The Incredible Charlie Carewe (28 page)

Gregg smoked awhile, looking out at the sea. Waiting. Waiting to listen.

“Anybody up yet?” asked Charlie.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, my God, it’s nearly ten-thirty! I didn’t think people slept so much in the country. Me, I like to get up and get going. I know you never thought very much of me, Gregg, but that’s one thing you could never say, that I was lazy. I was always at the office at nine-thirty right on the nose—at the latest. Now that I work at home, I still do the same thing; up and ready for those old phone calls; people expect it, you know.”

Gregg listened.

“Had a lot of bad luck, last few years, you know. Lot of deals went sour. Free as a bird as far as debts are concerned.”

“Really?” Gregg said mildly. “That’s good.”

“Oh sure. The money I had coming to me in ’43 was a lifesaver! Even got a little left.”

Gregg took his pipe out of his mouth to stare at Charlie. “What do you mean, a little? I should hardly think you would ever be poverty-stricken.”

“Oh, Gregg.” He shook his head, gravely. “I took a hell of a beating in the market, you know. And then terrible expenses I didn’t figure on. Zoë’s drinking—you haven’t any idea what doctors charge, especially when they think you’re rich.”

“Why do you suppose she drinks, Charlie?” Gregg said, without expecting the right answer. “Why do you suppose she’s let it get such a hold on her?”

“Damned if I know.” He gazed out at the horizon vacantly. “You don’t know anything about women, Gregg—they can be a hell of a burden. I’d’ve done fine, if she had pulled her own weight and not let me down all the time.”

“No consideration——” Gregg prodded.

“Absolutely none!” Charlie finally faced him, finding a possible ally, and Gregg shook his head sympathetically; he knew how important it was for Charlie to have people on “his side.” People were lumped into two categories, they were either for him or against him, and it was a safe assumption that he could be directed more easily if he felt approval. To this extent, Charlie was quite human, Gregg thought, although he felt that a human being who was so dependent on approval was impoverished and he detested the “yessing” formulas outside the “fictitious benevolence” of politeness.

“You know what she told me last night?” Charlie asked.

“Who, Zoë?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Well, don’t say anything to the others, but she said when all this hullabaloo was over and we went back to New York, she was going to divorce me. She didn’t mean it of course.”

“Drinking, I suppose,” said Gregg around the stem of his pipe.

Charlie paused. “No. I’ll have to be fair and completely honest—she hadn’t had a drink—it’s odd, because she is so easily upset, you know.”

Gregg nodded. “Probably forgot herself in worrying about the others,” he said, and drew blood, for Charlie flared.

“She can go to hell, as far as I’m concerned! Did she give one single thought to me? Did she give a damn that I’m just barely, luckily alive? For that matter—and this is what really gripes me—has
anyone
in this entire goddam household even mentioned it?”

“Did you expect them to, Charlie?” Gregg kept his tone even, emotionless. “Don’t you agree with them that it was your fault?”

“My fault!” Charlie’s eyes widened, but Gregg had seen this expression before.

“You’re an excellent sailor, Charlie——”

“For God’s sake, do you think I dumped that boat deliberately? Why would I want to kill Jeff and Alma—I’m no murderer—is that what they think? How stupid can you get! If I’d wanted to kill them, I certainly wouldn’t have risked my own life, that’s for sure!”

“That’s for sure, Charlie!” Gregg chuckled and regained some lost ground.

“Well, then.” Charlie, misunderstanding, went on. “You see you’re wrong about them thinking that it was my fault.”

“I don’t think so, Charlie. You see, people are funny. They believe—of course I may be wrong—that you were pretty foolhardy to start with, trying to beat a squall.”

“So? I misjudged it. Anybody can misjudge the speed of a little breeze like that. I had plenty of distance for a while. And I did
try
to come about in time. It was just bad luck, that’s all.”

“Well, tell me this—I know a person is apt to get rattled sometimes, but——”

“I never get rattled.”

“Well, then, you must have seen the situation very clearly——”

“Certainly—Jeff didn’t have a chance—he couldn’t swim with those braces on—and he’d got fouled up in the mainsail.”

Gregg applied full pressure. “But you could have tried to free him, instead of letting a frantic fourteen-year-old attempt the job.”

Charlie stood up, furious. “For the love of God, is that what they expected of me? What was I to do? Argue with that hysterical chick? Be the big hero and get myself drowned maybe? Who do they think I am, Superman?”

“No, Charlie, they thought of you as a man. Idiots that they are, they believe that in times of danger men think of the danger to others as well as to themselves, isn’t that ridiculous?”

Charlie looked at Gregg uncertainly, not sure of the strange tone in Gregg’s voice, the amused glitter in his eyes. He said, “And who, may I ask, has given one single thought about my own danger? Does anyone even care that I’m alive? I’ve been going around that house getting nothing but the backs of people’s heads. ‘Poor Virginia’—‘poor Dad’—‘poor Mum’—and ‘poor Zoë’! That drunken bitch, she looks at me as if I were scum——”

Gregg matched his tone, and his form of speech. “Why don’t you blow, Charlie—the hell with ’em, let them wallow in their misery. You don’t have to take any crap from anybody!”

“You’re damn right I don’t!” He laughed arrogantly, comfortable now. “Hey, why don’t you and I pack up and get away—before noon maybe. You know something, I don’t think they’d even miss us!”

Gregg hesitated. “Oh, you go ahead, Charlie, and let me cover for you. Let me tell them something, like”—he pulled at his chin as though he were considering the best excuse—“well, the truth! That you were so damned hurt that they thought you hadn’t done everything you could, that you decided you’d better not stick around.”

Again Charlie’s eyes flickered uncertainly, because this did not appeal to him as “the truth” and so he said, “Why should I lie? It’s only you that’s saying this is what they think,” and suddenly, “Do you want to get rid of me, or something?”

Gregg cursed himself for rushing, and carefully bit back a defensive answer to the question. He said, “It’s okay with me if you want to hang around in this morbid atmosphere. Everybody down in the mouth, everybody ignoring you.”

“Well, what about you? Why do you want to stay—why don’t you go back with me?”

Gregg watched the man’s confusion; he was behaving like a cat in a strange house, looking for a place to escape, not trusting the figures and forms around him, uneasy and restless. “Let’s say”—Gregg laughed a little apologetically—“that I’m a kind of errand boy and I have some jobs to do,” and he thought, “Thank God.” Anything, anything to help the people who were so dear to him. Including this particular, tricky, distasteful job.

Charlie was comfortable again, now that he could feel that Gregg was beneath him, by his own term, “errand boy.” He smiled in joking contempt.

“You poor slob! That’s all you’ve ever been, isn’t it?”

It would have been a pleasure to hit him, hard. With firmness Gregg opened his fists, spreading his hands open till the fingers relaxed, and then dropping them by his side in a gesture of resignation. “I guess,” he said, “it might seem that way to you.”

When they reached the house Gregg excused himself, saying, in mock despair, “I’ve got work to do!”

Charlie chuckled appreciatively. “Have fun! And if I don’t see you before I go, call me up any time you’re in New York—we’ll have a drink or something.”

Gregg gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Right! And thanks a lot!” He did have work to do. Walter was first. He knocked at the study door. The answer was long in coming. “Yes, come in.”

It was shocking to see how the man had aged over the long night. He was past anything but a kind of tired sadness. His daughter’s loss, his sympathy and emotion for her, were acceptable, with the acceptance of any of life’s tragedies. But as far as his son was concerned—he had reached a stage of satiation. A joke heard too often is not funny, in time even shame subsides. He could no longer be either indignant or active, no longer could he blame himself. Charlie, his son, his beloved one, was a riddle that was not worth solving, and the effort spent in trying to solve the riddle had etched lines and daubed charcoal shadows beneath his eyes, and there was something about him that had died.

Gregg spoke gently to him. “Walter, I have to be brief. I’m sure you agree that it is better for all concerned if Charlie doesn’t stay around here. Not even for the funeral. I’ve had a talk with him, and he is going back to New York.”

“You talked to him?” said Walter, frowning.

“Yes.”

“Does he realize anything?”

Gregg shook his head. “No,” he said, and did not elaborate. “There is only one thing, Walter,” he continued. “I think he could be persuaded to stay very easily, even by a hospitable word, but I think, if he is not around, his absence, at least, will imply a degree of responsibility and remorse.”

Walter said, “Of course nobody else has any idea that he was responsible. We saw what happened, clearly and without question.” He gave a heavy sigh. “You’re right—it would be a nightmare for Virginia to attend the funeral—supported by her brother’s arm! Beatrice, of course—well, I’ll have a talk with her. By the way, I have an answer from Elsie to my wire—she and Herb are flying to Boston, and they’ll be here late tomorrow.”

“Fine. I’m going to look in on Virginia, now—unless you——”

“No—I think I want to be alone—but I thank you, Gregg. The house is so full of emotion, it’s good that someone is around to do some thinking——”

Gregg tapped on Virginia’s door and the nurse admitted him. Virginia, sitting up with a pale yellow bed jacket around her shoulders, held out her hand to him. He took it between his palms and sat beside her.

“How do you feel, dear?”

“Oh, I’m all right, Gregg, truly I am.” Her smile was forced and there was no light in her eyes.

“I just feel so rotten physically that I can’t seem to—seem to—behave properly——” And as tears filled her eyes, she reached for some tissues almost angrily. “You see what I mean! Damn it, if I could just get hold of myself—I could . . .”

Gregg pressed her free hand. “Easy, old girl—nobody expects you to be anything but human—be good to yourself and rest as much as you can.”

“Gregg? Why hasn’t Charlie been in? Does he feel that I have no forgiveness?”

Gregg dropped his eyes miserably.

“It wouldn’t be—easy,” she went on, with a shortness of breath, “but it would be a good thing—for both of us—it would keep me from feeling so bitter—if he would just, well—
say
he was sorry—I mean——”

“Virginia——” Gregg took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Charlie is sorry—in his heart—I am sure. But give him time. He hates to admit to being responsible, he’s leaving—going back to New York; I think it’s because he can’t face you yet.”

“You are a dear—liar,” Virginia said, and leaning back on the pillow, she closed her eyes. Suddenly she jumped up straight again, her eyes wide in remembrance. “My God! Zoë!”

“What about her?”

“She mustn’t go back with him—tell her—Gregg, tell her I need her; anything; oh, lord, if I could shake myself out of this—my head is spinning.”

Alarmed, Gregg glanced at the nurse, who had been discreetly arranging some things on the big bureau, and who moved to the bed quickly.

“Mrs. Shelley, you must lie back quietly.” She turned to Gregg. “It’s the sedative, she didn’t really sleep it out.”

“How about some tea or soup, Virginia?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I can handle anything yet. But, Gregg, it
is
important—tell Zoë I haven’t forgotten.”

“Haven’t forgotten what, dear?” Gregg asked, thinking back to what Charlie had said about the divorce.

“She is the one who is really taking a beating, Gregg. I remember now, when I first woke this morning—it was about five, she was sitting here beside me—you see, it was because she wanted to talk to me about something that I asked Charlie to take Jeff and Alma out instead of going myself——”

“Mrs. Shelley——” The nurse became insistent.

“I’ll find her, don’t worry. Take care now, and rest.”

He hurried on down the hall to Charlie’s room, knocked, but there was no answer. He looked at his watch, thinking, perhaps they had both already gone; but Zoë at least would insist on seeing Virginia and saying good-by to Walter and Beatrice. He walked down the stairs, and Doreen was on the hall phone, saying, “Just a minute——”

Gregg took it from her. “Yes? . . . Yes. . . . Mrs. Torrance. . . . You’re very kind, and I’ll tell Mrs. Shelley you called. . . . Of course, I’ll let you know.” He hung up and it rang again. It was the editor of the local Nelson paper. It took a few minutes, but Gregg arranged a meeting with him later on in the day in the paper’s offices. “Thanks, Joe,” Gregg said, “I’ll appreciate it. Give them the story and I’ll talk to them on a conference call—make it four o’clock, okay?”

He went on through the dining room and out toward the kitchen, catching up with Doreen in the butler’s pantry.

“Take the calls for a few minutes, will you, Doreen? There’s something I have to do for Mrs. Shelley.”

“Yes sir,” said the red-eyed woman, “and will the nurse tell me when Mrs. Shelley will be wanting something to eat? She’s had no breakfast, I took her up some——”

Gregg stopped her gently. “Ask her yourself, please, Doreen, will you do that?”

“Yes sir, but you asked me to take the phone calls. What if the phone rings while I’m——”

“Doreen, you’re getting
me
confused, and we can’t have that, can we?” She laughed a little and he fled.

He heard a motor roar into life as he went out onto the screened-in front veranda. He had no idea why Virginia wanted Zoë to remain, he knew that he himself had used a characteristic of Charlie’s, the absence of time lag between decision and action, to get him out of the way; but he didn’t know how he could prevent Charlie from taking Zoë with him if he were so minded.