by Carol Wyer
He takes one, lights it, takes a long drag and says, “Man, oh man! Is that good.”
‘Then she asks, “How long has it been since you had a drink of whisky?”
‘“Ten years,” he says sadly.
‘She reaches over, unzips the waterproof pocket on her right sleeve, pulls out a flask and gives it to him.
‘He takes a long swig and says, “Wow, that’s fantastic!”
‘Then she starts unzipping the long zipper that runs down the front of her wetsuit and she says to him, “And how long has it been since you had some real fun?”
‘And the man cries out, “My God! Don’t tell me you’ve got a set of golf clubs in there, too.”’
Charlie groaned.
‘Hey! That’s my best joke. You wouldn’t want to hear my bad ones,’ said Liam. ‘Is that the time? Crumbs. Sorry. I’ve got to do a dive session at a private house for a group of wealthy people. They’re going to some private island on holiday in a couple of months. I wonder if they’d like a private dive guide to accompany them. Okay, better hand you your certificate and pass. You’ll need them to go on that shark dive. Want to hear a joke about sharks?’
‘I’ll pass on that, if you don’t mind,’ she smiled. ‘Thanks again.’
‘You’re welcome. Hope you enjoy your shark dive.’
Charlie clambered out of Liam’s car and ambled back to her own, stopping to drop off the empty cardboard cups in the dustbin. Liam tooted his horn and drove off. She waved at him. The lake was empty apart from a man taking photographs near the platform. Charlie got into her car and left. It was only as she drove down the road that she imagined the man had looked vaguely familiar. She dismissed the thought, looked down at her new diving certificate on the passenger seat and punched the air. She was ready to take on the sharks.
Forty-Eight
‘That last track came from Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. What a fabulous song! I’ve read glowing reviews about the show Jersey Boys that follows the success and break-up of this successful group. I would love to see it. If any of you have seen it, let us know what you thought. Maybe you’ve even seen Frankie Valli in concert, do let us know.’
Charlie cued in another song and tipped her head against the headrest on her chair. She was feeling exhausted.
‘Oy, Missus. Wake up!’ yelled Mercedes through her headset. ‘You can’t go to sleep on the job. The listeners don’t want to hear you snoring.’
‘You come and take over. I’m bushed,’ replied Charlie.
‘In all seriousness, you do look a little peaky. You’re not feeling ill, are you? Have you been overdoing it?’
‘I had a busy shift at the café this morning and then I dropped Peggy off at her monthly widows and widowers club. She’s getting a lift home with someone called Gordon.’
‘Oh I say.’
‘He’s a new member and she thought she’d better protect him from all the other ladies. She’s invited him home for afternoon tea.’
‘Hope Gordon likes parrots and doesn’t wear a toupee. Does Bert still land on people’s heads and then laugh hysterically?’
‘Yes. He still does that. Though he hasn’t done it recently to me; he prefers to sit on my shoulders and keeps blowing me kisses or growling.’
‘I should go and see him and Peggy again soon. They’re such a scream. Last time I went around, Bert became besotted with my wheelchair. He sat behind me on one of the handles. I taught him to make noises like a car. By the end of the afternoon, he could say vroom, vroom. Anyway, you’d better get back to it. Only another ten minutes to go, then you can clock off.’
Charlie muted the intercom and prepared to talk to the listeners. No matter how tired she felt, she would not let them down. She had a final request in front of her. It was for a young mother who was due to have an operation the following day.
‘So, this is my final track for today. It’s especially for Lisa, who’s nil by mouth tonight. It comes with much love from your husband Tom and your daughter Emily. Emily says she loves and misses you very much and she’s cleaned her room for when you come home so you won’t have to do any housework. Lisa, for you, chosen by Emily, it’s “Three Little Birds” by Bob Marley.’
Charlie’s eyes filled. She stared at the ceiling, waiting until she could be sure the tears would not fall. Some days were harder than others. She had met both Lisa and Emily. She envied their precious relationship. What made it harder was that she used to sing “Three Little Birds” to Amy whenever she woke because of a nightmare, or was afraid. Amy often crept into her parent’s bed and snuggled up against Charlie, who stroked her hair and sang softly to her. Amy knew all the lyrics to the song. They fed the birds in their garden and Amy was convinced the same three little birds from the song visited. Charlie still hung fat balls for the birds.
When Amy was eight years old, Gavin and Charlie took her to Tenerife for a summer holiday. They spent a lot of time on the beach and visiting the island’s attractions. One day, they visited the Loro Parque, a wonderland filled with all varieties of parrots. They watched a parrot show where birds performed tricks, much like Bert, and snuggled up to their keepers murmuring affectionate noises. They rode bicycles, sang, did calculations and flew freely around the room, enjoying every minute of the show and the attention from the audience. Amy was captivated by their antics.
After the show, they walked through Katandra Treetops, a huge walk-in aviary where dozens of parrots and other birds flew around and occasionally landed on the trio. Amy was ecstatic. They walked on swinging bridges high among the treetops and got up close and personal with cheeky lorikeets, galahs, palm cockatoos, cockatiels and some brazen Victoria crowned pigeons who attempted to steal from Charlie’s open bag. Amy had her photo taken holding a beautiful yellow parakeet. She had simply adored the parrots.
‘One day, when I’m a big girl, I’m going to live with the parrots on a special island like this with palm trees and love them and play with them and teach them tricks,’ she declared that night in bed, clutching a blue toy parrot purchased from the souvenir shop. From that day onwards, she believed the three little birds in the song were parrots and they would make everything all right. Charlie had kept the blue parrot called Loro and it sat on her bed, near the bedside cabinet where Amy’s photograph stood.
‘I don’t know who you’ve impressed with your dulcet tones but there’s an email arrived from the New Alexandra Theatre in Birmingham,’ Mercedes interrupted Charlie’s thoughts. ‘You’ve been allocated two front row tickets for Jersey Boys on December the ninth. They’re from an anonymous purchaser. You lucky lady.’
Charlie was dumbstruck. ‘I can’t accept those,’ she said.
‘Why not? They’ll only go to waste if you don’t use them. You could do with a good night out. Besides, it’s months away. That’ll give you plenty of time to think of someone to accompany you. What about Liam?’
‘Will you stop going on about Liam. He’s too young to remember Frankie Valli.’
‘There’s also an email here from the Evening Gazette asking to do a piece on your challenges. You okay to do an interview tomorrow?’
‘Only if it’s not with that jumped-up Jake Meredith.’
‘Doesn’t say who they’re sending. Shall I email them back stating anyone but that jumped-up Jake Meredith?’
Charlie chuckled. ‘No, I’ll do the interview, but if it’s Mr Meredith then I shan’t be responsible for my replies or actions. What time do they want to do it and where?’
‘Says tomorrow afternoon between one and two, here at the hospital. Also, can you wear your wetsuit for the photographs?’
‘No, I damn well can’t!’ Charlie spluttered. She heard muted laughter. ‘You’re winding me up again, aren’t you?’
‘Only a little. I’ll tell them one o’clock and you’ll be in flippers and swimwear.’
Charlie finished her show, chatted to her friends and left for home. There was a red Honda CRV parked outside Peggy’s house when Charl
ie pulled up. It seemed Peggy had succeeded in inviting Gordon home, not only for afternoon tea but for dinner and the evening.
Inside her own house, she turned on the radio and prepared some food. There was no doubt that life was lonely once she got back within her four walls. She was more used to being alone than when she first split up from Gavin but she still felt some days that it was an empty existence. She longed to have someone to talk to. She missed sharing her life with a companion.
She poured a glass of wine and turned on the computer. There had to be more to life than hanging about on social networking sites, but for now it was all she had. She pulled up her Facebook page and checked to see who was online. Most of her friends were not. They were no doubt cooking meals for their families or watching television with their spouses. Charlie noticed a new friend request from Liam. She accepted it and clicked on to his wall to leave a message. She soon became distracted by the photographs on the page. His header was a picture of parrotfish taken in tropical waters. She admired the clarity of the sea and the vibrant colours of the fish. They did look like parrots with their curved beaks. They were fascinating. She picked up her glass of wine. A few months ago she would not have been able to even look at photographs taken underwater. She had made huge strides. She raised the glass to her bravery.
She left a message thanking him for his patience and jokes, then clicked on some more of his photographs. Some were taken at Dosthill. There were various pictures of Liam with clients posing for the camera, several of the rusty old van at the bottom of the quarry, and then one of a large shark. Charlie’s blood ran cold. She clicked off the page. It was too late. Her mind was drifting back to that day. The film she hated seeing clicked on automatically in her head and began to roll…
Two children, a boy and a young girl are in a small rubber dinghy. They are laughing and paddling the dinghy out to sea. The girl can see her mother sitting on the beach with another lady. The children are paddling close to another dinghy. Her father is in the other boat with the boy’s father. He is smiling at her. ‘Okay, Charlie?’ he calls. She nods even though she is finding paddling a bit difficult in the sea. The current is making it heavy going. She is determined to stick at it. She wants to prove to the boy in front that she is not a silly little girl. She wants him to think she is almost as grown-up as him. Her father only agreed to let her go because she pleaded non-stop.
‘You’re only eight. The sea can be very rough and dangerous,’ he said.
‘Robin’s allowed to canoe,’ she replied stubbornly. ‘He goes out all the time.’
‘Robin has lived by the sea all his life. He’s a strong swimmer. And, he’s three years older than you.’
Charlie crossed her arms and stared at her father. ‘I can swim too.’
‘Let her go,’ her mother chimed in. ‘This is Sussex, not the Gold Coast in Australia. She’s hardly likely to get chewed to pieces by sharks or drown in huge waves. Go with them, then you’ll be near them in case the tide turns, or it gets too much for her.’
‘It won’t,’ said Charlie, defiantly.
Now she is sitting in the dinghy with Robin. Robin is her father’s godson and thinks she is a silly little girl. She isn’t. She’s going to show him that she’s just as good as him.
‘Better watch out for sharks, Charlie,’ says Robin. He turns and smirks at her. She gives him a cold look.
‘There aren’t any sharks here. It’s not Australia,’ she retorts.
‘Oh there are sharks. Great big ones with huge teeth. They’ll rip your legs and arms off in one bite. Blood will pour out and other sharks will come and eat you too. Be careful you don’t fall in. You won’t last a minute. They smell fear,’ he added.
Charlie looked into the sea. This was England, there were no sharks here. Were there? She stopped paddling. Was that dark shape in the water veering towards them? She looked at her father. He was talking to Robin’s father. If there was a shark, her father would see it. Robin was just being silly. Boys could be so stupid sometimes. There is a knock against the dinghy. It rocks dramatically.
Robin calls out to the men. ‘Hey, something hit the boat.’
‘Probably a small wave or some debris,’ replies his father, unconcerned. The men continue paddling.
There’s another knock against the dinghy. This one is stronger than the first. Charlie wants to shriek but she is afraid Robin will laugh at her. He’s probably doing something with his paddle to make the dinghy rock. He has tried to tease her several times this holiday. He put a large plastic spider on her pillow and made her scream when she went to bed. She is not going to let him scare her again.
The men are pulling away in their dinghy, oblivious to the fact that the children have stopped paddling.
‘Stop messing about,’ hisses Robin.
‘I’m not,’ says Charlie. ‘It’s you.’
‘It’s not me…’ he replies. Before he can say any more there is a swish of a fin and another knock. Suddenly the dinghy rises and falls sharply. An oar falls into the sea and floats away. The dinghy is rocked again by a force in the water. Something nudges the side. Robin screams and falls against the opposite side, gripping the rubber tightly. Water splashes into Charlie’s face. She coughs.
Before she can catch her breath, a large shark lands in the dinghy where it thrashes about. Charlie can see its teeth. There are hundreds of them, all pointed and white. It’s going to tear her legs off. She shrieks loudly. In the confusion, Robin falls into the sea, leaving Charlie with the thrashing shark in the dinghy. She screams loudly but no sound escapes her mouth. There are shouts and calls. Charlie can only focus on the dark soulless eyes of the shark. It is staring at her. The dinghy is going to capsize. She’s going to fall into the water with the shark and it’s going to bite her. It’s going to pull her arms off and its razor-sharp teeth are going to shred her flesh.
She finds her voice, shrieks, then flails and tumbles into the salty water. All she can think of is being eaten by the shark. Her arms windmill in helpless attempts to get as far away from the dinghy and shark as possible. The current is too strong for her. She is not as good a swimmer as she thinks. The shark will smell her fear. It’s nearby. It’s going to rip the skin from her body. She feels pulling on her arms and screams. She takes in lungfuls of water. She can’t breathe. It’s getting confusing. Her head is going muzzy. She knows she’s dying. Her imagination goes crazy. She feels intense tugging at her arms and legs. It’s the shark. It must be eating her. She’s sure she can feel it tearing at her. Then suddenly her legs and arms have no feeling. She can’t think anymore. She’s too scared to understand what is happening. She loses consciousness.
She wakes. Her father is hovering over her. She is on the sand. She coughs up salty water and is sick. She sees she still has legs and arms. Robin is being hugged by his mother. He doesn’t look so grown-up now. He’s crying.
‘It’s okay, Charlie. It’s okay,’ says her father. ‘It’s all over.’
* * *
But it wasn’t over for her. A few days later Charlie saw a newspaper in the local shop with her photograph on the front page. It was headline news for a while. It was the only shark to be seen off British waters that year. It was a three foot long starry smooth-hound shark. It escaped when the dinghy capsized but not before her father had seen it. She and Robin had been fortunate to have no injuries. Well, no physical injuries. Robin got over the event and even managed to brag about it at school. Charlie, however, refused to talk about it. Her mind locked away the incident and protected her from the memory. Now it was released. She had to face her fear.
She picked up her wine glass. Her hand trembled. Wine spilt on to her table. Charlie watched the blood-red stain spread out in front of her and wondered if she really was up to the challenge.
Forty-Nine
‘I don’t believe it,’ said Mercedes, stuffing a chocolate biscuit into her mouth with relish. She licked her fingers. Charlie, sat on the stool in her friend’s kitchen, was adama
nt. She had raced around with the news, keen to see Mercedes’ reaction and unable to wait for her shift at the hospital to divulge it.
‘It’s true. Gordon’s car was still parked outside when I left today, and just as I was getting into my Golf, the front door opened, revealing Gordon, wearing a pink dressing gown. He collected the milk from Peggy’s doorstep and waved at me!’
‘Well, I never. How long has it been since they started seeing each other?’
‘Ten days.’
‘So, she didn’t put out on the first date then?’ said Mercedes with a snigger.
‘Don’t be wicked. I’m not sure if they have sex and I don’t want to know.’
‘Don’t be such a prude. Of course they’re having sex. You don’t stop having sex because you’re old,’ she stated. ‘Only nuns, and hospital radio presenters who seem to be scared of having a relationship, abstain from sex,’ she added.
Charlie snorted. ‘I’m not scared of having a relationship. I can’t seem to find anyone to have one with, that’s all.’
‘I handed you Liam on a plate.’
‘I told you he was too young for me.’
‘You idiot. He was a total beefcake and he had the hots for you.’
‘No he didn’t. Someone thought he had the hots for some girl though. He put a message up on his Facebook page the other day ranting about the ratbag who broke into his car, slashed his diving suits and ruined his diving equipment. They left a note too. He put up a photo of it. It said, This should stop you flirting with other people’s girlfriends. He says he’s no idea who the lunatic is and why he’s left the note. He thinks someone has got him mixed up with another diving instructor. Poor Liam. I feel sorry for him. He was always so nice to me.’
‘See, you had an opportunity and you blew it. He was obviously a total stud. That’s horrible about the break-in though. Diving equipment is pricey.’
‘So were the repairs to his car. He’s very miffed about the whole affair. I didn’t think he was a flirt or a cheat. He was genuinely kind especially when…’ Charlie stopped herself but too late.
