Charlie Had His Chance

by Ellis Major

  “Lance, the country is very pretty and all that,” Charlie remarked, following his survey.

  “In parts,” Lance agreed.

  “But there’s only so much pretty and scenic you need, surely,” Charlie continued.

  Lance raised his eyebrows. “Possibly, but then you are a city boy. Lord Boston probably says the same thing about buildings.”

  “Yes, but look at it objectively. One can enjoy it for a bit, but then what does one do? I mean take all those mountain ranges around the World and glaciers and the wild wastes of the Poles.” Charlie seemed to be waxing lyrical as he warmed to his theme. “And then there’s the sea, all that grandeur of the waves that those nautical types like Roddy go on about when they’re not collecting their drugs from Holland. But you look at it all and then what, eh? How much fun is it really, bobbing around in the middle of the Pacific or the Atlantic or wherever?”

  “Sailing’s never appealed to me,” Lance concurred. “It must be the challenge that gets people doing it.”

  “I expect so. But even if you put aside the endless ocean, how many decent restaurants or clubs are there within walking distance of here?” Charlie waved his hand vaguely at the passing trees and fields.

  “Very few, Charlie, but we are on a dual carriageway. Don’t forget you say some unpleasant things about South London, too, and that’s full of buildings.”

  “Not everywhere urban is pleasant,” Charlie conceded “But you don’t have to travel too far to escape. Look at the country, though. It is pleasant to stay in a decent place, with good heating,” he went on. “Nice to look out of the windows over all that parkland and gardens. But then what, splash around in the mud with a troupe of dogs, gallop around on some mad great horse which will throw you given half a chance, or spend hours plying your secateurs around some hedge or other making a funny shape? No Lance, give me warmth, friends nearby, decent restaurants, decent clubs, theatres; that’s the way to live.”

  “Charlie, the Boston place isn’t that bad is it, and you enjoyed yourself up in Scotland.”

  “It’s alright for a few days, but to live permanently out in the wild, that’s another thing altogether.”

  Lance suddenly grinned. “Sorry, Charlie, I’ve only now twigged what all this is about. You’re rehearsing.”

  “Am I? For what?”

  “Of course, you’re thinking of lines to try on Rowena.”

  Charlie frowned for a moment. “Oh God Lance, you’re right. I suppose I am. I don’t know; I’ve got a bad feeling about this. It’s all a bit of a laugh I suppose but a brothel, I mean it’s pretty disgusting when you stop and think.”

  Lance shrugged. “No point pretending they don’t exist, and the other two girls signed up fast enough.”

  “Virginia and Milly, yes, but they had a good long chat with Babs first, and they’re a bit older. I don’t think Rowena can be more than twenty. You know Lance, if I hadn’t said I’d give it a go I don’t think I’d mention it to her. What’s she going to think? You know she’s going to say no. I don’t think it’s what Mary had in mind when she asked us to keep an eye on the girl.”

  Lance snorted. “Yeah, I know. Hi Rowena, how’s it going? Fancy being a whore? Mary thinks I’ll look after you and this is how I do it.”

  Charlie groaned. “Shit, don’t, Lance, you’re making it worse. What do you think? Be honest. The trouble is I gave my word.”

  Lance gave the matter some thought. “I like Babs,” he said. “I think she’s a character and I admire her for what she’s done, putting together the deal and making it happen. I think she’ll look after the girls and I think it’ll be a success. Paying for sex has gone on for a long time, Charlie, and I don’t think it’ll ever stop. I don’t have any real problem with that and if Roddy stops his drug dealing on the back of it then that’s a good thing. As for recruiting Rowena, I don’t know. I only spoke to her the once, of course, but she seemed nice to me. The best thing I can suggest is that you dress it up as an opportunity, you don’t expect her to be interested, but you’re mentioning it on the off-chance. That way, at least, it won’t sound too offensive.” He smiled. “What I wouldn’t do Charlie is suggest that becoming a whore is a good way to avoid having to live in the countryside. She might not share your prejudices and could well slap your face.”

  “I think that’s sound advice. It’s good you’re gay, Lance,” Charlie told him warmly. “You’re more sensitive and caring, even if you look like Jack the Ripper sometimes.”

  “Piss off Charlie, I only want to avoid having you whinging all the way back about your black eye. Have they finally sussed out who he was then, Jack, and I missed it? I don’t think I look like any of the usual suspects.”

  “Poetic licence Lance – you’re what I’d expect him to look like, only some of the time, though.”

  “Well there’s a consolation.”

  ~~~

  Lance brought the Bentley to a halt before the steps of Lord and Lady Boston’s pleasantly proportioned country establishment and waved as Lady Boston strode around the corner of the house. She expressed her strident astonishment that Lance had managed to prise Charlie out of his Mayfair boudoir before noon – and they had no need to waste time opening the doors to hear her.

  “Angie, sweetheart,” Charlie told his hostess. “I need my beauty sleep, otherwise my cheeks would lose their youthful bloom and I will end up looking like Lance.”

  “And how are you Lance?” Lady Boston looked down fondly at the pair of them from her great height. “Got through the Scotch yet?”

  “Barely touched it,” Lance told her, chancing a handshake – Lady Boston didn’t really do kissing. “I’m good, thanks Lady Boston, keeping busy, that helps, and sleeping better.”

  “Glad to hear it.” There was no doubting the warmth in Lady Boston’s voice and the hearty pat on Lance’s shoulder was well meant even if it made him stagger forward.

  “Found something for that Roddy to do yet?”

  Charlie coughed. “We’re working on it, Angie, we really are.”

  The tall, thin, rather effete Lord Boston joined them. He shook hands, weakly, and ushered everyone into the house where luncheon was imminent.

  The meal was en famille, with just Lady Boston’s younger sister Eve present. Whilst she was a handsome brunette, like her older sister, Eve was built on a slightly less heroic scale, being a mere six foot two and tipping the scales at no more than sixteen stone. She was rather quiet during the meal and Charlie detected a distinct coolness in Lady Boston’s attitude towards her sister – very unusual in someone who was normally so jovial.

  Later, as they strolled in the gardens, Charlie having declined Lady Boston’s kind invitation for a trot on one of her prize Suffolk Punches and also Lord Boston’s suggestion that he might care for a ramble though the woods with his slobbery bloodhounds (not that Lord Boston included the adjective in his invitation), he learned something more of the reasons for this froideur. Lance, out of politeness, had agreed to a tour of the stables.

  “Thing is, Charlie, I made a bit of a bish of things at Uni,” Eve explained.

  “Oh I know the feeling, Evie. Lots of distractions aren’t there.”

  “There are, there are,” Eve told him with feeling. “Although I did work, took a very respectable degree. The problem was the money. It just seemed to disappear, however careful I was, and father has ended up a bit peeved with me.”

  Charlie was quite shaken. “But your father isn’t short of a bob or two, is he?”

  “No, I don’t think so – he’s just bought a couple more of those veteran cars he loves so much. He goes on about ‘matters of principle’ this and ‘waste of time and money’ that. You see Angelina didn’t go to Uni, spent her time more ‘productively’ ended up snaffling Lord Boston, as well as winning all those beastly ploughing competitions.”

  “My old aunt always used to say that no education or experience was ever wasted,” Charlie consoled her. “And what’s past is past. Surely
your father isn’t going to go on moaning forever.”

  “He’s sent me here to see if Angelina can talk some sense into me,” Eve told him gloomily. “Living in the Cotswolds is bad enough, but at least Cheltenham or Gloucester are nearby. Here, we’re in the middle of nowhere, out near the coast, stuck in the mud!”

  Charlie smiled in spite of himself. “Not a country girl, then?”

  “God, it’s so dull. I think Pa is hoping that Angelina will sort me out with some worthy farming type. I think I’d shoot myself if that happened.”

  “That’s a bit drastic, Eve. Why don’t you rebel, move a bit nearer to civilisation?”

  “I’d be off like a shot, but I can’t find any work, not anything that I want to do anyway.”

  “Bad luck; no allowance or Trust Fund then?”

  “No, ‘fraid not,” she sighed, then endeavoured to brighten up a bit. “Now listen to me, all I’ve done is moan. I was so looking forward to your visit and all I’m doing is going on about my woes.”

  “Don’t worry about, that, Evie,” Charlie cried breezily. “Many’s the friend who’s turned to me for sympathy or advice. What was it you studied at Uni then? I’ll see if I can make one or two introductions. Never say die, Evie.”

  Eve turned a hopeful eye on him. “I studied Performance and Design,” she told him, with another sigh as she caught Charlie’s undeniably perplexed expression. “You see,” she exclaimed. “It’s hopeless. Unless you’re about five foot four, gay, smoke like a chimney and weigh no more than seven stone everyone laughs at you.”

  “Really, all of those are essential are they?” Charlie asked out of genuine curiosity.

  Eve groaned. “Only the five foot four height restriction – the rest seem to be desirable options.”

  Their leisurely perambulation had brought them to a stone seat set into a recess in the yew hedge. Charlie had started to have the germ of an idea, but was tactful enough not to want to raise any false hopes. He glanced at his watch. Conveniently, it was just after three.

  “Oh, is that the time,” he exclaimed in mock shock. “Sit yourself down here a moment, Eve. I have to phone my Uncle Arthur. He gets very concerned if I miss his weekly call. Soon as I’m done I will turn the full attention of my weak and feeble brain to your problem.”

  This promise drew him a grateful glance, although, it has to be said, somewhat tinged with doubt. He scurried away out of earshot.

  “Charlie, darlin’,” Babs answered the phone immediately. “’ow’s it hangin’?”

  “Just fine thank you Babs. Now I have to be quick.”

  “Be as quick as yer like darlin’,” Babs cackled. “Nothing surprises me.”

  “Very droll, Babs,” Charlie laughed. “But listen to me a moment. Size isn’t a problem for our ‘top four’ is it?”

  “Size is only a problem fer blokes,” she told him with another hoarse laugh.

  “Babs,” he told her. “Be serious for a minute.”

  “Depends wot yer mean.” Babs was immediately more business-like. “Wotcher got?”

  “Tall, well over six foot.”

  “Not fat, though?”

  “No, not at all; big but very shapely so far as I can judge without staring. Very handsome. I don’t want to get her hopes up, though.”

  Babs pondered this. She didn’t seem entirely convinced. “I’m not sure Charlie. I’d ‘ave ter see ‘er.”

  “She’s good at design,” Charlie cajoled.

  “Charlie, a punter ‘ain’t gonna worry too much abaht that,” Babs told him. “Unless she’s doin’ body painting. Look, even if she ain’t right for the ‘top four’ long as she’s not ugly we can find ‘er fings to do. Lotta blokes like a big strong ‘un. If yer fink she looks ok, that’s ok wiv me. Get ‘er in and we’ll take it from there. She must be in a bad way if shaggin’ for a livin’ gets ‘er ‘opes up.”

  “It’s a bit of a story but thanks Babs; see you soon.”

  “Missin’ yer alreddy,” Babs cackled. “Good luck wiv that Rowenta girl or whatever ‘er name is.”

  Charlie strolled back cheerily to Eve.

  “Let’s wander on a bit,” he suggested in an undertone. “I do have an idea but I don’t want anyone overhearing.”

  Eve jumped up, seized his arm and tugged him along with such huge, strapping strides he had to trot to keep up.

  “There’s a bench in the orchard,” she told him en route. “No one will be able to loiter there and eavesdrop.”

  Once they were comfortably ensconced beneath an old apple tree Charlie outlined the scheme and her possible role. Eve was completely receptive.

  “I could help with the design of the club,” she volunteered.

  Charlie was struck by a sudden pang of fear that his exposition might have been rather too euphemistic and that Eve hadn’t fully grasped what might be expected of her.

  “Eve m’dear, you do appreciate that certain demands may be made...”

  “Charlie, yes, got that loud and clear,” Eve confirmed, her eyes alight. “I’ll need to have sex several times a week. Can’t say it does much for me, as a rule, but it’s a small price to pay for getting away from the mud and muck and the frowns, not forgetting the dribbling locals.”

  “Well, as long as that’s clear. Now we do need to give a thought to what we say... What do you know, here comes Lance. Just the man! He’ll know exactly how to go about it. You may not believe it but he’s quite sensitive.”

  “Quite hunky, too.”

  “Forget it, Evie.”

  She grinned. “What, are you two an item?”

  “No, but he is of that persuasion. I’m not his type.”

  Eve raised her eyebrows. “But what, you fancy him?”

  “We’re friends, Eve and I’m not gay. I think Lance and I need badges saying ‘How Dare You Assume We’re Gay’.”

  Lance was approaching them, bearing a tray on which sat a jug and three glasses.

  “Lance, you’re a mind reader!” Charlie sang. “I spy refreshment!”

  “Yeah, I thought if you’d been jabbering on all this time Eve would need a strong drink.”

  “Jabbering I may have been, but to good effect. Eve here has decided to throw in her lot with the Academy.”

  Lance’s eyes widened. “Really? Has he explained it properly, Eve? He can beat about the bush sometimes.”

  “Yes I have, the need for bonking with strangers is understood. Thing is Lance, it’s quite a delicate matter. Needs to be presented in the right way to Angie etc.”

  Lance frowned for a moment or two as the drinks were sipped at and declared delicious.

  “How about this for size?” He spoke for a few minutes and both Eve and Charlie applauded. Lance then mentioned that Lady Boston had a Soirée planned, at which Charlie was to provide the entertainment.

  “The sly old bat,” Charlie gasped, part shocked, part flattered.

  “I could help you with the singing,” Eve suddenly volunteered.

  “You can sing?”

  Eve stood up, brimming with high spirits, and gave a deep and soulful a capella rendition of Summertime.

  “Well,” Charlie demanded as he applauded again. “Where did you learn to sing like that?”

  “Jazz club at Uni.,” Eve told him.

  “Lance, I’m in love,” Charlie cried, immediately regretting his impetuosity as Eve’s playful slap on his arm knocked the entire contents of his glass over his trousers.

  “Never mind, Charlie,” Lance consoled him. “Rinse them out in the sink and hang them out of the window. There aren’t any ‘fellow lessees’ to offend in the country.”

  The news that a contact of Lance had been instrumental in finding Eve gainful employment with a select, specialist Design and Events company with a worldwide clientele that might take Eve to exotic locations, and have her mingling on a global level with wealthy and distinguished clients (some of whom might include marital prospects), could hardly fail to impress Lady Boston.

  There
was an immediate thaw and cordial sisterly relations were re-established. Lady Boston went off bawling in search of champagne.

  “Charlie,” Eve whispered to him. “I’m so happy to be a whore that I want to party straight away. Let’s go and rehearse.”

  She laughed out loud at Charlie’s round-eyed expression of shock. “On the piano, silly. I have to save myself for the punters from now on…and no freebies.”

  Lady Boston’s Soirée was a great success, although Charlie complained later to Lance that he had barely started to warm up his tonsils before everyone decided it was time to go home.

  “But that’s the trouble with being out in the sticks. Get up at the crack of dawn and go to bed as soon as it gets dark.”

  “Country life for you,” Lance told him. “It’s more in tune with the seasons. And, as we have another early start tomorrow, it’s as well that the party didn’t break up too late.”

  “Yes, it had rather slipped my mind that we have to tackle the fearsome Rowena tomorrow. Still, Lance, I’m not so worried now. Given young Evie’s joined up, we have three certs so we’re better off than when I started. Bit of luck Evie being around like that.”

  “Well it was but you were the one who seized the opportunity. Good work, Charlie.”

  “The Force was with me, Lance.”

  “Then let’s hope it’s still with you tomorrow.”

  “More likely the Death Star is about to go operational and vaporise me.”

  Chapter 7 – Picnic at Hepple Rock (Year 1 – August)

  The following morning was as bright and as pleasant as the previous one and, early though the start was, and though faced with the prospect of a lot more countryside to pass through, it was with considerable cheerfulness that Charlie and Lance departed from Lord and Lady Boston’s home. Charlie was much buoyed up by the warmth of their thanks and the enticing of prospect of further duets with Evie in the near future.

  However, by the time they’d reached the edge of Norwich, Charlie was becoming distinctly fretful. Even the quasi-military efficiency with which Lance had arranged a rendezvous with the van bearing their picnic hamper didn’t impress him for long.