by Ellis Major
As the waitress slouched off, Francesca sat back in her chair. “We’ve only just met,” she said, as if surprised. “And I’m chatting to you about my figure.”
“Now I must be careful what I say in these modern times.” Charlie raised an eyebrow and Francesca smiled.
“I’m an old fashioned girl from an old fashioned family,” she told him.
“Then everything looks in prime condition from where I’m sitting.”
Her smile became dazzling. “Funny and charming,” she said.
Charlie grinned. “So tell me Frankie. Why is an old fashioned girl from an old fashioned family modelling lingerie?”
“For old fashioned money,” she told him. “These days a young woman can hardly just wait around to be swept off her feet by a handsome husband and then expect to sit in idleness and luxury.”
This hardly struck Charlie as abnormal – plenty of girls he knew of were only too happy to do just that. Something else was puzzling him, though.
“You want to be independent then?” he asked her. “I mean a girl as beautiful as you could have her pick surely if she had a mind to marry.”
The waitress arrived with their coffee and Charlie’s impressive cake.
Francesca took a sip of her coffee. “Let me tell you something about myself, if it won’t bore you to tears.”
“Anything but,” Charlie assured her.
It transpired that Francesca lived in Warwickshire with her parents. She was one of two daughters and her father was a military man, recently retired with the rank of Major. This conservative background explained his reluctance to have his daughter modelling underwear.
Francesca had artistic leanings, in that she’d always enjoyed photography but couldn’t seem to get a break.
“If I was after a husband, my parents could have set me up with a charming subaltern from a nice family,” she told him, as she helped him out with rather more than a nibble of the cake.
“And they’re pleasant enough but a bit limited. You know Charlie, I want more out of life than to be a military wife. There are some nice solid people in my little town as well, professionals, and they’re all agreeable types as well, but they’re dull.”
“We’re all dull in our way I suppose,” Charlie told her nervously.
“You’re not,” she told him immediately. “I’ve never heard anyone play the piano as well as you. You were singing by yourself quite contentedly without any need for an audience and you cracked a joke straight off.”
“I suppose I did.” Charlie felt rather good with a pretty girl telling him how interesting he was.
“Yes, and we’re chatting away like old friends already.”
He smiled. “We are aren’t we? I often find that. I get to be friends.” He hesitated. “And that’s great but…”
She tilted her head as she leant forward for another piece of cake and gazed at him through her eyelashes. “Well Charlie, we should take each meeting as it comes don’t you think? Perhaps we start off as friends and see where life takes us.”
“I’ll sign up to that,” Charlie agreed, with great willingness.
Two days later Francesca and Charlie were coming to the end of a charming lunch when a couple of unsavoury criminal types made so bold as to intrude onto the hallowed paving of Mayfair.
Charlie had chosen a window seat so they could watch the world go by if conversation flagged – not that it had. As the motorbike arrived at the jewellers opposite he and Francesca therefore had a grandstand view.
Charlie was checking the bill so Francesca was the first to notice.
“My God Charlie,” she gasped, clutching his arm. “Look.”
The smashing of glass would have drawn his attention pretty rapidly if she hadn’t already done so. Three blows with a sledgehammer and one of the raiders had his arm through the shop window.
Charlie began to rise. “The sods,” he mattered.
“What are you doing?” Francesca demanded in surprise.
“Got to sort them out,” Charlie muttered. “Bloody thieves.”
Francesca tightened her grip on his arm. “Charlie no,” she told him in alarm.
“They’ll get away,” he told her urgently.
“It’s not your problem,” she argued.
“But…” Charlie thought about it for a moment and watched as a few more pieces were seized and shoved in a bag and the bike roared away. He sighed and settled back in his chair.
“I don’t want you getting hurt saving insurers some money,” Francesca told him softly. “You’re very brave, though. You didn’t hesitate.”
Charlie laughed. “Hardly, Frankie. They were a couple of yobs on a bike.”
“You’re not paid to chase them; the Police are.”
“I know,” he agreed. “But we should try and do our bit, eh.”
She smiled. “And leave me with the bill?”
Charlie chuckled as he pulled out a credit card. When a girl as pretty as Francesca gazed at you, with the soft look in her eyes that women could do sometimes, it made him feel very pleased with himself.
“I suppose that could have happened if they’d knocked me on the head. Sorry, Frankie, wasn’t thinking.”
He nodded out towards the smashed window where a small crowd had gathered. Charlie did enjoy a chat and he did enjoy telling a story or imagining events that might transpire. He was quite a passable mimic and he had, of course, been engaging in this harmless activity rather more since Lance had appeared on the scene. After Lance had first laughed at Charlie’s ‘true’ stories of his narrow escape from Lady Suffrage, and Artie Brown’s funeral, Charlie had begun to indulge in flights of fantasy. On a long car journey, for example, he would pick on a likely couple or family from a vehicle they’d passed and imagine the conversation that might be going on. Lance often seemed to find it funny and, since that was the aim of the exercise, as well as passing the time, Charlie carried on doing it. Here was another opportunity.
“Can you imagine,” he said to Francesca. “I’d probably get myself in trouble. There I’d be sitting on top of one of them and Mr Plod would turn up.
‘And wot ‘ave we ‘ere? Two of the public wot I am sworn to serve with one sittin’ upon the other near a pile of broken glass from this ‘ere jewellers.’
‘Officer I have caught this scoundrel red handed in the commission of a crime. I would like you to apprehend him and bring the full weight of justice to bear on him.’
‘’e’s lyin’, ‘e’s that Raffles bloke, like innit, the gennelman thief. I woz jus sittin’ wiv me frend on me motorbike admirin’ the stuff in the winder an’ showin me frend me new ‘ammer like an’ ‘e comes along nicks me ‘ammer, smashes the effin’ winder and nicks a load of gold an’ jewels then knocks me orf me bike an’ accuses me of nickin’ it.’
‘Officer this is absurd. Any of these witnesses will tell you that I had nothing to do with the robbery. And I have no valuables about my person.’
‘Nun of these witnesses will say nuffink if they know wot’s good fer ‘em.’
‘You see officer, he’s threatening them. Where are they all going, all those witnesses? Come back you chaps!’
‘’e’s assaulted me. I wants ‘im arrested fer assault.’
‘Steady now. I must activate my radio telephone and request instructions from my sergeant. My common sense was surgically removed during my first day at Police College and I will not have it re-implanted until I reach the rank of Chief Superintendent or above.’
‘Officer, I can’t mess around all day. I have abandoned a lovely girl in yonder restaurant in order to perform my civic duty. I have a large bill to pay, not that her company isn’t worth twice the price, and she can’t sully her lovely delicate hands with washing up.’
‘Oh, ho! I am starting to wonder about you young man. You’re trying on the old ‘I have a girl in a restaurant’ trick to get away are you?’
‘Yer see nah, doncha. ‘e may tork proper but ‘e’s a villain. Jus cos I ain�
��t ’ad nun of ‘is advantages doan make me a crook. Jus cos me muvver was an alcoholic an’ me favver woz a crack ‘ead an’ I lef skool before I woz ten doan mean I’m bad. I wan’ compensation.’
‘The man’s raving. He wants compensation for having been caught in the commission of a crime.’
‘Yer, me back’s hurtin’ summink awful where ‘e’s sittin’ on it. I doan fink I’ll ever be ebble ter werk as long as I live.’
‘I bet you’ve never worked in your life you blasted crook, you.’
‘Now that is a serious allegation. As the gentleman upon whom you have seated yourself has yet to be convicted of other crimes, you could be said to be slandering him.’
‘You idiot! He’s bound to have a criminal record as long as your arm.’
‘So you’ve decided to obstruct an officer in the pursuit of his duty have you? I’ve got my cuffs here.’
‘What, are you mad?’
‘No, Sir. I think that description suits you better, er, Sir. Sarge…’
“Charlie,” Francesca interrupted with a smile. “I think they need our table.”
“Sorry,” Charlie told her, sensing that her smile might have been rather forced. “Boring you stupid and neglecting you. We’d best be off as you say.”
She took his arm once they were outside. “Now where were you?”
“Oh it doesn’t matter; it was just a bit of nonsense. It’s something I do to try and cheer Lance up now and again, but I shouldn’t go putting you to sleep with it.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s a nice day. Shall we stroll around Green Park for a few minutes? You could catch the tube there, as you insist on doing.”
“It’s alright for you Charlie. You seem to have plenty of money. I have to watch the pennies.”
“Well let me pay for a cab, then.”
“Certainly not; you’ve paid for lunch. Yes let’s walk. I need to wear off that lunch and I’m not a gym type of person. Charlie, God look at those two men there. What a pair of raving queers.”
Charlie was shocked by her words. Admittedly, the two men she’d noticed were all over each other but she barely knew him.
“I suppose they are overdoing it aren’t they,” he muttered neutrally. He would have to warn Lance not to fly off the handle if she ever came back to the flat and met him.
Francesca sighed. “I can be frank with you Charlie, can’t I? Yes they are, but it’s not them particularly. I know I talk about being artistic and adventurous but I never feel comfortable with it. I know it shouldn’t worry me, but it does. Men with men, women with women, I don’t like it Charlie. A man and a woman, Charlie, like us. That’s natural isn’t it? It feels like it’s how things should be, even if I sound like a bigot.” She squeezed his arm and smiled at him. “I can’t help the way I am. I mean I know gay people, of course. I don’t have anything against them as individuals but it’s the idea.”
Charlie smiled right back and thanked his lucky stars that he hadn’t mentioned Mary and Georgie. He was tempted to say that some of his best friends were gay but thought that might sound sarcastic or hostile. He wondered how she was on black people, but thought he could probably guess, and told himself that no one was perfect. Inconsequentially, he wondered whether Rowena held such views then cursed himself. Why did that matter to him, now, when he had Francesca for company? Perhaps he’d feel better if he knew Rowena was a bigot? Cheap, Charlie, he told himself. Get her out of your head. Let it go. You were the one to blame.
“That Francesca,” he remarked to Lance later. “Charming, except I don’t think she Mary and Georgie would get on too well.”
“Why’s that Charlie?”
“Seems to bother her, the idea that people could be gay.”
“What? You’re kidding me.”
“No, I wouldn’t do that.” Charlie laughed. “Must be the military background of all things, ha, ha, ha. Her father was a Major. I suppose he has his views on that sort of thing. Imbibed them with her mother’s milk probably. Shame though, and a bit awkward if Mary and Georgie get the ok to fly back, even if they only come round to give me a bollocking.”
Lance smiled and pushed a tea in front of Charlie. “Hasn’t put you off then, that she thinks I’m a disgusting aberration?”
“I don’t know Lance. It doesn’t help does it? We get on fine, you know how it is. She’s a lovely girl, nice smile, wonderful figure, no real shortcomings apart from her attitudes to the gays of this world and that she’s obviously not a fan of my flights of fancy.”
“Surprised you’re still talking to her, then.”
“Ha, ha, Captain. I’m not exactly overwhelmed with offers at the moment, am I?”
“I’m sure if you asked one or two of the girls in the club nicely, Charlie, and handed over a big bundle of notes.”
“Ouch. You must have been a barrel of laughs in the Mess. Did they give you all the dangerous missions as a thank you for your wit? I don’t mean sex, Lance, I mean a bit more than that.”
Lance raised his eyebrows. “I see. You do have high hopes.”
“She seems to like me as a bit more than as a friend. You know the signs, or maybe you don’t.”
“I know what you mean,” Lance told him patiently. “There are cues us gays understand.”
“Yes, well I was thinking I might bring her here rather than going to cafes or restaurants. Just for a coffee or a spot of lunch...”
Lance held up his hands. “I can make myself scarce, Charlie. It’s your flat. You tell me when and I’ll camp out at the club.”
“Lance, no, bit premature on that front. I’ve only met her twice and I don’t want to push my luck.”
“Nonetheless, Charlie, just say the word, and make sure you have a packet in your bedside table.”
“Ha, ha, ha. I do have one but they may have expired.”
“That was a joke, right?”
Chapter 13 – Unexpected (Year 1 – Very Late September)
When Charlie suggested a light lunch at his flat, Francesca hesitated. “I don’t know Charlie. Isn’t it easier to have lunch out somewhere or a coffee or a walk in the park? I don’t want to put you to a lot of trouble. And what about Lance? You said he was slightly disturbed. I don’t want to upset him. He’s not violent is he?”
Charlie was genuinely surprised. “Francesca, no; he’s much better, as well. He works now so you could come round when he’s out.”
“Oh alright Charlie but promise me if I don’t feel comfortable that you won’t make me come again.”
“Of course not, Frankie, never in a million years.”
“And I would like to see your flat.”
And so Francesca risked a coffee in Charlie’s spacious property.
“This is a beautiful place,” Francesca cooed as they sat together on the sofa, albeit at a respectable distance. “You inherited this, when your parents...” Her pale blue eyes were sad.
Charlie nodded. “Don’t look so sorry for me, Frankie. I’ve got over it. It’s no fun losing even one parent when you’re young but there’s not much you can do is there.”
She sighed. “Your parents dying. I don’t know. I was in bits when our old Labrador died a few months ago. Crying every day for weeks. Poor old Bowser.” The thought of the late lamented pet clearly saddened her even now and she cast around for a tissue. Charlie supplied a box and she blew her nose daintily.
“You like dogs, then,” he asked her when she had mastered her emotions.
“Doesn’t everyone?” she said effusively. “They’re so loyal and friendly. I can’t wait to get a dog when I can; a poodle or a Jack Russell.”
She smiled and patted Charlie’s leg. “What sort of dog are you Charlie, a spaniel, a retriever? What do you think?”
“A tyke, Frankie.”
“Or the big bad wolf.” This was said with a knowing glance and another pat on his leg. “Charlie I should go or I’ll be late.”
Once she was standing she clasped her hands together in front of her and faced him. “Fr
ankie very much likes your flat and would love to come again. She promises to be good if invited.”
“Then she most certainly is.” Charlie wasn’t a huge fan of the little girl voice but the sentiments were positive.
He escorted her to the door which he opened for her just as Geoff was about to knock. “Charlie,” cried Geoff “Came round on the off chance and followed in old Mrs F….”
He stopped, staring, his hand still in the air. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times.
“Is there something wrong with your arm?” Francesca wondered.
He put it down. “Geoffrey,” he spluttered.
“Francesca,” she said. “Delighted, but I have to dash. Charlie I’ll call you.”
Geoff was not an overly physical fellow but he thrust Charlie before him into the living room. “Who,” he demanded. “Is that?”
“You should pay attention Geoff,” Charlie told him airily. “She told you. Her name is Francesca.”
“And why haven’t any of your friends got to meet Francesca?”
“Because she seems like a nice girl,” Charlie told him.
“Oh most amusing.” Geoff shoved Charlie into a chair. “Now,” he demanded. “Out with it or I get the cosh out.”
“Steady on old man, you’re not a prefect anymore.”
“Come on Charlie. I want to hear it all.”
“There isn’t a lot to tell, Geoff. Her people are from Warwickshire. I met her at Sir Michael’s bash a while back. She does a bit of modelling and is at a bit of a loose end sometimes. This is only the third time I’ve seen her.”
“What sort of modelling does she do then?”
“Lingerie.”
“You scrounged any photos?”
Charlie was outraged. “Geoff, she’s a nice girl! You don’t go asking for pictures of a nice girl in her undies. You do that sort of thing at the club.”
“I suppose not. Better to look at the real thing eh Charlie, or better still, get the undies off altogether.”
Charlie frowned. “Tell me, Geoff, old chum, is this how you woo Camilla? Get your undies off, I want my evil way with you. Oh, by the way, remind me, what’s your name?”
