‘I did believe he’d run out on me,’ Sylvia said slowly and thoughtfully. ‘I was convinced of it until a few days ago. But then I remembered what he’d said, and I knew he must be dead. You see, he wouldn’t have broken his promise to me, darling.’
Charlie was stumped for a reply to such an irrational statement. Maybe a week ago she would have gone along with what her mother felt, after all her father had never broken a promise to her either. But Guy had changed her views on men, honour and promises.
‘Well, maybe that is true,’ she said carefully, not wishing to upset her mother again. ‘But we have to tell the police about DeeDee anyway. Even if he isn’t with her, she might know where he is.’
‘No, we mustn’t do that.’ Sylvia’s eyes widened with sudden alarm and she reached out to grab Charlie’s hands, gripping them hard. ‘I don’t want her brought into this. Promise me you won’t tell them?’
Charlie was so taken aback by this plea that for a moment she could only stare at her mother. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s the obvious thing to do. I certainly won’t promise.’
All at once Charlie saw that shutter coming down on Sylvia’s face again. She let go of Charlie and slumped back on the pillows. ‘You go to them with that story and I’ll deny it,’ she said in an icy voice. ‘I have some pride left.’
The last thing Charlie wanted now was more conflict. Maybe in a day or two she’d tackle the subject again, but for now she thought she’d better move on to a safer subject. ‘Okay,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Forget that, and tell me about this flat.’
Sylvia relaxed visibly. ‘It’s in Mayflower Close,’ she said. ‘Do you know where that is?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Charlie said with some eagerness. ‘It’s nice there. High up, above the Naval College, there’s lovely views of the river, and it’s right on the bus route. Those houses haven’t been built that long either.’
‘Maybe it won’t be so bad then.’ Her mother half smiled. ‘If you ring Mr Wyatt he’ll probably be able to arrange for you to see it. Maybe you could work out what curtains, carpets and furniture would fit too. He did say he would arrange for someone to take me there in a couple of weeks, and to take me to “Windways” to make a list of things I want to keep.’
Charlie’s irritation about her mother’s response to telling the police about DeeDee was banished by this enthusiasm for a new home.
‘We’ll keep as much as possible,’ she replied. ‘Even if it doesn’t fit, we can always sell it afterwards.’
Sylvia smiled, the first real one in a long time. ‘What a smart girl I’ve got,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t have ever thought of that. I think I’d better leave the whole list-making to you.’
Once again Charlie thought of admitting about the things she’d already got hidden away. But again she stopped herself. Her mother seemed sane enough now, almost like the mother she remembered from her childhood, before the black moods started. But that didn’t mean anything, tomorrow she might go cuckoo again.
‘I have to go now.’ She bent to kiss her mother. ‘I’ll ring Mr Wyatt later on today. Now, you just concentrate on getting better, Mum. Do those exercises, let the physiotherapist help you. Please?’
Sylvia smiled again. She lifted her hands and cupped her daughter’s face. ‘You are a little treasure,’ she said. ‘Okay. I’ll try harder.’
August ended with two of the hottest days of the year, then September came in with a downpour that lasted three whole days. With each day the holidaymakers became scarcer. Ivor was kept busy though, he took out fishing parties every day, and Charlie spent hers sitting in the shack reading, waiting for customers who were few and far between.
Beryl only really needed help at the weekends now, but Charlie always went downstairs in the evenings and did what she could, because even washing up was preferable to being alone with her thoughts.
They were mostly dark ones. The deep hurt at Guy betraying her kept coming back in waves. She felt sorrow because her time here in Salcombe was nearly up, but most of all she felt dread at what was to come.
The optimism she’d felt when she had left Franklin House on the day of her exam results had faded very quickly. By the time she visited Sylvia again, the mask was on once more, and she was once again sullen. She took no interest in what they should try to retrieve from ‘Windways’, and appeared to care even less about Charlie’s future prospects, or their new flat.
Charlie had been pleasantly surprised by the flat. Although set amongst standard recently built council houses, it was purpose-built for someone disabled, on the ground floor, and the back windows had a fine view over fields down to the river Dart. The living room was large, with windows at either end, and both bedrooms, although tiny in comparison to the ones at ‘Windways’, had built-in wardrobes. It had a ramp for a wheelchair up to the front door, wide internal ones, and lower than usual worktops in the kitchen and central heating. At the time Charlie viewed it the painters were still there, giving it all a coat of magnolia paint. It even had a tiny back yard of its own.
But however nice the flat was, there was no escaping the fact that once they moved in, she might as well be locked up and the key thrown away. Sylvia would be utterly dependent on her, and she’d never be able to leave.
The thought of this woman DeeDee had plagued her too, so much so that on an impulse she went to see the police in Dartmouth and told them about her. Her initial fear was that they would go straight back to Sylvia for more information and upset her, but instead they seemed disinterested. They said that all Jin’s known business associates and people he supplied with goods had already been interviewed; as they’d drawn blanks everywhere, they didn’t bear much hope this would change anything. Charlie left the police station feeling even more discouraged and upset. It seemed that no one but herself really cared about what had happened to him.
Going back to ‘Windways’ with Mr Wyatt and a man from the Official Receiver’s office was a further distressing experience. The For Sale sign outside, the dust gathering on the once gleaming dining table, and the chilly emptiness of the house without its usual flowers and smells of polish brought back pangs of unbearable nostalgia.
Before going there, Charlie had spent a great deal of time and energy compiling a list of things they wanted to keep. To be curtly told by the official that the dining-room table and chairs weren’t a necessity, and that the gate-leg table in the hall was quite adequate for their needs was humiliating. He sniffed at her request for the cream three-piece suite in the drawing room, and insisted they must have the shabbier green one in the small sitting room. By the end of the morning’s haggling Charlie felt entirely drained and close to tears. To know she was never going to see all those lovely antique pieces of furniture which her father had collected ever again, that some other family would be walking on the Persian rugs, was too hurtful. She had worked out for herself, just by checking antique shop prices, that the contents of their old home must be worth far in excess of her father’s debts, yet the official just shrugged when she pointed this out and said the Receivers had chalked up considerable expenses which had to be deducted before anyone was paid out.
It was the day of the creditors’ meeting that tipped Charlie over the edge. Mr Wyatt took Sylvia in her wheelchair with him, saying that although it might be harrowing for her mother to come face to face with the people Jin owed money to, he felt her presence was essential to ensure that some of the funds which had been raised by the sale of the house and effects should be set aside for her.
As Charlie wasn’t allowed to attend, she spent the morning of the hearing in the shack, on tenterhooks. She was afraid her mother might be abusive if things didn’t go her way, and that afterwards she might just plunge back into even deeper depression.
To her surprise Mr Wyatt came into the shack at one o’clock, beaming from ear to ear, and insisted she came out to lunch with him so he could tell her everything. Charlie assumed this meant he had good news and her spir
its rose.
It wasn’t until they were in the King’s Arms with steak and kidney pudding in front of them that Wyatt began to explain what had happened. ‘Only three creditors turned up in person so it wasn’t too bad for Sylvia. It was agreed that she was entitled to some of the funds, and two thousand pounds was set aside for that.’
‘That’s good?’ Charlie said in surprise. She thought it should have been much more considering her mother’s disability.
‘Well, she was lucky to get anything, the Inland Revenue don’t care for sob stories,’ Wyatt said somewhat callously. ‘But wait till I get to the good news! Miss Fellows, your headmistress, has granted you a free place to continue at school.’
Charlie stared at Wyatt in surprise. ‘When did she contact you?’
‘She was there today. The school was one of your father’s creditors.’
Charlie felt herself blush with shame.
‘Why didn’t you tell me that before?’ she asked.
‘The creditors weren’t your concern,’ he said. ‘You’re too young to worry your pretty little head about that sort of thing.’
That condescending remark angered her and reminded her that she’d never seen any list of creditors, or even had any idea exactly how much her father owed. She wondered if her mother had been properly informed. Perhaps at another time she might have been pleased to think Miss Fellows thought enough of her ability, even in the face of unpaid bills, to offer her a free place, but coming at such a time it felt like the ultimate humiliation.
‘I can’t go back there, not now,’ she said.
‘Why on earth not?’ Wyatt’s schoolboyish smile faded and he looked churlish. ‘I thought you’d be thrilled. It’s a very generous offer under the circumstances.’
‘I expect they said that sort of thing to people who got thrown in the workhouse,’ she said tartly. ‘It was very kind of Miss Fellows. But I have some pride. I couldn’t hold my head up there with everyone whispering about me.’
‘Why should they do that?’ he asked. ‘Young girls aren’t concerned by such things as bankrupts.’
Charlie had begun to see some time ago that Mr Wyatt wasn’t quite the fatherly figure she originally took him for. He had been so condescending and evasive about so many matters, and it had crossed her mind that they ought to have got a lawyer to act for them who was an expert in bankruptcy. None of that really mattered now, as it was over, but suddenly she saw that he was just like she used to be, so wrapped up in himself, so sheltered from real life that he had no real idea what the world was like outside his own front door.
‘Young girls are concerned by anything which has a breath of scandal attached to it,’ she said archly. ‘They are also cruel and will take any opportunity to kick someone when they are already down.’
‘Come now, that’s a bit strong,’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘These girls are your old friends.’
‘And not one of those old friends has shown the slightest concern for me since all this started,’ she said bitterly. ‘Just as all my parents’ so-called friends have abandoned us. A fine lot they turned out to be. They drank Dad’s booze, ate his food, and the minute everything came crashing down, they pretended they never knew us.’
This was a direct dig at Wyatt’s wife Rachel. She had been particularly friendly with Sylvia, yet she hadn’t so much as visited her in hospital or sent along a bunch of flowers. Nor had anyone else in the same social set. ‘In fact,’ Charlie went on, ‘things will be so bad for me in Dartmouth, I probably won’t even be able to get a part-time job there. I think it might be better if I moved to London.’
‘And leave your poor mother on her own? Charlie! I can’t believe you could even consider something so callous.’
Charlie hadn’t really meant to say this. It came out in the heat of the moment. But when Wyatt retaliated so strongly she saw that he was in fact a twat, as her mother had called him. Sylvia must have reverted back to her old act, the charming, flirtatious, helpless little woman today. That he was stupid enough to be taken in by it, when he’d already had plenty of evidence of how impossible Sylvia was, made her seethe.
‘You can call it callous if you like,’ she said defiantly. ‘I’d like to see you put up with her for more than a couple of days without being tempted to do a runner.’
Wyatt changed after that. He dropped the caring, protective persona he’d been adopting all this time, and briskly ran through other minor details that had been brought up this morning. Charlie despised him then. He didn’t care one bit, it was just business to him, and he wanted to wind it all up with all speed so he could claim his fees from the Receivers and bow out.
Charlie half expected him to bring up his advice to her about the miniatures, she was even beginning to think he might be low enough to sink to a spot of blackmail. But fortunately he didn’t. She might have been tempted to tip the remains of her half-eaten lunch over his head if he had.
‘Well, I have to say I’m disappointed in you, Charlie,’ he said as he made a move to leave to go back to his office. ‘I had prided myself on acting in your best interests today. Perhaps you should try to be a little less selfish and consider all those who have tried to help you.’
‘You get paid for what you’ve done,’ she snapped back. ‘I don’t actually remember any help coming from anyone else.’
Back in the shack, shaking with rage, Charlie told Ivor what she thought of Wyatt. ‘He was so bloody pompous. How dare he think he knows better than me how it will be at school, or what Mum’s like?’
Ivor put his arms round her; he had never seen her so angry and it frightened him. ‘Lawyers are all like that,’ he said. ‘They live in ivory towers and haven’t the first idea how it feels to be broke, hurt or confused. Blame him, but not Miss Fellows – she must be a decent sort, and she must have great belief in you to stick her neck out.’
‘I can’t go back to school. I don’t know that I can even face Dartmouth again,’ she sobbed. ‘I dread even visiting Mum, so how can I possibly look after her?’
Ivor just held her and soothed her, every instinct urging him to say she could stay with him and let her mother take care of herself. He felt like sobbing too. He’d grown to love Charlie, his thoughts about her were as pure as if she were his own daughter. He wanted her to finish school, go to university and make something of herself. But to lawyers she was just a pawn they could push around their chessboard, and fit in somewhere it suited them best, regardless of what she needed. Like looking after a half-mad woman who they knew was going to be trouble.
‘Just give it a try first,’ Ivor said, feeling like Judas. ‘Go and see Miss Fellows, and see how you feel about school while you’re there. Settle your mum in that flat, and wait and see what happens. If it is terrible, at least you can say you tried. You can always come back to me. I won’t ever turn you away.’
‘But I’m going to miss you so much,’ she said in a croaky voice against his shoulder. ‘I’ll miss being so close to the sea, the smell of this place, your cooking, Minnie and Beryl. But most of all you, Ivor. I don’t know how I’m going to cope without seeing you every day.’
‘Nor me,’ he said in a gruff voice, and when she moved back slightly to look up at him, his eyes looked damp. ‘It’s a long time since I really cared for anyone,’ he said.
Charlie had once thought he looked odd, but now his red hair, bushy beard and even his uptilted nose had become so dear to her, that other more conventional-looking men seemed bland. She remembered in her first few days here thinking he ought to wear smarter clothes and trim his beard because it would make customers less nervous of him. Of course in those days she was something of a snob, judging people by outward appearances. She hoped she’d never again judge anyone by their clothes, or the amount of money they had. Ivor would always be the man she measured others by.
Chapter Seven
The day after the creditors’ meeting Charlie woke from a terrible nightmare. She had dreamed she was balancing on the stone ba
lustrade in the garden at ‘Windways’, looking down at the sea below, and behind her people were shouting viciously.
She didn’t dare turn to look at them for fear of falling. Her mother was screaming at her to get down and come and give her a bath. Mr Wyatt was shouting that she was selfish and cruel to neglect her mother, and Miss Fellows kept saying over and over again that she’d never make anything of herself unless she worked harder.
There were other softer, taunting voices too. One was Guy’s – he was saying she was a liar and a fraud. June was saying she was spoilt rotten and too big for her boots. Ivor was there too, his gruff voice entreating her to hold on just a little longer.
As she teetered precariously, so she heard thundering feet running towards her. Her mother screamed as she had that day in the garden, and Charlie knew the two men had come back for her.
She jumped, down into the sea, and the dream went into slow motion then as she spun round and round, clutching at plants as she passed them, but they all came away in her hands. Below her she could see waves breaking on the rocks and she was heading straight for them.
Charlie sat up, soaking wet with sweat and panting as if she’d run a mile. It was just on daybreak, a grey, eerie light filling her small room and making it seem like a prison cell. She knew she had to get outside in the fresh air; if she didn’t, she’d fall asleep again and the dream would come back.
She got up, pulled on jeans, a sweater and her plimsolls. The only clear idea she had was to walk until her head cleared of all those horrible images.
Ivor always got up at daybreak, summer and winter alike. It was a legacy left from his time as a fisherman. Now he was getting older and stiff, sometimes he wished he could break the habit and stay in his warm bed, but he found he couldn’t. His routine was the same every day, out into the yard to the lavatory, then a swift walk along the harbour with Minnie just to fill his lungs with fresh air before he made his breakfast.