by Sue Welfare
‘Come on, let’s get you dry. You want a cup of tea?’ he said after a moment or two. ‘I’ve got the kettle on, and I think there are still some shortbreads in the tin.’
Helen looked up at him and laughed. ‘You know, Harry, there are loads of times I dream about getting away from Billingsfield, of being rich and famous and drinking champagne from a crystal goblet, but times like this, you making tea and getting out the biscuit tin seems about as close to perfection as a girl can get.’
He laughed and guided her into the sitting room. ‘I was worried about you,’ he said, helping her off with her coat. ‘I don’t care what happens to Charlotte, but I do care about you.’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘I have to tell you something, Helen. I’ve been thinking about it for some time now actually – I have to say something.’
Helen stared at him. ‘What is it, Harry?’ she said. ‘Are you going to sack me? Have I got to move out? If it’s about the mess Charlotte made in your room, I can –’
‘No. It’s not any of those things,’ he interrupted.
‘Are you okay?’
Harry nodded. And then he said, ‘I love you, Helen.’
She stared at him, open-mouthed. In one way the words came as a complete surprise but in another it just confirmed what, somewhere inside, she already knew.
‘Harry,’ Helen began, but he held a hand up to stop her.
‘Wait, you don’t have to feel responsible for how I feel. I know I’m not your boyfriend, or at least not yet,’ he said. ‘I would like to be, but if that doesn’t happen, then I just want you to know that I will always be your friend, and whatever happens, wherever you go, that’s never going to change. I will always love you.’
It was such a big thing to say.
She took hold of his hand, feeling tears of gratitude pricking behind her eyes. ‘And I love you, Harry,’ she said with a certainty that she was only just aware of. ‘I don’t know where we go from here, but I do love you.’
He grinned. ‘Well, that’s a start,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and make the tea and get you that towel. Why don’t you sit down by the fire and get warm?’
Helen smiled. ‘I will. I’m just going to get my pyjamas on and take off all this makeup.’
‘Okay. Don’t be long,’ he said.
Helen went into the bathroom and washed her face, and wiped away the stage makeup. She watched the reflection of her features emerging in the mirror on the front of the medicine cabinet and wondered if Harry saying that he loved her would change anything. She hoped not and hoped so, all in the same breath. What would it be like to have a proper boyfriend and go out together and plan things together and … Helen made herself stop thinking about the might bes and instead concentrate on the here and now. There were a lot of other things she wanted out of life besides settling down with a steady boyfriend. In lots of ways Helen and Charlotte wanted the same things. It was just that she had a very different way of going about it.
‘Are you okay in there?’ Harry called.
‘I’m fine,’ said Helen.
Once she had stripped off her wet clothes and pulled on her pyjamas and dressing gown Helen went back into the sitting room and curled up on the sofa in front of the fire. She felt warm and safe and comfortable in the soft lamplight, a million miles away from the pub and the hotel, Leon Downey and Vince.
Feeling the tension finally start to ease, Helen closed her eyes. She could hear Harry busy in the kitchen, could hear the hiss of the gas fire and the sounds of the rain against the windows from behind the curtains. She didn’t mean to fall asleep, but the combination of the heat from the fire, the long, long day and the after-effects of the booze she had had, proved too much. Helen only planned to close her eyes for a minute, just to rest them, and as she did she felt sleep coming up like a warm dark wave, pulling her down into a velvety silent darkness that felt close to perfect. It was impossible to resist. Her eyes felt so heavy that she just couldn’t open them and without any struggle at all Helen let sleep claim her.
Some time later Helen woke with a start, feeling completely disorientated. It was dark and it took her a moment or two to realise she was still on the sofa in front of the fire and that someone was bending over her. She gasped with a mix of surprise and fear.
‘Sorry,’ said Harry, who was tucking a tartan rug around her shoulders. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you, or wake you. I was just going to bed and I thought you might get cold out here.’
‘How long have I been here?’ Helen asked anxiously, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
‘Not very long.’
She pulled off the blanket. ‘How long is not very long?’
‘I don’t know, maybe an hour, probably a bit longer actually. I didn’t mean to disturb you. But it’s all right, I was going to wake you up tomorrow so you didn’t miss the film thing. I’ve set my alarm. Go back to sleep, I promise not to let you oversleep.’
‘Did Charlotte come back yet?’ she asked.
‘No, I should have given her the spare key then she could let herself in. I’m wondering if she’s worried she might wake us up.’
He obviously didn’t know Charlotte very well, thought Helen. Her guess was that if Charlotte had wanted to come back to the flat, key or no key, she wouldn’t have cared who she woke up.
‘Has she phoned?’ asked Helen, knowing full well that if she had she would undoubtedly have heard it.
He shook his head. ‘No.’
Helen could sense Harry picking up on her anxiety.
‘I’m sure she’ll be all right. Charlotte is nobody’s fool. There’s a good chance that she went home to her own place after the meeting finished.’
Helen stared at him; she doubted very much that that was what had happened but didn’t say so.
‘Ring her in the morning,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it if you like. I was just thinking,’ he continued, shifting his weight. ‘As you’re awake, and obviously you can say no if you want to – maybe now’s not the moment –’ Harry stopped.
Helen raised her eyebrows and waited.
‘I was wondering if maybe you would like to come and sleep with me? I mean in my bed, not necessarily – well you know, not the other thing, unless of course you wanted to,’ he grinned, ‘in which case that would be fine too. Or we could just cuddle up. What do you think?’
Helen blushed; it wasn’t quite what she had expected. She could feel her heart doing that odd little pitter-pattery thing and she opened her mouth to speak, although she was not altogether sure what it was she was going to say, and as she did Harry bent down so that he was kneeling beside her, his eyes bright.
She stared at him. ‘Oh my God, you’re not going to propose, are you?’
He grinned, ‘No, at least not yet –’
‘That’s all right then. God, that sounds awful.’ Helen stopped. ‘What I meant was I’m not sure how I expected going to bed with someone would happen.’
‘But this wasn’t it?’ said Harry. ‘Sorry, it wasn’t very romantic, was it? I’m just replaying it in my head and it was about as subtle as a car crash.’
Helen laughed. ‘It’s just fine, but there’s something else you should know; I’ve never done the other thing, and I’m not sure I’m ready to do it. But if I were –’ now it was her turn to run out of words.
‘But if you were?’ Harry prompted.
Helen grinned. ‘If I were, I couldn’t think of a person I’d rather do it with than you.’
He leaned in closer, brushing his lips against her neck. She could feel her whole body responding.
‘Maybe not now, though,’ she said, trying to fight the clamour in her head.
He pulled away. ‘You’re not offended, are you? It sounded so clumsy.’
Helen shook her head. ‘I’m not offended at all, Harry. It’s a lovely thing – and I’m flattered.’ And with that Harry seemed to grow in confidence and he slipped his arms around her, pulled her tight up against him and kissed her properly.
‘We’
ll wait then,’ he said. ‘I can wait as long as it takes. I think we’ll know, don’t you?’ And then he kissed her again.
The sensation made Helen feel dizzy, but she made no effort to resist him. It would be so easy, so very very easy just to sink into his arms and let go. Helen had no doubt that whatever happened Harry would take care of her, and that thought, and that sense of sureness, spun through with desire, was a heady combination.
Gently he pushed her back amongst the cushions, his kisses more insistent and hers more hungry. Perhaps she was ready to do the other thing after all. At which point the phone rang, making them both jump and pull away from each other as if they had been electrocuted. For a moment or two they both stared at the receiver, and then the phone rang again.
‘Do you think that’s her?’ asked Harry, reaching over to answer it, but Helen was too fast for him. She grabbed the phone out of its cradle and was about to speak when a male voice said, ‘Hello, I’m sorry to ring at such an ungodly hour, but I wondered if Charlotte is there with you?’
‘Charlotte’s dad,’ Helen mouthed to Harry in answer to his unspoken question. ‘Mr Johnson,’ she said, trying hard to make it sound as if she hadn’t almost been doing the other thing on the sofa.
‘Helen, is that you? Sorry to disturb you so late but I was worried about Charlotte. She’s not come home. Is she there?’
‘I was asleep,’ Helen lied.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up but I wanted to know if Charlotte was there with you, before I start ringing round the hospitals and police stations,’ he said, adding a little false laughter. ‘The thing is I haven’t heard from her all evening. And I’m concerned. I thought she’d probably be back home by now. I was a bit late getting to the theatre. I know I don’t have to explain to you, you know what Charlie can be like – always been a bit headstrong if things don’t go her way. I meant to be there to see you sing, but Joan, you’ve met Joan, haven’t you? Lovely girl. She’d booked us a table at this new restaurant in Battesfield. I didn’t know. I thought we were just popping in for a quick drink and nibbles. Her brother owns it; he’s quite a bit older than Joan. Anyway, it was their opening night, and to be perfectly honest I couldn’t see how I could get out of it, you know, not once we were there.’ He was making excuses and they both knew it.
‘Charlotte knew we were going. I told her I’d be at the theatre just as soon as I could. I wasn’t that late –’ He paused, letting the jovial facade slip. ‘I can’t sleep – I’ve been sitting here, waiting for her to come home. Did it go well?’
‘Yes, it was fine,’ said Helen, pulling faces at Harry.
‘Right, well, that’s good. Did you win?’
‘No, we didn’t win; we were good but we didn’t come anywhere in the final three.’
‘Ah, right, well, that’s a shame. I did wonder when Charlotte wasn’t at the theatre. It must have emptied out quite fast. I wasn’t that late, not really – I tried ringing when I got home but there was no one answering the phone in the box office.’ He was rambling, trying to justify why he hadn’t been there to see them and why he hadn’t been there to support Charlotte. ‘I thought she might have rung me, you know, when you were finished, just to let me know how it went.’
Helen listened without interruption, finally the words faded.
‘So is she there? I would really like to talk to her. To explain – you know –’
Helen paused, considering the options. Did she tell him the truth or did she lie? Before Helen could make up her mind Harry took the phone out of her hands.
‘Hello there, Mr Johnson,’ Harry sounded chipper and bright and wide awake. ‘Harry here – yes, I’m afraid Charlotte’s asleep at the moment – no, she’s fine as far as I know. I just heard Helen get up, light sleeper, you know how it is. Used to sleeping above the shop and all that. No, no, I don’t think I should wake her. Helen said she was sound asleep. But don’t you worry, I’ll make sure she rings you first thing in the morning. Yes, just as soon as she wakes up. Mind you, it might not be that early though – we’ve all had a bit of a late night here. Yes, it was a real shame they didn’t win. They sounded great. No, Charlotte’s fine – really – bit disappointed obviously. Good night, yes, thanks, I’ll say good night to Helen for you.’ And with that Harry hung up.
They looked at each other; the moment had passed.
‘I’ve never heard you lie before,’ Helen said. ‘And why did you tell Charlotte’s dad she was here? She’s not here.’
‘No, but if she’s not at home then we’ve got a damned good idea where she is. I think we should go and get her, Helen,’ said Harry, pulling his jacket off the back of the chair. ‘Come on, or would you prefer to stay here and go to bed?’ He laughed. ‘What I meant was, do you want to stay here while I go and fetch her?’
Helen shook her head. ‘No, of course not, I can’t let you go on your own. I’ll go get dressed and come with you.’ She got up and hurried into the bedroom, pausing at the door to smile at him. ‘You are such a good man, Harry. And if Mr Johnson hadn’t called –’ she stopped, not quite able to bring herself to finish the sentence. ‘And besides that,’ said Helen quickly, ‘there are two of them, you need me to keep an eye out for you. If you go on your own Leon or Vince might punch you.’
He grinned. ‘You care?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘I’ll go and get the car,’ he said.
‘It’s not that far, we can walk. She’s only at the Billingsfield Arms.’
‘If Charlotte was drunk when she got there God only knows what sort of state she’s in now.’
Helen nodded; he was right. She hurried into her bedroom, pulled on a pair of dry jeans, a thick sweater, and a pair of boots and then, picking up her coat, followed Harry downstairs and out into the street.
It was a horrible night. It was raining harder now. They parked the Mini on the kerb close to the edge of the market square and hurried across to the hotel. Helen shivered as a bitter wind whipped at their faces and tugged at their clothes. The sharp, icy-cold rain seemed to be driving in horizontally across the road. Beyond the pools of yellowing light from the street lights and shop fronts, the market was a dark, cavernous place. The wind chased in and out of the empty stalls, making the canvas flap and whine miserably as if something was trying to break free.
Helen, tucked tight in alongside Harry, knew that if the situation had been reversed there was no way in a million years Charlotte would be coming out on any night, let alone a night like this, to rescue her.
As if reading her mind, Harry turned and said, ‘We are doing the right thing, you know that. Charlotte might not like it but she’ll thank us later.’
Helen smiled up at him; she admired his optimism but doubted that Harry was right.
They scurried across the road. The main doors of the Billingsfield Arms were locked when they got there. Huddled under the portico Helen pulled her coat tight around her while Harry rang the night porter’s bell and waited. After a few minutes he rang again; finally a voice crackled over the intercom.
‘Good evening, may I help you?’
‘I hope so,’ Harry said into the speaker. ‘A friend of ours is here. We said we’d come and pick her up as it’s so late. Her name’s Charlotte.’
‘Charlotte Johnson,’ Helen said quickly, in case Harry had forgotten. ‘She came here earlier, for a meeting.’
The line went dead and a few moments later an elderly man, dressed in a uniform, appeared from somewhere deep inside the shadowy confines of the hotel. He peered through the glass partition to one side of the main door, looking the two of them up and down.
‘Our friend should be here,’ repeated Helen loudly, mouthing the words in case he couldn’t hear. ‘She had a meeting with one of your guests. We’ve just come to collect her. Charlotte Johnson?’
The night porter nodded, all the while fiddling with the keys that he had hanging from a chain on his belt. His expression suggested that whatever it was they
planned to tell him, he had heard it all before, although he had the good grace not to mention that it was well past two o’clock in the morning. As the door swung open the man looked more closely at Harry. ‘I know you, don’t I?’ he said, eyes narrowing.
Harry nodded. ‘Yes. I think I sold you a bike last Christmas. Child’s Raleigh, midnight blue, white leatherette seat, and matching tassels on the handlebars. For your grandson, I believe.’
‘Well, damn me, so you did.’ The man grinned. ‘You’re from the toy shop, aren’t you? Bottom of Fitzroy Street.’
Harry nodded. ‘That’s right. Finton’s Finest Toys.’
‘Well, isn’t that amazing. That boy loves that bike. Come on in out of the rain. It’s bloody awful out there tonight.’
Harry’s smile held.
The man waved them inside. ‘What’s your friend’s name again?’ he asked as they slipped past him and into the warmth of the foyer.
‘Charlotte Johnson,’ said Helen. ‘We both had a business meeting earlier; I went home and she came back here with the people we were meeting. I thought she’d have been home by now.’ Said aloud it sounded like a lie.
‘So we said we’d come over and pick her up,’ repeated Harry firmly, shooting Helen a look, probably, Helen guessed, to stop her telling the man they had just turned up on the off chance they might be able to find Charlotte.
‘We said we’d pick her up if she was late,’ he continued. ‘We don’t live that far away but we didn’t want her walking home alone at this time of the morning. You never know what might happen.’
The old man nodded. ‘You’re right there, lad. Let’s go through to reception. I haven’t seen anyone waiting about for a lift. Nasty old night out there, you wouldn’t want to walk.’ He pulled his glasses out of his top pocket and perched them on the end of his nose. ‘Do you know what room the guest you were meeting was in, Miss?’
‘No, I’m afraid I don’t,’ said Helen.
‘What time did you say you’d pick her up?’
Helen could see Harry fishing around for the right answer so she said, ‘We didn’t arrange a definite time, but we haven’t heard from her so we were getting a bit worried. We thought she would probably ring –’