Harlot

by Tracie Podger

  I slipped on my sneakers and headed downstairs. It felt awkward to walk around someone else’s house, and I did my best not to let curiosity overcome me. I avoided all the rooms with closed doors and followed the smell of food to the kitchen.

  “Did you sleep well?” Cecelia asked.

  “I showered, and then had a nap. The view from that bedroom is amazing.”

  “That was my father’s farm, he had a dream to create a vineyard here but the soil wasn’t right. I rent all the land out now, it’s way too much for me to cope with.”

  I sat at the kitchen table and accepted the coffee that Cecelia offered. She joined me with her cup of tea and folder. I guessed we were coming to the part I was dreading.

  “Okay, let’s get some paperwork done. I do like to know a little about my guests,” she said, with a smile.

  She opened the folder and picked up a pen. “Full name?”

  “Charlotte Johnson,” I said, surprised how easy the surname fell from my tongue.

  “Previous address?”

  I stumbled for a moment before giving my grandmother’s. Cecelia stared at me for a few seconds before writing it down.

  “Date of birth?”

  I gave her my real day and month, but added two years. I hoped I could pull off being a twenty-one-year-old.

  “Do you have any ID?”

  There she had me stumped. “Err, I don’t drive. I guess I just never bothered to learn.”

  “Okay, we’ll leave that for a moment.” She laid the pen down and closed the folder. I tried not to have my sigh of relief obvious.

  I sipped on my coffee to avoid her stare and the mounting tension I began to feel.

  “So, Charlotte, are you just passing through?” It was asked as if in general conversation but my alert level went up a notch.

  “My grandmother, who brought me up, died. I thought I’d take some time out to travel, see a little of the country before I decide what to do next.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother.”

  “I never knew my birth mother, so I thought I might do a little research. I just feel I need to discover who I really am before I can settle down.”

  Although it had started as a lie, I was surprised to feel a pang of excitement wash over me. Maybe I would see if I could track down my mother. I knew her name, that was all, and no idea how hard it would be. I hadn’t been given the chance to take anything from my grandmother’s, as far as I knew everything had been either burned or thrown.

  “I will need to look for a job, though,” I added.

  “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble, although you might want to think about getting some ID.”

  Cecelia had finished her tea and stood to prepare the evening meal.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.

  “No, I prefer to cook alone. I know where everything is,” she said, with a chuckle.

  “Well, how about I mow the front yard? I noticed the grass was a little overgrown.”

  She turned and raised her eyebrows. I wondered if I’d offended.

  “I’m sorry, I just…”

  “I think that would be a great idea. My nephew usually tends to the maintenance but he’s been a little distracted lately. Let’s go find a mower, I’m sure I have one somewhere.” She wiped her hands on a towel and I followed her out the back door.

  To one side of the house was a collection of small outbuildings. Cecelia opened the door and waved her arms to make a path through the cobwebs. I assumed the nephew must have brought his own mower. The building was a treasure trove of old-fashioned farm equipment, boxes and boxes of a lifetime of living in the same property without throwing anything away, and, I imagined, years of memories.

  “Wow,” I said, laughing and coughing because of the dust that was floating around.

  “Yes, wow. Maybe we don’t have a mower.”

  “Here, let me.” I pushed past her and climbed over some sort of workbench with a saw attached.

  “Ouch,” I said, catching my jeans on the rusty saw and nicking my skin.

  “Be careful, Charlotte.”

  Just as she spoke, I tripped and a pile of cardboard boxes collapsed on top of me.

  “Charlotte! Oh, dear, are you okay?”

  I was covered in dust and books. I hadn’t hurt myself at all but was most definitely stuck. I started to laugh just as a hand that certainly did not belong to Cecelia, reached through the boxes and grabbed my arm. I was pulled to my feet and stumbled straight into the rock hard chest of the guy who had given me a ride.

  “Oh.” I cringed at my lack of vocabulary.

  “A thank you might be better than, ‘Oh’,” he said.

  “Thank you.” I wanted to add the word ‘jerk’ to the end of the sentence.

  “Charlotte, meet my nephew, Beau.” She turned her attention to the guy still holding on to my arm. “We’re looking for a mower.”

  “You don’t have a mower, Cecelia,” he said. I hadn’t noticed the very slight accent when he’d picked me up earlier.

  “Charlotte is staying with me for a couple of days. Help her out, will you? Don’t just stand there.”

  Beau helped me climb back over the boxes and the workbench. I dusted down my jeans and shook out my hair. I shuddered, thinking of the creepy crawlies I might have on me. Before I could thank Beau, he’d turned on his heel and left.

  Cecelia chuckled as we heard the putter of a mower engine starting; we followed the sound to the front yard. Beau stood in front of the mower with one eyebrow cocked and a smirk on his face.

  “All yours,” he said, leaving the mower running and walking into the house.

  I mumbled under my breath, hoping Cecelia didn’t hear how rude I thought her nephew was as I walked toward it. I used to mow the lawn at my grandmother’s, so it didn’t take me long to figure out how to use the machine. Cecelia gave me a smile as she returned to the house.

  The sun was beginning to lower just as I finished the second round of mowing. I emptied the collection bag and turned off the mower, leaving it by the gate for Beau. I pulled off my sneakers, wincing at the stains and shaking off the grass. I sat on the steps of the porch and breathed in deep. Fresh cut grass was one of my favorite scents. I raised my face to the sinking sun and closed my eyes.

  “Apparently you’re joining us for dinner,” I heard.

  I replaced my sneakers before I stood. “I am, if that’s not a problem.”

  Beau smirked again. He shrugged his shoulders. “Not a problem for me.”

  “Have I offended you? You were kind to me earlier, but you seem annoyed now.”

  “No, not at all. Just looking out for my aunt, that’s all.”

  “Why do you need to look out for your aunt? I’m not a threat, I’m paying to stay here.”

  “You’re running from something, Charlotte, if that is your name. As I said, I’m looking out for my aunt. In my experience, no matter how fast your run, trouble always catches up.”

  I bit down on my lower lip to stop the expletive from escaping. I couldn’t afford to alienate Beau or Cecelia. Not until I had a job and could afford different accommodation. His comment stung, though.

  “It is my name,” I said quietly, and pushed past him into the hallway.

  My earlier bright mood had been dampened. Beau was right, I guessed. It would only be a matter of time before Damien caught up with me. I had no doubt that he would come looking for me; I was his only source of income.

  Despite Cecelia’s chatter through dinner, I stayed mostly quiet. I didn’t have a great appetite normally, even less when I was being scrutinized by Beau. He seemed to study everything I did, from the way I ate, to how I shifted in my seat. He made me feel extremely uncomfortable, and I began to resent him.

  I finished my meal and chose to clear the table and stack the dishwasher. Cecelia offered me a coffee but I used tiredness as an excuse to escape. Without a word to Beau, I left the room and climbed the stairs to the bedroom. I kicke
d off my sneakers and lay on the bed, watching the sun set beyond the fields. A lone tear ran down my cheek and I angrily brushed it away. I needed to toughen up, for sure. I couldn’t blame Beau, if I was in his position I would be cautious.

  With a sigh, I rose and undressed, careful not to shake out any remaining dust and grass from my clothes on the carpet. I’d need to hand wash my t-shirt at some point, the jeans could go another day.

  I had a restless night, tossing and turning, waking periodically in a cold sweat. The image of Philip kept playing through my mind. I felt like a coward for running, guilt had started to consume me. I lay as the sun began to rise thinking of him. All he’d wanted was a companion, at first. He hadn’t wanted to fuck me, just chat and have someone listen to him. He missed his wife, he had no contact with his son after a family feud, and I think he saw something in me that made him feel comfortable to open up.

  I’d told him I was older, of course. I’d told him a whole bunch of lies and I regretted that. We’d only had sex that once and I guess even that was out of loneliness. He’d had a particularly rough day and I did what I thought would help. I seduced him. He was reluctant at first, in fact, as he came, he cried with guilt, apologizing to his dead wife over and over. I guessed that should have made me feel bad, but I wasn’t with him for my own satisfaction. That day, he had needed me, and he had needed a distraction from his grief.

  He hadn’t deserved his end and I began to think about that. I had been in the shower; anyone in that bedroom would have heard me. Why hadn’t they come for me as well? I thought about it, nothing had been disturbed, and I’d unlocked the front door when I ran. I hoped the police had found him; the thought that he’d be there for days before anyone reported him missing worried me. I could hardly call the police again, though.

  I decided to shower and dress. Laying in bed thinking wasn’t helping. Cecelia had told me that I was welcome to help myself to coffee. I grabbed a cup and poured from the pot before heading out to the backyard. It was a bright morning and already warm. I sat on the steps of the deck and sipped from my mug. Movement caught my eye; to one side of the yard was a wooded area. I watched a topless man, with tattoos down one arm and across his chest, and wearing low-slung jeans, swing an axe and chop a log. He reached down to pick up another and placed it upright before swinging the axe again. Beau was obviously an early riser, and judging by the muscles that rippled over his back, a fit man.

  He stopped and stood upright, swiping his arm over his forehead. I hoped that I’d turned my head away from him quickly enough when I saw him glance over. I didn’t want him to know I had been staring at him.

  I kept my gaze on the ground in front of me with the mug raised to my lips, as I blew gently to cool my coffee. In my peripheral vision, I could see tan, lace up work boots, the bottom of his jeans were scrunched around the top. He didn’t speak, so eventually I looked up.

  “Good morning,” I said, hoping for a polite response and making sure I kept eye contact. I didn’t want the taut chest and the six-pack to distract me.

  “Are you drinking that?” he asked.

  I looked at my mug. “Yes.” I raised my eyebrows in response to his strange question.

  “My boots are muddy, can you fetch me a coffee?”

  I stared at him. “Please?” I encouraged, hoping to remind him of any manners he might have.

  “Please,” he grunted out the word.

  I rose and headed to the kitchen. I didn’t ask how he took his coffee but poured and left it black. When I returned to the deck, I handed it to him. He looked in the mug at first, and then took a gentle sip as if tasting to check whether I’d spat in it. If I’d have thought about it, or if I was that way inclined, I might have.

  He took a couple of large gulps then threw the remainder on the ground. Without a word he handed the mug back to me, I kept my hands around my own mug. After a moment, he reached down and placed it on the deck.

  “Do you think I’m rude?” he asked, surprising me.

  “Very much so.”

  He laughed. “I guess I should work on my social skills. Thanks for the coffee.” With that, he turned and walked back toward his pile of logs.

  Beau certainly baffled me. He was the guy that had stopped to help me, insisting I got in his truck then offering to drive me, yet he looked at me with disdain. He acted as if I wasn’t welcome, someone to be wary of. Was I giving off vibes to justify that?

  “Oh, Rose is hiring, if you’re interested,” he shouted over his shoulder.

  I scrambled to my feet. I could work in a diner; it couldn’t be that hard. I collected Beau’s mug and took both inside to wash up. Cecelia was puttering around the kitchen.

  “I helped myself to coffee, I hope that was okay,” I said.

  “Of course it was, I told you to,” she said with a smile.

  “Beau said that Rose was hiring, I’m going to head over to see if I can get an interview.”

  “That’s a great idea, she’s a good woman.”

  I rushed upstairs to brush my hair and teeth, and made myself as presentable as possible. I’d never been to an interview before; I didn’t have a resume and no time to invent one. I ran through the story I’d told Cecelia the previous evening as I left the house and headed to the diner. I had to make sure I didn’t slip up, those two were friends, I was sure.

  The diner wasn’t busy when I entered; I guessed it was still a little early.

  “Good morning,” I heard from behind the counter. Rose stood having been bending down to retrieve something, I imagined.

  “Hi, err, good morning to you,” I stammered, nerves kicking in.

  “Coffee?”

  “I was actually here to see if you were hiring staff. I can wait on tables, clean, in fact, I’m pretty good at most things, except cooking. I haven’t done much of that, but I’m a quick learner, I can make coffee and maybe sandwiches, and…”

  She held up her hand to stop my rambling.

  “Coffee?” she asked again, I nodded as she poured, not really waiting for my answer.

  She indicated toward a booth and I picked up the mug and sat. Rose joined me.

  “Now, have you ever waited tables before?” she asked.

  I felt my shoulders slump a little. I didn’t really want to lie to her.

  “I haven’t, but I’m pretty quick to learn. I just need a job, Rose. I don’t mind what it is, I’ll clean the restrooms quite happily.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one. I know, I look younger, and that has been a pain, I can tell you.”

  I didn’t think she believed me, but she nodded her head slowly.

  “You can read and write, I take it.”

  I blinked a couple of times. “Of course I can.”

  “Just wanted to check you’d been to school, Charlotte.”

  I wondered how she knew my name, I was pretty sure I hadn’t told her when I’d sat for a meal the previous day.

  “I have. I’m taking some time to find myself, if the truth were known. My grandmother died, I don’t know my birth mother, and I’m a little lost right now. I want to earn some money so that I can save, and then decide on my future.”

  She leaned back in her seat. “Mmm, I don’t know what it is about you, Charlotte, but something in me wants to help you. I think you need help, and I’m sure you’ll tell me why one day. For now, be back here at midday for a trial. I need some help for the lunch rush.”

  I could have hugged her, kissed her cheeks even. I felt my smile broaden to the point those muscles that only seemed to have woken up recently, ached.

  “Oh, thank you. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

  Rose stood and picked up my empty coffee mug. “I might be an old woman, Charlotte, but I know a tale when I hear one. It’s okay, though. You have your reasons, for now. But I will be keeping an eye on you.” She finished her sentence with a smile, but she clearly hadn’t been fooled by my story. I suspected it was the age I’d given.

&n
bsp; “I…”

  “Nothing to say right now. Just promise me one thing, at some point you’ll be honest, I need to be able to trust you. I can’t until then.”

  I nodded, having no answer to that.

  “How did you get on?” Cecelia asked once I’d returned to her house.

  “I have to go back at lunchtime, for a trial,” I replied.

  “That’s great news,” she said, smiling at me.

  “I guess I ought to sort out some better clothes. Is there a store nearby?”

  “Ellie’s should have the basics but for anything fancy, next town over, I’m afraid. Maybe Beau could drive you?”

  “That’s fine, I’m sure I can find what I need here.”

  I didn’t want Beau to drive me anywhere. I took some money from my tin and then left the house and made my way back to the main street. I only needed some toiletries, a couple of fresh t-shirts, some underwear, and a new pair of jeans if I could find some. I hadn’t wanted to dip into my money but hoped to earn it back in tips as quickly as possible.

  Ellie’s had most of what I needed. I piled some panties, socks, two t-shirts, and toiletries on the counter. I stood for ages in front of a display of hair dye, deciding if I should. I wondered if it might cause suspicion if I just went from blonde to brown without having the ‘wanting a change’ conversation first. I picked up a box and added it to my purchases. I counted out the money inwardly wincing that I’d spent more than I intended and was handed a bag. I took a slow walk back to the house.

  I kicked my heels in my bedroom for an hour or two until it was time to head back to the diner. My palms sweated a little the closer I got. I fiddled with some strands of hair that had come loose from the bun I’d tied at the nape of my neck. I assumed I’d have to tie my hair back and wanted to arrive looking prepared.

  The windows were steamed up as I pushed open the door. The diner was full and I soon realized it was ‘special’s day.’

  “Charlotte, I really need some clean plates, we’re getting low. Head on behind the counter, Kieran will look after you,” Rose called out from the other end of the diner. I waved to let her know I’d heard.