Charlie (21 page)

Staff Nurse Dodds was sorting out the post in the hall when she saw Charlie come back up the garden path. She had been making beds earlier when she’d heard Sylvia Weish’s outburst and the screaming which followed. It had taken both her and Nurse Wilson to subdue the woman, and her language had been appalling.

She hadn’t grown to like Sylvia however hard she tried. None of the staff had a good word for her, yet this time, once they’d got the woman calmed down enough to drink a cup of tea and take a tranquillizer, her anger turned to pitiful tears, and she’d revealeda side of herself they hadn’t seen before. It seemed to the nurse that Sylvia’s real problem was a total inability to express her real emotions. She did love her daughter, she was also very worried that Charlie hadn’t got a real home and might drift into trouble, but instead of saying these things, she lashed out wildly and thoughtlessly.

As Charlie approached the open front door, Staff Nurse Dodds saw her red-rimmed swollen eyes and instinctively knew exactly what she’d been doing for the last couple of hours. Her heart went out to Charlie, and to her mother.

‘I’m so glad you came back, dear,’ she said. ‘Your mother was very upset after you left, but I think she’s very sorry now.’

Charlie sensed the nurse knew the root cause of the trouble. ‘I always intended to look after her. But how can I?’ she asked imploringly. ‘She’s as horrible to me as she is to all of you.’

‘No one will force you to take care of her,’ Staff Nurse Dodds said with deep sympathy, patting Charlie’s shoulder comfortingly. ‘You are too young for one thing. This flat she’s been offered will be got ready for her with her disability in mind, and she’ll get nursing and home support. If you can’t face going there with her, don’t do it. She’ll just have to learn to accept it.’

‘I’ll go and see her again,’ Charlie said with a sigh. ‘But if she’s nasty again, this time it really will be the last visit.’

*

Sylvia had been taken back to the bedroom she shared with two other women and put to bed. The curtains had been partially drawn, and as all the other patients were downstairs it was very peaceful.

‘Hullo, Mum,’ Charlie said tentatively. ‘I’m sorry. I had to come back because I was worried about you.’

Sylvia was lying flat on her back. As Charlie approached her she lifted her head a little and gave a weak smile.

Charlie felt a surge of relief. Her mother’s eyes were swollen from crying but it was clear the fight had gone out of her.

‘I’m sorry too,’ Sylvia said in a croaky voice. ‘I didn’t mean what I said, darling. You know I love you really. I don’t know why I’m so mean sometimes. And I’m really proud of you for doing so well in the exams.’

Charlie’s hurt faded. Sylvia had never been one for apologies, or saying she loved her, and to hear both made her glad she’d come back. She sat on the edge of the bed and took her mother’s hands in hers. ‘I love you too, Mum, for better or worse. I won’t run out on you, I promise.’

Sylvia gave a deep sigh. ‘Your father said that to me once,’ she said in a small voice.

‘Well, I mean it,’ Charlie said stoutly, assuming this remark was caused by disbelief. ‘When did he say it to you?’

‘When I found out he was having an affair,’ she replied, her eyes mournful.

Charlie’s heart quickened. Since the day Sylvia blurted out the story of her childhood and the stillborn baby, Charlie had never managed to get anything further out of her about the past. ‘He had an affair? Who with?’

Sylvia closed her eyes as if to shut out a painful memory.

‘Mum?’ Charlie shook her hand gently. ‘Who was it?’

‘DeeDee.’

The unlikely name came out like a pistol shot. The sheer force of it proved it was something Sylvia had bottled up for a very long time.

‘Who was she?’ Charlie probed gently.

‘I thought she was my friend. We worked together long before I met Jin. When he got his own club I got him to give her a job too.’

Charlie could see the pain in her mother’s eyes. ‘Go on,’ she whispered. ‘It’s better to tell me than keep it all inside you.’

Sylvia sighed and reached out for her daughter’s hand. ‘She wasn’t just a passing friend, Charlie, we were as close as sisters. We had so many good times both before and after she came to work for Jin, we were making big money and everything seemed wonderful. When I stopped working because I was pregnant she took over all my jobs.’ She paused for a moment, looking bleakly at her daughter. ‘I never thought for one moment she’d get her hooks into my husband too.’

Charlie understood that a woman was hardly likely to forget such betrayal, especially at such a vulnerable time in her life, but she did think it a bit odd that she should still be so bitter about it after all these years. She had to get to the bottom of it. ‘And that’s what Dad said? That he wouldn’t run out on you?’

‘Yes. He didn’t say he would stop seeing DeeDee. Just that he loved me, for better or worse, and he wouldn’t run out on me. Funny you should use the exact same words, but then you are so like him.’

Charlie was a little confused. ‘So are you saying he went on with the affair?’

‘Oh yes.’ Sylvia sighed and her eyes looked stricken. ‘You were two when I found out about it, and he said that. Like a fool I thought that meant it really was over, and then of course we moved to Devon. We were so happy then, I managed to forgive if not forget. But the truth of the matter was that he wanted me out of London so he could carry on with her. He had two homes, one with me and you, and another one with
her
in London.’

Charlie was astounded. ‘Are you telling me this went on from when I was a baby right up till he disappeared? Sixteen years!’

Sylvia nodded. ‘More or less.’

‘And Dad knew that you knew?’

‘Yes,’ she said, but her eyes dropped from Charlie’s. ‘Well no, not exactly. At first I used to gently hint that I knew he was still seeing her, but he always laughed it off. Later on I used to say sharper things about it and it always caused a row: He always said I was the only woman he’d ever loved. But he wouldn’t talk about it properly, he’d just throw something in a temper and walk away. I was afraid that if I kept on about it he might leave me.’

Charlie nodded. This at least explained some of the rows she’d heard. ‘But you might have been mistaken. What proof did you have?’

‘DeeDee sent letters and cards to him occasionally. I used to steam them open. She phoned too, she’d pretend she had a wrong number if I answered, but I’d know her voice anywhere. It was low and husky. Not like anyone else’s.’

‘Did you show these letters to Dad, tell him about the calls.’

‘No,’ Sylvia replied, looking furtive. ‘I was too frightened to in case it forced his hand.’

All at once Charlie began to see a fuller picture. This was almost certainly the cause of those black moods her mother had suffered from. She couldn’t imagine ever choosing to suffer in silence rather than risk losing a man, but then she and her mother had very different characters. Perhaps for a weak person who had suffered so much abuse as a young girl, half a husband, a beautiful home and financial security was better than gambling the lot by speaking out, and maybe risking losing everything.

‘Did you tell the police about her?’ she asked.

Sylvia’s eyes opened very wide like a startled deer’s. ‘No, I couldn’t.’

‘Why not, Mum? Dad might be there with her now. Where was this other home?’

‘I never found that out.’ Sylvia turned her face towards Charlie and her eyes were beautiful, big, sad pools of blue, brimming with tears. ‘She never put an address on her letters. But he wouldn’t be there. He promised he would never run out on me.’

Charlie felt a surge of anger at her mother’s inconsistency and stupidity. ‘But he has!’ she retorted. She wondered if she was losing her mind now. ‘He has run out on you, hasn’t he? Even if you don’t know her address, if this woman worked for Dad and had been seeing him all these years, the police might be able to find her and question her.’

‘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.