Charlie Had His Chance

by Ellis Major

  “Shall we treat ourselves to a sherry?” Mary wondered, for want of anything else to say.

  Sherry was hardly Charlie’s normal tipple but he could see that Mary was constrained from offering champagne. He nodded.

  Later, as the evening was drawing to its close, Charlie paid his own musical tribute to Edith Hepple. He sang some slow Irving Berlin numbers and finished with Russian Lullaby. Rowena seemed to sense what he was doing and came over and stood there by the piano, golden, stunningly and melancholy. Tears glittered in her eyes as she listened but she didn’t need her hanky. When he’d finished she thanked him, shook his hand, seemed about to say something more, but changed her mind and left the room.

  Now Charlie seldom felt distaste or even disgust, but he felt both after he watched Rowena leave. Two of his mates were winking at him, which Charlie found distasteful. One other man, something in the popular music business Charlie thought, was staring at him with thinly disguised hostility. Assuming (correctly) that the man was jealous, as opposed to being an outraged devotee of Irving Berlin, Charlie found this disgusting.

  He shook his head sadly as he closed the piano. Her mother hasn’t been dead twenty four hours and he’s after her, he thought to himself, confident that Mary would have notified every guest in advance of Rowena’s loss. No wonder she’s got no time for men.

  The last Charlie saw of Rowena was as he went out with the intention of returning Mary’s sheet music to her study. He noticed Rowena and Lance talking in hushed tones at the bottom of the stairs. The maid had just that minute admitted Lance, it seemed. Charlie was surprised to see Lance but, for some reason, he guessed that it wasn’t a conversation he should interrupt. Rowena and Lance were staring intently at each other. They hadn’t noticed him so he popped back into the drawing room and dumped the music on the piano. The atmosphere had pepped up a bit following Rowena’s departure. They no longer felt the need to be on emotional tiptoes, now the newly bereaved had left the room. Charlie avoided the eyes of his mates and chatted for a few minutes to Mary. He then accepted her peck on the cheek by way of thanks before taking his leave. By the time he returned to the hall, Rowena had gone and Lance was standing by himself.

  “Thought I’d pick you up, Charlie,” he said. “The Bentley’s outside.” In truth, Lance had wanted an excuse to get to know Kali a little better. Driving her at night was an intriguing and very different experience.

  A couple of Charlie’s friends, the Hon Roderick Blythe and Geoffrey Blenkinsop were, by now, having a snigger at his expense. Neither of them typified Mary’s type of guest, both being rather lacking in the intellectual and cultural departments. Mary, however, had always felt she should invite one or two people he knew to keep Charlie company, little realising that he would happily natter to anyone. He just tended to natter to his friends when they were there because that’s what one tends to do - if not forced to make the effort to circulate.

  “God she is a-maz-ing. Every time I see her I wonder if I’m dreaming. She makes my balls ache.” When speaking of Rowena under his breath to a friend, Roddy wasn’t one to beat about the bush. He and Geoff were both much of a height with Charlie, an inch or two over 6’ but, unlike Charlie, both were dark and of a heavier build. Geoff was on the pudgy side, presentable enough but with pallid grey eyes and a weakish jaw, a shortcoming more apparent consequent upon his incipient double chin. Roddy verged on the handsome, with dark brown eyes, clear cut features and dazzling white teeth. He was a regular at the gym and, consequently, was in far better shape than Geoff, the latter being mildly allergic to any form of exercise.

  “Fat chance old man,” Geoff muttered. “You tried it on that time and she all but took your head off. Try it again and your balls would do more than ache.”

  Roddy was rather proud of his record with the ladies and didn’t care to be reminded of the chilly reception he’d received from Rowena. “Don’t think anyone is going to get past first base with her,” he said. “I wonder…”

  “She seemed to be ok with Charlie, went over, talked to him, and even shook hands.” Geoff was a friendly enough fellow, but not the most alive to another man’s sensitivities.

  “Just being polite,” Roddy sniffed. “He was squawking those slow songs.”

  “Bally gorgeous girl though, as you say. Makes a fellah go all weak at the knees just imagining it.”

  “Nice thought, Geoff, but dream on, and may they all be wet ones.”

  “Of course, not a chance but, well, nice to think about it. Just picture her, all pink and willing.” Geoff hardly cared to share with Roddy that he had made his own attempt on Rowena and had actually received a less icy brush off, albeit more pitying, than Roddy’s.

  “You know what I think.” Roddy was fastening his jacket and had a sudden desire not to pursue Geoff’s line of thought. He put his hands in his pockets.

  “What’s that old man?” Geoff stared at him enquiringly.

  “All girls’ school.” Roddy winked knowingly.

  “Really?”

  “It’s not that unusual Geoff.”

  “No I suppose not.”

  “Although,” Roddy confided with a snigger. “Girls’ schools aren’t quite the places they make out in those films you’re so fond of.”

  Now it was Geoff’s turn to laugh. “I’m not a complete fool, Roddy.”

  “You know, young girls ain’t so different from us chaps.” Roddy assumed a tone of airy authority. “They like to experiment a bit and some of ‘em find that’s the way they like it. Bit of a waste but there you are.”

  “So you think Rowena’s a bit of a lizzy?” Geoff wondered. “Could be, old man, turning down a handsome beast like you - stands to reason eh?” Geoff was not wholly devoid of humour.

  Roddy sniffed. “I may not be her type,” he murmured, his tone rather indicating that it was her loss. “But my question is, exactly who might be? You ever hear anything about a man, even some bumpkin out in Norfolk?”

  “Not a whisper,” Geoff agreed. “But then, there ain’t a woman on the scene either. Perhaps Charlie has picked up some gossip. We’ll give him the third degree over at Vamps next time we see him.”

  Roddy grinned. “Could do Geoff, but I sometimes wonder about him. He never seems too keen to chat about the ladies, chase ‘em at all, or even watch the odd film with us.”

  Geoff nodded eagerly. “I know what you mean Roddy. He is a laugh, lovely fellah, but he does say he has women as friends, like Mary here. That does seem a bit weird. And the odd times he’s had his end away; it’s almost as if the girl has forced herself on him.”

  Roddy winked. “Yeah, that and women as friends. Often a sign, I reckon, often a sign. And there’s this Lance Savage who’s moved in. Tongues may wag.”

  Geoff pondered for a moment. “Could be; better watch what we say about shirt-lifters. What about Mary, then old man? Ever considered?”

  Roddy shook his head. “She is a looker, but there’s only so much culture a man wants in a woman, ain’t there.”

  ~~~

  Having left Mary’s house, Charlie was in a subdued mood. A recent death is hardly the thing to lift the spirits, after all.

  “I don’t know Lance,” he remarked, as his they drove slowly back. “It’s bloody rough when people pop off before their appointed time. It’s one thing to turn up your toes after getting a message from the Monarch, or getting close like old Suffrage, but kicking the bucket before your time, it’s not right at all, unless you’re a fool like Artie Brown.”

  “Yeah, she’s got the stick with shit at both ends alright.”

  “Yes, poor thing, with that father of hers going loopy Mary was telling me.”

  “Yeah, I heard from Mary’s maid. Bloody awful, going off your head. I should know.”

  “Well, we hope your affliction isn’t permanent. I had a chat with her. Hope I helped a bit. You do what you can.”

  “I think you did, Charlie. She said you had, anyway, when I met her. It wasn’t long before you c
ame out. Thank God the maid had warned me before I bumped into the girl. I could offer a bit of sympathy.”

  “Well that’s good, Lance. Wouldn’t want to make matters worse. As for her father, though, can’t say I have any sympathy at all. Mary thinks he’s a total scumbag. Sounds to me as if he’s getting exactly what he deserves. Except that poor old Rowena is going to bear the brunt of looking after him. It does seem a shame, a pretty thing like her, ending up wasting the best years of her life on a mad old Dad. Mind you, she is an awkward one, don’t you think, not exactly a girl you could mess around with?”

  Lance pondered this for a moment or two as he negotiated a corner. “I hardly know her. We didn’t exactly talk for long.” He hesitated for a second or two before continuing. “But, you know what, Charlie, in my line of work you have to size people up fast. Are they a threat, are they a friend? What are they capable of; you often have very little time. Although I only met her for a few minutes I picked up on a couple of things.”

  Lance frowned as he marshalled his thoughts. “She’s very young and lacks experience, I reckon, in fending off blokes. She hasn’t learned yet that most men can’t help themselves but stare at her and want to screw her. I might sound like an arsehole shrink, but hear me out. She’s not yet distinguishing between the generality of men wanting to screw her and the personality of the individual. She’s still tarring all men with the same brush. Strange though it may sound, Charlie, she hasn’t learned to live with her looks yet. When she does, she may begin to distinguish between arseholes and the sort of bloke she really wants.”

  “God, Lance, that’s all a bit deep. Perhaps it’s you she needs.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so.”

  “Why not? You’re a bit scary at first but you don’t bite. If you understand what makes women tick, Lance then that’s half the battle, right?”

  Lance smiled faintly. “It’s not a war, Charlie.”

  “I know, just a figure of speech.”

  “I put in a word for you,” Lance murmured. “Not for anything, but when I said I’d come to collect you she told me how you’d been sympathetic. I told her how you were having me staying. I’m not taking the piss when I say this; I think she’s well disposed towards you.”

  Charlie laughed. “Out of my league, Lance. Boys like me and girls like her, I don’t think so. Besides, we wouldn’t get on. I can’t walk on eggshells. My kind of girl can have a laugh, even if she doesn’t look like some sort of...”

  “Wanker’s fantasy?”

  “That’s one way of putting it. You military types do get to the point, don’t you?”

  “When we have to, Charlie. No point in faffing around.”

  Chapter 5 – Holiday (Year 1 – Early July)

  The louring sense of the sad existence to which Rowena was sentenced for an indefinite period was gone, albeit not entirely forgotten, when Charlie and Lance arrived in Fitzroy Square. Charlie was most definitely in holiday mood ahead of their break from dusty London. They were to motor down to South Devon – with Lance at the wheel.

  Mary had attended Edith Hepple’s depressing funeral and was only too keen to put that behind her. Subsequently, she’d been introduced to Lance, found him a brooding figure to start with but, by the end of the evening, had to agree with Charlie that appearances could be deceptive. She rather enjoyed the dry, deadpan sense of humour which he was beginning to display.

  Lance had taken the opportunity, when Charlie had left the pair of them unattended for a few minutes, to suggest that he might act as chauffeur to Charlie and Mary. If not, that was fine, he could understand and wouldn’t be offended, but, Mary being a nervous driver, they should go on the train. “Do not,” he’d warned. “Let Charlie drive you anywhere. He’s a menace, Mary, really, and that Bentley is a real beast.”

  Mary would have said yes regardless, because you don’t say no to people who have been damaged in the service of their country, not if you’re Mary Goldsworthy. So it was a definite relief to her that she liked Lance – and the Bentley.

  “Mary, are you ready?” Charlie cried as her maid opened the door on hearing his cheery knock.

  “Charlie,” Mary trilled. “My bags are packed and I’m ready to go, to Las Vegas or to Monaco! South Devon, Charlie and Lance will do if the others are fully booked.” She smiled as Charlie’s clothes began to register. “My word, Charlie is that your holiday outfit? It is rather fetching. That lilac and canary yellow blazer; well what can I say?”

  Charlie twirled, whilst the maid did her best to titter invisibly and inaudibly. “One of several, Mary my love. I chose them all myself. Between you and me I’m not sure Lance is much of a fan.”

  Charlie caught sight of Lance behind him. Captain Savage was slowly shaking his dark head. “There you are Lance. I was just saying that I don’t think you wholly approve of my holiday outfits.”

  Lance’s face remained expressionless as he seized two smart valises from Mary’s maid. “I’m saying nothing. It’s between Charlie and his tailor if he wants to dress up like an ice cream. Make sure you have your sunglasses, Mary, that’s all.”

  ~~~

  Their journey was a relatively straightforward one. Given the lateness of their departure – early afternoon – the determined holiday makers who block the roads and slow the progress of one’s Bentley with their pesky caravans, camper vans and overloaded old bangers had long since departed the suburbs of London and all points south. They’d done their worst, and the emergency services had done their best. Overall the emergency services had come out ahead and most of the wreckage and broken down vehicles had been cleared before Lance took Kali anywhere near the motorway network.

  They only stopped twice en route – the first an unscheduled stop at a service station on account of Charlie’s bladder being a little fuller than was comfortable for him. Charlie was too busy chatting to Mary to notice the attention, and one or two derisory catcalls, which his outfit drew. It was as well he’d had decided against wearing his Panama or who knows what might have befallen him. Even Lance’s distant, mad stare might have been insufficient to scare people away. The peace might have been breached…

  The second, scheduled, stop was much more civilised. A high tea had been laid on at a small hotel known to Mary, a short distance from the motorway. At such a worthy establishment both the staff and guests were far too well bred to pass comments on anyone as colourfully dressed as Charlie, although it has to be said that the odd eyebrow was raised.

  The final destination was one of those discreet hotels which cater for the discerning client to whom excellent service and comfort are worth the premium that such a place has to charge in order to provide them. It was set high on the edge of a narrow, steep estuary, positioned so as to catch the sun for much of the day. The estuary was dotted with a variety of picturesque boats, and old stone terracing supported many a garden along the edge of the narrow roads and lanes. The micro-climate in the valley was balmy and allowed a fair few of the plants which beautify the shores of the Mediterranean to flourish. With the sun sparkling on the waters, and with the palms and pines scattered around, one could well imagine oneself to be holidaying in the south of France.

  The weather being so splendid, Mary, Charlie and Lance decided to take advantage of it and scurried down the steps to commandeer the hotel’s courtesy boat. This took them upriver to the marina area of the little town, a part well supplied with restaurants of high renown.

  Charlie was in expansive mood as they strolled back towards the hotel, having dined in some style. “Guys and gals,” he announced, as they ambled along in the last of the summer light. “They can say what they like but on a day like this, with all this lovely weather and all this lovely scenery, it’s hard to think of a better place in the whole wide world to be taking a holiday.”

  Mary agreed warmly with Charlie. “London is a wonderful and civilised city but one needs a break from it now and again, and what better place than this. How you discovered this place is a mirac
le. You even seem to have booked the weather for us too. That charming receptionist was mentioning that the forecast is for fair weather as far as the eye can see.”

  “I know, I know,” Charlie agreed. “Don’t know how it happened but I’m glad it has. Lance has a magic touch with the mouse, I reckon. Guys, I just know we are going to have a lot of fun this week.”

  ~~~

  Their late arrival and precipitate departure for dinner had so far precluded any encounter between Mary, Lance or Charlie and their fellow guests. The hotel had around fifteen rooms and so there were never more than thirty or so people staying at any one time. The following morning Charlie and Mary, quietly debating where they would go that day, were able to observe most of this limited number of guests from the relatively concealed table at which they had been placed. Lance had said he fancied stretching his legs if Mary and Charlie were going to doss about all day so he had eaten much earlier, gone off for a walk, and agreed to meet the dawdlers after breakfast.

  The proprietor, having met Charlie, had needed little prodding from Mary to place the couple in a secluded position – he could see, immediately, that Charlie’s outfits might distract his guests from their stupendous breakfasts, and he was a fan of clean plates.

  So there they sat, people-watching and wrangling amicably over what they might do, when Mary suddenly grasped Charlie’s wrist.

  “Look,” she hissed. Charlie, who had been gazing through the window at some of the scenery outside, turned his eyes in the direction of her stare. A mother and daughter had entered the room, followed by father and son.

  The mother and daughter were both tall and striking, their build slim and athletic, like Mary’s. They both had long chestnut hair, a similar shade to Mary’s, and were both very attractive, the daughter more so, with huge dark eyes. The husband was a tall, fair fellow, also very handsome in his way. The son, a young teenager, seemed set to follow his father in the looks department.