A Proper Charlie

by Louise Wise

  ‘OK, and I’ll definitely be alone.’

  It was easy to leave without Andy to meet Melvin in the Saddlers Arms. All she had to say was that Melvin’s gay friends were going to be there, and Andy would flex his muscles and stride around the house pretending to be Bruce Willis in some action film, when in fact the star of Finding Nemo was more appropriate. Then, he would lecture her on how homosexuals should all be rounded up and … well, she didn’t stay to hear anymore. She grabbed her jacket, pushed her feet into her trainers and was out of the door while he was still in mid-rant.

  Melvin was there already, standing at the bar and chatting to a girl, whose friends stood a short distance away giggling. The girl was flushed and peered up at Melvin through heavily made-up eyes in adoration. When Charlie reached his side, the girl gave her a filthy look and rejoined her friends.

  ‘Picking up totty again, Mel?’ she joked.

  Melvin handed her her drink, which he had previously ordered. ‘I’m a babe magnet, doll, I can’t help it.’ She could believe it, he was a good-looking bloke. ‘There’s a wedding here,’ he offered. The Saddlers Arms was also a hotel. ‘But I doubt those girls will last through to the ceremony let alone the reception! Come on there’s a table over there,’ he said, grabbing up two menus. ‘I’m going to have lunch; I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since before yesterday. Tell me, baby doll, when are you going to give Andy Pandy the heave-o, and can I watch while you do it?’ he added with a wicked grin.

  Charlie smiled at him. ‘You are such a bitch,’ she said, and glanced at his T-shirt, which said: You say I’m a bitch like it’s a bad thing. She took a sip of her drink, laughing at him over the rim of her glass. He was grinning back.

  ‘It isn’t like I’ve just fallen out of love with Andy or finally woken up and seen all his bad qualities –’

  ‘Like he had any good ones,’ Melvin interrupted.

  ‘It’s just that I’ve fallen in love with someone else,’ she continued, ignoring him.

  Melvin patted her hand resting on the table next to her Coke. ‘Babe, I’ve told you repeatedly that I’m gay.’ He took a swig of his Coke.

  ‘Muppet,’ she said. Then added, ‘It’s Ben.’

  Melvin’s sigh reached gale force. ‘Not this Ben Middleton malarkey? Doll, it’s a crush and in time you’ll see that.’

  Charlie took a sip of her drink, and placed it down on the table. She cleared her throat, and said, ‘No, I’m really in love with him.’

  ‘Sure, thing babe.’ He opened the menu and proceeded to look through it. ‘Think it’s a Sunday roast for me. What’re you having?’

  Charlie pulled the menu off him. ‘What I’m saying is the truth. I’m in love with Ben Middleton, a-and it hurts. Mel, I need to –’

  ‘Doll, I’m not going to pull any punches with you, but Mr Middleton junior isn’t in your league. He’s a dizzy-blonde-with-big-tits, or intelligent-female-barrister-who-happens-to-be-blonde-and-have-big-tits, kinda man. You don’t fit either bill. It’s a crush, and it’ll pass.’

  ‘You have him all wrong,’ she said. ‘He isn’t like that at all. Although, I agree that he isn’t in my league – unfortunately. A top barrister or a scientist would only interest him, you know, someone really, really intelligent. The opposite of me.’

  ‘Oh babes, you’re intelligent. Stop putting yourself down.’ He waved a finger. ‘Mind you, that doesn’t mean I’m agreeing that Sir is for you.’

  Charlie smiled softy. ‘But there are some things you don’t know,’ she said. She drew a breath. ‘Ben and me have kissed and I knew about his sister Camilla long before the story broke.’

  There was silence from Melvin apart from a sudden fierce spontaneous spluttering as he coughed up his drink.

  Charlie sat there wondering if she should pat him on the back, and after his face changed from pink to lobster red she decided she should. She thumped him between the shoulder blades and then offered him a serviette.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’ she moaned.

  ‘I’ve just choked on an ice cube,’ he said. ‘Let my throat defrost first.’

  The waitress came over, took their order, and went away again.

  ‘Dish the dirt,’ he said, and Charlie began as Melvin sat in silence regarding her with a slack jaw.

  FORTY THREE

  Donald had merely cleared his throat noisily on seeing Camilla, then turned his back and proceeded out to his car with his golf clubs.

  Ben circled Camilla’s shoulders. ‘That, I believe, was a happy “humph”. You’re lucky you didn’t get the snort! I always get the snorts, and that isn’t good.’

  ‘Just please don’t leave me alone with him. Not yet.’

  ‘I’ve already promised, but if it makes you happier, I’ll promise again. Come on; let’s get you up to your room. It’s exactly as you left it.’

  Ben glanced towards the French windows as Camilla led the way towards the stairs, and watched as his father headed out to his car. At the Mercedes, Donald stopped, laid his forehead against the shiny roof and seemingly berated himself. The man stood in that same position for a full minute before slinging his golf clubs in the boot, and climbing in to drive away.

  His actions said more than any words. Donald loved Camilla.

  Donald, over breakfast Sunday morning, had been keen to ‘get the girl home’. He’d never mentioned their heart-to-heart during their drunken session of bourbon in the early hours of last Tuesday. Indeed, Ben wondered if he remembered anything of it. He had gently reminded his father that Camilla was returning home today but the man hadn’t made any comment other than grunt.

  Ben had brought Camilla home late Sunday morning after spending the morning discussing the sorry situation in her room at The Grand hotel.

  Camilla had wanted to come home, but was terrified of what Donald would say. Oh, she put on this brave and cocky front, but Ben could see through the arrogant façade she showed off to the world. She was really a grieving, troubled young girl, who had the security of knowing who her father was pulled out from beneath her. It took almost the entire morning for Ben to persuade her into coming home.

  Ben left Camilla upstairs showering. He stood downstairs in the crayoning room, looking out of the French doors at their immaculate front terrace and its trees and winter flowerbeds. The room still smelt of his mother and had her presence everywhere. It was comforting as it was sad.

  Sandy walked in and promptly made for Ben’s legs, where she weaved herself in and out purring loudly. She had been bought for Camilla on her tenth birthday against her father’s wishes. He’d thrown a tantrum, complaining that his allergy would kill him. But this time he didn’t get his way and the cat stayed, and eventually purred her way into the old man’s heart.

  Sandy looked up at Ben and blinked her green eyes. Ben was immediately taken aback to when Charlie had gazed up at him in full make up and brazenly tried to make love to him.

  He closed his eyes, and not only could he see her clearly as if she was in the room, but he could smell her too. She had bewitched him. Oh, Charlie. Her loneliness, masked by her happy-go-lucky exterior, touched him. She was feisty and tough, yet innocent and vulnerable. She was also raving mad, the thought slipped into his head, and he smiled.

  He itched to call her and ask her out to dinner, but a sensible inner voice stopped him. She hadn’t got in touch with him since Monday, or even since he’d written her the letter. He wasn’t her type. She would prefer a man-about-town who she could go clubbing and night long parties with; not a chess champion and an amateur astronomer.

  Damn it, what had he to lose? He’d call her. And he’d do it now before he lost his nerve.

  He walked over to the phone on the sideboard, and by memory, he dialled her number. It rang several times before it was answered,

  ‘Lots, sweetheart, can’t live without me already?’

  ‘Er, hello?’ asked Ben, feeling embarrassed. It was that same voice that interrupted them that night, although
this time it sounded unnatural, as if the person was overly excited and extremely happy. ‘Is that Charlie’s number?’

  ‘T’is mate. Who’s you?’

  The speaker had pronounced “mate” as “moit”, but Ben couldn’t quite grasp the accent. ‘It’s Ben.’

  ‘Ben, Ben, Ben, nope, I don’t know any Ben.’

  ‘Never mind. Just tell her… no, don’t tell her anything. I’ll catch her later.’

  ‘You’ll have a job. She’s a busy girl our Lots. She’s out with her friends,’ he said, stressing the last word to last several seconds. ‘It pays the rent, I s’pose.’

  ‘Pardon?’ Ben paled, the disembodied voice had virtually suggested that Charlie was a prostitute after all.

  ‘If she sucks up enough to – hey! You ain’t one of them are you?’ The voice had a downward intonation at the end of each sentence.

  ‘One of what?’ Ben was beginning to think that Charlie’s friends were just as crazy as she was.

  ‘Oh, forget it, man. I’m talking bollocks. The phone made me jump and I snorted more than I should have. Got the sodding foil attached to my nose!’ He guffawed loudly down the phone.

  The man answering Charlie’s phone was obviously elevated on some kind of drug but had also implied that Ben was one of Charlie’s clients!

  *

  ‘The sooner, the better, baby doll,’ Melvin said, stopping at her door.

  ‘I’ve never been the dumper before. I’m usually the dumped,’ she said, biting on her lower lip. She was going to tell Andy it was over, and Melvin had come along for moral support. ‘Look, maybe you shouldn’t come in after all. He hates you and I don’t want to seem to rub his nose in it – not if he really does love me.’

  ‘I’ll wait here. If I hear anything I shouldn’t I’ll be straight in there in my superhero guise, OK?’ He stood in the Superman stance. ‘Do I have time to take my pants off and wear them over the top of my jeans?’

  She smiled, but she was scared. She wasn’t scared of Andy, but of breaking his heart. With a final look at Melvin, she entered her flat.

  She found Andy on the settee watching TV. ‘Hi, Lots,’ he said on a yawn without looking up from the television. He looked as if her entrance had woken him.

  She strode over to the TV and turned it off, and ignoring his “hey!” said, ‘Andy, it isn’t working. I’m sorry but I don’t want you back –’

  Andy, pathetically, held up a hand to her. ‘I ain’t well s’don’t be a bitch. C’mon and give your fella a cuddle t’make him feel better.’ He shuffled up, and patted the side of the settee where he still lay. ‘Think I’ve flu or summin’.’

  ‘Have you been drinking?’ She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘Or using?’ She went into the kitchen and saw that Andy had made himself lunch without clearing up. She eyed the tin foil on the kitchen counter suspiciously, knowing that it had been stored in its cupboard. It was used rarely, only in the sudden spurts of homeliness when Charlie cooked.

  She grabbed it and marched into the lounge again. Andy was still lying on the settee.

  ‘Got any Lemsip?’ he asked dolefully.

  She brandished the kitchen foil like a weapon. ‘You’ve been using again, haven’t you?’

  Andy made pretence of rising. ‘Sweetheart, no I swear.’

  She came closer and peered into his flushed face, but that could be due to embarrassment at being caught out. But then, Andy didn’t get embarrassed; you had to care about things to feel that type of emotion

  ‘Liar! How could you when you promised?’ She brought the tin foil down and smacked him on the back of the head with it. ‘But promises don’t mean anything to you, do they? Bastard!’

  ‘Hey, Lots… ugh! Geddoff…’

  Charlie, incensed, brought the kitchen foil down repeatedly on the cowering Andy. He crawled off the settee and sat huddled on the floor, with his hands protectively covering his head. ‘Lottie,’ he squawked. ‘My hair, my hair!’

  ‘Nobody means anything to you except Andy bloody Chambers! Nobody!’

  ‘It was only a bit of charlie, Charlie!’ His protest was muffled from the protection of his arms covering his face.

  ‘Sel-fish ba-stard,’ she said, emphasising each syllable as she hit him over the head. Andy yelped, and tried harder to crawl away and protect his hair.

  She raised the tinfoil once more but felt someone ease the tube from her fingers.

  ‘He promised he’d stop using,’ she wailed to Melvin. ‘He promised!’ She almost stamped her foot. ‘Doesn’t he realise the waste of money involved?’

  ‘Drug users don’t care about the cost,’ Melvin said softly, as Andy gingerly raised his head.

  ‘I mean, that cost £1.70,’ she said tearfully nodding to the tube of foil.

  ‘Well, if you’d only keep straws like normal people,’ Andy whined. ‘I wouldn’t have to use your precious foil!’

  ‘Haven’t you a fiver? Roll it up and it works fine,’ Melvin said helpfully, and Charlie glared at him. ‘It’s stupid to use coke,’ he added quickly. ‘It’s too addictive, which in turn makes it too expensive.’

  ‘Whadda you know?’ Andy sneered as he climbed to his feet. He quickly glanced in the small round mirror above the radiator to check on his hair. He turned back towards Charlie. ‘I might’ve known you’d have brought the poof home. Moving him in are you, I knew all along you were a lesbian!’

  Charlie screwed up her face in irritation. ‘Having gay friends wouldn’t make me a lesbian, you moron!’ She tried to snatch the tube of foil from Melvin to smack him over the head again, but Melvin held on tight to it.

  ‘Leave,’ Melvin said to Andy.

  ‘You talking to me, poof?’ sneered Andy taking a step towards Melvin.

  ‘Yeah, I’m talking to you,’ Melvin replied, also stepping forward.

  Andy swore at Melvin. He stepped up close and the two men eyeballed one another. Charlie groaned, this is what she wanted to avoid.

  ‘Come on then,’ Andy said, opening his hands out and motioning with his fingers.

  ‘Come on!’ Melvin began dancing from one foot to the other like a very bad boxer. He bunched his fists and held them in front of his face.

  ‘Go on, then, hit me, shirt-lifter!’ Andy taunted.

  ‘You hit me first, smack-head,’ Melvin shouted back.

  Charlie picked the tube of foil up from the settee where Melvin tossed it, and was almost tempted to hit the pair of them with it. Instead, she walked into the kitchen, replaced it in the cupboard and made herself a cup of coffee.

  FORTY FOUR

  Ben paused at the doorway and looked up and down the seemingly chaotic office, which Charlie should be occupying. After the dreadful telephone call to her home yesterday Ben had decided to speak to Charlie to see how she felt about him, she’ll probably be mortified at his declaration of love, but at least it would be all in the open. He’d mention the man’s strange accusations on the phone yesterday, too. Jealousy was a painful emotion in his gut as he thought of Charlie in someone else’s arms other than his own.

  Ben saw Melvin glance up, and instead of waving camply at him like he usually did, he fixed Ben with such a glare it made him feel uncomfortable. The gay man sported a nasty black eye, and generally looked like someone you would cross the road to avoid. His black T-shirt, Do I look like your effing therapist? suited him this morning.

  The ‘ping’ of the lift made Ben turn. His breath caught in his throat as the opening doors revealed Charlie. She didn’t notice him straight away because she was chatting to Leo. Leo was normally so shy he wouldn’t talk to anybody, but would scuttle away and hide himself behind his computer station, but Charlie had him laughing and his young spotty face was animated as he gazed at her. Ben recognised the expression on the young man’s face. Charlie held such warmth and generous character it was hard not to like her, and he couldn’t blame Leo for his open admiration. He even felt proud. Her face was bare of makeup; her freckles visible. She looked better without
cosmetics, Ben thought.

  Charlie stepped out of the lift, leaving its doors to close on the adoring Leo, her skirt swinging around her shapely legs.

  She wore an odd assortment of clothes that clashed. He was no fashion expert, but even he knew she dressed without regard for style. And that’s what he liked about her. She was an individual. So what if the stranger on the phone was right and she was actually a prostitute – he would see to it that she would never feel the need to offer her body to strangers again.

  Charlie, her eyes lowered, began to move away from the lift. She raised one hand to brush her glorious red hair away from her face, shifting an oversized handbag from one arm to the other. Her lips were still held in a smile after her exchange with Leo, but as soon as she saw Ben, they froze, before breaking into a breathtakingly beautiful beam. A piece of heaven.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m good, thanks,’ she said, walking towards him. ‘You?’

  Ben made a conscious effort to keep still in case he tripped over his feet or something.

  ‘I’m fine, and you?’ he asked, before he realised he had already asked. She laughed, then asked,

  ‘How is Camilla?’

  ‘Good,’ he said and concentrated on making small talk. He would get round to asking her out in a moment. ‘Cam and Father are circling one another like nervous animals. I’m beginning to believe they’re as bad as each other.’

  ‘That’s good. That they’re back on speaking terms, I mean,’ she said.

  ‘Have you just come back from a coffee-break?’ he asked, as an uncomfortable silence began to grow between them. She seemed as awkward as he felt. Oh God, maybe she was embarrassed about Monday night when they… when they…

  ‘Er, no. Actually I’m late.’

  Ah, she was embarrassed about being caught creeping into work late. He checked his watch before he could stop himself. And she noticed!

  ‘Actually, make that very late,’ she said.