The Life and Second Life of Charlie Brackwood (The Brackwood Series Book 2) (18 page)

The next morning was a blur. I remember feeling a dull ache in my head as well as a strong urge to vomit. I avoided the other teachers by getting up early. By the time they wandered into the kitchen area, I was on my fourth coffee. I had also devoured two packets of mints. Despite this I felt unsteady on my feet and my mind was sluggish.

I spent some time juggling with the idea of backing out of the day’s activity, using illness as an excuse. In the end, though, I worried that this could arouse suspicion in the adults so I continued with the day’s events. Looking back, I know I made the wrong decision.

I joined the students and other teachers on the bus waiting outside the hostel. The loud voices of thirty teenagers worsened the relentless pounding in my head. I rubbed my temples and tried to focus on anything other than the shouts and arguments that surrounded me. By the time we had reached our destination the pounding in my head had developed into an intense ache that radiated out from behind my eyes.

After parking the bus nearby we made our way to the rockface where an instructor was going through the safety procedures and warnings. As hard as I tried to concentrate, the banging in my head was a distraction and I missed most of the presentation. Due to the fact that I had abseiled in previous years, I didn’t worry about my ability to cope.

It was decided that the kids would go first and that the teachers, being responsible adults, would be in charge of tying the harness knots. First in the queue was a shy boy named Liam. He had scruffy blond hair and freckles; he was incredibly smart but lacked confidence in many areas. His parents were pushy and constantly put pressure on him to do well. He was a favourite of mine, a pupil I respected and felt affection for. I could always count on Liam to complete his homework and answer questions correctly in class. He had a flair for words and a secret desire to become a writer. However, his parents were pushing him towards a career in science and I thought it was shameful that they refused to encourage such a colourful imagination and rare talent.  

I watched him approach and noticed he was looking at his feet as he shuffled towards me. Some of the other boys laughed as they pushed him into my path. I scolded them for acting irresponsibly next to a cliff edge and they backed away sheepishly. I felt like a hypocrite, demanding they act their age when I was still drunk from the night before.

Before I tied his harness, Liam told me that he didn’t want to abseil. I managed to convince him to go ahead with it by telling him that he’d regret it later, this sort of opportunity didn’t come around every day and that it would be a big boost of confidence for him. I could tell he wasn’t convinced but he let me tie the harness all the same. As I worked on the knot my fingers felt sluggish, like they were being dragged through mud. I stumbled a few times and my legs felt weak, as though they couldn’t support my weight. A few of the other teachers noticed and called out to ask if I was OK. I brushed them off with a joke about vertigo and they turned their attention back to the students.

I don’t remember tying the knot, but I do remember Liam’s face as he climbed over the edge of the cliff, full of worry and uncertainty. The terrifying sound of his scream as he fell to his death and the loud thump of his body as it made contact with the ground still echo in my ears months later.

An investigation followed and it soon came to light that the knot I had tied was too loose. Not long afterwards the secret of my alcoholism was revealed and I was immediately suspended from my job pending an investigation. Liam’s parents contacted a lawyer and before I knew it the police were standing on my doorstep, giving me the option of going with them willingly or in handcuffs.

I am currently on police bail but there will very likely be a court case. I’m facing two years in prison or one if I play my cards right. My lawyer thinks it will be a short sentence, just a way of knocking some sense into me. He also thinks they’ll add some form of prison rehabilitation programme in order to help my alcoholism.

I am devastated and distraught. Because of me a thirteen-year-old boy is dead. The life Liam had ahead of him is gone and it’s all my fault. This tragedy should have given me all the motivation I need to stop drinking but instead it seems to have fuelled the problem. Even while writing this entry I am not completely sober. There are moments in the past week that have escaped my memory and I can only assume I spent most of my days in a dazed stupor, too terrified to face up to what I have done. I hate myself. I hate the selfish being alcohol has turned me into. I despise this person’s responsibility for a thirteen-year-old boy’s death. It still shocks me that this person is myself.

The regret I feel is enormous and something I will have to live with for the rest of my life. I just wish Emma would see me. Her love is the only thing I need in this harrowing time of self-destruction and guilt.

Chapter Sixteen

The diary was hard to read. This was the story of a man unable to cope with the demands placed upon him, resulting in tragedy for someone else. The guilt and regret Adam felt leaked through his writing and seeped into my own emotions, causing me to feel the same level of grief that he had experienced.

It was only now that I understood why some villagers had been treating me with hostility. It also made me more determined to ease the tension between Adam and Emma. I knew that I had not only been sent back to earth to save Lucy. There was a reason why Adam was chosen to aid my mission.

My meeting with Emma was still a few days away but I felt more confident now I knew everything that had happened in Adam’s life since they had separated. I understood why she had made the difficult decision to prevent him from seeing his son and I knew that she was protecting Ben from the harm his alcoholic father could potentially inflict on him. I knew Adam still loved his wife and I also knew there was a part of her that still cared for him too. I viewed him as a lost soul who needed more guidance and less self-hatred. My desire to help him was strong.

I showered quickly and pulled a pile of clothes from Adam’s wardrobe. As I dressed I heard the sound of heavy rain battering the roof of the cottage. When I looked out of the bedroom window I saw that it was coming down in sheets and visibility was poor. I pulled on a waterproof jacket and headed out of the door. The bike was resting against a wall in the back garden where it had been sheltered from the weather to a certain extent. Using my sleeve, I wiped at the droplets on the seat as I led the bike towards the front of the house. Knowing how crazy I must look cycling in the poor weather conditions, I set off in the heavy shower.

My destination was Lucy’s house. I knew the weather was too bad for me to work outside but the urge to see her was strong. I kept my head low as I pedalled so that the top of it bore the brunt of the downpour. As I manoeuvred around the winding corners I squinted into the mist ahead. I knew the roads so well that I could picture the surrounding landscape in my mind even though it was now practically invisible. As I slowed down to let a car pass I saw a large puddle up ahead that spread across the road. I was already soaked to the skin and so made the decision to pedal as fast as I could towards the murky water. I felt it spray up against my legs and arms as I stopped pedalling and looked up at the sky, my legs fully extended and my eyes wide. The water was wonderfully cooling and I marvelled at the thrill that rushed through my veins.

When I arrived at Lucy’s house, rain dripped off my clothes and made a puddle on the front doorstep. Lucy’s eyes widened when she opened the door and she ordered me to stay where I was. When she returned she had a towel draped over one arm, which she immediately wrapped tightly around me after pulling me inside.

“You must be freezing… what were you thinking, riding here in a torrential downpour?”

“It’s my only mode of transport, and technically this is my place of work.”

“There’s no need to come in this weather, Adam, it’s not like you can work today,” she said as she looked out of the nearest window. “How you weren’t involved in an accident, I’ll never know. These roads are dangerous, remember.”

“I guess I wasn’t thinking straight,” I said, feeling like a child told off by his mother.

“Well, you’re here now,” she sighed, “I’m actually glad to see you. I could do with some help.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said as she looked me up and down, biting her bottom lip. “But first, I think I’d better fetch you some of Jamie’s clothes to wear. You’ll get pneumonia, walking around like that.”

I thanked her and waited in the hall as she jogged upstairs. While I was admiring a framed watercolour of the old bridge that was a favourite with many members of the village, I heard soft footsteps on the stairs. When I turned around I realised the footsteps belonged to Snoop. He stopped in front of me for a quick head scratch before he ran off in the direction of the kitchen. I decided to follow him while I waited for Lucy to return.

I caught a glimpse of his tail as he disappeared through a side door and into a room adjacent to the kitchen. I called his name and waited but he didn’t reappear. Getting worried, I peered my head around the door and saw him on the floor, tail wagging madly and a yellow rubber duck between his paws. This room was my equivalent to Lucy’s treehouse and I’d had it built with my love of cars in mind. In the centre of the floor was a vehicle I had spent many evenings fixing and improving. It was now covered in a grey sheet. I walked towards it, gazing at an exposed alloy wheel, and remembered the many nights I would spend in here with the radio on and a spanner in hand. Lucy would often pop her head around the door and make me a hot chocolate or offer whatever goodies she had baked that day; other times she would just sit and watch me, often for hours, without saying a word.

I removed the sheet and took a step back to admire the craftsmanship in all its glory. I was surprised Lucy had kept it, it would’ve fetched a bob or two at auction.

“I’ve missed you, little car,” I whispered as if it were a living, breathing thing.

I heard footsteps in the kitchen and turned around to see Lucy appear in the doorway.

“Are you an Aston Martin fan?” she asked.

“Find me a man who isn’t.”

She laughed and entered the room. Snoop greeted her by nudging her hand with his nose; she smiled down at him as she scratched his head.

“It’s a beautiful car, I’ll give you that.”

“Looks like it’s been well looked after. I take it this once belonged to Charlie?”

“How did you know that?”

“Because this car looks like it’s been polished on a regular basis and I don’t think you’d go to that much trouble unless it belonged to someone you cared about.”

Lucy was silent for a long moment, her eyes fixed on the car. She opened her mouth to say something but then must have thought better of it. Instead she piled a heap of clothes into my arms and told me I could change in the bathroom.

Lucy had chosen me a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a V-necked sweater. I stared at myself in the mirror. I appeared thinner and there was an increase in muscle tone on my chest that I put down to the frequent bike riding as well as a decrease in alcohol intake.

When I came out of the bathroom Lucy was waiting for me. Her eyes skimmed my body and she looked away, embarrassed.

“Do you have any plans for today?” I asked.

“Well, my boss rang and is giving me a few more weeks off so I was hoping to take a trip to Leeds Prison.”

I hated the thought of her going alone. A male prison wasn’t a place for a girl like Lucy.

“I don’t feel comfortable with you going on your own, I think I should go with you.”

“If you want to come, I won’t object.”

“I think I should,” I said firmly.

Lucy nodded her head and disappeared through the side door and into the garage. A little confused, I followed her. By the time I reached her she was in the passenger seat of the classic Aston Martin DB9 that I had spent many hours admiring and many British pounds restoring. When she saw me approach, she rolled the window down.

“Aren’t you going to hop in?”

“Aren’t you in the wrong seat?” I laughed nervously.

“You’re driving,” she stated.

I didn’t need much convincing and was soon opening the door to the driver’s side. It was only later that I wondered how she knew I could drive. I breathed in the familiar, musty scent of leather and fuel additives, a common aroma in classic cars, and my spirits were instantly lifted. As I eased myself into the smooth leather-upholstered seat and adjusted the rear-view mirror, I began to feel like myself and not a man pretending to be someone else.

Lucy flicked a switch on a remote control and the garage door opened silently. I revved the engine and basked in the sound of its unique roar.

The weather outside hadn’t mellowed since my bike ride and I turned the switch for the windscreen wipers to the highest setting. Rain battered the screen in large droplets and I could hear the sound of the tyres as they splashed through the many puddles covering the road. The sky was a hazy grey and a thick mist seemed to surround us. Not a glimpse of our surroundings could be seen. Hardly the best driving weather for a fast sports car.

I had an overwhelming urge to drive the car fast, to re-live the days of my past, but I knew it wasn’t safe to do so in the current downpour. I took the corners slowly and my foot hovered over the brake pedal. As I cruised the familiar roads in a car I adored, with the woman I loved at my side, I felt a sharp sting of sadness and as much as I tried to keep it at bay reality hit home. This life was purely temporary for me. It had been so easy to slip back into my old ways, to feel the same love for Lucy I had felt five years ago, but the fact that it would soon end was painfully apparent. It was a poignant moment for me, and my joy at being reunited with a car that was once my pride and joy was short-lived.

The silence was deafening and I realised I’d been lost in my own thoughts. I looked over at Lucy and was unnerved to find her staring at me.

“What are you thinking?” she asked softly.

“Just remembering,” I replied cryptically.

I expected her to question me further but she seemed to accept my answer. The rest of the journey was spent in silence with Lucy staring out of the window at the high-rise buildings that marked the city of Leeds in the distance.

She had looked up visiting hours prior to our visit and managed to speak to Kevin on the phone. Reluctantly he agreed to meet her. We signed a book at the front desk and waited at a small square table that reminded me of my high-school canteen furniture in that it was made from cheap materials and utterly lacking any quality of design. The entire building screamed practicality.

I watched the other visitors with interest while we waited. To the left of our table was a pregnant woman who appeared to be in her early thirties. She was well dressed, with perfectly styled hair and manicured nails. She looked at her left hand as she stretched it out on the table in front of her. She appeared nervous and had the other hand on her swollen abdomen, as if protecting her unborn baby. Lucy tapped me lightly and nodded towards the door where I saw the familiar face of the man who had attended Jamie’s funeral. When he saw Lucy a look of recognition flashed over his face and he came towards us. Lucy stood up to shake his hand.

“Hi, Kevin, thank you for meeting with me.”

“I was curious.” he said as he sat down. When he spoke he had no Yorkshire drawl to his accent and appeared well educated; most likely he was from a privileged background.

Lucy glanced at me nervously before continuing to speak.

“OK, well, we just have a few question to ask.”

“Don’t I know you?” Kevin interrupted, and gestured towards me. I was taken aback by the hostility in his tone.

“You might have seen me at Jamie’s funeral.”

“No, it’s not that,” he said harshly, and stared at me intently.

Lucy and I exchanged confused glances before she continued with her questioning.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what we’re doing here... and, well... what brought us to see you was a letter that I found in my husband’s study.” She produced it from her jeans pocket and flattened it out on the table in front of him. “I was hoping you could shed some light on it.”

We watched Kevin closely as he read the letter.

“Do you remember it?” Lucy asked.

“I do, but its contents are private and I don’t appreciate your bringing it up,” he said stubbornly. Lucy nodded in a submissive manner before asking him what we all already knew.

“How well did you know my husband?”

He sighed before answering.

“I really don’t want to discuss this with you.”

“Why not?” I chipped in.

“Because I made Jamie a promise,” Kevin said as he turned to me, stern-faced.

“I know you and Jamie were lovers,” Lucy said boldly.

Kevin looked alarmed before leaning back in his chair to consider his response.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

“I’ve always known Jamie was gay, he was honest about that from the beginning. He needed a wife to keep his overbearing parents happy, and I needed company. We were each using the other for our own reasons but were both aware of the risks involved. We led very separate lives but always maintained a mutual respect for one another.”

“Did he tell you about me?” asked Kevin, a hint of hopefulness to his voice.

“He didn’t. But one evening a week he would leave the house and was always very secretive about his whereabouts; I put two and two together and figured he must have a boyfriend. I just didn’t realise that boyfriend was you until I found the letter.”

Kevin stared at his clasped hands in silence.

“We met as junior doctors. He was very formal at first, very stiff upper-lipped. Jamie cared for his patients immensely, hated to see pain and suffering. I told him he was in the wrong job and he told me it was his true calling in life, not just a career his parents had wanted for him. We worked the same shift pattern and got to know each other pretty well. He told me stories about his family and I taught him how to ski in the small amount of spare time we had. As we grew closer I finally gathered the courage to admit that I was attracted to him, he told me it was mutual and we began to see one another in private.” Kevin wiped at his eyes aggressively. “The last time I saw him we argued. He’d just come back from his honeymoon and he came to visit me here. He told me he’d got married to relieve parental pressure. To me, it seemed as though he was living a double life, one in which I played the role of his dirty secret.”