Charlie Had His Chance

by Ellis Major

  Charlie resolved to throw himself into the venture and get to the church as soon as they could, for Lance’s sake as much as his own. It was the least he could do. He’d told Rowena he’d get there and there was still some hope for Geoff. And until he knew for sure, he shouldn’t start slitting his wrists, should he.

  “Lance,” he said. “You are a wonder, a miracle worker. No man could ask for a better mate.” He saw Geoff staring at him, but he didn’t care. He went on. “You cannot possibly blame yourself for not foreseeing that this was going to happen and not leaving a note pinned to the door. Come on, you can’t think of everything.”

  “I suppose.” Lance’s leaden response matched the mood.

  Lance did his best, but it became clearer and clearer that the traffic was becoming ever more sclerotic. After they’d remained virtually stationary for about fifteen minutes, he had to admit defeat. By now it was after three and glumness filled the air.

  “Time for Shanks’s pony,” Charlie announced. He turned to Geoff. “We’ve got to do our best or perish in the attempt.”

  “It’ll take hours,” Geoff told him.

  “I know, but the sooner we start, the sooner we’ll be there.”

  Lance found a reasonably respectable side street in which to park Kali, who was unquestionably sulking. They took their top hats, and began to walk - briskly.

  By now, they were in a high street in South London and Charlie thought Lance had lost the plot when he slapped his hand to his head and cried ‘of course’. He trotted off and they ran after him - towards a bicycle shop! Within a few minutes, Lance’s forethought in procuring cash from the Purser in Jersey having proved extremely useful (given the power cuts, credit cards would not have served their purpose, of course), they were bowling along on three newly acquired machines.

  “This is more like it,” Charlie cried, as they negotiated the gridlock and inched their way, minute by minute, nearer to central London.

  “Beats running,” Lance called. “Bear left at the next junction.”

  It has to be said that they drew the odd glance, a smartly dressed Lance and two men in morning suits and top hats not the commonest sight in the rougher parts of South London - but they were making progress.

  “Straight on over Clapham Common,” Lance called as they reached the edge of that infamous green space.

  They were half way across when yet another problem presented itself. It was, by now, about a quarter to four. A large group of rather less than sober locals was weaving its way in the opposite direction. As they saw the cycling party approaching they, like so many others had done, stopped to stare.

  Charlie was starting to slow down and opening his mouth to ask if they wouldn’t mind moving when Geoff hurtled past him shouting orders.

  “Out of the way you ruddy oiks!” he yelled.

  It was not the choicest of phrases and the atmosphere became distinctly unpleasant when Geoff rode his bicycle straight into one of the drunker members of what had now become the opposition, and knocked him over.

  Something of a mêlée ensued, during which Geoff collected several contusions, Charlie collected a black eye, they both lost their hats and, disastrously, all of them lost their bicycles.

  It would have been far worse, but for the fact that Lance went utterly berserk.

  Roddy’s prediction about Lance blowing his top one day came true, even if it would never have done so but for Roddy himself. One might also look on it as a form of therapy, because Lance exorcised an awful lot of accumulated frustration and rage in those few minutes. Every face seemed like Roddy’s to him in his mad, dark fury. By the time he’d finished, groaning or unconscious bodies littered the area and the enemy had taken flight. Those intent on stealing the bikes had run away long before Lance finished laying waste to their cronies.

  “Bloody hell, Lance,” said Charlie, as Lance stamped on someone’s face. “I hope you feel better.”

  Lance, although breathing heavily, was heading back in the general direction of sanity.

  “Fuckers,” he gasped. “Let’s move.”

  They jogged off. “Geoff,” Lance cried with a crooked grin. He was more cheerful than he’d been since the previous evening. “This is gonna hurt but you’ll love it when it stops.”

  And they ran and they ran. Cedars Road, then Wandsworth Road, onto the Albert Embankment, Lambeth Palace Road. Finally, Westminster Bridge hove into view. By now, Geoff was in a bad way. Charlie, being fairly lithe and fit was puffing but still had some breath to talk. He encouraged Geoff but Lance was showing the true military spirit, goading and driving Geoff but absolutely refusing to abandon him as Geoff kept begging them to do.

  “We’ve got this far together,” Charlie told Geoff. “We stay together. I’m not facing your father on my own.”

  There was a brief pause half way across the bridge whilst Geoff threw up, splashing the legs of his trousers, such was his distress. After that he started to lose it and between them Charlie and Lance had to half carry him.

  “St. James’s Park, Green Park, and then Piccadilly.” Even Lance was starting to puff now. “You fat prick,” he kept telling Geoff. “Don’t you dare fucking die on me.”

  “Good old Piccadilly,” Charlie wheezed, inconsequentially.

  So they staggered on through hot, sunny afternoon streets, clogged as they were with stationary traffic and milling with confused pedestrians.

  But they were covering the distance. Charlie’s feet were killing him. He knew his blisters must have burst but he was utterly determined to get there as fast as he could now. It had become a matter of pride for him. He would be able to truthfully say that he had done his best whatever the outcome.

  They were lurching along the edge of the lake in St. James’s Park and Charlie had just puffed to Geoff how inviting the water looked – not that Geoff even noticed - when they heard a scream a few yards ahead and saw a baby buggy tip over into the water. It had obviously rolled some distance without being noticed. The mother had only just started to get up from her picnic.

  “Sod it,” grunted Lance, but he and Charlie didn’t even break stride. They dropped Geoff, who fell to the grass like a corpse, and just ran straight into the water. The lake in that area was quite deep so they both went in up to their necks. Between them, though, they got the buggy, righted it and returned its squalling contents to its grateful mother. Well, they assumed she was grateful – it was hard to tell from the volley of Eastern European gutterals.

  Charlie went to reach for his hat in order to raise it before recalling that it was long gone.

  “I hope you enjoy your stay in the UK,” he told her politely. “Must dash though.”

  Geoff lay exactly where they’d dropped him. “Am I really dead yet?” he mumbled as they hauled him to his feet. “I’ve gone to Hell if I have to run again.”

  Through St. James’s Park they plodded and across into Green Park.

  “Refreshing that dip,” Charlie remarked. “Although it hasn’t done a lot for the suit.” He assumed he looked as sodden and muddy as Lance. “Oh God, what’s going on here?” He pointed towards Piccadilly. It was lined with barriers and Police were dotted along the route.

  “I think it’s some sort of demo,” Lance grunted, squinting into the distance. “I can see placards and dirty looking yobs.”

  “Yobs,” yelled Geoff. His eyes were rolling. “Scroungers.”

  “Geoff, voice down,” Charlie cautioned him. Then he laughed weakly. “Look at us, ha, ha, ha. We look like a bunch of tramps. What am I worrying about?”

  As they moved closer, they could see that it was indeed some sort of demonstration, in favour of anarchism, anti capitalism, greenery, veganism etc, depending on which placards you read.

  They approached one of the Policemen manning the route.

  “Excuse me officer,” Charlie gasped. “We need to get across. Got a wedding to go to.”

  The Policeman turned his head and glanced at them. “Good Stag night then,” he r
emarked.

  “Less the Stag night than the getting back from it,” Charlie puffed, with feeling.

  “I hope you’ve left plenty of time,” the Policeman told him, not without lugubrious relish. “This lot is going to take another hour. I’d suggest Green Park tube. You could use the subway there.” He watched as they brightened up and started to walk away. “Only it’s closed,” he called.

  “We could go down to the subway at the Wellington Arch near Hyde Park station,” Lance suggested to Charlie without much enthusiasm.

  “No,” said Charlie with sudden decision. “Take a minute and get your breath back. I don’t know if Geoff will make it, though.”

  “He will,” muttered Lance and slapped Geoff a couple of times. “Get angry,” he grunted. “Get more angry than you’ve ever been in your fucking life, you flabby, useless ponce.”

  Three minutes later, after a progressively savage beasting from Lance, they picked the largest gap they could spot between two policemen, took the barriers like a bunch of champion hurdlers, hurtled through a ragged group who were so busy chanting ‘Property is Theft’ that they didn’t register what Geoff was shouting until all three were over the barriers on the other side and half way to Berkley Square.

  “’Wash your women and get a shave’. That was not exactly sensible, Geoff,” Charlie shouted. “What if you’d got nabbed?”

  “Well we didn’t,” Geoff grunted back. His few minutes rest had partially restored him. “Never mind that, save your breath; best foot forward.”

  They lumbered into Charles Street.

  “Bad sign,” Charlie groaned. “No cars, no ushers. Chins up.”

  Lungs heaving, Geoff and Charlie staggered the last few steps up to the doors and crashed into the church.

  ~~~

  Their breathing harsh in the silence, Lance, Geoff and Charlie surveyed the empty interior as their eyes adjusted after the bright afternoon sunlight outside. The church was dimly lit. Here and there, along the aisle, candles were dotted. Only the area up nearer to the altar rail was brighter. In this part of the church a number of larger ecclesiastical candles, set in wrought iron stands, created a pool of soft light. Charlie, Lance and Geoff moved up the aisle drawn inexorably to it. Their breathing was starting to slow – all except Geoff for whom there appeared to be insufficient oxygen in the air.

  They stopped at the foremost pew, where they should have been seated in nervous expectation three hours before.

  “Oh shit,” Geoff sobbed into the hush.

  Charlie emitted a long shuddering sigh.

  “You should never lose hope until all hope is lost should you,” he said. “But they’ve all gone. You should try and track down Camilla.” He slumped onto a pew. He was steaming, like Lance.

  “You sure?” Geoff was clearly rather rattled, and anxious to stagger off, God knew where, in search of his intended.

  Charlie half laughed, half panted. “Yes. Leave poor old bachelor Charlie here. The man who threw away the girl he loves because he’s a total idiot.” He sat forward and put his head in his hands. “You know what my epitaph will be – Charlie had his chance, and he blew it!”

  “You sure; you seem a bit down.” Geoff was starting to edge away.

  Charlie turned and looked at him. “Geoff. Go and patch it up with Camilla, the sooner the better. No point both of us ruining our lives. I’ll wait here with Lance in case Roddy shows up. I don’t want him or Willy killed. It’s my fault for listening to them.”

  “Ok, then; sorry Charlie, but best if I dash.”

  Geoff took a couple of steps towards the door then paused.

  “Perhaps you should try and find her,” he suggested.

  Charlie just sighed. “I’ve let her down,” he said. “She deserves better than me and it would just embarrass her if I go crawling along with poor old Charlie this and poor old Charlie that. You go, now. Camilla doesn’t see you as a clown. You’ll be fine. She’ll come round, even if she’s a bit miffed just at the moment. I love Rowena so much and I’ve fucked it up. I don’t want you to watch me crying Geoff. Go will you, please.” His voice had a catch in it. “Please!”

  Lance was frowning. He seemed puzzled.

  Geoff nodded and turned. He’d taken a couple more steps when they all heard a rustling off to their left and the slow and measured tapping of heels on the flagstones. Rowena walked slowly into the light.

  “Hello Charlie, hello Geoffrey, hello Lance.” She greeted them quietly in that soft, low voice of hers. She took in their sodden, mud splattered suits and the faint smell of vomit that was scenting the air.

  Charlie’s heart gave a great thump as he stood up and looked at her. Her face was set, though, and her eyes were troubled.

  But, my word, she was stunning. Her golden curls, artfully entwined with flowers, cascaded down onto her shoulders. Her long ivory wedding dress, its train draped out behind her, encased her trim figure to perfection, modestly displaying a hint of that magnificent décolletage at the base of a little V cut into the high neck. She had both hands on her bouquet, a dainty confection trailing down almost to her feet. Her face had never been more beautiful, those lovely blue eyes staring at them in the gloom were wonderful.

  “Rowena,” Charlie began. “I…”

  She shook her head and he fell silent.

  “Everyone guessed something like this would happen,” she began, in an ominously calm tone. “It was just me that didn’t believe in their guesses. A girl’s wedding is the most important day, the happiest day of her life, they say. All this planning goes into it. Everyone gets excited. All the guests are looking forward to it. She’s looking forward to it like nothing else in her life. It is all built up into this fantastic edifice of drama and tension.

  “And what is the worst, the most awful, the most mortifying, and the most humiliating thing that can happen? Let me tell you. The groom is not there, not waiting when the bride arrives, and, even worse, nor is the best man, to explain things. The bridal car is sent away a few times, but eventually it becomes absurd, so the bride goes into the church where the assembled congregation is beginning to become nervous and embarrassed. She waits and she waits.”

  Rowena paused. “And she waits.”

  Charlie thought he was going to cry with shame. He hung his head. He knew it was all true. It was just so painful to hear the words falling from those rich, red lips. And he supposed he should have expected this, given the girl she was. She had waited to give him both barrels face to face, no mucking around.

  “And she can’t help hearing the whispers, however carefully people try and keep their voices down, because words echo around in a big old place like this,” Rowena continued. “‘Charlie and Geoff must have bottled it because even their best men don’t have the guts to show up.’ I think that was the gist of it. Eventually, a girl might crack, give up, and go away in floods of tears in the arms of her enraged family, shouting horrible things as she’s ushered out - sorry Geoffrey.”

  Rowena paused again, thoughtfully, before continuing.

  “Or she waits, because she has her own ideas. She waits because she knows that eventually someone will turn up to explain if she waits long enough. She sends everyone else away, because the Reception has been paid for and they might as well take advantage of it, sends off her brother and the friends who want to stay with her. She sends everyone away because she wants to be alone with her thoughts, not with the sympathy of anyone else, because she wants to be on her own to have the talk she’s having right now, when someone finally turns up. She just wants it to be the two of them, or near enough just the two of them. Do you know why that is?”

  She stared up at Charlie. Charlie had been staring at his feet and it was only when she paused that he looked up. She held his eyes. She was so beautiful, he thought, so absolutely lovely. He had done his best to stay positive all day, but he couldn’t help it now.

  He just felt the tears begin to roll down his cheeks. This was it, the big kiss off. He pulled out
his handkerchief. It was damp and slimy. He thought he might find a clean bit on one of his sleeves. Shit, shit, shit.

  “Charlie,” she told him, gently. “I didn’t guess that this was going to happen. I knew it was going to happen. I knew some idiot would do something stupid to you, but I knew you would come. I didn’t know how long it would take but I knew you would come. Because we both know that, however silly other people might think you are, you just couldn’t jilt me, you just couldn’t do it Charlie, even if you wanted to. That sort of honour is welded into your soul Charlie and I know that and I don’t care if I’m the only person in the world who knows it, apart from Lance and maybe Babs. It’s because of qualities like that in the Charlie I know that I love you. I’m not a fool Charlie. I know it’s just a day and the day’s not even over yet. And after today, we have the rest of our lives.”

  She reached out her hand and took his. “Charlie I heard you talking. You still don’t quite get it do you? You really don’t. I owe my life to you, Charlie, I love you Charlie, I will always love you. That’s all that matters. I may be talking like someone from some silly romantic novel but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. It really is all that matters. The rest of it is just crap.”

  She gave him that little cheeky grin that only he ever saw. “Charlie, it doesn’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy old world.”

  Charlie looked at her and thought he’d died and gone to Heaven. Here was this exquisitely beautiful angel staring straight at him looking for all the World as if she meant exactly what she had just said. He felt a bit better.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he mumbled.

  Geoff let out a long sigh. “You jammy sod,” he whispered.

  Rowena turned to Geoff. “Geoffrey,” she told him gently. “You may not think so at the moment, but you’ve been very lucky today. I did try to explain to Camilla. She…well what she said was fairly unpleasant…I think maybe she’s not the right girl.”

  Lance stepped forward with a mock salute. “Nice one, Rowena,” he said. “I thought you’d wait, but I wasn’t certain. You had me worried for a second.”