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

by Field, Stacey

  “My graduation day.” I felt Lucy’s breath on my neck. “Well, the evening of it anyway.”

  “You look very close.”

  “Yes, he was my fiancé – Charlie.”

  I nodded. “You both seem very happy.”

  “The happiest of my life,” she said before turning away and continuing down the hall to the room at the end.

  I followed in silence as we made our way to the room we had been in just hours earlier. Lucy stood by my side as I trawled the footage for any suspicious human-shaped shadows. I paused the recording when I found something. Though slightly blurred, the image of a man could be seen in the far left corner of the screen. I looked again in detail and waited for him to move closer to the light above the French doors at the back of the house. As it highlighted his features I could see him a little more clearly. He was of slim build with a full head of dark hair; the glow of the security light bounced off his black leather jacket whenever he bent over.

  “Do you think it’s the same guy as Jamie’s visitor?”

  “No, he’s too young.”

  “Who do you think he is?”

  I let the question linger as I stared intently at the figure, now on his knees in front of the doors.

  “There’s something very familiar about him,” I said.

  “You think you’ve seen him before?”

  “I can’t be positive without seeing a better picture. I can’t place where, but I know I’ve seen him. Either way, you need to be careful… maybe get the locks changed.”

  Lucy nodded. “It’s late, you’re tired. It may come to you tomorrow.”

  I looked at my watch: almost three in the morning. “Yeah, I’d better head off back. The walk home should wake me up a bit.”

  Lucy bit her lip as she looked at the floor. “Well… I wouldn’t normally ask this from someone I’d just met but I think I can trust you.” She drew in a deep breath. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “OK,” I said, intrigued by the prospect.

  She hesitated. “I really don’t want to be alone and Snoop isn’t a very good guard dog. In fact, he’s too friendly even to realise that a human could pose a threat. I just…” She sighed. “What I’m trying to say is…”

  I saw the desperation on her face and realised what she was suggesting.

  “Of course I’ll stay with you, Lucy.”

  Chapter Ten

  She looked at me with a combination of surprise and relief on her face. The need to protect her was so familiar to me that I wondered how I would ever build up the courage to leave her for a second time. I knew the friendship we had created in the past few days wasn’t enough and my urge to recreate the loving relationship we’d once had was strong. Every moment I spent with Lucy only increased my longing to cherish her.

  “You always seem to know what I’m about to say,” Lucy told me.

  I shrugged and tried to think of a convincing explanation.

  “Great minds think alike,” I mumbled unconvincingly.

  She stood completely still and focused all of her attention on my face.

  “I guess so,” she said quietly.

  “Can I make a suggestion though?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can we stay in the treehouse? The locks to the house have been tampered with but I suspect they haven’t touched the locks there. Plus, there are windows to all sides so it’ll give us a better view of any unwelcome visitors.”

  “Sounds smart.”

  After gathering up Snoop’s bed, Lucy made sure the house was secure while I inspected the locks on the treehouse. I could see no evidence of interference and we decided it was safe to spend the night there. I ensured the door was locked behind us before we made our way upstairs.

  The treehouse had one bedroom and, even though she insisted I have it, I let Lucy take it while I sat in a nearby armchair to act as lookout. After an hour, I heard Lucy’s breathing become heavy and knew she was asleep. Snoop had moulded himself against her side and only the sound of his snores could be heard.

  “Great guard dog,” I muttered to myself, then smiled at Snoop’s obvious attachment to his owner. There wasn’t a millimetre of space between them and I felt a small pang of jealousy as I watched him sleep by her side.

  I walked a lap of the building and surveyed the outlook from each window while attempting to stay quiet for fear of waking Lucy. I heard a shriek as an owl flew directly overhead, causing me to jump in alarm. Every nerve in my body was vibrating. Sleep seemed impossible now. I peered out into the darkness from the window in the lounge. It gave me a good view of the road, which was lit by a small security light that hovered above the front door.

  I watched as a fox and two cubs scuttled through a small gap in the stone wall opposite the property. A barn owl perched directly above the gap, as if keeping guard, directing the fox and her cubs to safety. Perhaps the owl was acting as some form of sentry, not unlike myself. We were both creatures of the night tonight. I watched the owl until it eventually flew off, no doubt in search of a rodent or two.

  As I continued my patrol of the treehouse I took in the detail of every room that was half lit by moonlight. Pastel-coloured scatter cushions lay haphazardly on an old church pew; a string of pink, spotty bunting had been wrapped around the large tree trunk that stood tall and strong in the centre of the lounge. Both of these touches gave the room a children’s tea party feel that was accentuated by the freshly cut garden roses displayed in jam jars along the windowsills. I made my way to the kitchen and stifled a moan as I nearly tripped over a soft object that lay abandoned on the floor.

  On closer inspection I could see that it was the Steiff bear I had bought Lucy on a weekend trip to Berlin.

  “I remember you,” I said into the bear’s impassive face.

  It was the last December we had spent together and the overly expensive bear was her Christmas present. Lucy had been complaining for months about taking a trip somewhere and blowing the cobwebs away, as she called it. I’d been spending the majority of my time working on expanding the treehouse business and, in the midst of the boom that seemed to have arrived in Yorkshire, time spent with Lucy had significantly decreased. So I surprised her with a long weekend in Germany. I arranged everything with her boss beforehand and booked us into an executive suite in a stylish hotel in the centre of Berlin. She didn’t know where we were going until we arrived at the airport.

  We spent our days sightseeing and sampling the local cuisine, but more importantly reconnecting with each other. We took a stroll through the Grunewald forest and read the political inscriptions on the Berlin Wall, we pondered the meaning behind artwork that hung in the Kulturforum and enjoyed currywurst by the Spree.

  But out of all of these things, Lucy’s favourite sight was the Christmas trees. They had been put up sporadically and hung with Christmas lights that glowed a warm, rich yellow above the fresh snow. The whole city was luminous with them, and as the sun went down and the lights came on a definite change in mood could be detected in the local people. They appeared joyful and full of festive cheer.

  Remembering the happiness in Lucy’s face when she’d opened the carefully wrapped bear, I picked it up off the floor and walked in the direction of her reading room, with the intention of placing it on a bookshelf. When I entered the room I immediately noticed a difference. It had changed since the last time I was here. Not only had more books been acquired, as well as more shelving built, but there was now a table carved from a dark wood I didn’t recognise placed beneath the window. Standing on top of this, and glinting in the moonlight, were a dozen silver-framed photographs of all sizes. The images in the frames were partly shrouded in shadow and I moved closer so that I could see them more clearly.

  My gaze focussed on a photo enclosed in a large picture frame in the centre of the display. It had been taken by a professional photographer and the soft-focus lens made the subjects look almost ethereal. It was originally commissioned for a magazine piece on my tree
house business. The article explored the lives of successful businessmen at home: their houses, hobbies, partners. Many pictures were taken for the article but this one of Lucy and me took pride of place in the centre-spread.

  In the photo I had a smile on my face as I gazed at something off camera while Lucy wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek in what appeared to be a private moment of happiness. This picture stood out amongst the many others in my memory because the photographer seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with Lucy’s face, calling it ‘beguiling’ and ‘a complex combination of perfection and purity’. She was embarrassed by his statements but I asked the magazine for a copy of the photograph all the same. I needed to remind myself of the reason I was working so hard.

  As my gaze strayed to the group of smaller photographs that were gathered to the left of the large picture, I realised they were all of me. Lucy’s face appeared next to mine in a few but every single photo frame contained an image of me. They’d been taken at significant moments in our lives: a camel ride in Egypt, a fishing trip in Bedale, Lucy and me in front of the Eiffel Tower during one of our many weekend escapes. The photographs reminded me of how much of the world I had seen and how fulfilled my short life had been. But it also reminded me that Lucy had not forgotten me. My memory was preserved along with these photographs in a place that was built just for her. I remembered the day I had watched her gather each of these memories and throw them one by one into a black bin bag. I had assumed they were destined for the rubbish heap, her way of letting me go.

  “Oh, Luce,” I whispered into the darkness.

  I felt something cold and wet nudge my bare foot and then a sweep of soft fur as something moved past me. I looked down to see Snoop at my feet.

  “What are you doing awake?” I whispered. “You should be protecting your mistress.”

  “Actually, he’s with me.” Lucy’s voice came from behind me.

  “Oh.” I tried not to act too startled. “I didn’t even hear you, you must have a stealth mode.”

  She ignored my joke. “So you’ve found my stash,” she said, moving closer.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “This is where I sense Charlie’s presence the strongest. I come here to remember him.”

  I looked at the photographs, so lovingly and carefully set out, and the scene made me smile. I turned away from Lucy before she saw my pleased expression.

  “I can see he is not forgotten.” I turned to face her. “What does your husband think of this?”

  “Jamie doesn’t come in here.” She sighed heavily. “To be honest, we spend very little time together.”

  I remembered her comment by the river about not knowing who her husband was.

  “Why is that?”

  She sighed. “We’re both very busy people, I guess.”

  It was easy to forget that Lucy had a job, she’d had so much time off lately.

  “But… he must care about you.”

  Lucy paused to gather her thoughts before she replied.

  “I really don’t know what he feels towards me,” she whispered, and then looked away in embarrassment. “Do you want a hot chocolate?”

  “I’d love one.”

  I heard the sound of a fridge door opening and closing and the ticking of the gas hob before it erupted in electric blue flame. Lucy poured milk into a saucepan and arranged the cups on the counter. As I watched her meander around the small kitchenette I was reminded of the many times in the past she had carried out this same routine. Indulging in an early-morning hot chocolate was a pleasure we would frequently share, with Lucy often waking me up in the middle of the night during our weekend sleepovers in the treehouse.

  We sat on the lumpy sofa in the lounge, nursing our cups. Lucy had her legs curled beneath her in their usual position while I placed my feet on the pouffe and stretched out my arms. Snoop came to join us and curled up next to Lucy. His head lay heavy and slack on her knee. Always by her side, loyal and protective.

  “Tell me about Charlie,” I said.

  She looked down at her mug and gathered her thoughts. “He was a good man… a great man even.” She paused to give Snoop’s head a quick scratch. “Everybody had a soft spot for Charlie. He was kind, polite, gave everyone he met a piece of his time – and his time was precious, I realise that now.” She smiled down at Snoop as he gazed up at her, as if checking she was all right “He wasn’t afraid of hard work... hard graft. He was the sort who was good at creating things.” She looked up at the beams above us. “He made this treehouse as a birthday gift for me. Told me he wanted to create something that was just for me, my personal space.” She looked at me. “You know, talking about him in the past tense feels wrong, even after all this time.”

  I gave her a sympathetic glance. “Go on,” I said softly.

  “He was smart, but he didn’t realise how far he could push himself until he left his dad’s farm.” Lucy smiled. “Farm work was stifling his creative side. He knew he had to get out, do something on his own account. He always had the brains for that kind of thing. Charlie was the only person I knew who could solve a Rubik’s cube. When he was younger he genuinely thought everybody had the talent. It was only when his entire class at school failed to complete it that he realised he wasn’t your average Joe.”

  I smiled at the memory. It was strange to see myself through Lucy’s eyes. I had never heard her talk about me this way before, she had always been a closed book.

  “He had a passion for animals… that’s another reason he left the farm, he could never let an animal suffer. He would’ve loved a dog,” she said, giving Snoop’s head a quick pat, “he was compassionate too. He ran a successful business and had more money than he was comfortable with, so he gave it to charities. Usually small, local charities, the ones in the greatest need. But even that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to give his time as well as his money, so he volunteered at the homeless shelter in Skipton any chance he got. I would go with him and listen to the amazing stories some of the residents liked to tell. They had all lived such fascinating lives and Charlie would come home convinced that these people who had nothing, no belongings to speak of, were richer than he was in many ways.”

  I remembered the voluntary work and the charities but I didn’t see myself as the hero that Lucy described. I had hurt my best friend; had not only violently punched Russ but continued my relationship with Lucy behind his back. I had betrayed him. Perhaps I’d used the voluntary work as a way to ease my conscience.

  “Were Charlie and Russ good friends?”

  “Oh, yes, since childhood. In fact, Russ and I hated each other when we were younger, it was always down to Charlie to break the tension between us.”

  “But you like each other now?”

  She looked at me quizzically. “Yes, of course, Russ is like a brother to me. I couldn’t imagine the person I’d be without him. A quivering mess probably.”

  “Does he feel the same way about you? I mean, does he see you as a sister figure?”

  She hesitated. “I think so… “ Lucy went quiet. “There was a time when I thought he maybe had other feelings for me… maybe romantic feelings… but that is all in the past.”

  It was clear that Lucy was reluctant to mention the kiss she had instigated. I thought back to the image of Russ and Lucy leaving the garden together and entering the treehouse.

  “How do you know? He seems very protective.”

  “Because he has a girlfriend now.”

  Russ hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend to me. I also found it odd that he would spend his evenings cooking Lucy dinner and not his own girlfriend.

  “How long have they been together?”

  “A few weeks, maybe just over a month.”

  “Have you met her?”

  Lucy laughed nervously. “Why all the questions? You don’t have a thing for him, do you?”

  I laughed and shook my head, embarrassed by her question. Lucy took the empty mug from my hands and pl
aced it with hers in the sink in the kitchen.

  “Well, I’m tired. I think I’ll go back to bed. It was nice having hot chocolate with you, Adam.”

  “You too. I’ll stay here and keep watch.”

  As I watched her leave I tried to put myself in her shoes in an attempt to find out what had caused the moment of passion I had witnessed earlier. I remembered the things she’d said about me as well as the shrine to me in her reading room. She loved me more than I’d realised when I was alive.

  I thought about her husband lying in a hospital bed, his life hanging by a thread that was growing thinner by the day. Her relationship with him was rocky, and with his parents it was worse. Who exactly was the stranger snooping around Lucy’s house? Who would want to harm her?

  I remembered Lucy’s comment about there being a bruise on my back when they found my body in the river. What if my death wasn’t an accident after all?

  As I kept watch over Lucy, I wondered if perhaps the target wasn’t the doctor.

  Perhaps it was Lucy all along.

  Chapter Eleven

  I woke up the next morning to the sound of cheerful chirping, a happy sound but with territorial intent. I didn’t know at what point I’d drifted off but when I looked at my watch it was almost seven o’clock. I immediately went to check on Lucy and found her twisted in the bedclothes, limbs limp and breathing heavy. It had been a warm night. She didn’t stir as I watched her and neither did Snoop. I guessed they had both had a restless time of it.

  I decided to do something nice for her and remembered that the local shop stocked bagels as well as everyday items. The bagels were delivered fresh every day by a bakery in Skipton and, if you were early enough, you could usually grab a couple before the rush.

  After a last gaze at her sleeping face, I made my way to the village shop that used to be my primary source of sweets as a child. As I walked I could hear seagulls flying above me, a reminder of the presence of the river close by. As the relentless and unforgiving water came into view I saw many men dotted along its banks, holding fishing rods and wearing looks of avid concentration.