by Ellis Major
Charlie started to feel the effects of his experiences as they approached the shore line but managed to make it under his own steam. “I can’t make a poor old man like you carry me,” he told Petey, which actually raised a laugh.
Once their yacht was under way, the traitorous crew member was, by way of entertainment, made to walk the plank. He wasn’t too tightly bound so he made it to dry land.
Rowena stood next to Charlie in the stern and watched the shore recede as the former crew member hopped up and down in almost comedic rage.
“He has no idea how lucky he is,” she murmured. “You know, Charlie, Yusuf was right. You are a good man. Well not just that. What you did today for me and for all of us was truly heroic. People get medals for doing things like that.”
“Don’t know about that Rowena,” Charlie muttered. “I just bumble through life, making it up as I go along. What alternative was there?”
She smiled up at him. She could think of plenty but they were all pretty unpleasant. “Charlie, after we get cleaned up, can we have a little chat in private, just the two of us?”
“Whatever you say,” Charlie told her. “Give me half an hour,”
“I’ll come to your cabin.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and slipped away.
Charlie gazed out at the wake. He wasn’t quite sure what she had in mind by a private chat, but he was more than quite sure that he was looking forward to it. He felt a sense of relief that he hadn’t screwed up and that, for once, he’d done something useful in his life. Growing up, being a man - that was a very satisfying feeling to have. For all his aches and pains, he couldn’t ever recall having felt better.
Only a very sharp eyed observer would have spotted Lance, motionless in the shadows one deck higher. He’d overheard the exchange, was smiling, and his eyes were completely in focus.
Chapter 5 – A Word with Rowena (Year 2 – January)
So what does a girl say to the man who has saved her life earlier that day?
Before she says anything, she has a shower, dries her hair, puts on her best dress, dabs a little perfume on her wrists and behind her ears, and pinches herself to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. Then she walks slowly along to his cabin, knocks gently on the door and makes sure he’s comfortable, because he is starting to feel the effects of his wounds by now. She also ensures that he drinks plenty of non-alcoholic fluids and then sits down opposite him, having no real idea of how absolutely lovely she looks, with her eyes bright and a smile she can’t get off her face. She is alive and she could so easily have been dead, and she is alive because of this unusual man lying face down on the bed with some cushions under his chest.
And what does she say?
“Charlie, tell me, what went through your head. Did you have time to think?”
And what does he say, the man who did the saving? He’s dazzled and embarrassed, but he tells the truth. “You have Freddie and your dad to look after.”
“So you really had time to think that?”
“I didn’t think it out in words, Rowena, but it went through my head.”
“So you really did take the conscious decision to die so that I could live, when you saw that awful man with the gun.”
His face was awkward. “Yes, I suppose so, although it was all so quick. Lance is a crack shot so I just had to buy enough time. Rowena, I got you into this whole business, didn’t I? If someone had to suffer, it was only fair it should be me. You know I told Mary I’d keep an eye on you. I promised you once that you only had to say the word. You called my name didn’t you? Twice before I’ve regretted saying things in my cosy flat back in Mayfair when it came to the crunch, and I thought I was going to regret what I’d said to you big time. But I’d given my word Rowena, and you can sing like no one I’ve ever heard.”
She shook her head in wonder. “Well you have suffered a bit, but we’re both here now and safe, thanks to your lucky streak and your mad bravery.” Rowena’s smile dimmed down from about five million candlepower. Her eyes were still shining but they were sober now. “God Charlie, I don’t know if you understand how humble it makes me feel that you were willing to die for me. Look, I want to suggest something to you, ok.”
“I’m comfortable,” he told her. “I’m a captive audience, and I’m all ears.”
She reached out and stroked his shoulder. “Charlie, I’m not going to mess around. This may sound a weird thing for me to be sitting here saying, but it’s been a weird kind of day, hasn’t it.”
She paused and took a deep breath, half laughed, nervously. “There will always be a bond between us, whatever happens. What went on today is something I’ll never forget but there are bonds like ‘I’ll always be your friend’ Charlie, and then there are other closer bonds, like what about being more than just friends and seeing if it works? If it doesn’t, then let’s agree now that we’ll put it behind us like grown-ups and stay close. That’s if it’s ok with you. What do you say?”
She laughed again. It was a sort of edgy, excited ‘I’m a young girl a bit out of my depth’ sort of laugh. “I like you Charlie, and I hope that I might mean something to you too, if you thought I was worth saving, more than just a promise you made to Mary or to keep your word and because I can sing – something more personal you know, or I hope so.”
In the aftermath of the battle of the Wadi El Paradiso, Rowena had found herself staring at Charlie as Petey ministered to his back, and totting up all the plus points – when a man saves your life most people will examine him in a new light. If his actions involve risking his own extinction, then the light is almost certain to be a very favourable one.
When Rowena did her sums, she arrived at an obvious total. Never before in her difficult, drab and often miserable life had she ever met a man she found remotely attractive – except perhaps the Vicar, although he was hardly potential boyfriend material. But here he was all of a sudden. Charlie Tiptree, hitherto friendly enough and generous, a nice guy in truth, had hardly been someone to get a girl’s juices flowing. Now he’d demonstrated characteristics that Rowena would never have expected of him, resourcefulness, extraordinary courage and then magnanimity – sort of alpha male behaviour but without all the preening and posturing.
She’d known instinctively that she would have to take the lead because she’d finally begun to understand that her appearance had a tendency to bring out the worst in men. Charlie would almost certainly be in awe of it and too nervous of a frosty reception if he presumed on his actions to take matters further. And she liked that about him too.
When he heard her words and her apparent seriousness Charlie felt a bubbling delight filling his whole being. This cool, tough and collected woman wanted to be more than a friend. Charlie’s mood was so good that he cracked a joke. He grinned up at her. “How dare you assume I’m heterosexual,” he said.
Her eyes widened for a moment before she twigged and then she laughed - a rich deep belly laugh.
Now that is a laugh, thought Charlie, I really, really would like to hear more often.
“That would be just my luck,” she said. “To proposition the first man I’ve ever been interested in and to find he’s gay. You know, Charlie, just for a second I wondered. Roddy makes the odd snide remark about you and Lance.”
Charlie’s smile faded. “Roddy is a mate but sometimes, well…, although between you and me, Lance is gay.”
She shrugged. “So? I already know. Georgie told me in the letter from Mary. Am I supposed to react? What does it matter – it’s you I’m interested in Charlie. Lance is gay – big deal – he’s just rescued us all, that’s what matters. My next stop, after propositioning you, is a big personal thank you to him.” Now she smiled and shook her head. “Lance is a poof - I’ll try not to look down on him.”
“Rowena,” he told her. “Forget the silly jokes. Of course I want to give it a go. Who wouldn’t? Just look at you. I think you’re wonderful. If we don’t hit it off then, yes, let’s try and stay friends. I’m just wo
rried about falling head over heels and you deciding I’m a pillock and it was all a rush of blood to your head because I went mad for a minute or two.”
She leant forward and ruffled his hair. “Charlie,” she said. “Underneath all this; what am I, really? I’m a dull girl from Norfolk with her head full of things she’s read in books who’s working as a whore. I have worries the same as you. You’ll despise me because of what I am. Whatever I look like you’ll get bored with me and my simple country ways. But sometimes, well, you know, you have to take a risk.”
She laughed again and all the nervousness was gone now. “At least one thing I don’t have to worry about is whether I tell you about my past. Listen to me, talking to you about taking risks! How about this for an idea, Charlie? Let’s see how we get on, before we start jumping into bed and it gets too messy and passionate? To be honest, I don’t feel right about sleeping with you whilst I’m working in that place. I want it to be special if we make love Charlie. I don’t just want it to be a screw. I know that sounds absurd but there’s a difference to me. I screw men for money, Charlie, but I don’t make love to them.”
He stared up at her. Whatever she wanted was fine with him. “Rowena, yes, I understand. I feel the same. I don’t care what you do in the Academy. No, I mean I do care, but I have no right to complain or object and if it works out for us then I hope you’ll stop as soon as you can. And yes, why start all the sex if we don’t feel it’s right on any other level. What are we, Rowena, a couple of old fashioned romantics?”
Rowena’s smile widened. “Wonderful, Sweetie. You’re probably right. Can we be discreet about it, please? Lance will have to know, but I don’t think anyone else needs to. I don’t want all the giggling and knowing looks, especially not on something as small as this boat. I don’t want all that rubbish, Charlie, so you’ll have to make do with this until we’re back in London.” She slipped gracefully from her chair, onto her knees in front of him, took his head oh so gently in both hands, kissed him, and then stared into his eyes.
“However pretty, I’m the same as everyone else,” she told him. “I only want to be happy.”
“I want to make you happy so I’ll do my best,” he whispered, wondering whether he really was floating on a cloud.
She stood up and stroked his shoulder again. “So will I Charlie,” she murmured, in that soft seductive voice. “And thank you again for saving my life.”
She turned and opened the door – the cabins weren’t huge. “Hi, Lance.” Her voice now had a much brisker tone, business-like and crisp. “That’s one thank you to the wounded hero. Now how about I buy a drink for the one who can still sit up properly?”
“Yeah,” came Lance’s voice. “Before Petey drinks the bar dry. Everything ok, Charlie? I’ll come down in a bit and read you a story.”
“Couldn’t be better.” Charlie’s voice had a dreamy quality to it.
Rowena closed the door and took Lance’s arm. She nodded at the door. “I’ve offered my guardian angel a bonus,” she whispered. “He seems willing to accept it.”
Lance’s face lit up. The eyes were still in focus and the smile was even wider than it had been earlier. “Let me know if he hesitates. I’ll put him straight about commercial reality.”
“Thank you, Lance,” she whispered. “Charlie might not have got to the grenade if you hadn’t shot that man when you did. God knows where it might have gone.”
“I’ll be honest with you,” he murmured. “Until that moment, in Charlie’s hand is about the last place I’d have wanted it to end up.”
“Cometh the hour,” Rowena murmured. “Cometh the man. Until you’re tested, you never know.”
Charlie would have loved the way she said ‘man’, he really would.
Chapter 6 – Stepping Out (Year 2 – January...February...)
It is unlikely, given her overall attitude towards the senior profession, that anyone would have described Rowena as a happy hooker. She was, however, on her return to London, a happier one than she’d been before departure. The reasons were twofold.
Firstly, whatever happened with Charlie, she began to see that she was nearing the point where she could start counting down the ‘assignations’ to zero. She spoke to Slick Willy and they talked investment returns and expectations and associated capital sums. Rowena left Willy’s office with a target in mind and the knowledge that her share in the club would also be throwing off more income than she’d expected.
And, second, there was Charlie. Having now met a man she liked enough to want to date, Rowena then started to ask herself what it was she really after for the long term – she was a practical girl and wanted to get it straight in her mind. She could partly define it by negatives and partly by positives. She didn’t want some handsome, conceited prat who was too interested in the sound of his own voice and the effect his good looks had on the world at large – well Charlie avoided ticks in those boxes. He was presentable enough but girls hardly swooned at the sight of him, and he’d always listened attentively to what Rowena had to say. He could actually even hold a conversation.
But she also wanted someone she could admire and respect. That would have been Charlie’s biggest problem, but for the fact that his heroics had earned her respect. The question still remained in her mind, though; was there more about him to admire than that?
She also wanted someone who was fairly sporty, and that was fine, because Charlie enjoyed tennis and swimming, even if he wasn’t fussed about working out in the gym. He introduced her to golf, which she enjoyed because she liked a walk and had good hand and eye co-ordination.
It was during their golf expeditions with Lance, Charlie being something of an ambulant spectator to start with on account of his wounds, that she discovered something she was yearning for without even knowing it; more laughter and even silliness in her life. And Charlie made her laugh. The same little flights of fantasy that entertained Lance also entertained Rowena. He’d been cautious to begin with, obviously not wanting to bore her, but he went off one day as they walked along the fairway after watching a foursome cross their path.
A tubby man with a walrus moustache and trousers that were garish even by golfing standards was responsible. Charlie wove an absurd vignette on the curtains that the man’s wife had given to a charity shop which had been purchased by his exotic blind mistresses’ maid and then turned into trousers which he wore with great pride, never having noticed the curtains in the marital bedroom before. It was stupid and ridiculous but it made her laugh.
So Charlie was doing well, so far. When it came to shared interests, he was doing better than well. The one thing they both knew from very early on was that they loved music, not only listening to it, but making it. And here was another thing about Charlie that Rowena could admire and respect - his musical skills and knowledge. The two of them had to be careful about making too much noise in his flat but there was plenty of opportunity for them both to wonder at her voice. Charlie couldn’t believe she’d never had any idea of her singing ability and nor, now it had been made so obvious to her, could Rowena.
They puzzled over it together but Rowena explained that she’d never auditioned for the school choir because they went on tour and she wouldn’t have been able to go on grounds of cost. The only other times she had sung were to herself, to pop songs. “I thought everyone thinks they’re singing in tune when they sing to themselves,” she told him. “I haven’t had much to sing about recently and why would I sing with anyone else around at school – they’d have bullied me for that as well.”
Rowena also noticed something with her semi-conscious biological mind. Almost any woman contemplating a long term relationship will give thought to how suitable a father the man might be. Some women are, of course, too stupid to see that he’ll be entirely unsuitable but are completely blinded by the fact that they ‘fancy’ him. Rowena was not of that ilk – in light of her parents’ experience this was hardly a surprise. She was emphatically not going to bring children into the
world unless she thought the father was suitable, regardless of whether she was madly in love with him. The patience, she thought to herself, that Charlie evinced when they were making music was a good omen.
Rowena had received piano lessons when money had been more readily available in her youth. She could almost sight read but was very rusty. Charlie, being a skilled practitioner, could have ignored this and elected to play for her so that Rowena could simply concentrate on singing. Alternatively, he could have proved a stern and harsh taskmaster and driven a wedge between them. As it was, he encouraged her to play, provided helpful guidance and gave every impression of being genuinely delighted as she persevered and improved. For all his oft expressed horror of children, Rowena could see that Charlie would make a very good parent. When she gradually came to see all this, and other generally well-concealed sides to his character, Rowena found Charlie to be something of a paragon. She started to miss him whenever she wasn’t with him, to feel delighted whenever she saw his cheerful smile and she found herself, she had to admit, actually feeling as if she was in love. Life was good.
There were things they tried which didn’t work. Charlie, for example, had a suspicion that Rowena wouldn’t like the club scene but they gave it a go. On the basis that they were continuing their experiment in secret, Charlie took Rowena to an unfamiliar club, one he seldom visited and inside which he therefore did not expect to meet any acquaintances. He was, accordingly, unknown to the staff on the door. Even if he had been, he suspected, Rowena’s actions would have been the same.
Charlie began to breeze past the queue, confident in the knowledge that with Rowena on the arm, his name would be ‘on the list’ affixed to the clipboard wielded by the fearsome, crop-haired blonde who was marshalling the security guards.
Rowena tugged his arm. “Queue, Sweetie,” she told Charlie, guiding him in behind the twelve or fourteen men who were waiting behind the ropes. They, naturally enough, all pivoted and gazed at her. It was fortunate that she was not dressed in the club style or there might have been a disturbance. As far as Charlie was concerned, Rowena could wear what she liked –she was emphatically not some sort of doll – and her idea of dressing for a club was a slinky knee length dress, an elegant jacket, and a loose scarf – a far cry, indeed, from the sleazy semi-nudity which is generally de rigueur.