Charlie (72 page)

Ozzie chuckled. At his time of life a year meant nothing, but then he had seen from the outset that this was a young lady who expected immediate action about everything. ‘So what did you do, hassle them like you did me?’

‘I certainly did,’ she said, her eyes twinkling. ‘And I read everything I could get my hands on about inheritance. Finally I managed to discover a bit of a loophole, that the executor would be allowed to use his discretion if the heir was in need. Well, I was in need, wasn’t I? I needed, and was entitled to, a proper home. I reckoned if I was to use the money to buy a freehold property, they couldn’t refuse.

‘When this place came up for sale I knew it was perfect. There was a lovely spacious flat upstairs, I could run the shop, and it was a good investment. So I kept jerking the executor’s chain until he agreed.’

She told him about how initially she had hardly anything to sell, but then she got the news that her father’s goods were now hers. ’Oddly enough they were only too glad for me to have them! It would cost a fortune to keep them in store otherwise.

‘I went through it all carefully, but it scared me because it was all so valuable, more like you get in Bond Street shops. I couldn’t launch into a business straight off with that kind of stuff. I knew I’d get ripped off, if not burgled, the moment I displayed it,’ she admitted. ’So I got some advice from a retired valuer I knew, and he arranged for a reputable auction room to handle it.

‘It turned out to be the smartest thing to have done. The sale went beyond my wildest dreams, so I invested half the money, and took a couple of months off travelling around buying stuff I really could handle. Gradually it turned into this.’

Ozzie thought Jin Weish would have been very proud of her. ‘How old are you now, Charlie?’ he asked. It seemed incredible to him that someone so young could be so astute.

‘Twenty-three next month,’ she said with a grin. ‘Looking back, I’m glad I didn’t get that insurance money for so long. Having to wait and use my wits taught me a thing or two. Once we did get the rest, we went a bit wild. We did the flat up, bought a nice car, had an expensive holiday in America. But by then the shop was paying its way too.’

Ozzie thought she was understating her success, both she and the shop glowed with it.

‘So where do you go from here?’ he asked.

‘At the moment I’m really happy just how we are,’ she said, looking around her with obvious contentment. ‘Maybe in a few years we’ll buy a house in the country, and have some children, but I get a buzz out of buying and selling. I know everyone round here, it’s a great place to live and work.’

‘Are you still friends with Rita? Is she still in the flat across the road?’

Charlie smiled with affection. ‘We’ll be best friends for ever. But no, she’s not in the flat any more, she bought a guest-house in Broadstairs two years ago with the compensation she got from the Dexters. It’s a lovely place, right on the sea, and she’s the perfect landlady, she cossets her guests as if they were her family.’

Ozzie smiled wryly. He could just imagine Rita as a landlady – her days as a night-club hostess had been good training for her. ‘Is there a man in her life now?’

Charlie laughed. ‘Several. But the important one is her son Paul. He’s at Nottingham University now, studying horticulture, but he spends all his holidays with her and when he gets his degree he’ll find a job somewhere near her. She really did get her happy ending.’

‘No more nightmares about the past for either of you then?’ he said gently.

‘Not now,’ she said, suddenly very serious. ‘I’ve had black moments, sudden spells of anger that Dad and Mum aren’t here to see what I’ve done and be proud of me.’

‘How do you cope with that?’ he asked, reaching out and taking her hand in his.

She looked down at his big hands holding hers and half smiled. ‘I tell myself I’d have nothing of my own if they were still alive. I’d probably be married to a “good catch”, some boring ex-public schoolboy making his way up his daddy’s company. You see, I came to realize that was what Dad wanted for me. That house in Dartmouth, my good school, it was all to that end.’

‘All parents who’ve had it tough as a child want that for their kids,’ he said reprovingly. ‘I know I want something better for mine.’

‘I don’t mean I blame Dad and Mum for wanting it,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m very grateful they gave me such a good foundation. But its rather tragic to think that if they had lived, and they’d continued to shield me from the harsh realities of life, one day they might have looked at that self-centred, egotistical daughter of theirs and been dismayed at how she turned out. The saddest thing to me is that it took their deaths for me to discover who they really were, and for me to find out that I liked the parts of them they’d kept hidden far more than the false image they had created for my benefit.’

Ozzie smiled. ‘You are so very like Jin,’ he said. ‘He was a deep thinker too.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me you knew him right from the start?’ she asked.

Ozzie shrugged. ‘I’m first and foremost a policeman,’ he said. ‘Had I let it out that first day I wouldn’t have been able to do my job properly. But I can tell you now that I liked him and your mother very much. They’d both had appalling childhoods, almost certainly many people had tried to corrupt them, yet they found one another, clung to each other and somehow together managed to rise above all the ugliness of Soho with their integrity intact. That’s where you get your strength from, Charlie. And don’t you ever forget it.’

Charlie moved from her perch to hug him. She had been touched that such a senior policeman cared enough to look her up, but now he’d told her his opinion of her parents it was confirmation of her suspicions that he’d made sure the charges against the Dexters stuck, for a little more than mere duty.

Ozzie held her silently. He had a lump in his throat, but he was so very glad he’d come in here today. ‘Now, about this present for my wife,’ he said huskily after a few moments.

Charlie had only just locked the shop after Hughes left, when Andrew came home. He flattened his face against the window with his tongue out so he looked like a lunatic. Giggling, Charlie unlocked the door again.

His old student image had gone: hair neatly cut, a dark suit, and an expensive leather briefcase in his hand instead of the battered canvas bag he used to hump his books around in. But the essential boyishness was all still there in his twinkling blue eyes and his ready smiles. He might be IBM’s golden boy destined for an illustrious career, but he still didn’t take himself very seriously.

‘How’s my little Lotus Flower tonight?’ he said, kissing her lingeringly. ‘Is there enough in the coffers for us to go out to dinner?’

‘I should think so,’ she laughed. ‘But why do you want to go out? Is my cooking still so bad?’

‘Not at all. But I thought a celebration was in order. I’ve got to go to Hong Kong next week, and you can come with me.’

Charlie just stared at him for a moment. She’d wanted to go there for years.

‘Really?’ she gasped, a wild excitement welling up inside her.

‘Now, would I say such a thing if it wasn’t true?’ he asked, laughing at her flushing face. He’d been married to her for three years, known her for five, yet he still got a kick out of seeing her lovely eyes dance with excitement. ‘Two weeks in a swish hotel. I won’t be working all the time, so we’ll be able to shop, hunt out stuff for the business, and we can put out feelers about your dad’s family.’

He knew that last item would thrill her, it was something she’d wanted to do ever since the trial. She threw herself into his arms, wriggling with glee.

‘I love you, Andrew Blake,’ she said, covering his face with kisses. ‘You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.’

‘We’d better ring Beryl, we said we were going down there for the weekend and we won’t really have time for that now. Do you want to do it now, while I have a shave and a bath?’

‘Okay,’ she replied kissing him again. ‘Make yourself scrumptious. I expect I’ll have plans for you later tonight.’

‘Going immediately,’ he said, playfully pushing her aside. As he got to the stairs at the back of the shop which led up to their flat, he looked back. ‘How about a taster before we go out?’

Charlie stuck her tongue out at him. ‘Shave and then we’ll see,’ she said.

Once Andrew had gone, she sat down by the phone, pausing for a moment’s reflection on how lucky she was. Andrew was her love, her best friend, a rock to lean on, and her clown when she needed one. She had a beautiful home, security, dozens of friends and a job she loved.

The business had been built on love, the foundations laid during the trial while she took the business studies course, the inspiration and the capital from her father. Andrew’s father and Ivor had built the shelves, Dora Blake made all the exquisite lace-trimmed cushions which Charlie not only sold but made the shop look pretty. Andrew had rewired it and organized all the lights which gave it character. Beryl and Rita were her scouts for country house auctions where she got most of the best items. Even Charlie’s flair for display was an influence from Sylvia; as a small child she’d watched her mother arranging pictures or ornaments until they looked just right. The buying and selling was her own part, and she loved it.

The love they’d all put into it showed. Charlie knew people sensed something extraordinary the moment they looked through the window. It brought them back in, time and time again.

She wondered what her father would say if he knew that she’d never sold his treasures, that those valuable miniatures adorned the chimney breast in her sitting room, the jade and silver in a glass cabinet, her mother’s jewellery in the safe, worn occasionally when she and Andrew went somewhere smart.

It had been tempting to sell them when she and Andrew first got married. The two rooms they found were cramped and squalid and they couldn’t afford anything better. But Andrew had stopped her. As he so wisely said at the time, ‘They are all you’ve got left of your parents. They represent everything they strived for when they bought “Windways”, and what they wanted for you.’

That was one of the things she loved most about Andrew. He was far-sighted, thought things through. He understood what was truly important, like love, family and inner peace.

On their wedding day, his father had made a little speech, and said he was overjoyed to have a daughter at last. And that was what she’d become to them; Charlie even called her in-laws Mum and Dad. When they came to stay for weekends, Mum liked nothing better than to serve in the shop, while Dad pottered around mending and fixing things. They said their trips to London to see their children were the high spots of the year.

On top of that they had Ivor and Beryl too. Ivor had given Charlie away at the little church in Salcombe. He trimmed his beard, had his hair cut, and even bought a new suit. Every time they went down to visit them he asked how much longer he was to wait for a grandchild. He said his dream was to take him or her out in the
MaryAnn
.

Charlie picked up the phone, smiling to herself as she glanced at her watch, it was just after six. In the Victoria Inn Ivor would be sitting on his favourite stool with a pint, Beryl would be leaning on the bar talking to him.

‘So you’re off to Hong Kong, eh!’ Ivor said as he took over from Beryl. ‘Well, that beats Salcombe in January. Give my regards to Wan Chai, I had some great nights in the bars there.’

‘I’m hoping I might be able to trace Dad’s family,’ she said reprovingly. ‘Not looking at the places he got inspiration for his own club.’

‘All right, Miss Toffee Nose,’ he chuckled. ‘But that’s exactly where you might get a lead. There’s a bar called the Red Dragon, anyone will direct you to it. It’s owned by a chap called Red MacDonald. Scots, as you’d imagine, with a Chinese wife. Remember me to him, we were buddies. He’ll put you on the right track.’

After a brief chat Charlie put the phone down and went upstairs. She met Andrew on the landing wearing nothing but a towel around his middle, clean-shaven and smelling of soap.

‘That outfit suits you,’ she said, running her fingers down his bare chest. ‘Don’t get dressed. I’m feeling a bit peckish.’

Andrew took her hand and led her into their bedroom. It was a huge room at the back of the building, decorated and furnished in a Moorish style with the large, low bed surrounded by sumptuous drapes, fur rugs and kelims on the walls. Charlie had found a local craftsman to make Arabesque-style shutters for the windows and matching doors for the fitted wardrobes.

Andrew lit four candles, then turned out the main light. The room immediately took on the character of a scene from the
Arabian Nights
.

‘What would my Lotus Flower have me do to her?’ he said, coming up behind her to kiss her neck, at the same time unzipping her dress.

‘I don’t mind, just lots of it,’ Charlie sighed, already aroused by his lips on her skin. Many of her friends had said that after a year or two of marriage she’d get bored with love-making, but she hadn’t. It was still as exciting as it had been in the early days of snatched opportunities in Andrew’s attic room in Jack Straw’s Castle.

‘I think then we’ll have the seduction of the new concubine,’ he murmured, dropping her dress to the floor and lowering the straps of her slip from her shoulders and cupping his hands round her breasts. ‘It takes a very, very, long time, because she needs gentle arousing.’

‘Umm,’ Charlie sighed as he slowly and sensually stripped her of panties, suspender belt and stockings. She could feel his erection against her buttocks, but she knew in this particular game he wouldn’t remove the towel around him for ages.

He moved away from her, picked up one of the fur rugs and laid it on the bed, then picking her up in his arms laid her down on it.

The soft fur against her bare skin, the candlelight and Andrew’s practised caresses turned the snack she had expected into an erotic feast. The holiday next week, the business, everything disappeared but the need to love one another.

It was over an hour later, as they lay sleepily in one another’s arms, that Charlie thought more about Hong Kong and what Ivor had said. Maybe Jin had no family left to trace – somehow she couldn’t imagine he never tried to find out what had happened to them. But Red MacDonald might know someone who knew her father and could tell her about his early life. Yet even if they discovered nothing, it would be wonderful to see the place where Jin had learned his English, and his manners. She too needed to get in touch with the Chinese part of her.