The Life and Afterlife of Charlie Brackwood (The Brackwood Series Book 1) (11 page)

I looked down at Timmy and he smiled at me.  His shyness around me appeared to have eased slightly.  I realised I didn’t know where he lived or whether he had any family.

I crouched down in front of him and could see in his blue eyes he enjoyed the attention.

“I’m going to walk you home, Timmy, so I can explain to your family what happened today.” He looked down at the ground without saying anything. “Who do you live with? A grandparent?” I asked hopefully, but received the same response.

Not wanting to pry, I kept my questions about directions to his house rather than his family.

As we strolled over the meadows and raced each other on stony paths beside noisy streams and brooks, Timmy started to tell me about a pet dog he’d had in his past life.  He was unsure as to its breed but it was big and yellow and it liked to lick him. 

He said the dog was his big brother and would protect him when he was scared.  I asked him if he was often scared and he suddenly became very quiet and looked at his feet again.  I decided to change the subject and told him about my own stand-in brother.  I explained that mine wasn’t a dog, though I did grow up with a sheep dog, but a friend named Russ. 

Before long I had Timmy engrossed in my stories of our fishing trips and the treehouse we had built when we were children.  A gleam appeared in his eyes as I described catching the largest fish I had ever seen, with the biggest and most dangerous looking teeth.  I told him that Russ has run off like a big baby when he saw those teeth and the vigorous wiggling of its slimy body. 

I felt deep satisfaction when I heard a giggle escape from Timmy.   After I told him I would take him fishing one day, and that if he was lucky he might even see one for himself, his little face beamed with excitement.

The drama that had taken place earlier seemed to be forgotten and I marvelled at the resilience and ability to forgive that children had. 

We eventually came to the long road where the majority of the houses were and I asked which one was his.  He pointed straight in front of us, gesturing for me to keep going. 

We passed the spectacular gardens and stared at the brightly coloured flowers in awe.  I showed Timmy the koi carp in Fei Di's pond and the old Chinese emperor was kind enough to let him feed them.  Timmy’s face lit up as he threw the food into the gaping mouths of the large fish.  I wondered whether it was the first time he had done this.

We persevered with our journey as I was keen to get Timmy home before sunset.  After a while I asked him again which house he lived in and he pointed in front of us again.  I gazed in that direction and saw the familiar golden walls and magnificent towers of God’s palace. 
Was this where he lived?

We walked down the glittery, gem-encrusted path which reminded me of the yellow brick road from
The
Wizard of Oz
. This thought amused me as I often think this world strange enough to be Oz. If only I could click my ruby slippers and be teleported home where I belonged.

As we approached the doors opened automatically, almost as if they knew who was approaching.  A wave of anxiety washed over me as I entered the home of a very important individual. 

I looked down at Timmy, who had a serene expression on his face, and took comfort from that.  As we walked through the courtyard I observed surroundings that were unexpected and slightly bizarre.  I stared in amazement at colourful climbing frames and lavish summerhouses stacked full of toys for all ages. 

Remote-control planes and helicopters hovered above my head while toy cars and monster trucks whizzed past my feet.  I gazed in amazement as we went past a gigantic fountain surrounded by children brandishing huge marshmallows on long sticks.  Animals were everywhere too: goats, alpacas, ducks, chickens, ponies and rabbits made up the biggest petting zoo I had ever seen.  I think I even saw a helter- skelter in the distance as well as a big wheel.  There was no denying it, this place was a giant playpark and every child's dream.

I turned to Timmy, who was staring in front of him completely unfazed by what we were seeing.

“You live here?” I asked him

“Yeah, with my brothers and sisters.”

I felt relieved.

“So you have family who live with you?”

“Not really,” he said before looking down again.

“But you live with your brothers and sisters?”

He gestured to the children playing in front of us.

“All of these children are my brothers and sisters and God is my father.”

My heart sank at the realisation that Timmy was even more alone in this confusing world than I was.  This fact caused me to feel even more protective and I vowed to spend more time with this innocent child.

'Why do so many of you come to my treehouse, when you already have all of this?'

'Because you are there, Charlie,' he answered matter-of-factly.

I stared into eyes so innocent that they could only belong to a child, and as I did, I felt a strange sensation flow around my body, as though travelling through my veins, and eventually ending its journey at the power centre that was my mind, where it left me feeling dizzy and mystified.

I smiled to discover I was so highly thought of by the children. Maybe there was more to this world than I’d first thought.

I was so engrossed in the screams of elation and happiness around me that I hardly noticed when we reached the huge, wooden double doors of the palace.  There was a doorbell situated low in the brickwork, I assumed so that it would be within reach of a child’s hand.

I heard footsteps in the hallway and felt a flutter of nervousness as I waited to consign Timmy to the arms of his rightful carer. I was trying to decide how best to explain what had happened today. The doors started to creak open and I noticed a wrinkled hand appear around it. 

The hand pushed the door open wider still and a deep, aged voice said, ”Hello, Charlie.”

I looked up in to the face of a man who was familiar to me while at the same time I knew I had never seen his face before.  Almost like passing a celebrity in the street and feeling a sense of familiarity when in reality you have never met.

This face was one I'd been seeing my entire life, a face that had been imprinted on my mind as one of kindness and unconditional love, a face that could never provoke any feelings of fear in me.  This was the face of the big man himself; this was the face of God.

Chapter Eleven

The days that followed Lucy's departure were filled with a dark and often overwhelming loneliness.  I quickly came to realise that I had taken her presence in the village for granted.  Confusion filled me. I often found it hard to make sense of my thoughts. Everything was changing.

Going from frequent communication with Lucy to none at all was a form of torture I’d never imagined.  Every ounce of me missed every ounce of her, and the gloom that accompanied this feeling hit me and dragged me down into the depths, dragging me further beneath the surface and turning me round and around until I was dizzy, nauseous and emotionally battered.

I clung to her promise to write to me and developed an increasingly unhealthy obsession with the post, seeing it as a magical gateway which allowed me to communicate with the girl I was in love with. 

A fact that only became increasingly more obvious on a daily basis.  I just hoped it was obvious only to me. 

I often felt as though my emotions were at the mercy of Royal Mail.  The postman’s daily deliveries had the potential to change my mood in an instant.  I became a slave to the postal system and the power one small envelope wielded over me was often terrifying.

On the days when I would receive a familiar small blue envelope, with the address in Lucy's neat handwriting, I would feel almost euphoric.  My heart would beat faster and my hands would shake as I ripped open the envelope in desperation.  On days with no post this response was often juxtaposed with feelings of deep despair as the realisation that there would be no communication that day kicked in. 

I felt uncharacteristically desperate as I waited to hear about her adventures, her thoughts, and above all any hint that she was missing me in the same way I was missing her.  Her tall, elegant handwriting had become so familiar to me that it had become imprinted in my memory.

The first letter arrived a week after our last meeting in the foggy field and it was long overdue.  I took the letter up to my room to read it without fear of any interruptions or prying eyes.

Charlie,

I have finally arrived and my room is tiny!  Although, it does seem to have one saving grace... it is all MINE.  My own sanctuary that is already so full of all my junk and pictures that I can hardly move for memories of home.  Home... oh, how I miss it... and it's only been three days, how terrible is that? I have met more people my age in those past days than I have before in my entire eighteen years.  I have come to the conclusion that I am easily shocked and, embarrassingly, my quiet, country upbringing seems to have caused amusement amongst the girls who live on the same corridor as me. In fact all the students on my corridor are female (don't tell Russ, I know you can't stand the drooling).

Although, I am a little worried that they won't like me, they all seem very nice but as you and I both know lasses seem to bring with them a special sort of drama (I think one of them is even studying it) and you know how much I dislike that.  Speaking of drama and lasses, how is Russ?  Has he done anything outlandishly crazy since I've been gone?  Has he started an affair with Mrs Vain, for example?  Better still, has he started an affair with Mr Vain? (I'm giggling to myself now like the moron you know and love.)

Though my life here is very different from what I’m used to I ache for some mundane village gossip!  Tell me, have the sheep got out again?  Lord, I miss those sheep.  None here unfortunately, and believe me, I've looked!

Bath is nice, very historical, very cultural, very full of drunken male students out for a grope or two.  Like I said, very different from village life and much, much busier, with much less green and even fewer old folk.    It's full to the brim with tourists and many strangers who don't even look at you as they go past, let alone say a friendly 'hello'. Shocking behaviour, I tell you.  Mr Raven would be most displeased. (Wink wink.)

Overall, I am still adjusting to the university way of life but, more importantly, surviving.  Lectures haven't started yet but I'm looking forward to the touch of normality they will bring to my days.  Without them I am bored and feel a lot of pressure to socialise, which you know I'm not very good at.  Speaking of which, the other girls have planned a pub crawl for us tonight.  Apparently we all have to go dressed as farm animals. God help me.  Maybe I can feign illness?

On a serious note, though, I miss you and I miss Russ and the beautiful place we grew up in. (Can you tell I'm homesick?)  Don't be a stranger and make sure you reply or I'll think you've forgotten me.

Lucy xx

I read the letter slowly, often re-reading sections that made me laugh.  Lucy had stated that she missed me, it was there in black and white.  The fact the letter contained humour meant that she was doing fine, surviving as she put it.  I immediately hid the letter in a shoebox under my bed.  I didn't intend to tell anyone about them, I wanted them to be a private thing between Lucy and me, a secret only we shared.  This form of confidential communication would last for the next three years and I soon had many shoeboxes full of her letters.

I sat down at the old pine desk that I had inherited from Gran and Gramps, with the intention of writing a letter in return, but found it difficult to conjure up anything of any interest to tell her.  My life had become dull in comparison to hers and I couldn't help feeling left behind.  Her life was evolving and transforming, and mine was the same.  I was ashamed by how stale my life had become.

I stared out of my bedroom window, too distracted to see the world outside.  Lucy had asked about Russ, someone I'd had little contact with since her departure.  I assumed he was dealing with the loss of Lucy's company in his own way, just as I was.  I wondered if he was still unattached. 

He had a tendency to overlap girlfriends in the selfish need to be desired by a large amount of women in a short space of time.  The fact that he had stayed single for so long recently said a lot about his feelings for Lucy.  However, I was confident that her absence would cause Russ to become bored in time and his head would no doubt once again be turned by a pretty face.

I concentrated on the letter I was to write to Lucy and tried to figure out a way of making it upbeat and fun, imagining her nose crinkling as she read it.

Now then, lass,

Taking into account just how much you miss the north, I thought I would greet you in the correct Yorkshire manner.  Is your room so small that you can touch opposite walls with your arms and fingers outstretched?  If not I should think your university accommodation positively luxurious compared to some shocking stories I've heard from others.

In answer to your question I've not heard much from Russ lately but have heard a rumour that Mrs Vain is not the object of his affection. He has actually run away with your old employer from the tearooms, Mrs Brown. (God knows. he loves those cougars. Wink wink,) I'll spare you the jokes involving her buns/baps, etc.  On a serious note, I must check on him (make sure the rumours are, in fact, just rumours).

A corridor full of girls, eh?  It really is a good idea to keep this delicate information from Russ or he'll be down there like a flash, asking them all inappropriate questions about favourite positions and bra size. We really need to discuss with him the appropriate way to get to know someone.  Maybe suggest that asking them where they're from is a much more preferable and acceptable way of making new friends.

Please tell me you're being careful when you go out in Bath?  Make sure these girls aren't going to leave you on your own, and never accept a drink from a stranger, it could be spiked.  Just this week a student was found in the river in York.  She'd wandered in drunk, and with the rain we've been having lately the river was swollen and she got into a bit of bother and couldn't get back out.  They found her five miles downstream after she'd been missing for weeks. I don't mean to lecture you but I couldn't bear it if this happened to you, Luce.

Other news: Mrs Vain is currently the talk of the village as her long-suffering husband has bought her a shiny red sports car.  I am still mentally scarred by the sight of her trying to get out of the damn’ thing. (The phrase 'fur coat no knickers' that we always associated with her is more accurate than I ever thought possible.)  She honestly gets more hideous by the day!  Not only has she had so much Botox that her eyebrows no longer move, but her arse has been getting suspiciously plumper and more pert in the last few weeks. (Butt job? Or just fat?)

As for myself, I'm still working on the farm, whittling away the days until my dearest and most treasured friend returns to me.

Stay safe.  Study hard.  Don't trust everybody.  I miss you.

Charlie

I folded the letter neatly and placed it in a small, cream envelope while I analysed the words in my head.  Did I reveal too much in that last section?  Would she instantly guess the true feelings I had hidden from her?  Would she feel awkward and decide not to write back? Regrets and over-analysis whirled round my head.

I decided I had written honestly and with a lot of heart and so the letter remained unchanged.  I hoped the letter would make Lucy less homesick and change her mood.  I knew she'd be feeling disorientated and alone in such an unfamiliar environment.  I imagined her reading with a smile on her face and a giggle rising in her throat as she read the part about Mrs Vain.

I found myself glad that I had suggested becoming pen pals. Texts and emails seemed too impersonal, and the romantic in me cherished every letter I received, knowing that Lucy had sat down and taken the time to write to me personally.  Knowing that her thoughts were of me as she wrote the letter made me feel as though I played a significant part in Lucy's increasingly chaotic life. 

I quickly wrote Lucy's address on the envelope after realising I had run out of stamps.  Now in desperate need of one, I grabbed my green quilted jacket and headed out of the door in the direction of the village shop.

On the way, I ran into a familiar face and, in order to avoid any questioning, I immediately hid the letter in my jacket pocket.  I searched Russ's face and found his appearance unsettling.  He had dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his chin that looked to be at least three days old.  Russ was image-conscious, which made his current appearance even more unnerving.

"All right, mate," I said as I playfully punched his arm.  "Long time, no see.  What've you been up to?"

"Pumping iron, my friend.  I've only gone and joined a gym." He flexed his arm muscles in demonstration of his commitment to this new pastime. 

I hate to admit that I was impressed by the size of his biceps as well as a little jealous. 

"You should come. Some hot totty in there, I can tell you," he said, raising his eyebrows repeatedly, a grin plastered on his face and his endearing dimples making an appearance.  I suddenly felt as though I was in a Carry On film and was about to hear Barbara Windsor's very distinctive laugh at any minute.

I thought about his suggestion and remembered how my New Year's resolution for the past three years had been to get fit.  I was not overweight but I did have a slight frame. My mum used to say that I daren't stand sideways on a grid or I'd fall straight through, I was that thin.  I also didn't want to look weedy next to Russ the next time Lucy was home.

"Yeah, I might take you up on that, I’ve been meaning to build some muscle."

"I'll get you looking buff, pal, no worries" he said, nodding enthusiastically.

His tone turned serious. "Did Lucy find you by the way?  She seemed a bit upset the last time I saw her, something about her wanting to say goodbye."

"Yeah, I saw her.  Told her we might take a trip down in the Mini one weekend to see her."

"I'd be up for that.  See how the students live and all."  He became thoughtful for a second and I wondered if he was going to say something sentimental about Lucy.  But then he redeemed himself. 

"If TV and American films are anything to go by it would appear that they are all sex addicts" he said, grinning. 

I saw no sense in replying to this statement so decided to stay quietly amused by Russ’s immaturity.  He somehow seemed to pick up on my silent disapproval and eyeballed me suspiciously.  "Is there something going on between you and Lucy?" he asked, suddenly deadly serious.

"No, why do you ask?"

"It just seemed so important to her that she saw you before she left for Bath.  I thought maybe there was something going on that I don't know about"

"Nope, we said our goodbyes, she told me her concerns about leaving, and that was it."

"Good, because I can't see the two of you working out at all"

"No?" I asked, slightly shocked by how adamant he seemed about this.

"No.  It'd be too weird, like incest or something.  You've just known each other far too long"

I could see through Russ's caring facade.  His own selfish desires were at work here and I could tell that his competitive nature meant he would do anything to eliminate any competition for Lucy's affections.  Of course, on the up side, this also meant he thought I had a fighting chance.