scavenge for fun? You’re into the dirt and grime of it all?”
Charlotte didn’t know how to answer, especially not with a yes or a no. “It’s just a hobby.”
The officer laughed as though her response had been funny, but his eyes remained humorless. He gave Charlotte a long, hard look then said, “All right, you’re wasting my time. Move on.”
The Organization Page 14