The Death of Mungo Blackwell

by Lauren H Brandenburg

  “Mrs Price.” The man in the tan fedora took off his hat as the winter’s snow fell on his thin gray hair. She stared at him – dumbstruck by the presence of the man in front of her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Your husband invited me. You decided to tell him early? I thought the three of us were meeting tomorrow. He’s oddly collected considering what little you told me about his situation, don’t you think? When we first met, you said he would be upset. But he insisted. I brought you –”

  Charlie Price, upon seeing who had arrived at the door and that a hushed conversation was taking place between the man and Velveteen, rushed to his side and ushered him across the threshold. “How rude of my wife to leave you outside in the cold.” He placed an eye-narrowing emphasis upon the word wife.

  “Charlie, this is –”

  “I know who he is, Velveteen. Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention!” Charlie made his way to the eight-foot evergreen standing near their fireplace with a glass in his trembling right hand. Velveteen stepped up beside him and prepared for the toast he made every year at their party. His face was solemn, and he could not look at his wife. “Mr Walker, will you join us please?” His voice was sharp and cold. “I have a surprise for you all, an announcement of truth you all should know.”

  Surely he doesn’t know. Velveteen’s heart raced. The color drained from under her perfectly applied rouge. This was not how she planned for him to find out. She had rehearsed the speech every day in the mirror from the moment he had agreed to her having the party. At first it had been about the money – she didn’t want him to worry, but then Granny had convinced her to tell him, and what a better way than in front of all the people they loved – and a few she was now regretting inviting. Mr Walker would fill in the details the next day so Charlie wouldn’t have to make the trip to the city – he wasn’t ready to go back.

  “My beautiful wife…” Charlie took his glass and threw it into the fire. He glared at Velveteen. “Is having an…” He couldn’t say it. The guests were silent, beginning to sense something was very wrong about the scene playing out in front of them. “What do you want, Velveteen?” he snapped. Pent-up frustration from the past two years and his new discovery of her infidelity was like venom on his lips. “Is it the money? Is that it? I’m sure Walker will take good care of you. I didn’t think you to be the type that would go for an older man, but I guess if the pockets are big enough –”

  “Stop!” She couldn’t choke out the words. Tears streamed from her eyes.

  “I know, Velveteen! I know all about it! Now everyone else does too!” He continued his rant as if it were only the two of them. “Your trips to the city, the lies, the phone calls. Well, here he is!”

  “You spoiled it, Charlie. You spoiled it,” she whimpered.

  “Are you kidding me? Are you still worried about your stupid party?”

  “Charlie, I’m…”

  “What? Are you sorry?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit and pushed through the guests.

  “I’m pregnant!” she cried.

  He stopped. Was she telling him she was carrying another man’s baby, or… his mind spun with the possibility. Clover and the now less-mysterious, but most likely highly confused, Mr Walker consoled his wife. The expressions of the guests were a mix of delight and concern.

  Velveteen pulled from the arms of Clover. “Don’t you remember, Charlie? Mr Walker delivered Gideon. We’re having a baby, Charlie. I brought him to Coraloo to see if he could deliver our baby here… So you wouldn’t have to go back.”

  Mr Walker reached inside his black suit coat and removed a small white bottle. He handed it to Velveteen. She took the bottle of prescribed prenatal vitamins and clutched them in her hand. “Your husband insisted I bring them to you. I figured you had told him. Thanks for inviting me to the party, Mr Price, but I think with all the confusion I should be heading back to the bed and breakfast. Mrs Price, I’ll talk with Dr Toft and let you know.”

  Charlie went to Velveteen, but she pushed away. “You spoiled it, Charlie. It was my Christmas gift to you. Happiness, Charlie. It’s what I wanted to give you for Christmas. But you spoiled it.”

  Clover led Velveteen away from the gathering and toward the stairs. Velveteen shivered and shook; her lip quivered – she had never been so humiliated in her entire life. Not even The Rooning had left her in such a state, but before they arrived at the second level, Danger appeared on the top step with his arms outstretched and a wide grin spread across his face.

  “May I have your attention, please?”

  “Now is not the time,” Clover hissed.

  “It’s okay Mom, this is the best part. Grab your coats –”

  “Danger Blackwell, go back –”

  “And join us in the back garden for the funeral of Gideon Price! Everyone is invited!”

  In front of everyone, Velveteen, already sobbing, crumbled into Clover’s arms.

  “No one told me the child had passed,” one of the acquaintances that had shown up fashionably late whispered to Alice Lawson.

  “What a tragedy! It all just came out: an affair and a baby. I didn’t catch who the father was, but it’s no wonder Velveteen looks like she has aged ten years.”

  “She does look awful, doesn’t she?”

  “Are they having the funeral tonight? That’s most odd.”

  “Maybe it’s what they do in the country.”

  “Excuse me, ladies.” Stephen Blackwell, overhearing the gossip developing between the two, stepped in. “Gideon is alive and well. The boys were pretending.”

  “Pretending!” Sandra Bailey gasped. “How horrid!”

  Stephen didn’t try to explain. Instead, he reached for a tray of sweets and stuck it in the middle of the acquaintances. “Dessert?”

  Charlie Price could only see one thing – the front door, guarded by a winding labyrinth of whispering onlookers casting concerned and questioning glances his way. He took a step. A baby. And another. I humiliated her.

  “Hey old chap!” Howard Lawson stepped directly in front of him. “How is life in the country treating you?”

  “I need to step outside, Howard.”

  “I hear Heritage is in desperate need. Rumor has it they regret letting you go. And with a new one on the way, and by the looks of this place, I’d say you need them like they need you.”

  “I, um, I really need to step out for a minute, Howard.”

  “If you’re ever looking to come back our way, you should at least see what’s available. I heard they’re paying high dollar.” Howard’s words were going in one ear and out the other. Charlie loosened his tie. He couldn’t breathe.

  Right now Charlie Price didn’t care about Heritage Financial, high dollars, or anything else for that matter. Velveteen had caught him when he fell from his career. He didn’t know who was going to catch him now. Charlie turned the front door handle of the Toft house and stepped out into the snowy night air of Coraloo.

  CHAPTER 26

  The sign remained: NO DOGS OR TOFTS – GRANNY BITES! Charlie stepped inside the empty market, hardly knowing where he was – or who he was. Granny was gone, but the market had continued on. If he were gone, would life just move on? The thought was morbid, but it wasn’t the first time he’d traveled this road. Charlie had felt strained since the day he graduated high school and entered into what everyone said should be the best years of his life. But university exams were harder than anything he’d experienced, the expectations greater – and then it was off into the world… Find a job, get married, have children. Lose your job, lose your wife, and make a fool out of yourself at a Christmas party.

  The usual aromas of leather and lavender were replaced with the smells of cold stone and pine. It was a Saturday. Open – but closed for the evening. The usually full vendors’ area was empty – no sellers, no blanketed tables hiding the next day’s profit. Strange. Vendors didn’t take down until Sunday. Holiday hours? Charlie dragged hi
s feet to the bench in front of Stephen’s shop. He had been so close, the closest he had been to the Kipling since The Rooning, but now it was gone – stolen and most likely sold. Everything is gone.

  He cradled his head in his hands, his mind awhirl with the events of the past few hours. What had he done? A baby? He laughed into the openness of the market, his voice echoing through the dark rafters, and then he cried. His chest heaved with heavy sobs as tears coursed down his face. He wanted to throw something – no, he wanted to throw himself right down a flight of stairs to see if he would land on his feet.

  Charlie Price land on his feet? Who was he kidding? Nothing had gone to plan. They were supposed to forget about their old life – and his mistake that had jolted them out of it – and move on to something new and simple. Simplicity. He didn’t even know what the word meant. All this time he had tried so hard to live differently. Why? He knew why, but he fought the temptation to dwell on it. But the truth was too strong. He wanted it all – the best of both worlds. He wanted the money without the constraining society, the work without the long hours away from his family; he wanted to be successful but not have to sacrifice his life for it. Sure, the Toft house was great; Velveteen had made it…

  Velveteen. He could picture her – his beautiful wife standing at the top of the stairs with the red party dress she’d purchased at the market. There were no tears or sunglasses covering her shining eyes.

  “Don’t you love it?” she asked, holding up the red taffeta dress. “I promise I didn’t pay too much. Do you know where I got it?”

  Charlie had no idea. “The city?” He was agitated, not really understanding why she kept going back without him.

  “Of course not, silly, I bought it at the market! Sorcha insisted I look in the boutique, but you know how I feel about wearing other people’s clothing. I went, just to be kind. But don’t you know, the clothing is exquisite! Vintage, Charlie… Vintage! Sorcha insisted her brother steams every piece before he puts it out, so I wasn’t completely put off trying on the dress. Oh Charlie, it was the perfect fit! So I had to purchase it. Won’t it be wonderful for the party?”

  There was a lightness about her – a love of things that seemed utterly ridiculous to him, but made her smile. “All you need is a tiara.”

  He thought about purchasing one for her as a Christmas present, but opted for a blanket she had circled in a catalog he’d found lying on the coffee table.

  “Charlie Price, I’m not royalty.”

  “But don’t you have a relative who’s a duke?”

  She slapped him playfully on the arm, kissed him on the mouth, and said, “Thank you so much for loving me, Charlie Price.”

  Of course if he’d been in his right mind he would have known Velveteen would never seek out another man, especially not because of money – after all, she’d been the driving force in their quest for simplicity. And now here she was, ecstatic over a second-hand – or vintage, as she had described it – dress. Not to mention the fact that she refused to watch soap operas solely because of all the extramarital relations… “It’s tacky, Charlie. I can’t keep up with them all. For the love of marriage, pick one!”

  And a baby. How did he not notice…? Maybe he had. He had to admit some of her clothing looked a bit more snug than he remembered, but was that surprising with all of her recent baking and sampling? However, there was the night he had gone to the Beaver’s Beard with Stephen and came home to find her mixing chocolate chunk brownie batter. She’d told him to go on to bed. When he woke the following morning, expecting to find a container of brownies, he only found a dirtied mixing bowl in the sink.

  “Didn’t you make brownies last night?” he asked.

  “Just batter.”

  “Oh, I see. You pre-made the batter for –”

  “I ate it all, Charlie.”

  She hadn’t said another word, but went straight to the sink, washed the bowl, and went about planning for the book club.

  Charlie Price smiled through his pain at the memory of her. But as he lay down on the bench and closed his eyes, sorrow washed over him. She would never forgive him. His marriage was over. In less than five minutes he had sabotaged over a decade of marriage.

  “Get up, Price.”

  Charlie’s head throbbed. He adjusted his eyes to the dim glow produced by the night-time illumination of the storefronts.

  “You look like a tramp.”

  Charlie focused in on the Oakeshott XIV reaching towards him.

  Shug’s breath smelled of whiskey. “You can’t sleep here, Price.”

  “Sleep?”

  “You’ve been out for about an hour.”

  Charlie pulled his body upright. “Do you have your cronies keeping an eye on me?”

  “I’ve had my eye on you from the day you stepped into Coraloo, Price.”

  The red-bearded man towering over him came into focus.

  “What are you doing here? Haven’t you learned by now –”

  “I’m not in the mood, Shug. Let me have a few minutes by myself, and I’ll be out of your way.”

  “Do I need to call the constable, Price? Or are you going to make this easy and get out?”

  “I didn’t steal the book. And I’m not a spy, and I don’t plan on corrupting your market. I just want to –”

  “Just want to what? Pick? Good luck, Price. Come Monday, there will be no more of that.”

  “What did you do? Kick out the vendors?”

  “Aw, Price, you don’t think I’m that cold-hearted, do you? I gave them a nice little notice and a handful of chocolate doubloons!” The beast of a man chuckled, spewing his rank spittle on Charlie’s lap. “You can’t mix oil and vinegar, Price. Your type and ours don’t belong together. I’ve got plans, Price, and you’re not in them. See you around… but not in my market.”

  Shug Blackwell walked away, leaving Charlie feeling as if he had been shoved down the hill. It was done – his life had come full circle and was on repeat, but this time he would not be bringing Gideon and Velveteen with him. Velveteen had once said she would go anywhere with him, but not this time; there was nowhere else to go.

  Charlie forced himself to stand but stumbled on his own defeat past the bookshop and toward the entrance. Forgive yourself. Stephen’s words echoed in his mind. Who do you have faith in? Hadn’t this whole ordeal – packing up Velveteen and Gideon and shoving them into the middle of his great big plan – been some kind of act of faith? A belief in redemption? But where had it gotten him? He couldn’t forgive the mess he’d made. There was no future or forgiveness for him here. The town and its flea market no longer had anything to offer Charlie Price. He stumbled across the arched threshold into the icy wind blowing up from the little town. It was time to say goodbye to Coraloo.

  He trudged on, feeling weak against the wintery force that fought to hold him back. He wanted to let go, to stop struggling, to give in. He held his arms out and tried to scream, but the rushing blasts of cold air caught his breath and threw him on his back. The stone street beneath him was hard and unforgiving. He could stand if he wanted to, but he didn’t.

  “Charlie!” Someone called his name, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t want to be found.

  Charlie closed his eyes and envisioned Velveteen sitting at a table outside of Francine’s on 5th. It was the day Velveteen had told him she was pregnant for the first time. She had ordered a custom-printed tea bag – the label read, I’m not TEAsing, we’re having a baby! On the morning she decided to share her news – having waited two weeks after her own discovery and initial visit to Dr Walker – she asked Charlie to meet her for tea, which he found odd considering it was a Saturday, a day they usually spent together anyway, and he didn’t usually drink tea.

  She wore sunglasses and a pink dress. The summer sun illuminated her golden highlights. She was more giddy than usual – talking all about the townhouse they had looked at the day before.

  “Don’t you think it might be too big? It’s just the two us.”


  She smiled and glanced at his tea for the third time since he’d sat down. He’d much rather have a coffee, but she’d ordered the Earl Grey before he arrived.

  “It’s our dream home, and you know you like it more than you’re letting on. After all, it does have a study. Can’t you imagine the Kipling sitting on the shelf?”

  He laughed. “You know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

  “Charlie Price, don’t be rude. How’s your tea?”

  “Fine?”

  She had leaned in curiously, pretending to read what she already knew. “What does that say?”

  “Earl Grey.”

  “You didn’t even read it, Charlie!”

  He saw the black lettering on the tiny white tag in his mind as clearly as the day he had read it. He had read it twice, thinking, That’s a fun way to announce a pregnancy. Then he saw her face, full of delight and hope for the future, and the reality hit.

  “You’re… no we… a baby? We’re having a baby?”

  She stood up and flattened out the waistline of her dress. “Do you see my bump?”

  He didn’t. And he wouldn’t for another three months. But he did see her joy, the same joy that was in that moment winning the battle against his practicality – life would have to work differently, and he would have to work harder from now on.

  Charlie blinked and pulled the blanket up around his neck. He blinked again and allowed his eyes to focus on the room. He was home. But how did he get here? The last thing he remembered was lying in the cold thinking he never wanted to wake up. He sat up and tried to figure out what was going on. The living room was dark and silent. Remnants of the Christmas party – trays of crumbs, plates of half-eaten tartlets, and the fragrance of burnt wood from a fire, the embers still glowing faintly – occupied the space. But Velveteen didn’t believe in We’ll take care of it tomorrow; she was more of the Get it done so the house will look spectacular in the morning mindset.

  She wouldn’t leave a mess. But he had. The reality of the night before invaded his thoughts – the misunderstandings, the shame, his public humiliation, Velveteen’s embarrassment… How could he have been so stupid, so heartless, when all she was trying to do was surprise him – surprise everyone – with a baby?