Charlie Had His Chance

by Ellis Major

  “See you in a while, when things have calmed down. I’m going to get my lawyers onto it – see what they can do.” Mary told him, then suddenly paused, a stricken expression on her face.

  “What is it?” Lance demanded urgently. “Forgotten something?”

  “Rowena,” Mary said.

  Charlie couldn’t resist it. “Planning an erotic ménage?” he asked.

  Now Mary smiled, but only briefly. “No, my darling idiot. I’m worried about helping her out, keeping an eye on her. Oh God, here’s me falling in love and running off and almost forgetting her. You’ll help her won’t you Charlie. I’ll write to her, explain things. I don’t want to worry my mum with it because she’ll be panicking enough about me running away with little miss jailbird here - and she’s obsessed with this man right now. They’re off on a huge cruise any day.”

  “Of course I’ll help her,” said Charlie. Lance was nodding. “Tell her to get in touch if there’s anything we can do. I don’t want to push myself on her – she’s bound to get the wrong idea if I do. I’ll call her in a few weeks perhaps.”

  “Just remember, she’s really prickly if she thinks you’re being charitable. Ok. I love you both. I owe you so much I can’t begin to express it. Just think, if you hadn’t met Lance and the two of you hadn’t found this hotel and…”

  Lance held up his hand. “It’s the luck of the draw,” he told her. “It’s the randomness of Fate. Buy us lunch when you get back, and have a fucking great time.”

  Mary smiled, archly, muttered something inaudible about Dorothy Parker, dived into the car and they were gone.

  “Well, Lance, we’ve done our bit for the course of true love, haven’t we.” Charlie felt pleased but also faintly mournful as they wandered back. “Another friend gone though, off into the wild blue yonder. Just as well you turned up or I’d have no one to talk to, especially as you approved of Mary more than all my other mates. Wonder where they’re off to?”

  “Best that we have no idea,” Lance said. “Like Mr Smith suggested.”

  “Of course, then we can face the music with a fairly clear conscience,” Charlie agreed.

  ~~~

  Music there was the following morning when Georgina’s disappearance was discovered, along with that of Mary, and Mary’s short explanatory note to Charlie. The music was rather discordant, all rather out of tune and the notes in entirely the wrong order. Even the Police turned up, eventually, to add to the cacophony. Everyone seemed to feel rather sorry for Charlie.

  “Bird flown t’coop, eh? Woodn’t ‘ave ‘appened to a Yorkshire lad. Got to get oop very early to get t’best of a Yorkshire lad.” Mrs Sproate sympathised with Charlie in a rough way, although she squeezed his hand sympathetically and gave him a sorrowful glance when her husband’s head was turned. Arnold’s consolation was robust and to the point. “Not to worry, lad, plenty more fish in t’sea.”

  Charlie dolefully accepted Mrs Lane’s sympathies whilst he commiserated with her. The Lane family males seemed faintly relieved at the whole turn of events.

  “Just think, leading you on like that,” Mrs Lane said. “I do wonder whether she’s my flesh and blood. You do hear of mistakes being made in hospitals.”

  “And my colleague deceiving me,” Charlie sighed. “You never know, though, Mrs Lane. It may be for the best. If that truly is her nature, then it would be cruel to alter it. If she’s happy, surely that’s all that matters?”

  “What about me? Doesn’t my happiness count for anything?” Mrs Lane cried.

  “Then,” said Charlie sagaciously. “You should live your life and let her live hers. Let’s all try our best to forgive.”

  The formalities over, with a promise to the Police to let them know if he heard anything, Charlie travelled back to London with Lance at the wheel.

  “Funny old holiday that turned out to be,” he remarked to Lance as they swept along. “I’d never thought of myself as a Gay Rights activist before, but Mrs Lane needs to broaden her horizons.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Lance told him, as Kali urged him to overtake the caravan ahead. “I loved every minute. Good fun, good team work. It helps to have something useful to do, and I hardly had a single fucking nightmare.”

  Charlie laughed. “Then I hope you’re cured before I’m left completely friendless and alone in the world.”

  Exactly one week later, Lance handed Charlie a letter addressed in Mary’s unmistakable hand, but with a London postmark. There was a brief note from Mary explaining how a couple she and Georgina had met were returning to London and had kindly agreed to post a letter. She said that she and Georgina were very happy, that Georgina was very inventive, with three exclamation marks, and that they both hoped Charlie and Lance hadn’t had too hard a time of it.

  Mary also enclosed a photograph of her and Georgina, already beginning to be tanned. They were smiling, joy all over their faces, with no clue to their whereabouts, apart from a deep blue sky, white sand and a palm tree.

  “Well,” said Charlie to Lance. “If they’re not happy then I don’t know what the word means.”

  Lance nodded. “Yeah, you’re right there.” He had been slightly subdued since their return but the picture made him smile.

  “I’ll put it on the fridge,” Charlie decided. “It’ll be a reminder of our joint good deed, Lance. A memory to cherish.”

  Lance laughed. “Aren’t we a couple of boy Scouts! Golf is it this morning?”

  PART 2 - Singing Off Key

  Chapter 1 – A Friend in Need Can Test Your Loyalty (Year 1 – July)

  Lance was clearly best kept busy. Charlie’s guest was doing what he could to cut back further on the Scotch, but it remained a trade off between setting the intake at a level which ensured sleep without being woken by nightmares on the one hand - and alcoholism on the other. A bottle was lasting him about a week now and he wasn’t only drinking it for its soporific effect any longer– he really quite liked the taste of a good Islay.

  Charlie had concluded that Lance was stuck with his strange unfocussed gaze, the aspect of him that was the most disturbing until you got to know him. Otherwise, as Lance himself had said, he was much improved. The trip to Devon and its successful conclusion had boosted him and he’d even talked of starting to think about what he should do with his life.

  Nonetheless, Charlie could see that Lance was prone to moodiness if allowed too much time to himself. Charlie had therefore ensured that their routine had an active pattern. He wondered, with all his organising, if he was genetically closer to his cousin Daisy than he’d ever have dreamed.

  The morning was occupied with some form of physical activity, the afternoon generally with music, Charlie playing the piano as often as not. In the evening they might be as boring as watching TV, or they sometimes went to the theatre. What they did not do was allow Lance to sit around staring into space. Charlie had curtailed his own social life - and was slightly piqued that he wasn’t being missed as much as he might have hoped or expected.

  Lance had accompanied Charlie to one or two clubs, but the outings had not been a success. Men and women alike found Lance’s expression unnerving, and he was not at ease with underdressed cocaine-snorting women and the leering men who pawed at them. He was comfortable chatting with Charlie, and Magda too, so it wasn’t that he was antisocial. Perhaps it was the noise and all the blaring faces that made him frown and blink.

  He’d apologised when Charlie had taken him home and told Charlie that he’d be fine on his own whenever Charlie wanted to go out. Charlie didn’t want to risk a relapse if Lance got to re-playing the bad times, though. Besides, he found he wasn’t missing the clubs in the wee small hours all that much. You couldn’t listen to what Lance had to tell you and remain unaffected by it. Charlie could see that there was fun to be had out and about on the social scene, but it would always be tinged by the knowledge of what men like Lance were going through. As you watched a girl role up a banknote some guy was sweating in the dust as the ba
d guys took pot shots at him. And the remark that Lance had made about Roddy had hit a mark. He found it disturbing to think that one of his friends was aiding and abetting these people bent on rotting their septums.

  At nine in the morning, given how late those self-same clubs stayed open, the last thing Charlie expected was the arrival of the suspected drug dealer himself, Roddy, in the company of another avid club habitué, Geoff.

  Magda had answered the buzzer and called through to Charlie.

  “Roddy, Geoff what’s up?” Charlie rose to greet them. “Jesus, Roddy, you look a bit battered. Have you taken up cage fighting?”

  Roddy was holding Geoff’s arm and walking very gingerly. One eye was bandaged and his face was covered with cuts and bruises, some of which were stitched.

  Geoff placed Roddy’s hand on the back of a chair and started poking in the fridge.

  “Roddy, please, sit down,” Charlie offered hospitably.

  “He won’t Charlie,” Geoff told them, pulling out some pâté and opening it. Lance left the room and reappeared with two soft pillows. This precaution having been taken, Roddy was then persuaded to position himself, with infinite care, on one of the kitchen chairs, legs wide apart.

  Charlie watched in bemusement as the operation was completed and Lance, having cast a glance in the direction of the pâté in Geoff hands, opened the freezer, took out some bread and pushed it into the toaster.

  “You have been in the wars,” Charlie told Roddy. “Did you fumble the wrong girl? She turn out to be a wrestler? Or was it her other half got jealous?”

  Roddy groaned again. Charlie took this to indicate a lack of amusement and turned a quizzical glance on Geoff.

  “What a night!” Geoff exclaimed. “Do you know, I’m not too sure about these A&E places. We went there, once I got the call from Roddy, and managed to find him. I tracked down the nearest hospital which seemed to be closed. Some oik in Security eventually told us where to go - about five miles away. Would you believe it, they wouldn’t deal with us immediately and they don’t have a private section. It’s as if they even had a bias against our sort of people. I explained to them how much tax my father pays. They wouldn’t listen. I offered them credit cards, cash, no effect! One very big bloke said he’d take some cash but it made no difference. I’m not even sure he had anything to do with the hospital. I warned them I would call my lawyer, which everyone found very funny for some reason.”

  “And did you?” Charlie wondered. “As I recall, your lawyer is pretty scary.”

  “Of course! Never bluff, Charlie. He wasn’t entirely delighted to hear from me I suspect. But he did ask to talk to the person in charge. He spoke to her for a couple of minutes and she just said ‘About two hours’ and handed the phone back to me. He explained how he had read them the riot act but that two hours was the best they could do. He also asked whether he should send his invoice to father’s office or his home address. I told him he was paid huge amounts of money to be able to decide things like that for himself.”

  “Hmm,” said Charlie, with the faintest of smiles. “Just as well you got him involved though. You could have been there all night.”

  Roddy now decided to take a part in the conversation. “Never mind all that,” he murmured with some effort, from a strangely immobile mouth. “Look at what they did to me.”

  Charlie saw an opportunity. He’d been made fun of often enough in the past. “What, the hospital? I thought they were supposed to make things better, cure your ills and all that.”

  Lance smiled, but neither Geoff nor Roddy were in the mood for humour.

  Roddy replied through gritted teeth. “No, you plonker; the gits who’ve nicked my yacht.”

  “Someone’s nicked your yacht? Why would they do that?” Charlie looked from one to the other. Roddy gestured weakly in Geoff’s direction but Geoff was busy chewing.

  Lance had watched Roddy carefully for a minute or two. He now rummaged around in a cupboard until he found a packet soup. He mixed this up and presented it to Roddy in a mug with a straw and a couple of painkillers.

  Charlie stared at Lance askance. Lance seemed to have switched on some kind of autopilot. Perhaps it was a throwback to looking after his men, regardless of whether he liked them or not. It was what you did. It was your duty.

  “Stitches inside his mouth,” Lance grunted. “Right Roddy?”

  Roddy held up his thumb and then sucked greedily on the straw.

  “Come on Geoff, get on with it,” Charlie demanded impatiently, as soon as he could see Geoff’s mouth was empty.

  “Well, give a man a chance. I had to go dashing off to the wilds of Essex in the middle of the night then spend hours negotiating with petty bureaucrats. I’ve not had a morsel to sustain me at all. There was a machine in the hospital but nobody there seemed to have any change, or to want to help me out. Some comedian suggested my lawyer might deliver some change if I rang him again.”

  He poured himself some fruit juice whilst Charlie chivvied him. “Never mind your stomach, Geoff. Someone has nicked Roddy’s yacht and done him significant damage into the bargain by the look of it.”

  Geoff rolled his eyes. “Shout if I miss anything Roddy. Innumerable contusions, thirty four stiches in various cuts, including eyelid (viz bandage), two cracked ribs and seriously bruised bollocks. Cynthia will be missing your amorous advances for some weeks to come I’d say Roderick my boy.”

  Roddy glared at Geoff with his available eye.

  Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Poor old Cynthia,” he murmured.

  Roddy pushed the straw out of his mouth. “Never mind Cynthia,” he grunted. “What about me?”

  “Well yes, but you’re ‘hors de combat’ aren’t you and I’ve always understood that Cynthia...”

  Geoff coughed.

  “Anyway, Geoff, carry on,” Charlie instructed, with a slightly guilty glance at Roddy.

  “I had all this from Roddy whilst we were waiting in that sodding hospital – how poor people put up with it I’ll never understand - but I’ll do my best to stick to the important bits.” Geoff took a sip of his juice and settled back into the chair.

  “You may be aware that Roddy came upon hard times a year or so ago?”

  Charlie nodded. “Word does get around.” Roddy, he’d noticed, displayed a marked degree of reluctance when it came to his card being placed behind the bar.

  “Well his father cut back a bit, well a lot, after his peerage cost him so much.”

  Charlie cast a sympathetic glance in Roddy’s direction.

  “And Roddy’s job as an analyst doesn’t pay all that well – what with him having to shell out to that other bloke to do the work for him.”

  Charlie was a bit vague as to what an analyst was, but he made every effort to nod and appear knowledgeable.

  “So you may know that Roddy had gone into the Colombian Snuff business.”

  Lance sighed. “Is that…..?”

  “Cocaine,” Roddy whispered.

  “Dealing?” Lance was frowning.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Geoff continued. “But there is a demand for it, after all, and Roddy was just supplying that demand in a small way.”

  “I see,” Charlie sighed, with the briefest of glances at Lance. “And how does the yacht come into it exactly?”

  “Charlie,” Geoff sighed. “Where do you imagine the Colombian Snuff comes from? Roddy uses the yacht.”

  Charlie narrowed his eyes. “Of course, bit slow. Not my scene really. Where do you go in the boat?”

  Geoff explained. “The Snuff comes from Colombia via a route that is a mystery to us all until it reaches Holland.”

  “And Holland is somewhere you can sail in a weekend!”

  “Bingo.”

  “And so?”

  “And so,” Geoff continued. “Some unpleasant rivals have been watching poor old Roddy here. We suspect their supply route may have been disrupted in some way. Being short of the stuff they waited until Roddy arrived
, snaffled the goods and gave him a bit of a kicking.”

  “And nicked the yacht.”

  “Well,” Geoff concluded. “Nicked may not be exactly the right word. More like occupied.”

  Charlie’s eyes widened. “No! So they are in situ as we speak?”

  “We imagine so. I picked up Roddy from the roadside near the marina early this morning and we came here straight from the hospital.”

  “And are there many of them?” Charlie wondered.

  “Five, at least,” Roddy whispered.

  Charlie sat back in his chair. “It strikes me as simple enough. You assemble a large team, outnumbering them two to one and overwhelm them with the force of your argument. They can slink off to wherever it was they came from.”

  Roddy and Geoff exchanged glances.

  “Charlie, they have guns,” Geoff told him.

  “A lot of guns, and a big dog.” Roddy confirmed. “And they waved the guns around a lot.”

  “And,” Geoff added. “They know where Roddy lives.”

  “No chance they would have followed you is there?” Charlie asked. He was not a fan of dogs, regardless of shape or size. He especially disliked small yappy ones, but larger ones, whilst better tempered, did tend to slobber on his best trousers in the most intimate of places, much to the amusement of any female in the vicinity.

  “No,” Geoff replied with confidence. “The roads were very quiet and I was keeping an eye in the mirror.”

  “Hmm,” Charlie mused.

  “It gets worse,” Geoff told him.

  “Worse than dogs and guns?”

  “They are expecting Roddy to work for them.”

  “Work, yes, I can see that’s worse.” Charlie winced at the prospect, as Lance actually laughed.

  Geoff sighed. “Roddy collects the Snuff, they take it, and he gets to retain a very small percentage for himself.”

  The painkillers with which Lance had furnished him must have revived Roddy somewhat, because he came out with quite a long speech. “You always complain about how short your Trustees keep you, Charlie. I couldn’t even feed myself, never mind clothes, and as for keeping Cynthia happy with baubles and bits...” He subsided into a mournful silence.