The Life and Afterlife of Charlie Brackwood (The Brackwood Series Book 1) (12 page)

He hesitated and it became clear he was waiting for a reaction to his statement.  I shrugged my shoulders in a passive, indifferent manner, hoping to appear detached.  Relief overcame me as he changed the subject.

"I'm off to Skipton soon to get a new game for the Xbox, was thinking of getting some takeout pizzas' from the pub.  You wanna join me?” 

"Sounds good, count me in."

"OK, buddy." And with that he was off and I let out a huge sigh of relief.  I set off again on my journey to the village shop.  The queue was short for the time of day. Usually the older members of the village would congregate by the newspapers, all having an opinion on the state of the country while leafing through the latest story with eager, freshly licked fingers. 

Tommy Brown was working behind the counter.  He was Lucy's age and in the same year at school.  He was the son of Lucy's old employer, Mrs Brown, who owned the tearooms next door.  To no avail, Mrs Brown had tried countless times to set him and Lucy up.  Leaving them alone in the tearooms after hours to close up shop, insisting that Tommy drive Lucy home even though it was well within walking distance, asking her to pop around to their house to help pick up some freshly baked cakes only to find a lonesome and awkward Tommy standing in the doorway. 

Tommy was the nervous sort but around Lucy he turned into a bumbling fool.  When he spoke his words came out in the wrong order, his hands were held nervously in front of him and constantly twisting around one another.  Of course, Lucy was oblivious to the signs that he wanted to be more than just acquaintances.

While he was fetching my stamps I noticed that Tommy directed frequent nervous glances in my direction. Eventually, as I’d had a feeling he would, he enquired after Lucy.  I told him she was settling in fine and that I would tell her he was asking after her.  He grinned with absolute relief.  I nodded and left, knowing I'd at least lifted one man’s spirits today even if I did know that a relationship with Tommy was a road Lucy would never travel down.

I headed towards the nearest postbox which was just a little further down the lane.  The letter was burning a hole in my pocket as I walked and I was eager to post it before I was ambushed by any more nosy members of my village community.  The postbox was close, I had nearly reached my goal… 

"Now then, lad," a voice boomed from behind me and the postbox that had seemed so close now appeared even further away as though it had grown little legs and scuttled off.  I began to ask myself whether I'd ever get there.  I clenched my fists and took a deep breath before turning round. 

Mr Raven seemed uncharacteristically happy.  He had a bag of bread in one hand, his walking stick in the other. 

"’Ow's Lucy doing?"

His whole body appeared to be tilting forward in keen anticipation of my reply, while his head tilted sideways with one beady eye watching me intently and his good ear stuck up in the air.  Like a barn owl listening for prey.  I reminded myself to be polite as I tried to calm my frustration. 

"She's very well, Mr Raven. Settling in, from what I hear."

"Oh, good," he said, with genuine relief, "I've been a little worried about her.   So far away she is... so far."

His voice trailed off as he stared into the distance, the lines on his forehead deepening.  I started to inch my way back towards the postbox and sighed as I heard his voice boom out again. 

"I mean... why would you want to go all the way down there?  Plenty of good universities up 'ere, on proper Yorkshire soil with honest Yorkshire folk.  I expect she'll realise that before long.  She'll be back up 'ere by the time the year is done, you mark my words, lad.  Your pretty friend will return." And he winked at me.

"Thanks, Mr Raven, I'll let her know you were asking after her." And with that I turned to leave.

"Eh, her ma an' pa don't seem to be getting on at all these days.  Always fratching and having arguments.  I see her pa in t'pub most nights gettin' kaylied.  I've allus said, got to be somethin' wrong with a fellow’s home life for him to be spending so much time in t‘alehouse."

I sighed and tried to calm my irritation, reminding myself that Mr Raven was a lonely man who most likely only had village gossip to brighten his day-to-day life. 

"Yes, they do seem to be having some problems. Let's just hope they sort it all out soon.  Must be a bad environment for everybody," I said patiently. If it was more drama he was after he would not be getting any from me.

"Oh, aye, I can see why bonny Lucy has moved so far down there, now yer mention it.  Such a sorry situation.  But there's nowt like independence, is there?"

"You're not wrong, Mr Raven.  It might even be good for her."

"Oh, yes, she might come back a totally different lass." I nodded at this statement and fell silent. 

After a while Mr Raven took the hint and said his goodbyes.

"Nice to chat, lad," he said as he departed. 

Nice to gossip more like
, I thought to myself. 

Why the older members of the village thought it necessary to know every piece of personal information about people who were almost strangers to them, was beyond me.  Of course, we all lived in the same village and most of us attended the same church, but what right did that give them to prey on others’ misfortunes, to become gleeful at others’ expense?  I sometimes worried that the people of Burnsall were viewing village life as some sort of soap opera.

Later that day I found Russ in his bedroom still reeling from the latest argument he'd had with his parents.  We both lived at home but unlike him I actually got along pretty well with my folks.  They were non-judgemental of me and I respected their space as well as their need for time alone together as a married couple.  Russ had no such good fortune with his parents. All their focus was still on him and how he lived his life.  To me this seemed unhealthy for both parties.

True to his word, Russ had purchased the latest shoot-em-up currently on the market and I found him surrounded by half-eaten pizza, studying the blurb on the back of the case.  The game was mostly set in jungle amongst old temples and crypts that were begging to be searched for treasure.  Of course, there were other nefarious characters also looking for the same treasure and you had to blow them away with submachine guns.  This was the part I liked; it was definitely a stress-buster.  There was a side story to the game including clues to the whereabouts of a kidnapped colleague, who was being held by the bad guys.

The game reeked of cheese but I found myself getting lost in the plot as our gentle banter filled the air.  Before long I could feel something change between me and Russ.  The atmosphere appeared lighter and more jovial.  We were free to be as laddish as we liked without Lucy around, and before long we were back to being the boys we once were before girls and puberty got in the way.  It was extremely liberating.     

Russ no longer felt the need to compete with me as a way of showing off to Lucy.  We were comfortable with each other for the first time in a long while, without any complication or underlying jealousy.  I finally had my old friend back. 

In many ways I looked up to Russ. He had a strong and inspiring character with no desire to follow the crowd or live his life the way that others wanted; he and Lucy had that in common.  Russell Matthews was a man who did not concern himself with the opinions of others. 

He once told me that what people thought of him was none of his goddamn’ business, and I suppose this was the secret of his contentment in a village that did nothing but speculate and gossip.

His independent and assertive nature regularly frustrated his overbearing and often obnoxious parents.  They were image-obsessed individuals, far too concerned with earning the good opinion of others and not concerned enough with providing a loving home for their son. 

I often pondered whether this was why Russ was so determined to remain an under-achiever. Ever a disappointment to his parents, Russ refused to live up to their pretentious and often obscure expectations of him.  They argued daily and he was left feeling unloved and unaccepted by his own family.  He was a constant disappointment to people who should have admired his unwillingness to conform to the expectations of the rest of the world, never to judge others but to be accepting of everybody.

This was the very reason Russ was so popular: he was easily trusted and not superficial in any way.  Folk felt safe in his presence, and above all they could be themselves without feeling as though they had something to prove.  Russ was important to me and somebody I’d looked up to for most of my life.

"This is getting boring, buddy."

I looked at Russ, confused by his sudden outburst.  Did he know I had feelings for Lucy?  He laughed heartily and gestured towards the television screen.

"The game... the game is getting boring."

"Oh," I said in relief.

"What did you think I meant?" he quizzed.  I shrugged and looked at the floor.

"I've got something to show you," said Russ, getting up. “A blast from the past, you could say."

I waited while he scrambled to his feet and produced what looked like a tin box.  It was rusted with age and the picture that had once graced the front was now brown with rust. The box also had an earthy scent like soil. 

Even in its dilapidated state I recognised it.  It was a chocolate tin my grandmother had given to me as a child, an old one to store my toy soldiers in.  Though the box now held something a little more precious to me than toy soldiers or chocolates.  It held a piece of the past, a piece of magic that still carried with it the heady aura of childhood days.  This tin was a piece of our youth. Russ, Lucy and I had buried it in the grounds of Bolton Abbey when we boys were nine and Lucy was seven.

"How did you find this?" I asked Russ, completely mystified.

"You don't remember the map we drew of its location?" he laughed. 

I thought for a minute and remembered a large piece of paper that was covered with drawings of trees and blue lines that represented the river.

"Yeah, I remember now.  Where did you find it?"

"In the bottom of my wardrobe when I was having a clear out.  It's a bit faded but I figured it out eventually.”

"Didn't we bury it under that unusual tree with…"

"…with the face? Yeah," Russ finished for me.  The tree had growths on its bark that made it look as if a face was embedded in the trunk.

"A face that looked constantly surprised," I said

"Like Mrs Vain," Russ quipped, and I grinned.

"I remember now.  That tree used to have us in fits of laughter with its silly expression."

"Not Lucy though.  She used to scold us and say we were hurting the tree’s feelings."  We both burst into laughter at the memory.

"She would give the tree hugs afterwards," I said, still in hysterics.

"Great days," Russ added.

"The glory days," I said, and we grew silent, consumed by our own thoughts.  My eyes came to rest on the box.  I tried to remember its contents but memory failed me.  The suspense was killing me.

"Come on then, let's open it," I said eagerly. 

Russ wrestled with the tin for a while before he was able to ease the lid off, mumbling to himself that he had no idea what was in it.  He stared at the contents awhile, a slow smile appearing on his previously furrowed features. 

"Wow," he gasped, “So many memories..."  His voice trailed off as he became lost in thought.

I moved closer to him and peered inside the rotting remains of a once very pretty tin.  Inside I saw items that had long escaped my memory but were once important treasures to our younger selves.  I picked out a small teddy bear that had seen better days, and held it up.  It had a red sash with the words 'Mother Shipton's Cave' emblazoned across it. 

"I remember you," I told it, "you belonged to Lucy."

"Yeah, and I stole it from her and wouldn't give it back.  She used to carry it everywhere.  It's a miracle I managed to get it in here without her noticing," Russ recalled. “What a little shit I was."

"You still are," I told him, and received a punch in the arm for my cheek. 

I studied the teddy and many childhood memories flooded back.  Lucy had bought the toy on a school trip to the cave in Knaresborough. She was fascinated by the petrifying well there.  Its ability to turn things to stone was a form of real-life wizardry to her.  The place held even more magic as it was also in possession of a wishing well, the stuff of fairy-tales.

Russ picked out an object from the tin and gave a low whistle.

"My old penknife!  Remember when I found this, Charlie?  I reckon a fisherman had left it behind on the green near the river."

I nodded. "I remember you hiding it from your parents because they would never have approved."

"Funny how some things don't change," he muttered.

Peering into the tin of wonders I picked out a brooch in the shape of a butterfly that had once belonged to a young Lucy. The object was still familiar to me.  I could picture it carefully pinned to the clothing the young Lucy had worn. Since all her childhood clothes had a tomboy look back then the delicate brooch had seemed out of place and awkward.  The butterfly was Lucy's favourite creature so of course this was the reason she was so attached to the brooch.