Erin sidestepped into the booth, leaning over the table to kiss Charlotte on one cheek and, in the process, giving her friend an ample view of her cleavage. Erin was not oblivious to this exposure, as evidenced by her adjusting her silk blouse as she settled back against the booth.
“Have you been waiting long?” Erin asked.
“About a half hour,” Charlotte answered. Back when everyone had mobile devices, she would have expected Erin to let her know she was running late. But since the government had banned the use of such devices, citing them as a security risk, Charlotte – and the rest of the population – had adapted to the lack of connectivity. Maybe it made everyone more patient, Charlotte wasn’t sure, but it certainly seemed to make them more present.
Erin had abruptly gotten up before returning from the bar with a beer. She sighed dramatically and asked, “Where were we?”
“We weren’t anywhere yet. How have you been, Erin?” Charlotte asked.
“I’ve been doing fine, my dear. But I’m better now that I see you. It’s been too long and I blame you entirely for that.” She pursed her lips and squinted sideways to let on that she was teasing.
“Oh really? Well, you know where to find me,” Charlotte defended herself. “I haven’t heard any knocks on my door lately.” She smiled to soften her comment.
“And would I be welcome?” Erin asked.
“Of course,” Charlotte responded lightly. She drank her beer, relieved to break eye contact.
“By the way, did you see that disgusting poster about one block north?” Erin asked.
“I didn’t come that way,” Charlotte replied. “Why? What was it?”
“Oh, it was just that typical ‘anti-septic’ filth,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Who knows who even plastered it up there.” Erin referred to the Cockney rhyming slang of septic, short for septic tank, which was a play on the word Yank. To be anti-septic was to be anti-American.
“That was funny. You know, pairing the words septic and filth, like you just did,” Charlotte replied, not commenting on the substance of the matter. There were any number of groups who could have put up anti-American posters; the government not only allowed it but also tacitly approved.
Erin’s hand reached across the table and rested on her friend’s, preventing Charlotte from drinking again.
“You don’t have to pretend for me, Charlie.”
“I’m not pretending. Anyway, I’d like for you to come over sometime. You’re right that it’s been too long,” she responded. “We could…” Charlotte searched for words, “cook something, or play cards, or…”
“Sit and talk about Maggie?” Erin probed, although her tone was kind.
Charlotte swallowed hard and pulled her hand away. “You know, I never hear her name anymore. Everyone I knew – that we knew together – has moved on. Literally. They’ve mainly moved to other parts of London or even up north, and we don’t ever seem to cross paths.”
“Maybe it’s good to hear her name, to talk about her,” Erin offered.
“What good would it do? It won’t bring her back,” Charlotte said, forcing a shrug.
Erin turned her mug in circles in her hands. “I miss her too, Charlie,” she said.
Charlotte inhaled sharply and then let her breath out in a sigh. “You know, it’s been years and sometimes it still seems like it was just yesterday that she was waking me up to the smell of bacon and eggs. Oh, and coffee. Maggie made the best coffee.” She shook her head and continued, “But as much as it hurts to think about her, to know that she’s gone forever, sometimes I’m happy she can’t see me now.”
“What do you mean?” Erin asked.
“Come on, Maggie would be so disappointed. She always thought I’d be the next Rachel Carson,” she replied, glancing down in embarrassment.
“Who?”
“She wrote Silent Spring in the middle of the twentieth century. She kick-started the environmental movement,” Charlotte replied.
“Oh,” Erin said, her eyebrows furrowed momentarily before her expression changed to one less interpretable. “You know, if not for Maggie, you and I never would have met. We wouldn’t be sitting here right now, having this lovely conversation.” Charlotte couldn’t tell if Erin was being sarcastic with her use of “lovely.”
“Then you would be here with someone else, whoever else Maggie had fallen in love with,” Charlotte replied, her tone growing more guarded.
“I’m trying to say that I’m glad I know you, my dear. I know we don’t see each other very often, and I wish that weren’t so.”
Charlotte was surprised by Erin’s straight-forwardness, and took a moment to respond. “Thank you. I just… haven’t been myself lately.”
“Relationship troubles?” Erin asked.
“I’d need to have a relationship before I could have problems with it,” Charlotte replied.
“No friends? Friends with benefits? Friends who could turn into friends with benefits?” Erin asked, leaning forward over the table in a way that Charlotte could only read as suggestive.
“I know you aren’t flirting with me,” Charlotte said cautiously.
“Would you hold it against me if I were?” Erin asked, a smile playing on her lips.
Charlotte held eye contact with Erin for several moments longer, then shook her head and laughed. “Erin… I need to get going. I have work tonight.”
“All right,” Erin replied, “but let’s do this again soon. Or have dinner. Or play cards. Or…”
“Or sit and talk about Maggie?”
Erin shrugged, made herself smile, and replied, “We can talk about whatever you want.”
“See you soon, then,” Charlotte said, rising from her seat.
“Yes, let’s.” Erin kissed her on the cheek for the second time, and watched as she left.
Chapter Seven
Paul entered the café about twenty minutes after Joanna and Charlotte had arrived for their weekly tea. Charlotte had settled into this routine and, in fact, started looking forward to it. She had gotten so accustomed to being alone that she forgot that she enjoyed being connected with other people.
As Paul sat at the table, placing a bag at his feet, he asked, “All right, Charlie? Joanna?” as a way of saying hello.
“What have you got there?” Joanna asked, a smile playing on her face.
“Hey now, maybe it’s my groceries. What do you think of that?”
“I think you’re a liar, Paul Goodale. I know you don’t cook,” Joanna replied, laughing.
“How well you know me!” Paul replied, grinning. He looked at Charlotte and asked, “Any guesses from you?”
Charlotte pretended to think hard for a moment and then replied, “A sex doll.”
“Excellent guess, but no.” Paul pulled the bag up onto the table and pushed it toward Charlotte. “Open.”
“Should I be afraid?” she asked. Paul simply continued grinning as a response. Charlotte opened the handles of the fabric bag to reveal a pair of football cleats, the crimson laces tied together into one knot. She gasped and felt genuinely touched by the kindness. “Paul…” she began.
“No, please don’t thank me. I blush terribly,” he joked. Some color had risen already in his cheeks.
Charlotte cradled the leather shoes and asked, “How did you know what size I wear?”
“You forget that I’ve got greater security clearance than you. I stopped by the human resources department and requested they retrieve your shoe size from your personnel file.”
For a moment, her smile faltered. She wanted to ask if that was all the information that Paul had retrieved from her personnel file, but she kept quiet, unsure of how to extract a truthful answer.
Joanna raised her eyebrows and interjected, “Well, that was… creative.” The corner of her mouth twitched and she added, “Very nice gift, Paul. Now Charlie will be a proper footballer at practice tomorrow night. And Harriet will be happy to see the laces reflect the team color.”
> Charlotte took a deliberate sip of tea before asking, “Harriet is on the team?”
“No,” Joanna replied, “not exactly. She’s more of our organizer, scheduler, morale-booster, cheerleader, record-keeper…”
“She’s everything but a player,” Paul interrupted. “I think she stays involved because of Thomas, even though he misses half the games. I suppose you could think of her as our coach, of sorts.”
“Ah, I see,” Charlotte replied, losing herself in her thoughts as she sipped her tea.
#
The recreational league convened its games at four in the morning. This was late enough so that some players could come directly from work, and early enough that others attended prior to going into work for the day. More importantly, it was early enough that the sun had not yet risen, which meant that the teams could safely play on an outdoor Astroturf field so long as the air quality was acceptable for the day.
Charlotte arrived at the field before most of the rest of her team. She wore track pants and a long-sleeved shirt, and carried her cleats, mismatched tall socks, and water bottle in her bag. She didn’t have shin guards or her own ball to bring to practice. She wondered if she should have gone scavenging so she could earn enough credit to buy her own equipment..
Charlotte waved to Joanna when she came into view, strolling toward the field with a large bag over her shoulder. It seemed to be bursting at the seams. Joanna sat down on the sidelines next to Charlotte as she stretched her legs, and opened the bag. In addition to Joanna’s personal belongings, it was full of uniforms of a sort: t-shirts with numbers printed on the back. Joanna pulled one out, the number four jersey, and tossed it to Charlotte.
“Nice,” Charlotte said. “I mean, thank you.”
“You’re a member of the team now,” Joanna responded with a smile. Joanna’s smile faded as her attention was caught by Thomas and Harriet arriving at the far end of the field. She gestured toward them and commented to Charlotte, “I wish they’d just find a way to get along today.”
Joanna’s wish would not be fulfilled. As the team gathered and hustled into a loose circle for practice, Thomas and Harriet stood opposite each other and barely made eye contact. Thomas wore a jersey, athletic shorts, and football cleats, contrasting with the more polished look of Harriet’s clothes: a ruby, silk blouse tucked into fitted trousers the color of sand, and simple but expensive-looking flats. Geoff, the team captain, announced that the first game was scheduled for a week later and that he wanted to get a feel for each player’s strengths and weaknesses during the day’s practice before deciding on who would play which position. The rest of the hour would pass by running drills and simply running laps around the field.
With adrenaline still coursing through her veins and emboldening her to feel more confident than normal, Charlotte took an opportunity at the end of practice to walk over to Harriet, who was stretched out alone on the turf, legs crossed at her ankles, leaning back on her hands and staring out over the field.
“Hello,” Charlotte said, holding her water bottle with both hands.
Harriet looked up at her and, without smiling or giving a greeting, said, “You did well this morning. I’m impressed.”
“Oh, thanks. I used to play.”
“Well, it looks like you’re still playing,” Harriet commented.
Charlotte held out her hand, “I’m Charlie, by the way. Charlie – Charlotte – Parker. Everyone calls me Charlie. I don’t think we were actually introduced at Joanna’s party.”
Harriet shook her hand, more so gripping it and releasing than actually shaking. “Hello Charlie. I’m Harriet, as you know.” She cocked her head and answered her surprised expression by adding, “Joanna told me you had asked about me.”
“She did?” Charlotte asked. She wondered what Joanna had said – what she suspected and what she was willing to admit on her behalf.
Harriet finally gave a small smile. “Only after I asked her about you. I like to know who’s on the team.” She asked, “So you work with Joanna and Paul?”
“Yes, I do. I’m new to their lab, though. Well, I’m new-ish.” She began to feel her confidence fading and a tickle growing in her throat. She coughed and asked, “So, what is it that you, uh, that you do? For a job, I mean.”
“I work in media,” Harriet answered.
“I see,” Charlotte said, at a loss for words. She felt unsure of herself as she looked at Harriet, who even under the artificial lighting had a glow to her skin and an intensity to her eyes as she looked penetratingly at Charlotte. Charlotte’s lips felt dry and she took a drink of water from her bottle.
“Have you played as a forward before, Charlie? You’re stronger with your right foot, and I bet Geoff would like you to give it a go as right forward,” Harriet said, changing the subject back to the sport.
“I was a midfielder before, actually, but I could try it out,” she replied.
“Yes, I’ll recommend it to Geoff,” Harriet said.
“Great,” Charlotte responded. A moment later she tested the waters by stating, “You seem to know quite a bit about the game for someone who doesn’t play.”
“I used to play. As in, I don’t play anymore.” Harriet smiled, and Charlotte interpreted it as teasing. Harriet added, “I’ve found that I’m a better manager, if you will, than a player, but I used to play – as a forward. That was ages ago.”
She met Harriet’s eyes and smiled a small, secretive smile. She felt as though they were playing at some unspoken game, and that she had won a minor victory by getting Harriet to reveal something about herself. Satisfied with herself and having run out of topics of conversation for the moment, Charlotte said, “Well, it was nice to finally meet you, Harriet.”
“And you as well, Charlie – Charlotte – Parker.”
Chapter Eight
“You want to come over to my place,” Charlotte repeated, squinting suspiciously at her new friend. They sat in their new usual lunch place, on the bench with the view.
“Yes, I do,” Joanna replied. “Geoff says we should go over the league rules with you before the first game. And I haven’t seen your place before.”
“There’s not much to see,” Charlotte said. Even under Joanna’s gentle gaze, she felt self-conscious about her Spartan apartment.
“Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be fun. Harriet said she would come, too.”
“She did?” Charlotte asked, feeling a rush of excitement overpower her embarrassment about her tiny, dingy apartment.
Joanna pursed her lips as if to chide her, and then relented into a smile. “I knew that’d get you. So if we get off work, go home for some sleep… and let’s see, you and I have tomorrow off work, as does Geoff….” Joanna tapped her fingers on the arm of the bench, thinking. “And Harriet – I don’t think she has to be at work until midnight or so. Let’s say eight o’clock? That all right?”
Charlotte shrugged happily. “Sure.”
#
On her way back from taking out the trash to the incinerator, Charlotte passed her neighbor, the lady whose couch she had helped move. The neighbor tried to engage her in conversation, making some comment about the weather, but Charlotte successfully dodged her.
Charlotte closed her apartment door and studied her space. It was small and cluttered, but everything had its place. She had pulled her large, leather chest out from under the bed and pushed it to the center of the room to serve as a low table. She angled her recliner toward the chest, and set up her two folding chairs to complete the circle.
“McGillicuddy, what time is it?”
“20:07,” McGillicuddy responded. Her guests were late.
She threw a quilted blanket over the top of her bed, which was in the corner of the room, not far from the mish-mash of chairs, and situated the pillows against the walls to make it seem more inviting, almost something of a couch. No sooner had she stood back to evaluate her arrangement before there was knocking on her door.
Charlotte opened the door to Geof
f, Joanna, Harriet – and Thomas. She quickly remembered to smile and invite them in. The four guests shuffled into her dimly lit apartment, and Joanna was the first to offer her compliments on what a nice space it was, how efficiently Charlotte had maximized the space.
“I used to have a place not far from here,” Thomas commented, “Back when I was in university.”
Charlotte responded, “Yes, I moved in here when I first arrived in London.” She felt a flash of panic at her thoughtless comment, generally disliking any conversation that opened the door to asking about her background. She quickly added, “But I really like the location. It’s so close to everything and quite within walking distance of the market and work and --”
“The market, yes!” Joanna interrupted, for which Charlotte silently thanked her. “Well, the black market anyway.” She grinned and elbowed Geoff in his ribs. “Show Charlie what’ve brought.”
Geoff walked the couple of paces over to the chest/table, and dropped his backpack onto it.
“Mind the glass,” said Harriet, speaking for the first time.
Geoff pulled two bottles of champagne out of the backpack, placing one on the chest, and passing the other one over to Charlotte for her inspection.
She studied the label, incredulous, then looked at Joanna for confirmation. “Is this the real deal?”
The group grinned, except for Harriet who merely gave a small smile.
“It is, my dear,” replied Joanna.
“You didn’t really think we were coming over to go over the rulebook, did you?” Geoff questioned as he settled into the recliner.
“Actually, I did,” Charlotte replied as she made her way over to her makeshift kitchen space. Joanna and Thomas sat on the two folding chairs and Harriet, after appearing to contemplate sitting on the floor, sat on the edge of the bed.
The Organization Page 3
