The Life and Second Life of Charlie Brackwood (The Brackwood Series Book 2)

by Field, Stacey

  That evening I watched as he waited on Emma’s doorstep. His hands were visibly shaking, but from nerves this time, not alcohol. Emma opened the door and smiled when she saw him.

  “I was hoping to see you again,” she said, opening the door wide and ushering him in.

  Once inside the house they talked for hours. Occasionally their attention would turn to Ben as he played, but mostly they concentrated on each other. They laughed at one another’s tales and funny anecdotes and not a hint of tension could be sensed in the room.

  Eventually it was time for Adam to leave, albeit reluctantly. I could see the disappointment on his face as he made his way towards the door with Emma following close behind. As he reached for the handle he froze, his hand hovering in mid-air. Suddenly he turned to face Emma and placed his hands either side of her head. She wobbled backwards slightly as if he’d caught her off guard. Softly, he placed his lips on hers. They smiled shyly at one another as they said goodnight. Adam’s grin was wide as he hummed and whistled his way back to the cottage.

  I smiled as I watched him leave. My plan had worked and I hoped he would now live the life he deserved, on the path he was supposed to take. In a way, I viewed myself as his guardian angel, someone who loved him from afar and cared about the decisions he made for himself. I watched over him always after that. His life was happy and long, he outlived both his sons as well as his wife, but he used his time wisely by volunteering for every charity he came across. He was a man well loved by his community and when his time was up his presence was deeply missed by many.

  My time on earth had shown me that there was one individual whose suffering I had ignored, or had at least not been aware of. As the image of Adam’s contented smile faded, another took its place. I saw a broken man and listened to the sorrowful tone of his voice. It was one I was familiar with and had overheard as I retrieved Adam’s bicycle from the church doorway on the day of Jamie’s funeral.

  He was sitting in a wooden booth that had a mesh partition separating him from a priest. I knew little about Mr Vain but I was sure he wasn’t Catholic. Judging by the surroundings, he had somehow found himself in a Confessional.

  “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” He bowed his head.

  “What can I do for you, my son?”

  “I have sinned greatly.” He closed his eyes so tightly the wrinkles that appeared almost reached his ears.

  “Confess and you will find forgiveness.” The priest’s voice was soft and had a soothing cadence to it.

  Mr Vain’s leg shook uncontrollably as he clasped his hands tightly together and sighed deeply.

  “Years ago I was responsible for… for a crime… a terrible crime.” His voice shook with the weight of his confession.

  “What is the nature of the crime you speak of?”

  Mr Vain hesitated as he chewed the inside of his cheek.

  “My actions caused a man’s death.”

  “You committed a murder?” the priest asked in an unnaturally calm manner.

  “Not murder. There were no premeditation involved… it was more of an urge that took over my entire bein’.”

  “The devil works in many ways. Please continue.”

  “My wife… she’s the laughin’ stock of the whole village. She’s been showin’ me up for years now, you know, flirtin’ and the like. Well, one day I returned home from work early and found a young gentleman standin’ in my very own home. She was dressed to the nines with a huge smile on ’er face, touchin’ his biceps and wigglin’ them hips of hers. I assumed she was ’avin’ it off with this young man. She sees herself as a bit of a Mrs Robinson type, you know, up t’no good with the younger lads. I told him to sling his hook. Of course she denied it, as usual. Told me he’d come round for one of ‘er ring boxes or some such nonsense. Well, that evenin’, after a bit of a row, I found meself walking down by the river to clear me head. I must’ve walked for miles and I was surprised when I ended up near the church. Then I saw the young man who had caused all the rowin’ earlier that day. He was leggin’ it towards me and, out of some strange notion, I hid.”

  Mr Vain stopped talking and squeezed his eyes shut at the memory of it. He continued his story once he had composed himself.

  “One look at the lad told me he was drunk. He was unstable on his feet, swayin’ an’ bumpin’ into things. I watched him as he kneeled down on the riverbank, his hands danglin’ in the water as though he were trying to catch somethin’. I found a log, just lying there on the ground. The hatred I felt for him then was like nothin’ I’d ever felt before. I picked up the log and, without thinking, slung it at his back. He was so drunk he didn’t even turn round. He never saw me at all. The next day they found his body. Folk assumed it was an accidental drowning, that the bruises were caused by the current dragging him against rocks and the like. Only I knew the truth and it’s been houndin’ me for years. I can’t get the image of his face out of me head. He’s in me dreams, my day-to-day life. I can’t escape what I’ve done.”

  “You must pray for forgiveness. The Lord is always merciful.” The priest’s voice was soft and without judgement.

  “I’m sorry for what I did, I really am.”

  The sound of Mr Vain’s sobs echoed off the sides of the Confessional. The priest remained silent and patiently waited until his visitor had regained his composure.

  “You must seek help, my friend. The hatred you felt for this young man has poisoned your mind and the problems with your wife need a resolution. You will find strength in God, He is always with you.”

  Mr Vain admitted that he needed counselling for the things he’d done and confided in his wife that night. She was frightened of him at first, shocked by the crime he had committed, but after she saw the regret he felt, she encouraged him to seek help and supported him throughout his painful journey.

  He confessed his secret to the local constabulary but, due to the fact that the case was now closed, no charges were brought against him. After Mr Vain’s confession the relationship with his wife grew stronger and she confessed that she had felt unimportant to him for years. It was only after he opened up that she realised the pain and suffering her behaviour had caused him and she asked for his forgiveness.

  On a cold December evening, only a few years after his confession to the priest, Mr Vain suffered a massive heart attack. He died in his wife’s arms, comforted by the fact that the last few years he had spent with her had been peaceful, without any bickering or emotional unrest.

  The day he came to me I was fishing in a small stream with Timmy, who was growing fast, developing into a caring and gentle soul, an animal lover and a considerate listener.

  I heard footsteps behind us and assumed it was Robert, who enjoyed finding new ways of sneaking up on the two of us.

  “You can skulk in the shadows all you want but you won’t trick me again,” I said without turning around.

  “Oh... er…”

  I wheeled around just in time to see the look of horror cross Mr Vain’s face as he heard these words. Seeing him in the afterlife brought me comfort. In the years before his death he had turned his life around, God had forgiven his sins.

  “I’m sorry, I thought you were my brother,” I said, embarrassed.

  He looked relieved for a second before moving closer to me.

  “Charlie, I’m guilty of somethin’ and it’s been a torment to me. I need to apologise to you but I’m afraid that won’t be enough to fix the awful thing I have done.”

  I stepped closer to him and smiled.

  “I know,” I said softly. “I know what you did and I forgive you.”

  Mr Vain’s face crumpled as the emotion he’d been holding in for years overwhelmed him. He stumbled towards me with his arms outstretched and grasped hold of me in an iron grip.

  We stood like that for a long time. No words were exchanged and no further apologies were given. The powerful sense of peace that comes with a clear conscience is so strong it often paralyses.

&n
bsp; Without saying a word, I led him to the treehouse and stayed with him until his sobs died down. No words were exchanged but he stayed with me for a long time. I learned that it wasn’t just children who drew comfort from my presence.

  A huge weight had been lifted off a desperate man’s shoulders and I felt grateful that I had the power to help another soul crippled by regret.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  I look around me with a crushing sense of confusion. The sterile, green walls of my small room have disappeared and everything I see is bathed in a soft light. I am glued to the spot, unable to move and explore this new world that seems to exude an aura of peace.

  Something flashes in front of me. An image. It takes me a while but eventually I realise that the pictures flickering before my eyes are of my own life.

  I watch myself as a screaming baby, then learning to walk, talk and find my place in the big wide world. Images of nursery, followed by infant and primary school flash by so fast it is hard for me to linger on one particular event.

  I relive my first meeting with Charlie and witness the development of our lifelong friendship. I see my reaction to the news of his death and cry for the second time at his funeral. I watch him die in my arms in Adam’s body as well as my first meeting with the real Adam, the biological father of my child.

  Before Charlie slipped away he left me with instructions. He made it clear that he wanted me to become part of Adam’s life. I kept the truth about Alice’s parentage a secret from him, though. I realised that it could destroy Adam’s relationship with his wife, something that was already extremely fragile.

  I watch the images flash by and see my first meeting with Adam. I remember it like it was yesterday.

  After he re-entered the world, I visited him at his cottage. We talked as if we’d known each other for years. He didn’t suspect that it was in fact our first meeting and didn’t reveal the fact he had no idea who I was. He was polite and easy to talk to. As instructed, I watched closely for any signs that he was under the influence of alcohol, but found none. I knew it would please Charlie that all his hard work had not been wasted.

  After that first meeting I met Adam’s wife, who gave me comforting pregnancy tips. I often found myself seeking her advice. After a while Russ entered the equation and continued where he’d left off with Adam, completely oblivious to the fact that he was a different soul, a different person. Or perhaps he was so desperate for friendship that he ignored any difference in mannerisms.

  As images of the past years roll by, one distinct memory surmounts them all: the birth of my daughter Alice.

  Faithful and sweet as always, Russ defied the wishes of his girlfriend Erin and remained by my side throughout my daughter’s birth. Now I see him smile at her again as I bundle her into his arms. His eyes turn soft as she stares at him and her small fingers curl around his thumb. A nurse enters the room and mistakes him for the father. I tell her he’s more than that and Russ’s cheeks flush a light shade of pink as he looks away.

  Another image presents itself. This memory is an upsetting one. It is upsetting because on this day Russ was forced to make a choice. On Alice’s third birthday he came to help me set up the party I was throwing for her. He spent most of his time on the floor, playing with her toys, and the image still warms my heart.

  Since her birth he had become an almost permanent fixture in the household and it was clear from the big smile she always had for him that Alice adored his company. The two of them were inseparable.

  While the party was in full swing, Erin turned up at the front door.

  “How long has he been here?” she asked, pushing past me.

  “Since this morning, he’s been helping me. Well… on and off,” I laughed. Erin’s face remained stern.

  I saw her disappear into the lounge where Russ was spinning Alice around the room, both of them chortling with laughter.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?” Erin asked him, harshly.

  “Because you were still sleeping.”

  “We’d arranged to do things this morning.”

  “What things?”

  “Go out for breakfast… spend some time together? Ring any bells?”

  Regret was plain on Russ’s face as he remembered. He opened his mouth to apologise but Erin stopped him.

  “Don’t bother coming home, I can see where your priorities lie,” she said, before turning on her heel and pushing her way past me in the hall. Russ remained frozen-faced.

  “Wait, Erin,” I begged her. “Russ loves you, this is just a misunderstanding.”

  She placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me a sympathetic look.

  “This isn’t your fault, I don’t want you to blame yourself,” she said gently before disappearing out of the door.

  That was the last time I saw her, my free-spirited, independent friend. A few weeks went by before I asked Russ to move in with me. Being a single mother is hard and I was becoming increasingly aware that Alice needed a father figure in her life. I watch my past self as I make it clear to him that I am not interested in a relationship with anybody, that no one can take Charlie’s place. Russ agrees and tells me he’s done with relationships, he just wants to be close to Alice and me.

  As I watch the images play out like a movie I can observe Alice’s development. Her first day at school in her tiny green uniform, climbing trees with the boys like I did, and then learning to swim in the river. Those times flew by so fast that I wish I had lingered occasionally to cherish them.

  Before I know it Alice is a teenager and choosing an outfit for her first date. Russ is in the kitchen, tapping the worktop in agitation while staring out into the hallway.

  “She’s too young to be going on dates, Luce.”

  “She’s seventeen and she promised me that he’s a nice boy,” I say, filling the kettle.

  “A nice boy? I’m sure many parents thought the same about me, once upon a time.”

  “Are you saying you weren’t a nice boy?” I tease him.

  “Not even close,” he states brazenly.

  The doorbell rings and we both look at each other. Russ raises an eyebrow as we hear Alice’s shrill voice shouting for us to open it.

  “Looks like I’m the slave,” he says in a bad-tempered manner.

  “Be nice,” I warn, amused by his protectiveness.

  As I dry some glasses I can hear Russ give the boy a hard time at the door as he asks about his intentions, grades and future aspirations.

  I hear heavy footsteps as Alice bounds down the stairs. A heated exchange takes place between her and Russ about her inappropriate outfit. She slams the door and Russ re-enters the kitchen, looking defeated.

  “What can I say? She’s her mother’s daughter,” I laugh.

  The scene fades once again and a new image forms: Alice smiling in a cap and gown. She gingerly makes her way towards a grand stage to accept her PhD in biochemistry. She is now twenty-four years old and more beautiful than I ever was at that age. She turns to search the crowd until her gaze settles on Russ and me, her grin widens and we both proudly get out of our seats to applaud her achievement.

  Later in the evening the three of us join Adam and Emma for dinner to celebrate.

  “I’ve got something very important to tell everyone,” Alice states. “I’ve got a job offer.”

  A wave of congratulations ensues.

  “It’s for a position at a top pharmaceutical company in Leeds.”

  The memory is a happy one and I watch with pride as Russ hugs her to him and tells her how proud he is. When the dinner ends, the three of us head home and celebrate with a bottle of champagne. I’ve noticed some intense stares from Russ throughout the evening but chosen to ignore them. Alcohol tends to cause him to drop his guard.

  “Are you happy?” he asks me out of the blue.

  “I am.” I smile at him before retiring for the night.

  The next memory is hard for me to watch. It is a critical part of my life that s
eems to overshadow all other memories. In hindsight, it is insignificant in the life that I have led but it is powerful in its sense of completeness.

  I sit in the colourless office of my consultant. A couple of weeks prior to this meeting I found a lump in my neck. Tests ensued and then this appointment.

  I watch myself intently, savouring the innocent expression of somebody who still held hope in their heart, who ached to hear the words ‘benign’.

  The only word I heard the doctor say was ‘cancerous’. I felt numb. I didn’t react. I didn’t know how to react. I told myself there was still time, that I’d caught it early. As I drove home, tears streamed down my face.

  I told Russ and Alice later that night. Alice was now twenty-five and had received her first promotion. Russ showed no reaction at first and then visibly crumpled in front of me. His reaction was a shock; he usually showed no emotion, preferring to hold everything in.

  Alice walked over to me and held me tight.

  “You’ll be OK, Mum. I know you will.”

  When she disappeared to her room I crossed the space between Russ and me. He held his head in his hands so I couldn’t see his face. I placed a comforting arm across his back.

  “It’ll be OK. I’ll have chemo, the cancer won’t spread and they’ll cut it out.”

  He remained silent, unmoving.

  “Many people are diagnosed with lymphoma all over the world and… the survival rates are good and… I feel strong, healthy.”

  I saw his chest move as he breathed but no sound escaped his lips.

  “Russ, please don’t worry. We don’t know all the facts yet.”

  Suddenly he turned his head to look at me. Dark circles like bruises had formed beneath his eyes.

  We gazed at one another for a long time. I attempted a smile of reassurance but he didn’t return it. Eventually his lingering gaze made me feel uncomfortable so I looked away. I felt him touch my hand and allowed him to take it. He held it to his mouth and kissed it softly. We stayed like that for a long time until he eventually whispered that everything would be OK, over and over again. I remember thinking at the time that he was saying it more for his own benefit than for mine.