by Tony McHale
“Hopefully they’ll release the body soon.”
“Then you’ll be able to come home?”
“I could come home now, if you want.”
“We’ve already discussed this Charlie,” which was true, they had discussed it at length during the call they’d shared once she’d sobered up. The decision had been there was no point him coming back to London and then have to go back up to Yorkshire again a few days later for the funeral. And he had to go to the funeral, he had no choice.
“I just thought you might have changed your mind,” joked Charlie.
“You missing me?” she asked.
“Yeah I’m missing you like crazy,” he replied. He’d never said this to Devika before. He’d never opened up to her like this before; in fact he’d never opened up to anybody like this before. He had a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that had the same genus as the feeling about his bedroom, but it had a greater hold on him. And like the feeling for his old room he didn’t want to succumb to it, but he couldn’t help himself. If there was such a thing called love, then he was afraid he was falling prey to it. That’s what death does to you. It leaves you vulnerable.
“It can’t be that much longer.”
“No … I’ll ring you tonight,” he said in a way of signaling the conversation was coming to an end.
“You better,” warned Devika, then she had another thought. “Charlie … you thought anymore about those photos …?”
He was tempted to say, “Which photos?” but he didn’t.
“No … sorry.”
“Genesis called me today … They’re launching her show in a couple of weeks. You know I’m not trying to persuade you - it’s up to you. I just think you should tell her one way or another.”
“I will think about it,” he said softly and with the knowledge that he knew she was right.
Charlie hung up the call and with Genesis Brown on his mind he headed further out of the village. He was thinking, strangely, of not selling the Soho House photographs and he was trying to figure out why. After all he’d taken a few punches for them and that would normally spur him on to get a better price. Then he realised. It was because of this place … Beck le Street. Here people had no real desire to better their lives. Sure next year they wanted a better holiday, they’d like to give their house a fresh lick of paint and if the horses galloped home to victory they’d treat themselves to a new car, but there was no aspiration … no longing to escape their humdrum lives and despite his new found sentimental attachment he’d unwittingly unearthed in his childhood bedroom, this lack of ambition still constantly infuriated Charlie.
Genesis was from Nottingham, the fifth child of a dysfunctional family, which by and large she had managed to shed. She had no intention of following in their footsteps. She was no sloth; she’d worked hard and was on the precipice of achieving something quite monumental. The photos he’d taken could make the difference between her success or her failure. If he sold them wouldn’t he be damning all that he admired?
Devika had relayed to him the conversation she’d had with Genesis. How she’d explained he was in Yorkshire and wouldn’t be back until after his mother’s funeral.
“I can go and meet him, if he wants. Plead my case,” Genesis had implored.
Devika considered that to be a bad idea, so until Charlie rang back there was nothing that she could do. Genesis’s life … her career, were in the balance.
Charlie was approaching Cassie and Tyler’s cottage when he dialled Devika’s number for the second time that day. As Charlie waited for her to answer he looked at Cassie’s cottage just thirty of forty yards away. In the window he could see Cassie doing something in the kitchen. This could have been his life. This is where he could have ended up. A nice cottage on the edge of the village. Cassie as his wife, a couple of kids and working in the pub. Instead he decided to take photos of mainly successful people when they’re vulnerable. Did he feel guilty? No. That’s the name of the game. You seek fame and fortune, that’s the price.
The way Charlie saw it was that he was an integral part of the modern fame game. He was responsible for people being famous. Notoriety has always been part of being famous. Antony and Cleopatra massive love affair, Christopher Marlowe killed in a dual, Rasputin a mad monk, all of them would have been major contenders for reality shows and all of them would have had the paparazzi all over them, they just didn’t have Nikons in those days. Even then word got out about these people. What’s worse - gossip or a good honest photograph?
It was a combination of his respect for her working ethic and the fact he thought he ought to be grateful for the cards life has dealt him and show his gratitude by making some offering to the god of life, that he decided to do something he’d never done before and let someone off. And as luck would have it, that someone was Genesis Brown.
Devika answered the phone.
“I’m not going to do anything,” was the simple statement that would be like an opera to Genesis.
Devika didn’t say anything for a moment.
“You still there?” asked Charlie.
“You are talking about the photos … the photos of Genesis Brown?”
“Yes.”
“Good. She’ll be very grateful … more that grateful … she’ll be over the fucking moon!”
“Will you tell her?
“ I’ll tell her. Charlie … you’ve done the right thing. And I’m missing you like crazy.”
Charlie hung up the call as he continued to look at Cassie in the cottage window.
* * * * *
It was later that evening that Devika met up with Genesis in the Century Club on Shaftesbury Avenue. Genesis was waiting for her with a bottle of Sauvignon in an ice bucket and two wine glasses. Devika didn’t tease, she launched straight in.
“You’re home and dry,” Devika said hardly able to hide her delight.
“Home and dry?” Genesis knew what it meant, but still didn’t quite understand what was happening.
“He’s not going to do anything with them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah … he just said.”
“Really?’ Genesis repeated.
“Really,” came Devika’s reassurance.
“Really …? Really …?” was all Genesis seemed to be able to say.
“That’s what he said.”
“I don’t believe it.”
Genesis grabbed Devika and started to hug her.
“I don’t believe it. That’s more than I prayed for. I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true,” said Devika actually not trying to break away from her relatively new found friend and enjoying the sheer relief Genesis was clearly feeling.
“You won’t believe what I thought … what I thought I could do to get them back, so he couldn’t publish them. You won’t believe it.”
“I might do,” said Devika still experiencing Gensis’s relief.
“I had this boyfriend, before I did Angel Delight ….”
Devika had never seen the reality show Angel Delight, but did know that Genesis was the winner of its first series. Genesis’s finest moment came when she actually wrote out a cheque to help the supposedly dying wife of the JCB driver who had just crushed her Ford Focus to pulp. The audience just had to vote for her.
“... he was this burglar,” continued Genesis. “ When Charlie wasn’t saying what he was going to do, I rang him up. I was going to ask him if he could break into your flat and get them back. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do that to you … or anybody really. It’s not me. So I never said anything. I just talked crap on the end of the phone … but it was nice listening to his voice again.” Genesis gave a little shriek and then continued in her euphoria. “He is the man … Charlie Ashton will be number one on my Christmas card list forever.”
“I t
hink his mother being murdered must have made him go soft.”
“His mother was murdered?” Genesis was brought up short.
“Yeah … that’s the latest.”
“Oh my god … murdered. Do they know who it was?”
“No … which is one of the reasons why Charlie’s having to stay there so long.”
“Murdered. Do they have any suspects?”
“Not so far … except …”
“Except who?” Genesis was intrigued.
“His father,” Devika heard herself saying the words, whilst wondering why she’d offered up this piece of information. There was definitely something about Genesis that made you open up, definitely something that made her an Angel delight.
“Look tell him, next time you speak to him, tell him if there’s ever anything I can do for him … or you … anything at all, then you just let me know. Because I will do anything for you two … anything. Anything.”
Genesis could never have guessed what that favour would actually one day entail.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jed naively assumed, with his release on police bail, life at The Black Dog would return to normal, but he quickly realised that his life would never be normal again. Even the regulars that came into the pub had a different attitude towards him. Some just managed a nod and a half smile, while others engaged in conversation so far removed from anything to do with Caroline or Kyle’s deaths that it was almost surreal. There was also a steady stream of non-regulars that mainly consisted of sensation vultures. It was unclear what they were hoping to see, but for most a glimpse of Jed seemed to satisfy their voyeuristic need. Is he guilty? Does he look guilty? Do you think he could murder someone? He’s got killer eyes.
Charlie’s presence in the pub gave his father a surprising sense of security. His son he felt was there for the right reason – to support him through this time. But for Charlie this was an uneasy period. He hated being back in the pub, he hated the attachment he felt and was just waiting for the release of his mother’s body so she could be buried in peace and he could return to his own world in London. But as yet there was no sign that this was imminent.
Charlie’s days were spent walking in and around the village taking various snap shots, editing photos on his laptop or sitting in the bar at The Black Dog listening to what he considered in the main to be rather mundane conversations. Of course since his mother’s death and Cassie discovered Kyle’s body, the conversations had expanded to include these recent tragedies. Were the two deaths connected? Was Caroline’s death an accident or murder? Who would want to harm simple Kyle? But no answers were really forthcoming.
“Drink?”
Charlie looked round to see Amos looking at him. Charlie was waiting for some jibe or some slight to follow, but none came.
“Well do you want one or what?’
Charlie suddenly fancied a glass of red wine, but he wasn’t about to ask for one. He was fairly certain the wine in The Black Dog would be undrinkable.
“Just a … half a lager.”
“Half a lager Farrah love,” Amos leaned on the bar as he asked for the drink.
No one spoke as Farrah poured the drink and placed it in front of Charlie.
“Thanks,” said Charlie as he smiled at Farrah. Then he said, “Cheers,” as he clinked glasses with Amos and his ubiquitous partner Lucas.
“We heard you saw his body.” Amos looked Charlie straight in the eyes as he said the statement that was really a question.
“Kyle’s?” Charlie wasn’t going to slide over to their side without some resistance.
“Yeah – Kyle’s”
“I did - poor kid.”
“Yeah – poor kid,” reiterated Lucas.
“You took him to the police?”
“No – they came to Farrah’s … with an ambulance crew. They pronounced him dead.”
“What did he look like?” Lucas asked rather incongruously.
“Same as he did sixteen years ago … To me he looked no older … no younger. He just looked like Kyle.”
“Had you seen him since his accident …?”
“In the Beck you mean?”
“Yeah … the accident in the Beck.” Lucas emphasised the word accident in such a way most people would have assumed that it wasn’t an accident, which was the exact opposite to Lucas’s intention.
“No,” said Charlie, “I haven’t seen him since the … accident.”
“We were there,” continued Amos, “when he went in the Beck.”
“And so was your ma,” Lucas added in a way that was almost defensive. “She saved his life.”
“Why didn’t you go in? Why did you leave it to my mother?” asked Charlie.
“What you saying?” Amos suddenly went into defense mode.
“Just wondering, why you guys didn’t get in there and save him. Why you left it to a woman.” Charlie wasn’t going to back down.
“Are you saying we didn’t have the guts?” Amos stared at Charlie as he spit out the challenge.
“No. I know you’re not lacking in guts.”
“We’d have saved him … if we could,” Lucas spluttered.
“So why didn’t you,” Charlie pressed on.
Amos studied Charlie. How was he going to handle this? Charlie prepared himself for an outburst of attack aggression, but instead he watched as Amos just seemed to deflate. All the anger left him.
“We were over the other side of the Beck,” Amos went on calmly. “Nothing we could do. Too far from us.”
“But you saw him … dead … poor kid.”
“Yeah,” Charlie repeated.
“He’ll be in heaven now … God rest his soul,” said Amos with a pious ring.
“Or hell …” quipped Lucas.
“No … a boy like that will be in heaven. He was too simple to do anything wrong.”
“You might just be right there.” Lucas was suddenly sounding very somber.
Charlie couldn’t help but think that Amos and Lucas were after something, but couldn’t figure out what. He slowly came to the conclusion they were just being ghoulish, almost like kids at Halloween, they were getting a kick out of the idea of the corpses and the after life. In Charlie’s head there was no after life … just ashes or dirt and worms and the thought of his mother being committed to either upset him.
“I still don’t think they’re connected.” Jed had joined the conversation uninvited, something people did all the time in The Black Dog. “Kyle was always getting himself into bother. Look where he was staying. If I’d have found him down there, I might have felt like sticking a knife in him. He could be a bloody nuisance at times.”
Nobody looked particularly shocked with Jed speaking ill of the dead, in fact Farrah nodded in agreement.
“He couldn’t help it. It’s just the way he was,” said Amos.
“What would he have been like if he hadn’t fallen through the ice?” asked Charlie.
“Probably not much different. He was always a bit slow in the head,” Jed once again giving the dead Kyle no sympathy.
Charlie looked at his father, he was about to say something when his attention went to a woman who had you entered the pub. The reason he was drawn to her, was because he didn’t recognise her as a Black Dog regular and she certainly didn’t look the itinerant type of customer that The Black Dog attracted. Smart, in her thirties and a confident attitude. Her hair was blonde, shoulder length and complemented her black trouser suit.
She moved to Jed’s side and said in a slightly husky voice, “Mr Ashton?”
Jed looked at her. He showed no sign of recognition.
“Yes?”
“Elaine O’Hara, could I have a word please?”
“What about?”
“Your wife.”
“Are you from the press? Because
if you are my son’s here and he’s the only snoop I’m entertaining at the moment.”
Farrah saw Charlie flinch. Charlie knew why he’d never been back.
“No I’m a solicitor. Here’s my card.” She handed both Charlie and Jed a card, which she had already loose in her pocket. Charlie put it straight in his pocket, while Jed looked at it … Shaw and Sherman Solicitors.
“Are you Shaw or Sherman?”
“Neither …” She pointed at the name in the middle of the card in bold …
“Elaine O’Hara,” Jed read it out like a kid in class.
Charlie sensed immediately that his dad was out of his depth. He was still reeling from his wife’s death and after being questioned by the police, he wasn’t strong enough to play games with solicitors … mind you, he probably never was.
“I’m Charlie Ashton, Mr Ashton’s son, can I ask what this is about?”
“It’s a private matter. A private matter, which in fact involves you as well as your father.”
“I already have a lawyer. In fact I have two,” said Jed as he thought of how he had acquired Sabel.
“I’m here on the request of your wife.”
Charlie hadn’t seen this coming.
“My mother is dead … she was killed …”
“I know. She wanted me to tell you as soon as possible … should this situation arise.”
“What are you talking about …?”
Elaine looked across at Farrah, indicating what she had to say was not for her ears and in that moment Jed knew where he recognised her from.
“You were in here, the other night … the night before she died - talking to her.”
“That’s right.”
“Let’s go and sit over here. What do you want to drink?”
“Just an orange juice … I’m driving,” replied Elaine.
The three of them moved to Jed’s corner as Farrah got Elaine’s drink.
“You’re here on the request of my mother?” asked Charlie before he was even seated.
“Yes.”
“And you want to speak to me as well as my father?”
