by Louise Wise
THIRTY
Charlie jumped off the bus towards the end of the week, and headed to work mulling over a conversation between Melvin and Dean from last night. They had been watching the news and listened to how a father had resorted to hunting down his daughter’s rapist and beating him up instead of contacting the police. The broadcast triggered a debate between Melvin and Dean involving the rights and wrongs of vigilantes. Although, Charlie had been horrified that the father was serving a sentence while the rapist was allowed to walk free, she didn’t contribute to the debate. Instead, she had sat quietly thinking hard.
‘He should have left justice to the police,’ said Melvin.
‘To get a suspended sentence?’ sneered Dean. ‘The law’s a joke.’
‘As a civilised country we can’t go around dishing out punishments ourselves,’ Melvin said.
‘If the courts did their job properly, we’d not have to!’
An idea had tossed through her mind while they were debating, but she knocked it away as too dangerous before she could convince herself otherwise. She was lucky to have spent her few weeks as a prostitute unscathed, and realised now how stupid she had been, and this idea was ridiculously risky.
But now the idea came back; bigger and more possible than ever. And if it wasn’t for Jan; the sassy and brazen teenager who believed what she was doing was a normal way of life the idea would have stayed shelved.
Charlie hadn’t seen Jan since she’d ‘stolen’ her trick, and Charlie was more than worried now. It would have been so easy to fall into the kind of life Jan had, growing up with the state for parental guidance.
Illegal drugs were dished out like sweets between the kids in care. Abuse, sexual, mental and physical was also abundant in the home, and not always between staff and the children, it was often between the children themselves.
It was everyone for yourself, which Charlie had soon learned. She had been an angry little girl growing up to become an angrier teenager. The so-called experts had often given her, and the other children in the home, long and boring sermons about the demons of alcohol, drugs, smoking and being promiscuous; most of the kids sat at the back giggling while rolling weed, Charlie included. It was all right for these well-meaning lecturers, but what did they really know? They went back to their warm, comfortable homes, with their warm, comfortable families. What did they really know about the life of a child in care?
Whereas the others thought their life was normal, Charlie knew there was more than what had been shown to her so far. She had clung on to Melvin’s stories about his parents and how wonderful it had been before they had been killed, and she knew there just had to be more to life than simply existing.
At first, Charlie would have done anything to belong and fit in, and if that included smoking pot like the other pre-teens in the home, then that’s what she did. And if a boy said he loved her she would happily sleep with him, relishing thoughts of a happy home life and babies while lying in his arms. But then the carers coerced her to have a coil fitted and so that put a stop to that romantic idea.
Charlie supposed her bad mood was mainly down to the dream she had last night. It started out with Jan and Charlie standing on the street corner touting for business, but then a car pulled over to reveal a group of her old friends from the home. They jeered, telling her that they had known all along this is where she belonged – in the gutter.
‘You might as well get paid for it, rather than give it for free,’ a boy had scoffed from the back of the car.
On waking she remembered that this is what an old boyfriend had actually said to her once. They had just made love in the back of his car and he’d casually sat up, rolled a joint, and told her that he knew someone who would give them forty pounds if she shagged them. All she had to do was pretend to be a virgin. She was fifteen, and he was eighteen, and her first love. He had a mop of curly brown hair, and bright blue eyes. Charlie had been envied among all the other girls in the home.
Melvin hadn’t been about; by that time they had lost touch. His adoptive parents had decided he should cut all contact with his institutional life, and that meant not seeing Charlie. Charlie had lost her only true friend, and when Ricky Gates dumped her after she had done what he had asked of her, and hating it, she felt ashamed and used. Violated. And for a long time she was so disgusted with herself, she believed weed and booze were her only friends.
She’d sorted herself out, but she couldn’t retrain her gullible heart and fell in love easily only to have her heart broken when a relationship crumbled. She’d clung to Andy Chambers while knowing subconsciously that it was a dead relationship because the reality was being on her own, and she had wrongly believed it was better to be with someone than alone. It was a slow dawning, but she realised now that had she agreed to marry Andy, had he asked her, it would have been the biggest mistake of her life.
Charlie crossed the road with other pedestrians when the green man began bleeping, and headed towards her office block. Her old car wouldn’t start this morning, and that was another reason for her bad mood. It had rained all night, going by the evidence of puddles, and so she supposed the engine had become damp. It often failed to start after a downpour. Still, she was lucky to own a car, but if her finances didn’t pick up soon she knew she would have to sell it.
Also in her silly teen-years and after she’d been ‘set free’ by the state and housed by the local council, someone foolishly offered her a store card; then she got a credit card; and another; and then a bank offered her a loan. For two years, she thought she was rich!
It was during these years that Melvin found her again. She was eighteen, and only just realising that the credit, store cards and loans weren’t the answer, and that she’d have to pay them back. She was in a state, drinking and smoking too much. Melvin had brought her to London and gave her some straight talking that included the words ‘stupid’, ‘pathetic’ and ‘sort yourself out or else’. He’d persuaded his adoptive parents to give her a home for a few months, and helped her with her finances. It was tough. She’d learnt the hard way. No more credit cards for her. She didn’t even smoke any more. Melvin’s parents had forbidden it in their house, and she felt guilty buying cigarettes when she could be paying Melvin back some of what she owned.
‘Oomph!’
All the wind was knocked out of her as she crashed into someone. She had been too engrossed in her thoughts to watch where she had been going, and now she watched horrified as someone’s briefcase fell to the floor and all its contents scattered over the wet pavement.
‘Oh my God,’ she muttered, and immediately bent down to pick up the strewn items.
‘It’s OK,’ a familiar voice said, and Charlie looked up into a pair of chocolate eyes.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Mr Middleton.’
‘It’s Ben, remember?’
Charlie nodded, feeling confused. Her thoughts had been going over the blackest period of her life, and they’d been invaded by someone she thought of as unbranded by the cruelties of life. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, picking up soggy papers from the ground. ‘This is totally my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’ She stood up with a bundle of dripping documents in her arms. She looked down at Mr Middleton’s bent head as he picked up the rest, lying forlornly against a lamppost. He rose, clutching them to his chest and Charlie placed the documents she’d retrieved on top of the ones he’d gathered together.
‘I wasn’t looking either,’ he admitted. ‘I was rushing about, and … did I hurt you?’ He must have noticed her rubbing her shoulder.
‘No, it’s nothing,’ she said. She noticed a calculator on the floor, along with a few biros and unopened letters. She picked them up, and placed them on the bundle in his arms. ‘You need tentacles not testicles to carry that lot,’ she said with a laugh, which died instantly when she realised what she said.
She bit her lip, and looked up at him in horror. ‘Sorry,’ she said, then dodged around him to run the rest of the way to
wards the office.
She could feel him staring after her, even though she had turned a corner. Oh, why did her mouth speak words she would never utter in a zillion years had she thought about them?
She was stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She rubbed her shoulder where it had made contact with Mr Middleton. It’d serve her right if she had a bruise there. Stupid, stupid, woman.
*
Ben was smiling as he fumbled in his pocket for his car keys. He held the emptied brief case, wet documents and letters against his chest with his other arm.
‘Testicles,’ he said with a chuckle. He found his keys and opened the back door, where he dropped the soggy mess on the back seat.
His amusement abated when he noticed his white shirt and blue tie smeared with something putrid. As the smell reached his nose, a more furious swear word fell out of his mouth, and Ben dragged the briefcase and its soaked documents and letters back out of the car before it could contaminate the back seat.
He stared miserably down at the mess, subconsciously raking his hair. With a howl that scattered pedestrians, he brought his hand down and stared in disbelief at the brown mess in his palm that was obviously now smeared through his hair.
It had been a bad start to the morning, from as early as midnight to be precise. He had walked the streets searching for information this time. He hadn’t ‘picked up’ any women, although he had plenty of offers. He had spent a fortune on useless information only to finally realise why his father was so exasperated with him. He wasn’t a natural journalist. He had simply been born into it.
He came home at three in the morning having no luck in finding his sister. His PI also had no further information. He didn’t dare reveal to Kevin Locke that he had found and lost the only vital piece of evidence they had on finding Camilla. He was too ashamed.
He pictured Charlie’s horrified face when she realised all the contents from his briefcase had been scattered over the floor, but it hadn’t been her fault. He had been too preoccupied mulling over last night’s activities to be paying attention where he had been walking. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her. She had clutched her shoulder, and had visibly winced. Well, that was one way to win friends; slam into them and bruise them, he thought miserably.
He opened his boot and found the sheet of polythene that was used as a protective covering for the floor, and wrapped the smelly brief case up in it, while hoping he could recover copies of everything that had been in the case.
Ignoring passers-by, he took off his jacket, and undid his tie, and dropped them into the polythene. ‘What’s up?’ he asked no one in particular as he unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. ‘Never seen a man covered in shit before?’
He slid behind the wheel of the car, parked there for only saving himself time. The Core’s car park was incredibly slow to get in and out of in the mornings, especially as it was shared with several other companies. He switched on the engine, and it wasn’t until he pulled out of the tight parking space that he noticed the yellow parking ticket tucked beneath the wipers.
THIRTY ONE
‘Sorry,’ Charlie said to Melvin’s back. ‘I’ve been a bitch all morning. Let me make it up to you and get you a coffee,’ she said, rising.
Melvin swivelled round on his chair, his eyebrows raised. ‘Bitch ain’t the word, doll,’ he said. ‘I can think of several stronger adjectives.’
‘Feel free to throw them at me.’
He smiled, and then flapped a hand. ‘Babe, you don’t need to apologise. You’re having a bad day, and we all have those.’
She smiled weakly, wishing she could tell him the truth. She pushed back her chair and went over to the vending machine.
‘Got a new headline!’
Charlie swivelled round, her eyes searching for the shouter as her heart knocked against her ribcage.
Mikey was pointing at his computer. ‘Email here that says two old dears began bashing one another with their handbags and brollies over an eighty-nine year old man who had been leading a secret life with both women.’
They were shouts of laughter, and Charlie turned back to the vending machine. For a moment, she’d been expecting another abduction and the victim’s name to be Jan. The girl hadn’t been seen on the streets for a while, and Charlie was becoming seriously concerned.
Her idea popped up in her mind again. It was dangerous and foolish, but when had that stopped her before? She pressed a button and watched as a paper cup dropped out of the machine and hot coffee spurted into it. The idea was simple. So simple it was bound to work. She was going to do it! She was going to make a honey-trap for the abductor with her as the honey!
‘Who’s nicked my pen?’ shrieked Faye suddenly.
Charlie glanced absently towards her desk and at the gold and silver pen lying there.
‘It’s here, Faye –’ she began.
‘Next time, ask!’ Faye snapped, shoving back her chair to stride over to Charlie’s desk. She flipped over papers and a penholder in her search.
‘It’s there!’ Charlie said, coming back from the coffee machine empty handed. ‘Look!’ She pointed as Faye messed up the desk while pretending not to see the pen blatantly lying across the keys of the keyboard. ‘You did that on purpose!’ Charlie cried as Faye, heavy handedly, grabbed the pen and pressed several buttons all at once and wiped the screen. ‘I didn’t even take your stupid pen! You left it there.’ Charlie stared down at the blank screen in horror. ‘That was the stationery order. I’ll have to do it all again now,’ she stared accusingly across at Faye, who sucked the top of her pen but had the grace to look guilty, although she quickly covered up her shame.
‘You’d better get on with it then, hadn’t you?’ she said.
‘You vindictive –’ Charlie began, circling her desk towards Faye, with something like murder written in her eyes.
Melvin smacked the top of his desk. ‘All right, that’s enough you two,’ he said. ‘Charlie go to lunch and cool down, Faye go back to your desk.’
‘Who are you to tell me what to do?’ Faye snapped at him.
‘Someone with more brain cells than you,’ he snapped back. ‘You’re always digging at Charlie, Faye,’ he added. ‘And it’s not just Charlie, it’s everyone. It’s as if you’re jealous or something.’
‘Jealous? You’ve got to be joking!’ She scoffed loudly and flounced off towards her desk. ‘As if I’d be jealous of that bag lady.’ She glared at Melvin. ‘I mean, as if!’
‘OK! Keep your breast implants in!’ Melvin shouted.
‘Oh,’ Faye said her anger vanishing as if someone had flicked a switch. A delighted expression crossed her face instead. ‘Can you really tell?’ She cupped each breast and gazed down at them proudly.
‘Have you really?’ Charlie asked, walking over. Any argument and the lost stationery order were forgotten. She stared at Faye’s protruding chest. ‘When did you get them done?’
‘A month ago now,’ Faye said, jiggling her breasts up and down. ‘Remember when I was going on holiday to Majorca? I didn’t, I went for implants.’
‘Well, I was joking,’ Melvin admitted. ‘I thought they were natural.’ He came over and poked the left breast with his finger. ‘It certainly feels natural.’
‘How would you know?’ Faye teased lightly.
Charlie reached out and cupped the right one. ‘I thought they’d be hard.’
‘Oh, no,’ Faye said. ‘I wanted them to feel as natural as possible. They’re as soft as yours.’ She reached over and squeezed one of Charlie’s.
*
Ben stood in the office doorway staring in disbelief at Charlie and Faye fondling one another. He blinked in amazement, then captured Melvin’s eye, who gave a prolonged shrug, and said, ‘Women!’
Charlie turned towards the door, and horror filled her face. She dropped her hands to her sides and scuttled towards her desk where she buried her head in paperwork.
Ben, his face feeling hot, walked the seemingly mile long journey towards Mr Fanton’s o
ffice. He’d gone home to shower and change, and was now back to try and recover some of the ruined documents. He had wondered how Charlie had managed to stay poo free while he had got covered in it. It was obvious that she was the type of person to come up smelling of roses, or however the saying goes.
He went into the office, and turned to pull the blinds. He felt he worked better without interruptions; or rather, he felt self-conscious when he was on display to the office staff.
With his hand raised towards the blind, his eyes fell on Charlie. She was frowning at the computer screen, and furiously pressing buttons on her calculator. Her red hair was left to hang around her face and shoulders in bouncing curls, and she was wearing a strange garble of an orange polo jumper under a green tunic. The tunic came down to just above her knees, and beneath that she wore black leggings with black no-heeled shoes girls wore nowadays. Strangely, he was reminded of the dark-haired prostitute he had seen with Readman just before he picked her up. The tarty one with the long legs, only Charlie was shorter and had soft curly red hair instead of a black afro.
Ben felt something softening in his heart and for the first time in his life wanted to reach out to another person and gather them up in his arms and hold them tight. He mentally shook himself. What was he thinking? Becoming romantically involved with staff wasn’t on his agenda, especially as that someone was Charlie Wallis. She must already think he was a joke, and would mess with his heart, not to mention his head.
As his fingers moved towards the catch of the blind, a sixth sense caused Ben to look towards his rewrite editor’s desk. Melvin was staring at him in a strange, thoughtful gaze. It was as if the man had read his thoughts and disapproved.
Ben slipped the catch and the blind fell, breaking his and Melvin’s eye contact. There was nothing to disapprove, Ben thought, as he moved towards Mr Fanton’s desk. Charlie Wallis was merely an employee; a compelling one, nevertheless.
