The Life and Second Life of Charlie Brackwood (The Brackwood Series Book 2)

by Field, Stacey

  We didn’t stay for coffee or the fabulous mints that were also a topic of conversation. Emma’s hostility towards me became more apparent as the night continued. Of course, she would never reveal the reason for her sudden irritation to the rest of the party; doing so would almost certainly render us outcasts. As I expected, on the way home an argument erupted.

  “Don’t ever make me a promise again, Adam,” Emma spat. “What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking that drinking the wine was the correct option. I thought that’s the one you’d want me to go with.”

  “Why in a million years would I want you to do that?”

  “Because you and I both know that if I didn’t drink that wine it would be seen as some kind of insult and we’d never be invited back.”

  “Oh, what do you care? You don’t like them anyway.”

  “I care because you care.” I raised my voice. “I try and do my best by you, I try to make decisions based on which option will best please you. But I’m beginning to think that isn’t possible. Nothing pleases you anymore, Emma.” She looked at me, horrified. “I understand you’ve suffered with post-natal depression and I can’t imagine what that felt like, but lately it seems like you’re regressing back into the depression you’ve only just overcome.”

  She scoffed, “What about you? You’re an alcoholic, Adam, and no matter how many promises you make it seems you just can’t curb the habit. You’re a slave to drink and you sneak around, hiding bottles here and there, keeping it all from your own wife. If I hadn’t stumbled upon your stash, would you ever have told me you had a problem?”

  “I would’ve been able to deal with it on my own. I could’ve quit any time.”

  She laughed mockingly. “Of course you would.”

  By the time we reached the house we weren’t talking to one another. I listened to the silence and wondered how it had all come to this. I knew I had a problem with alcohol, but I could never admit to it out loud. The words ‘I am an alcoholic’ could never pass my lips. My pride got in the way and we both knew it.

  When we got home we said goodnight to Emma’s mother and acted as though everything was fine. I crept into Ben’s room and kissed the soft, cool skin of his forehead. He was such a deep sleeper, I was confident he could sleep through a heavy metal concert if need be.

  In our bedroom Emma was already curled up under the covers. Once again I was back to walking on eggshells around my own wife – a woman whose carefree spirit had once captivated and enchanted me, who would skinny dip in the nearby lake in the dead of winter and eat a whole chocolate cake without pointing out the fat content in each slice.

  I removed the duvet and slid in next to her; the cool cotton sheets felt good against my hot skin. She moved further away from me so that she was balancing on the edge of the bed. One false move and she’d be on the floor. I guessed she wasn’t expecting to get any sleep tonight. But then again, neither was I.

  In the silence I decided to make her a new promise and I know that I will stick to it this time.

  Chapter Seven

  As I made my way to Burnsall the next morning I was still thinking about what I’d read in Adam’s diary the night before. I remembered the bottles of spirits I’d discovered in a kitchen cupboard on the day of my arrival and had no doubt that Adam was still drinking. Was this the cause of his marital breakdown? Was this the reason the majority of the village seemed to despise him?

  I thought about my shaking hands the night before and the sudden urge for alcohol I’d felt that was out of character for me. It was clear that Adam’s body still craved the very thing I assumed had destroyed his marriage.

  I needed more answers and the urge to delve even deeper into Adam’s life grew greater. But I also had a strong urge to help him, if I could work out how to do it.

  When I pulled into Lucy’s driveway she was waiting for me. She looked at me and I noticed the fear that distorted her pretty face. My heartrate increased slightly. I jumped off the bike while it was still moving, an act of teenage foolishness that used to get me a smile or two. However, today there was no amusement to be seen.

  I moved towards her and stopped about a foot away. She clutched a newspaper in one hand and offered it to me, then folded her arms around her body for comfort, an old habit. The newspaper was local. It had a bold headline sprawled across the front page and a large picture of Lucy and me, standing close together. The river could be seen in the background. We were smiling at each other and I realised the picture had been taken the day before on our walk with Snoop. How had we not noticed we were being watched?

  I read the article quickly and realised the main body of the text was mostly speculation as to whether Lucy and I were an item. The article painted a terrible picture of her and made out that she appeared carefree and happy while her husband lay critically ill in hospital. It also speculated as to the amount of money she’d receive in life assurance if he passed away. The words were poison and I flinched away from them in disgust.

  I looked at Lucy and knew she was over-analysing her behaviour of yesterday, no doubt worrying that she’d stood too close to me or that her politeness would be mistaken for flirting. I knew she had been eagerly awaiting my arrival and that she was looking for reassurance.

  I selected my words carefully before I spoke. “Who cares what they think? They’re seeing a story that isn’t there.”

  “But what about the village… Jamie’s family? What will they say?” She was looking panicked.

  “If they know you, there won’t be any need to question you. You’re just not capable of that kind of behaviour… ” I stopped as I realised my mistake and immediately tried to correct it. “I mean… you don’t seem like that kind of person.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Have we met before, Adam?”

  I shook my head slowly as I pretended to think about this. “No, not that I recall.”

  “You just seem familiar somehow.” Her keen eyes looked at me closely. “There’s something about you that’s so… ” Her words lingered in the air between us and the atmosphere grew intense. At last she sighed heavily. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t there.”

  I needed to interrupt her pattern of thought. “Listen, this tripe,” I said as I tapped the front of the paper, “is what my father would call a load of old scuttlebutt.” Lucy laughed and I smiled to hear the sound. “It’s baloney, drivel, the largest pile of shite I’ve ever encountered. Don’t let them worry you. The people who really know you won’t believe a word.”

  She looked at me with the traces of a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Any time.” I smiled back at her. “Now, throw that in the garbage and get on with enjoying this beautiful day.”

  We smiled at each other and didn’t notice the white Mercedes pull up on the drive until we heard the low rumble of a diesel engine. A couple who appeared to be in their early sixties climbed out of the car. The woman glared at me and then marched over to Lucy.

  “How are you, dear? Are you OK?”

  “I’ll leave you to it,” I said politely, and made my way to the treehouse.

  As I started work replacing some rotten boards I heard Lucy and her guests enter the garden and take a seat on the patio. I listened intently as I tried to determine the identity of Lucy’s guests. I didn’t recognise them, which could only mean they were relatives or friends of her husband.

  “We’re just worried about you, darling. You’re here all alone in this big house… and now the newspapers have got involved,” the woman fretted.

  “I understand your worry but I’m fine and quite capable of looking after myself.”

  “Oh, we know that, dear, but you’re very vulnerable at the moment.” The older woman gestured towards the treehouse… towards me. “Especially with these shifty types hanging around, I mean, how do you know you can trust them?”

  “If Russ trusts Adam, so do I.”

  The male visitor
spoke up then. “With all due respect, my dear… we know this is a difficult time, especially with a past such as yours,” here the couple exchanged looks, “but is Russ himself trustworthy?”

  Who were these people?

  Lucy looked at them both in turn with incredulity. “Forgive my bluntness, but do you think you should be casting doubt on one of my best friends when you barely know him?”

  “We are aware of his dislike for our son, and for Jamie to end up in hospital after an accident in your poorly maintained car – which Russell would easily have had access to – makes me feel our opinion of him is justified,” said her mother-in-law.

  Lucy sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. She kept her face expressionless. I knew this was a façade of calm. Lucy loathed confrontation of any kind.

  “I would have to disagree with you there. I’ve known Russ almost my entire life. He has done some things I don’t, and never will, agree with, but he’s not capable of endangering someone’s life.” Lucy kept her voice steady at all times and I felt proud that she had stood up for our friend.

  “But the article about the handyman… surely you’re concerned about what people must think of you. Are you not embarrassed?”

  “Why should I be? Anyone who knows me will see through that rubbish,” said Lucy firmly.

  “We simply cannot have more stories of this nature appearing in the press. You must remember that it is not just your reputation that is damaged by them.”

  Lucy suddenly sat bolt upright in her chair. “And you must remember that people who bother themselves about damage to their ‘reputation’ are the sort of idiots who would never be welcome in my home.” She smiled charmingly at the same time as she gave the pointed putdown.

  I held my breath in an attempt to stifle my laughter but couldn’t completely restrain it. All three faces turned in my direction; a look of disgust showed on two of them, a small smile on the third. I pretended not to notice their stares and continued with my work.

  “Well, I think it’s time we were going, Margot.” Lucy’s father-in-law stood up and, without saying a word to her, made his way to the glossy Mercedes.

  His wife got to her feet and gave Lucy an imploring look, a change of tactic since rebuking her hadn’t worked. “Heed my warning, dear, sometimes her good reputation is the most valuable possession a woman has.” The woman nodded at her meaningfully then turned away.

  From my raised vantage point I watched her join her husband, who was standing against the car with his arms crossed.

  “Well, what do you think of that?” I heard him ask his wife. Lucy had by now retreated inside the house, out of earshot.

  “She is clearly defending the foolish, arrogant young man she calls her friend.”

  “I still maintain she had something to do with this, Margot, if you’d just listen to me…” His voice grew faint as they entered the car.

  I watched them drive off and then attempted to continue with my work, like the good handyman I was. But I was distracted by the anger I felt towards Lucy’s in-laws. They had not only accused Russ of attempted murder but also seemed to assume that Lucy was involved. The fact that they barely knew her was becoming startlingly apparent.

  What was she doing with this guy? His parents clearly thought very little of her. They belonged to a world that Lucy had always despised and vowed never to be part of.

  I searched the windows for her, trying to detect which room she had used as her retreat. I felt glad that she had stood her ground instead of meekly agreeing with the views of her in-laws. Russ was our friend and I was confident he would never do anything to put Lucy’s happiness at risk.

  I knew it would be wise to keep my distance from her, to focus on the reason God had sent me here in the first place. But seeing the picture of us together in the paper seemed to have stirred up old feelings in me. I needed to ensure she was dealing with things the right way and not relapsing into the vulnerable, self-destructive person she had once been.

  I noticed movement in the house and saw her sitting at the large kitchen table where we’d often entertained our guests at parties and Christmas dinners. I made my way across the well-maintained lawn, that used to be my pride and joy, and through the French doors to the kitchen. She looked up as I walked in and tried to disguise the lost expression she had been wearing.

  “I’ve just come for a glass of water,” I lied.

  “Help yourself, it seems to be getting hotter out there.”

  “I know, are we really in Yorkshire?”

  “Don’t worry, it’ll snow tomorrow. Regular conditions will resume shortly.”

  I had missed the playful banter we had often indulged in, I realised.

  “I saw your guests leave and wanted to apologise to you for laughing earlier. It was wrong of me to eavesdrop.”

  She smiled. “No harm done. At least they’re gone now.”

  “Have you always had such a… ” I searched for the right word “… turbulent relationship with them?”

  “You could say that. I guess they’re just not very accepting. They like to control. When others won’t do as they’re told, they get irritated.”

  “I guess that’s why they don’t like Russ.”

  “What do you mean?” She narrowed her eyes at me.

  “Just that he seems like someone who won’t be told what to do.”

  “I think that all depends on how you ask him,” she said softly.

  I remembered Russ’s visit to me the night before and his reason for apologising.

  “Or who asks him?” I said.

  We held eye contact in silence for a while and I knew that she was analysing me.

  “I should get back to work,” I said as I placed the empty glass on the worktop.

  “Well,” she replied after some hesitation, “I need to go to the hospital now… to see my husband. I hate going alone. All I get are pitying stares.”

  I remembered what Russ had said about me watching out for Lucy and assumed that accompanying her to the hospital was something he wouldn’t object to.

  “OK, no problem.”

  I waited downstairs as Lucy changed her clothes. When she returned to the kitchen she was wearing a short summer dress; the upper back of it was lace and I could see a hint of pale skin through the material. Her hair was twisted on top of her head in a messy bun and she wore dark, oversized sunglasses.

  She appeared younger somehow, fresh-faced and carefree. I followed her to the car and watched as her slender legs led the way.

  Lucy drove us to the hospital in her Mercedes and I was immediately transported back in time to the days when I’d taught her to drive in the Mini. I was fond of that car and hoped the police would release it back to its rightful owner soon.

  I watched the Yorkshire countryside roll past as Lucy carefully manoeuvred the car through the small country lanes. The music of the Beach Boys could be heard on the car stereo and the sound brought with it an intense feeling of nostalgia. I watched as a pair of ducks flew low overhead, no doubt in search of much-needed water. I wiped away the sweat that had begun to form on my forehead and lowered the window to let in a cool breeze.

  When we arrived we were lucky enough to find a parking space relatively quickly. The hospital served a large area and so it wasn’t unusual to drive around for a good few minutes before finding a space. As we got out of the air-conditioned car the intense heat hit me. The sun had changed position as it drew closer to midday and its brightness dazzled my sensitive eyes.

  Lucy led the way through the hospital. Her husband lay propped against a mountain of plump pillows; his face was pale, his body still. He looked so vulnerable as he lay there, awaiting his fate, I realised then that I nursed no anger or resentment towards him; the only emotion I felt was sadness. He was a doctor, a member of a compassionate profession. I felt nothing but respect for the man who lay so unnaturally still on the high hospital bed.

  Lucy began to brush his hair before prepping his face with shaving cream.
The stubble on his chin suggested it had been a few days since his last shave. When she began to read the paper to him I offered to get us some coffee from the small cafe we had passed on the way. I found the sad scene overwhelming and needed to escape temporarily. In the corridor I ran into a female doctor on her way to check on Jamie.

  “How is he doing?” I asked.

  She glanced at me and took me to one side; her expression was sympathetic.

  “Not good, I’m afraid. Tests have shown he has considerable brain damage caused by the accident. We don’t know the extent of it yet, but a difficult decision may have to be made in the future.’

  I looked away from her sympathetic gaze and wondered whether Lucy was aware of how bad her husband’s condition was.

  “Who have you informed so far about his condition?”

  “His father was told about an hour before you arrived.”

  “That’s impossible, Lucy and I have just left Jamie’s parents, they were at her house an hour ago.”

  The doctor looked distressed. “I spoke to the gentlemen myself. In fact, he comes in every day asking about his son.”

  “Could you describe him to me?”

  “Certainly.” She eyeballed me suspiciously. “He was short, around five foot six, short black hair, olive skin tone, brown eyes, late fifties… early sixties, perhaps.”

  Jamie’s dad had grey hair and a silver beard, his eyes were blue. The doctor’s description was all wrong.

  “I assure you, the man you have been speaking to is not Jamie’s father.”

  “Well, I… “

  “Can you tell me anything else about him? What did you talk about?”

  “Jamie mainly and his chances of survival…” She stopped abruptly and asked me: “I’m sorry, but what relation are you to the patient?”