by Louise Wise
‘She could stay here,’ Charlie said before she could stop herself.
‘Here? No, I don’t think so.’
Charlie lowered her gaze, feeling her cheeks flush. Of course, he’d want to distance himself from her as soon as possible, and never have anything to do with her again.
‘You’ve done enough, Charlie. You’ve found me Camilla.’
‘I’ve delayed your rescue of her, you mean,’ she said.
‘No, you didn’t. The car was valetted the day I lost her number, and it would’ve ended up in someone’s vacuum or even at the police station when it was, er, impounded. You know Ms Wallis, I like you, and I hope you’ll continue to work for Core for many years to come.’
Charlie blushed. ‘Really?’
‘Very much so. And we’ll forget the earlier, silly, incident where we almost … you know, almost …’ he pulled a face, looking embarrassed.
Made love, Charlie mentally said. I bet you can’t wait to forget, she thought again.
‘It’s something we’ll be cringing about in years to come, I’m sure. Still, no harm done,’ he added cheerfully. ‘Who’s Andy?’ his next question startled her.
‘Who?’
‘Andy, the man who interrupted, er, telephoned an hour or so ago. Is he your boyfriend?’
An hour ago? Charlie wondered to herself. It felt like years ago. ‘No, he’s one of these fair-weather friends that I can really do without.’ This was the man who, only a month ago, she would have happily married had he asked. ‘He’s been away for a while, visiting a sick relative.’
‘Not varicose veins? Those things are really catching, eh?’
A flush brightened Charlie’s face.
Ben chuckled. ‘Where’d they find you?’ He kissed her forehead, then bent to retrieve his hat and dark glasses. The glasses were broken. ‘You pack one hell of a punch!’ he said, turning them over in his hand.
‘Did I really hurt you?’ she sounded hopeful.
‘Lara Croft has nothing on you.’ He became sombre. ‘Thank you Charlie for, er, you know.’ He flushed. ‘Goodbye, no doubt I’ll see you around at Core.’
Charlie nodded; understanding, if disliking, his eagerness to make a distance between them.
‘I want to speak to my father and let him know Camilla’s OK. It’s something I can’t do on the phone. Will you be all right?’
Charlie nodded. ‘Of course I will.’ She forced a smile. ‘I understand why you have to go.’ And she did, only she badly wanted him to stay. To stay and finish making love to her. To tell her he loved her.
She swallowed hard. Her world was miles apart from Ben’s. She bought her clothes from Primark, whereas he had his tailor-made. He ate the finest foods, while she dined on oven chips and fish fingers. He drove a fresh-off-the-forecourt, Audi while she drove a battered old Fiesta. She lived in a dingy block of flats, with junkies and single mothers, while he lived in a beautiful house with a swimming pool and a butler. She didn’t know the latter, but she could imagine it.
He’d probably feel embarrassed if he knew what she felt about him, or worse, pity.
‘What’s going through your mind?’
She blinked herself to the present. ‘Eh?’
‘You’ve been standing in a trance for the last few minutes.’
She flushed. ‘Ben,’ she began. But she couldn’t finish. ‘Good night,’ she said instead. ‘I sincerely wish you well with your family bust-up.’
He smiled. ‘Thank you. Families,’ he said, with a jerk of his head. ‘Who’d have them?’
Then he was gone.
‘I would,’ she answered the closed door. ‘I would.’
THIRTY NINE
Ben sat in his car outside Charlie’s block of flats. He had to get away from her because he doubted he could not resist kissing her, and this time they’d be no ‘mistaken identity’ to hide behind. She’d fitted perfectly in his arms, her body all squishy and rounded in the right places.
Ben turned up the air-con and tried to visualise it pelting him with snow. His body burned; he could still feel the imprint of her mouth against his. He licked his lips and tasted her. He needed a diversion before he raced back inside to finish making love. He reversed out of the parking space and headed towards Westminster.
He drove slowly up the high-class Vincent Street looking for house numbers, as the distant bells of Big Ben chimed midnight He stopped outside a large Georgian house and stared at the shuttered windows. This is where Camilla had been all along.
He took out his mobile again and pressed redial.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Sorry, did I wake you?’
‘No, I wasn’t asleep.’
‘I’m outside.’
‘What?’ She sounded shocked, but pleased too.
‘Come to a window. I need to see that you’re all right, even if I can’t persuade you to leave with me tonight.’
‘OK.’ There was a slight noise as if Camilla was walking with the phone clamped to her ear. Then movement of a curtain, and her face appeared behind a window at the top of the house. She searched the street until her face fell on Ben’s car, then she raised her hand in a wave. ‘You see, I’m fine.’
‘I needed to check. I’ve seen some things searching for you Cam, and I imagined all sorts.’
‘I’m sorry. I never realised I’d cause so much…’ she trailed off as her voice thickened with the suspicion of tears. ‘Sally took me in for a couple of nights,’ she said in a stronger voice. ‘I lost my phone, car and cash card and she took me in and seemed nice, a-and helped me. I was a wreck, wandering the streets and… well, she looked after me for a couple of days. Once I was feeling better I made a few phone calls to some old friends and ended up here.’ She gave a laugh. ‘It wasn’t until I was here that I realised it had been Sally who’d been stealing from me, which was why she was so keen on helping me. She probably even arranged to have my car stolen!’
‘And probably thought I was an angry relative out to reclaim your things and that’s why she refused to admit to knowing you.’
‘Sounds like her. I never realised my cash card was missing until … well, none of that matters now; she’s dead. But, by God, she didn’t deserve to die like that!’
‘Nobody knows what’s happened to her, honey. She may still be alive somewhere.’
‘I hope so. I really do. I-I’m sorry you’ve been so worried. I didn’t mean that to happen. I wouldn’t have stayed with Sally for long. I’m too much of a spoilt rich kid for that to happen!’
Ben chuckled. ‘I’ll come for you tomorrow morning,’ he checked his watch, ‘or rather at a later time this morning.’
‘And I’ll stay in a hotel?’
‘If that’s what you want. But the longer you leave it, the harder it will be to come home.’
She appeared to gulp, but after a deep breath said, ‘Oh, I know that already.’
‘Father is worried sick about you.’
‘That I doubt.’
Ben sighed. Their reunion was going to be a hard one. ‘Good night, Cammy.’
‘Night Ben.’ The curtain closed.
*
Ben let himself into his large house through the back kitchen door as usual. A lingering smell reached his nose, and his eyes searched the kitchen tops until they fell on a Pyrex dish filled with a rich beef stew.
He smiled. ‘Iris is too good to us,’ he said. He was about to help himself when he heard faint music coming from the half opened doorway. Ben crossed to the other side of the kitchen and into the small corridor outside and realised the music was coming from the crayoning room.
He opened the door and peered inside. Donald was sitting in front of the fireplace, its dying embers glowing, with a large glass of bourbon in his hand, the bottle sat on a well-worn coffee table. He appeared to be dozing.
Ben picked up the TV remote control and switched the volume down, and was about to remove the glass from his lax fingers when Donald opened his eyes. He yawned, and sat up. He pointed to the bottle of bourb
on. ‘Get yourself a glass,’ he said.
Ben retrieved a large, rounded glass from the dark wooden drink cabinet, and poured himself a small measure. He sat across from his father in a well-worn easy chair and sipped.
‘I’m a widower,’ Donald said.
Ben said nothing. How could you reply to a statement like that? He sipped the whisky.
Donald stared at him with bloodshot eyes. ‘Where is she, Ben?’
Ben lowered the glass from his mouth. ‘Where is who, Father?’ he asked gently, figuring he’d call Iris. His dad was having a mental breakdown and she’d know what to do. ‘You know Mum’s not here. She died, remember?’
‘Of course I bloody remember.’ Donald tossed the fiery liquid down his throat and held out his glass to Ben to fill it up. Ben obliged. ‘I meant Camilla.’
‘She’s –’
‘This abductor… I’d never forgive myself if…’ he took a gulp of his drink. ‘I’ve always known she wasn’t mine,’ he added, shocking Ben again.
‘But why the secret?’ Softly, Ben added, ‘Nothing can take away the fact that you’re her proper father, but she needs answers.’
‘I know,’ his father agreed with a heavy sigh. ‘It’s a long story, and there never seemed a good time to tell her. She was so stubborn. You used to jump to my every command, but that one…’ he gave a half laugh. ‘She’d grind in her heels and would do the exact opposite of what I told her to do. I’ve made mistakes,’ Donald admitted. ‘And I’ve been hard on her. I never realised how much until that argument,’ he sighed. ‘When we had a disagreement she’d stand with her hands on her hips telling me to shut the fuck up, and then do exactly as she liked.’
Ben was shocked. He’d have never dared to speak to his father like that at her age, not even at the age he was now!
‘She went about her life practically ignoring me. I thought she hated me!’ Donald declared. ‘I never realised that all she wanted was praise and a little love.’ He shook his head. ‘That’s what I lacked as a child. I told you I could’ve been a better father, didn’t I?’ he said on a half laugh. ‘No wonder she cleared off!’ He downed the bourbon and reached for the bottle and refilled.
‘I’ve found her,’ Ben said quietly.
Donald stared at him from over the top of his glass, his lips readily pursed to take a sip. He lowered the glass without tasting the dark red liquid. ‘Found her?’
‘I’ve been searching for her myself, as well as hiring a private investigator, which you know. And I found her,’ he couldn’t help the inflection in his voice. It would feel good to see the admiration in his father’s eyes and hear the gratitude in his voice for once.
‘You took long enough!’ Donald slammed down his glass, slopping alcohol on the coffee table. ‘Where is she? Aberdeen with Paul and Sarah, I suppose. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted them when they said she wasn’t there! God damn it!’
‘No. She’s still in London. She didn’t want to come home tonight. She’s afraid of your reaction,’ Ben said realising the gratitude and admiration wasn’t going to come, and felt embarrassed for hoping. ‘She thinks she caused your heart problems, and…’ he squeezed the bridge of his nose. ‘Now Mum’s gone, I think she’s worried you’ll disown her. She already feels unloved.’
Donald picked up his glass again. ‘Stupid girl, of course she isn’t unloved! Neither of you are.’ That was the closest Donald had come to admitting he loved his children. ‘Camilla and I had hardly anything in common. If she wanted anything, she would go to her mother. If she wanted help with anything, she’d see her mother. Those two were as thick as thieves.’ He poured a full measure of bourbon down his throat, and then refilled his glass. The bottle was almost empty already. ‘I loved her; I just never got the opportunity to show it. And the truth was, I felt jealous of their relationship. I’d lost my wife to my daughter, a daughter who wasn’t even mine!’ He held out the bottle towards Ben, as if realising he had given himself another drink without offering. ‘Want another?’ he asked.
Ben shook his head, still swirling the first around his glass. ‘Instead you had a wimp for a son, who liked playing chess and looking through a telescope at the moon instead of boxing.’
‘You were never a wimp,’ Donald replied. ‘You were a normal boy who was being bullied by his father. You must hate me.’
Ben paused before answering. ‘No, no I don’t hate you. I admire and love you like a son should. Our relationship could’ve been more close and less, er, tense but that doesn’t mean it has to continue like that.’
Donald smiled gruffly. ‘Thanks, Ben,’ he said. ‘You’re all grown up now aren’t you?’
‘I grew up a long time ago.’
‘But you show no sign of marrying or even dating a woman for longer than a month! How’s my empire going to carry on the Middleton name if you don’t produce?’ Donald looked at him with his steely eyes. ‘You aren’t a poof, are you?’
Ben chuckled. ‘No, dad, I’m not.’
Donald grunted. ‘I was wrong about Nicole Brooke, but there’s a friend of mine, an MP in fact, who has a daughter –’
‘Er, no,’ Ben said. ‘I think it’ll be best if I find my own girlfriends from now on.’
Donald looked at Ben through blurry eyes, and Ben realised he was more than tipsy. He only hoped he’d remember this conversation in the morning.
‘In fact,’ Ben cleared his throat, ‘I’ve met a very nice woman at work,’ he admitted. ‘She isn’t rich, and neither comes from a well-to-do family, she’s just normal. And I like her very much.’
‘An office worker? You can do better than that. Oh, God, it isn’t the Michel woman, is it?’ he roared suddenly, naming Ben’s PA.
Ben’s mouth thinned as he realised that his father would probably not welcome Charlie as his son’s girlfriend, not that it’d ever come to that. Charlie was a modern young woman, and he was a boring chess champion and amateur astronomer. He sat opposite his father, watching him sip his bourbon feeling miserable.
‘You know Ben,’ Donald said drunkenly. ‘I knew about Grace’s affair long before she told me she was pregnant. She was going to try and pass the child off as mine. She’d always struggled to get pregnant, and after you it just didn’t happen again. I went for tests.’ He swallowed a hiccup. ‘The result showed that I was the one to blame for our infertility. Only I kept it a secret thinking your mother would leave me if she knew. I loved her and knew she wanted lots of children.’ He half turned in his chair and spoke to the painting hanging on the wall, as if facing Ben was painful. ‘You were barely nine when she became pregnant with Cam and even though I managed to keep my mouth shut knowing about her affair, you were astute enough to feel the tension. That’s why I sent you away to boarding school. You hated it, and I hated sending you.’
Ben was astonished. He’d thought his father had wanted it! But he was even more amazed that Donald had allowed Grace to get away with her infidelity.
‘You must have loved Mum very much,’ he said.
Donald nodded. ‘I did. All she ever wanted was a houseful of children – something I couldn’t give her. And I was ashamed.’ His chin wobbled. ‘I was ashamed of myself, and I pretended I didn’t want any more children.’
‘So you allowed her to keep her baby out of guilt?’
Donald grimaced ‘She died believing I thought Camilla was mine, and that I knew nothing about her affair, hence her guilt, I suppose. The man, Camilla’s father, by the way, is Peter Goodway. And he was the gardener.’ He half laughed, his voice was beginning to slur. ‘I paid him a considerable amount of money never to darken our doors again, and made him sign a legal document to keep his mouth shut. A hit man would’ve been cheaper.’ He took a drunken sip from his glass.
Ben felt his mind reeling. He raked his dark hair, and finally finished his bourbon. ‘I think I will have another,’ he said.
They sat drinking into the early hours of the morning. Donald reminiscing about his childhood, and repeatedly apologi
sing to Ben about his. Remembering that his father had a heart condition, Ben curtailed their discussion after his father insisted on opening another bottle of bourbon, and helped him upstairs.
He helped his father with his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair, and the old man sat heavily on the edge of the bed and attempted to undo the buttons on his shirt. In the end, Ben gently helped him undo the buttons too.
‘I loved your mother so much,’ Donald said; his words completely slurred as he lay back on the pillows. ‘Do you think she’ll forgive me?’
‘Of course,’ Ben said, pulling off his father’s shoes. ‘I have. And all Camilla wants is acknowledgement from you – just like you did from your father. She loves you, you know.’
Donald made as if to get back out of bed. ‘I must go and bring her home and tell her –’
Ben pushed him firmly back into bed. ‘You’ll have plenty of time for that later.’
Donald closed his eyes, a faint smile tugging up the corners of his mouth, and Ben was just about to tip-toe away when he said, ‘What’s her name?’
Ben frowned. ‘Who?’
‘The office girl you like.’
‘Charlie,’ Ben answered.
‘Had an old cob called Charlie once. I had it put down.’
Half smiling, Ben continued to tiptoe out of the bedroom as the old man’s gentle snores told him he’d fallen instantly asleep.
FORTY
Charlie wasn’t sure how to act on arriving for work the following morning. It was the morning after the night before, and Charlie felt lonelier than she had ever done in her life. She peered over towards the Managing Editor’s office, the blinds were up but Mr Fanton was behind the desk instead of Ben, then Charlie remembered Ben had taken up residence on the top floor, in a brand new office.
Melvin in his King Dong T-shirt noticed her doleful expression instantly. ‘What’s up, baby doll?’
Charlie shrugged, and forced a smile. ‘I’m fine. Andy rang last night and says he should be back by the weekend. We could be getting back together,’ she declared.
