by Simone Leigh
I am indeed very tired, working long hours on the City renovation project. Although I love the work, being so early in the project, there’s a lot to set up and organise. I can’t turn my back on anything just yet and have to keep my finger on the pulse.
And it doesn’t help that I’m worrying about Charlotte and her nightmares.
With a crunch of gravel, I pull up at the front of the house. The home Richard bought for his wife is almost a small mansion, Georgian in style, a gracious elegant building. But right now, I’m not admiring the architecture. Gratefully I swing my legs out from the driver’s seat and pace up and down for a minute, easing cramped muscles.
As I turn to the door, slightly to my embarrassment, Ross is there, watching and waiting patiently.
“Oh, sorry Ross. Didn’t see you there.”
“Not at all, Mr Alexanders. You look as though you needed to stretch your legs there. A long journey I take it?”
“A long journey and a long day, yes.”
“Mrs Haswell is in the lounge. She’s expecting you.” He waves me towards a door. “Shall I take your jacket?”
Beth is all smiles, but there is concern on her face as she sees me. I don’t much like being fussed over, but it’s pleasant to be steered to an armchair by the fire. She places a brandy glass in my hand, with a generous measure swishing fragrantly around to warm in my palm.
She’s a beautiful woman. I can’t help but notice the way she moves, gracefully. She sashays around the room where Charlotte would stride.
“Nice to see you, James. Are you well?”
She looks so much like you, Jade....
.... and yet not like you....
She sits, smoothing down her skirt, her feet tucked close to the chair, ankles neatly crossed. Her nails are long but not overly so, painted in a subdued shade of pink and there’s just a touch of make-up on her face. She looks, in every sense, a lady.
How can two women look so alike and yet so unalike?
“Yes, I’m fine. Just tired. There’s a lot going on.”
The chair is roomy and comfortable and it’s good not to have to sit in a driver’s position for a while. Stretched out in front of the fire, my aching muscles relax.
If she were here, Charlotte would rub my neck and shoulders....
But she isn’t here, and I find myself, absent-mindedly, rubbing my own neck.
“And Michael?” asks Beth. “Is he alright?”
He’s better than alright....
.... but also worrying about Charlotte and her state of mind....
But I don’t say this to Beth. Instead, “Michael is busy knocking down walls, rebuilding walls, replacing roof struts, laying floors and generally fighting dragons on Charlotte’s behalf.... I’ve never seen him happier.”
She looks intrigued. I don’t believe Beth has ever been involved in anything of this sort. To say her husband owns a sizeable portion of the City and is working on building quite a lot more of it, I think her involvement in construction has been limited to conference rooms and offices. I doubt whether she’s ever had to ‘rough it’ since she first met Richard.
“This is the house you’re renovating between you?” she asks. “Up in the mountains?”
“That’s right.”
“I’d quite like to see it sometime.”
“You’d be more than welcome....
At least when you can look around without having to wear a hard hat....
.... Mainly Michael’s trying to get at least part of it fit to live in by the time Charlotte gets back at Christmas. He wants to welcome her Home....”
.... Rather looking forward to that myself....
.... wish the work could go faster....
“.... Personally, I think we might all be living under canvas.”
She wrinkles her nose. “It’s that bad?”
I rock my hand. “No, not really. The house itself is a shambles right now, but we can always live in the hotel section for a while. It’s just that Michael’s trying to get that open as a Spa Hotel....”
If he’d only accept some help with the cash....
“.... It would be better if we could treat it as a building site, so the workmen can get on with the renovations and upgrades there, and it can start actually earning some money....”
Outside there is the sound of a car engine, the bang of a door, footsteps outside the window. Even indoors and through the glass, the footsteps sound weary.
A moment later and the sound of the front door, then Ross’ voice. “I’ll put the car away Mr Haswell. Mrs Haswell is in the lounge with Mr Alexanders.”
“James is here?”
“Yes, Mr Haswell. He arrived about twenty minutes ago. Mrs Haswell has asked me to set an extra place for dinner.”
“Excellent.” He sounds cheerful....
.... Good to know I’m welcome....
Richard enters, tossing his briefcase onto the settee. Beth navigates him into the chair opposite mine by the fire where he flops down with a sigh. A minute later and she is pressing a brandy glass into his hand and topping up mine....
.... Better not have too much....
.... Still got to drive....
Beth stays close by, taking a seat set back a little from the two of us. She has a way of fading into the background when she wants to....
“Good evening.” He swirls the brandy in its glass, sipping at it, then letting it hang loosely in his hand by the heat of the flames. “I’m glad you’re here, James,” he says. “How’s Charlotte? Have you spoken to her recently?”
It’s a casual enough question, and a polite one, but there’s something....
“She’s fine, yes. We talk every day or so, and we called by her digs last week, Michael and I.”
“She’s doing alright at college? Working hard?”
He’s paying for her to be there....
.... concerned he’s getting value for his money?
“Working very hard. ’Driven’ I think is a better word. She doesn’t seem to have a social life at all, judging by what her housemates were saying. She has some extra exams in a couple of weeks. With her having changed course from last year, there’s catch-up work to level her up with the other Engineering students. So far as we can see, she does little but work and sleep.”
He nods agreeably enough, but the something is still there.
What’s bothering him?
“Well, I’m sure that she’ll enjoy herself when she’s back with you at the end of the semester.”
He knows how we enjoy ourselves....
.... no need to embarrass Beth....
Silence seems the best policy, so I punctuate the quiet with another sip of brandy.
Richard shifts in his seat, takes a swig of his own drink, shifts again....
What’s going on here?
Is he upset with me about something?
“Um, James,” he says, speaking slowly. “There is something I wanted to discuss with you, about Charlotte.”
Here it comes....
“Oh?”
“It’s to do with that home she was in, Blessingmoors.”
Fuck, no....
“Mmm...?”
“I was talking to Will....”
“Will?”
“Will Stanton, Police Commissioner.... The investigation on that place was never fully closed down, although it has been semi-dormant for some years. During the original inquiry, they caught, convicted and imprisoned a number of the gang-leaders responsible for trafficking the youngsters, but they couldn’t get convictions on all of them, due to lack of evidence...”
.... I can see where this is going...
“So....?”
“So.... they would like to interview Charlotte. Take her through things again, in more detail....”
Oh, crap....
“.... Show her photos of the men concerned. See if she can give a positive ID on any of them, or any more information. They’re trying to get convictions. Especially as there is reason to
believe that some of the parties concerned may still be involved in trafficking. They might want Charlotte to stand as witness in Court.”
Jade.... How can we ask that of you?
My gut clenches. “I’ve been worrying that something like this might come up. When do they want to talk to her? I can’t break that kind of news to her in the middle of her term, and certainly not when she’s got exams coming up.”
Richard looks sympathetic. “Perhaps when she’s back at the end of the semester?” he suggests.
At least she’ll be with us then....
.... I want to heal your nightmares....
.... not make them worse....
“That would be better timing, yes. And she’ll have Michael for support then.”
“Michael?”
“He’s better at this sort of thing than I am. When things get emotional, I sometimes.... over-react. Michael’s a rock. She’ll need him.”
Richard’s expression is shrewd....
He knows how I behaved over the summer....
“Over-react?” His voice is dry, his face a mask.
He knows....
.... So why is he asking....?
.... Making me say?
.... I deserved it....
.... Never again, Jade-Eyes....
.... Never....
‘Let’s just say that Michael deals with some things better than I do.”
He sniffs. “Things alright between the three of you? It must be difficult sometimes to.... um.... achieve a balance?”
My hackles rise....
Do I probe into your personal life...?
“Things are fine with the three of us. I suspect that the difficulties you imagine, are not the ones that actually matter between us. Certainly, balance, as you put it, is not a problem. Michael and I are very different people, and we interact with Charlotte in different ways.”
“And you and Michael?”
What the fuck’s it got to do with you?
“Michael is my closest friend. He has been for years.”
Perhaps it’s time to leave....
.... forget dinner....
Beth breaks in. “And how is Charlotte herself...?”
.... Clever girl....
.... defuse the men....
“.... After what happened over summer?” she continues. “Finally coming out with everything that happened to her as a child....”
That’s the right question to ask....
Another sip of brandy. “She has nightmares.”
Frowning, she sits forward, elbows on her knees. “What sort of nightmares?”
“Being trapped in the dark. Running.... I’m not much good for her with that sort of thing. Michael is much better...”
“But of course,” says Beth, “Michael is not with her at University.”
“No, he isn’t. Which is why I’m not willing to discuss anything of this with her at all, until she’s back with us at Christmas.”
Beth is nodding. Richard follows. “Did she always have nightmares? Before the Summer?”
“No, not before then, or at least, not while I’ve known her....”
.... What will this trigger inside you, Jade?
.... You thought you’d left your past behind, that you could live your life now...
I stand, glass in hand, trying to walk off nervous energy. “Look, I understand why the police want to talk with her but give us a little while after she gets back at Christmas. Let Michael and I have a few days to help her let off some steam, relax a bit...”
“Work hard. Play hard?” suggests Richard. There’s a twinkle in his eyes.
You saw us at the Club...
.... The three of us...
You might be a married man....
.... but you’re intrigued by it...
I resist my own smile. I’m not quite prepared to have this discussion in front of Beth. “Something like that, yes.”
She breaks in again. “And we could go out together, Charlotte and me. No offence, James, but she needs some ‘girl-time’ too, and she doesn’t seem to me to have many female friends.”
Perfect...
A complete change of scene....
.... and maybe some new friends....
“That would be great, Beth. Thanks, and.... you’re right. The girls she shares the house with all seem to be on other courses, so she doesn’t really mix much. And the other students on her own course are almost exclusively male, so them she keeps at arm’s length to, er....”
“... to avoid misunderstands? Mixed signals?” suggests Beth.
A nasty realisation breaks....
Fuck....
Am I stopping her from having friends?
“Mmm. Yes.”
She’ll be an engineer.... of course most of her friends would be male....
.... Why do I never think of these things...?
“No problem.” smiles Beth. “We’ll go shopping one day. I’ll call by the office and collect her from there.”
“With, hopefully,” says Richard, his voice flat, “no repeat of what happened the last time you took Charlotte shopping?”
I cough, narrowly avoiding spraying brandy over open flames...
.... He had to say that while I had a mouthful....
“Charlotte was defending me when she hit that lout,” says Beth, her eyes rolling. “It was a pleasure to see him go down.” She takes the glass from my hand, heading for the decanter.
“Beth, I have to drive.”
“James, it’s late. You’re already tired and by the time you’ve eaten one of Ross’ dinners, you’ll be disabled. Why don’t you stay over?”
I stretch, trying to relieve tight shoulder muscles. “Beth, that would be wonderful. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” she smiles, then pours more brandy into my glass.
*****
Ross is apologetic. “I’m sorry, Mr Alexanders. With the short notice, I didn’t have the time to make a better meal.”
“Ross, it hardly matters. If you served me a cheese sandwich I’d be a happy man.”
We sit to steak, perfectly pink inside, steamed vegetables, a chowder starter and fresh fruit salad for dessert.
What would he have served with more time...?
“Listen, James.” says Richard, “My apologies if I was out of order earlier, but the fact is that with events last summer, and... other things....” He glances across at Beth, so like my fire-haired beauty. “.... I have an interest in Charlotte and I’d like to help if I can.”
He’s right....
.... they’re too alike....
.... in appearance anyway....
It can’t be a coincidence....
I drop my eyes in tacit acknowledgement of his apology. “I’m not sure how you can help, Richard. I understand your reasons for putting this forward and I do appreciate your intervention. There’s no good way to bring the subject up with her, but doing it this way, coming from Michael and myself rather than some stranger, is probably the least of evils. I just wish the house was in better condition for her to come back to. It would help her relax more. As it is, the place is pretty rough, not what we would have chosen for her.”
Beth, though silent, is paying close attention.
Richard frowns. “I thought Michael had been working hard on it? Getting everything in order?”
“Oh, he has, he has. He’s working every hour God sends and then some. I'm beginning to think he's going to work himself to a heart attack. He never stops.”
Richard frowns. “You think he's overdoing it?”
“I'm sure so. He's so determined the house is going to be his gift to Charlotte, that he's going to make himself ill with overwork. And he's certainly overstretched himself financially.”
Richard sits back in his chair. He sips at the excellent Merlot, then picks invisible dust from the tablecloth. “Surely you can help with the finances?”
“I’d love to, but he won’t accept anything.”
Across the tabl
e, Beth snorts. “Men,” she mutters, looking down at her plate.
Richard gives her a sharp look but doesn’t comment. He turns back to me. “He won't accept anything from you?”
“No, not even though I'll be living there too. I think it should be fifty-fifty between us, but he won't have it.”
“Isn’t his leisure centre producing the goods?”
“Oh, yes. It's doing well. It always has, but it can only make so much profit and he's got a huge task.... sorry, two huge tasks.... to handle. He's constantly compromising between getting the house renovated so he can put a roof over Charlotte's head and working on the spa hotel project, so it starts giving some payback.”
Richard sucks in his cheeks. “He wants Charlotte to have a home and he wants to be the one that gives it to her?” He looks across at Beth who is slicing her steak with unnecessary violence. “Well, we all want to do that for the women we love, don't we?” He scratches his chin. “There's more than one way to skin a cat, James.”
“And how would you skin this cat?”
“He’s using contractors for some of the work I imagine?”
“Yes, for quite a lot of it. He’s pulling in quotes now.”
“So, with the right contractors, you get the right quotes....”
“In what way... the right quotes?”
Richard looks at me slightly pityingly. “You know James, your weakness? You are one of the ablest and most intelligent men I know, possibly the ablest, but you don’t play the game.... You don’t play the people....”
What’s that supposed to mean...?
I’m irritated, but he clearly has something useful to say, so I bite my tongue.
He pauses, then when I don’t reply he huffs a laugh and continues. “You get quotes for the work, all the work. Then the contractor quotes Michael for whatever you think is the appropriate amount. As the works are completed, or if there are stage payments, Michael is billed that amount and you pay the difference. That way he never knows you made a contribution.... Everyone wins.”
I chew over that. “If it’s too low, he might be suspicious, think that the company is no good?”
Richard shrugs that off. “Well, if I recommend them because I’ve worked with them in the past, which I have, he’ll have no reason to think that will he?” He punctuates his words, waving his fork as he speaks. “I know a good man who'll be understanding about what you need. He’ll quote you for the materials and labour, then you can have a chat with him about how much of the total you want to pay. He’ll charge that to you and invoice Michael for the rest. All Michael will see is a very competitive quote for the work.”
