“Good?” Kieran asked, taking the seat that Rose had vacated.
“Hot! But lovely.”
“Maybe I’ll go a little easier on the chili peppers for the next one. Anyway, how are you doing?”
“Okay. I met with Paul yesterday; we went through a few things. It was good to talk to him.”
“Such a shame about his daughter,” he said, shaking his head.
“I didn’t realize he was Beau’s…well, father-in-law, sort of, I guess.”
“They don’t really get on. I don’t know what goes on with Beau sometimes, he tends to keep everyone at arm’s reach.”
“Oh, it was Beau who asked him to help me.”
“Doesn’t mean they have to like each other. I guess each blames the other for Rachel’s disappearance.”
Kieran was interrupted from any further conversation by Rose telling him she was getting backed up with orders.
“Soon as you’re back won’t be soon enough. The old bat is giving me a headache,” he said, and then winked before leaving the booth.
For the second time I wondered what their relationship was.
“When can I come back to work?” I asked Rose as I stacked my dirty dishes and glass on the counter.
“Are you ready for that?”
“I need to get back to normal, as soon as possible if I can.”
“Mmm, okay. Lunch tomorrow, it’s not so busy midweek. I worry about you, Charlotte.”
“I know you do, and thank you. Honestly, other than a little sore, I’m okay. I just really need to do this.”
She gave me a hug, and I made a point not to cry out as she wrapped her arms around my poor ribs.
I’d gotten to the corner of my block before my feet took me in a different direction. It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision at first, not until I found myself outside Beau’s house. His truck was nowhere to be seen, but I climbed the steps to the front door and knocked anyway. I waited, there was no response. Just as I turned to walk back down the steps I heard a bolt release. Beau opened the door looking disheveled.
“I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed you, I just wanted to check how you were,” I said. “And to thank you.”
He ran his hand through his messy brown hair, looked up and down the street before opening the door and stepping to one side. I took that as an invitation to enter. The house was dark and with a slight sour smell. The kind of smell I’d expect from a house that had been shut up for some time.
I followed him to the kitchen. Although the counter was clear, the sink was piled with dirty dishes. I stood and watched while he set the coffee maker on.
“How are you, Beau?”
“How do you think I am? She brought me up, she was more of a mother to me than my own.”
“You’re hurting, lost, maybe feel abandoned even though you know she’d never have left you if she didn’t have to. You’re probably angry, wanting something, someone to blame. That’s how I think you are,” I said, recalling every emotion I felt when my grandmother died.
He stared at me, realization dawning that I did know how it felt to lose the one person that was a mother.
“Do you want coffee?” he asked.
“Please. Can I wash those dishes for you?”
“Why would you want to? Don’t you clean up enough after people?”
“I want to be helpful.”
“Helpful would have been to have refused my offer of a lift that day.”
My mouth hung open. I turned on my heels and walked away. Before I got to the door I felt a hand on my shoulder, I stopped walking.
That hand snaked around my chest and I stiffened at his touch. His chest closed in to my back, his other arm found it’s way around my waist and eventually, his head rested on my shoulder. He didn’t speak at all but by the movement of his body, he was crying. I gently turned and cradled him to me. He was an ass, rude, nasty even, but he was also hurting and as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t walk away. I guessed that had always been my problem.
After a couple of minutes Beau pulled away. He looked embarrassed and that hurt more than his snide comments.
“Shall I pour the coffee? Maybe I’ll clean up the kitchen, you look like you haven’t slept.”
He just nodded. “Go sit in the living room, I’ll bring the coffee in. Have you eaten?”
He shook his head before walking into the room next to us.
I washed the dishes and left them on the drainer. I wiped down the counters before I poured two mugs of coffee. The living room was still in darkness, despite it being midafternoon. The quilt was draped over the sofa, a pillow screwed up in one corner. There were dirty clothes and an empty bottle of something on the floor. I handed Beau his coffee and then pulled open the drapes. He shielded his eyes against the assault of light.
“I’ll make you something to eat,” I said, gathering up his dirty laundry as I spoke.
I wasn’t sure what I was doing but I loaded his washing machine and hoped I’d selected the correct setting. I could imagine the fuss if his clothes were ruined. His fridge smelled a little like mine had when I’d gotten home from the hospital. Stale food was tossed and what was left was enough to make an omelet. I mentally made a list of foodstuff to buy before deciding that was probably overstepping the mark a little.
By the time I’d made the omelet and taken it through to him, he’d folded the duvet and straightened his clothes a little.
“Here, eat this. It’s not much, I can pick up some groceries if you’d like me to.”
“Thank you, this is fine.”
I think that was about the first time he’d been pleasant in a long while. I stood, not sure what to do. Beau waved to the edge of the sofa. I perched on the edge and just stared at the bookshelf while he ate.
“The funeral is next Wednesday,” he said.
“I’d like to attend, if you don’t mind.”
“That’s why I’ve just told you the day,” he said, not looking at me.
If it weren’t such a sad time for him, I probably would have rolled my eyes, given a smart mouthed answer. Despite him being an ass, he had just lost a loved one, I reminded myself.
“You’re too forgiving,” he said, placing his plate on the floor.
I wasn’t entirely sure if he was referring to how I didn’t react to his rudeness or not.
“Maybe, but I’d rather be that way than fester in my bitterness.”
“Do you think I’m bitter?” he said, turning toward me.
“I think you have issues…” His laughing, a harsh toned laugh, halted my sentence.
“Well, I just wanted to check on you. Perhaps I should go now. If you need anything, would you ask?”
Beau reached over to the coffee table. It was strewn with paperwork. He rifled around until he found what he was looking for.
“Here,” he said, handing me the cell.
“I wondered whether the police had it,” I said.
He didn’t answer, so I stood. “Maybe I’ll call you, see if you need any shopping done?”
“Sure.”
There was no asking how I was, no mention of the bruising to my face, or the past week at all. I got to the living room door before I spoke again.
“Thank you, for Paul, he’s going to deal with some things for me,” I said.
His brow furrowed a little but I ignored him and carried on to the front door.
Later that day I received a text message. I opened it and read.
If you could, I need some groceries. I have to go away for a couple of days but I’ll drop a key through your door later, and some money. Beau
No thanks, or please, but at least it was semi-polite. I texted back.
Of course. If you want to make a list, otherwise I’ll just get what I think you might enjoy. Charlotte
I wasn’t sure why we felt the need to add our names; it was all so formal. I decided to make a list of things I needed to replace. I knew I was low on coffee and cream, my freezer meals from the diner and
Cecelia had run out, so it was time for some real cooking. Halfway through chores, it occurred to me that I had nothing to wear for the funeral. Jeans and sneakers didn’t seem appropriate. I added a dress and a pair of shoes to my list, not sure if I’d be able to find anything appropriate. If I got stuck, I could ask Rose for help, I guessed.
I felt in limbo. I assumed that once Beau took ownership of the apartment, as well as Cecelia’s house, he’d probably sell them. He had no need for three properties, I imagined. That thought brought me to Paul, and I wondered if he’d found the documents he needed for me to reclaim my house. It had been over a year ago that I’d been thrown out. I wondered if it was even possible to reclaim the house. However, he was a lawyer, I’m sure he wouldn’t have even suggested it had he not felt he could.
Maybe it was being in control of something I’d chosen to do, but I enjoyed cleaning the apartment. I’d enjoyed cleaning the house and the diner. I liked the smell of disinfectant, bleach, and polish. I liked the way the apartment looked when it was all tidy. I opened the windows, and although the sun was weak because of the time of year, it was nice to have the fresh air.
I walked back to the counter and added a coat to my list. I’d soon need one; Beau’s sweatshirt was looking very worn. Winter in Whiteling had been late the previous year. It had stayed pretty mild right until December and then the snow came. It looked like that pattern was going to be repeated. I remembered having to traipse to the store in my sneakers with soaking and cold feet to buy boots.
I gathered the list and headed out. I decided to tackle the clothes list; Beau’s shopping, and my food list would be done the following day.
Ellie smiled at me as I entered her store. Whether she remembered me from my previous visit, I wasn’t sure, but in a town where everyone seemed to know everyone else, I thought her smile was genuine, not one saved for a stranger.
“Good afternoon. I wonder if you can help me?” I said.
I explained that I needed a dress and shoes for a funeral. Instantly she knew whose funeral.
“You know, I don’t think Cecelia would like everyone in black. I have some pretty and classy dresses if you’d like to take a look.”
She encouraged me to follow her to the back of the store. There was a rail of classic styled dresses and I was instantly drawn to a red one. I wasn’t sure red would be appropriate for a funeral but I wanted to try it on anyway. I could probably afford to purchase a couple. I remembered Cecelia’s words. She had told me that every woman needs a pretty dress and shoes.
The red dress had a square neck and three-quarter length sleeves. It hugged my waist, falling to just below my knees, and was the prettiest thing I’d ever worn. Ellie surprised me with a pair of red court shoes. Not too high that I was teetering, but high enough to give a nice definition to my calves. I hadn’t looked at the price before telling her that I wanted them both. For the funeral, I picked out a navy blue dress with a rounded neck and long sleeves. It was fitted and fell to mid-calf. I panicked then.
“I think, as much as I love the red shoes, I should exchange them for a black pair.”
Black would go with both dresses and I wasn’t sure my finances should stretch to two pairs of shoes.
“Of course, how about a small clutch, in black? I’ve had this one lying around for a while, I can offer a discount on it.”
I added the clutch to the pile, another packet of hair dye, and fished in my pocket for my money.
When I returned to the apartment I tried on the two dresses, one day I’d invest in some nice underwear but I didn’t think Ellie’s was the place for that. I hung the dresses in the closet and decided to give my hair a trim and redye it. Maybe I’d get a professional cut, but I liked the blunt messy style I had going on.
I curled into the leather chair and started a new book. Although only a few days since I’d left the hospital, a sense of well-being washed over me. I was finally free and that thought had only just dawned on me. I laid the book on my lap and just looked around the room. For the first time I’d fought back, and the only reason for that was Cecelia. In a strange way, she’d saved me. It felt cleansing to let the tears fall and know they were simply in grief for her loss. My life had been so complicated for so long, it was often that I had a multitude of reasons to cry.
Before the evening fell, I heard the rattle of the main front door. Knowing I was the only person in the building, panic bubbled inside me. I crept to the apartment’s front door and placed my ear against it, listening. I couldn’t hear anything. I wasn’t stupid enough to want to investigate further, it would often make me cringe when I read a book where the victim left the safety of their apartment to investigate a noise, only to wind up dead in a dumpster. What I did was to pick up my cell as I ensured my apartment door was locked and bolted.
The cell vibrated in my hand.
I left a list and some money just inside the door. Beau
I breathed a sigh of relief. Why he couldn’t just have brought it up to the apartment was beyond me. I unlocked the apartment door and, although cautiously, made my way downstairs. On the last, or first in Beau’s case, step was an envelope. I took it back to the apartment, and even though I knew it was Beau rattling the main door, I still double locked and bolted mine.
The envelope contained two fifty-dollar bills and a list. His writing was a little hard to decipher so I picked up a pencil to rewrite it. I didn’t want to be standing in a store trying to work out what he wanted. As suspected, the list contained mostly healthy food, some cleaning products, and toiletries.
I wasn’t sure if I was imagining things but it seemed that as I walked around the store, I received glances and whispers behind cupped hands. Although there was still some bruising on my face, it wasn’t so noticeable as to attract attention. I tried to ignore it as I pushed my cart and read from my list. I smiled at a young girl, whose smile faltered when her mother grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. Something felt very off.
I upped my pace, throwing the goods in the cart, wanting to get out as quickly as possible. I separated my goods from Beau’s at the checkout, bagging and paying for his first so I could give him back the receipt. It was only when I left the store that I realized I’d never be able to carry the bags back on my own.
“Shit,” I said, quietly to myself. I’d have to walk back with the cart and then return it.
As I walked, I was reminded of an old woman back home who strolled the streets all day with a shopping cart containing all her worldly goods. I’d often stop and hand her a few dollars. She always gave me a toothless smile but should anyone else get close, she’d scowl, shout obscenities, and rush away.
I unloaded the bags into Beau’s hallway, leaving them there so I could return the cart. I rushed back to his house, not wanting to leave bags of shopping just inside his front door. The house was a little tidier than when I’d left just the previous day. I unpacked the shopping and wiped down the kitchen counters, not that they needed it.
I left the receipt and the change on the counter and resisted the temptation to give the house a good clean. I wasn’t sure Beau would appreciate that. I locked up the house and carried the two bags of my own shopping back to the apartment. The plastic cut into my fingers, and my fingertips tingled when I placed them on the countertop. I shook my hands to get the circulation going. It was as I was putting some things away in a cupboard that I noticed it. A tin of coffee had been moved. It was only an inch or so to the right, but I’d placed that tin strategically because it shielded one of my money envelopes. Just as panic started to well because the envelope was not where I’d left it, I saw it tucked behind some mugs. I racked my brain trying to remember if I’d moved it, knowing that I hadn’t but wanting some explanation as to why it had been moved. I counted out the money, it was all there, but I knew, not where I’d originaly left it. I opened the other cupboards; nothing had been disturbed.
I took a slow walk around the open plan area, studying every piece of furniture. My stare froz
e on a sideboard. There was a visible indentation in the carpet where it had stood, originally. It was a heavy unit and one I hadn’t moved. However, I couldn’t convince myself the indent hadn’t always been there. I checked out the bedroom next. Maybe I was a little OCD, maybe it was because cleaning and being tidy was about all I had control over, but I knew someone had sat on the end of the bed. Each morning I’d make the bed to military standards. The quilt was slightly crumpled and whether it was to straighten it, or connect with my grandmother, I’d stroke the creases out of the quilt each morning.
The closet was the next thing I checked. Again, nothing looked to be disturbed but I wasn’t sure I’d notice if it had. I walked to the bathroom and looked at the products on the shelf in the shower. A drip from the showerhead landed on my arm and I looked up at it. I hadn’t taken a shower that morning, yet it was wet.
In the time I’d been out shopping, I became convinced someone had been in the apartment.
Cecelia and Beau were the only people, as far as I was aware, who had keys. Even if Beau put the property on the market, I couldn’t image a real estate agent opening cupboards and moving tins. Although, I was sure he would have told me if someone had been to view or value the property.
I didn’t sleep well that evening, it wasn’t that I was scared of being in the apartment, but my mind was running on overtime. Whoever had ‘visited’ had gone out of their way to ensure I didn’t know. What kept me awake was wondering what they were looking for. Whoever it was, wasn’t looking for valuables, there had been no sign of a break-in, but I decided as soon as it was possible, I was having the locks changed.
I found a card that Paul had left and called him.
“Hi, it’s Charlotte. I think someone broke into my apartment yesterday. I’m having the locks changed but I thought you should know,” I said, when he answered.
“Was anything taken, or disturbed?”
“No, but I just know someone has been in here. A couple of things have been moved.”
“I think you should call the police,” he said.
Harlot Page 14
