The Life and Afterlife of Charlie Brackwood (The Brackwood Series Book 1) (13 page)

"I remember pinching that old thing from Lucy," Russ said, "I watched her cry for hours thinking she'd lost it.  I'd forgotten I put it in there.  I was a horrible kid."

I smiled at Russ's words and quietly pocketed the butterfly with the intention of either giving it back to Lucy or else keeping it as a memento of those childhood days that were so precious to me.  Russ held up an old dog-eared photograph that was creased and curling at the edges.  He laid it on the floor so we could both see it.  It was a Polaroid of me and Lucy in the treehouse on the day of its completion.  Lucy was wearing dungarees with a light blue t-shirt underneath and, predictably enough, the butterfly brooch I had just pocketed was pinned to the blue denim. 

Her wavy curls were wild as she smiled enthusiastically for the camera. Her eyes were so crinkled that they looked almost closed and no hint of deep green was to be seen.  Her cheeks were chubby and she had the same sprinkling of freckles across her nose that still lingered there today.  In comparison I looked lanky and gawky, with limbs that appeared too long for my body and a mass of curls on top of my head with the back and sides shaved, as was the style in the nineties.

"Wow!  Look at your haircut!" Russ exclaimed. "Where was I when this was taken?"

"You were chasing Nancy Fellowick at the time, so probably out following her and her friends around the village."

"Oh, yeah, that's right," he said, snapping his fingers.  He held the picture close to his face and his gaze fell on Lucy. He studied her image for a while and let out a low whistle. 

"How could we not see it, eh?" he asked, looking at me with a soft expression in his eyes. 

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"She was a beauty even then... we just didn't notice." He continued to study the picture and I began to feel uncomfortable. 

I chose to ignore the statement for fear that Russ’s aim was to coax my true feelings for Lucy out of me.  I was in no mood for an argument tonight.  I loved Russ like a brother and didn’t want there to be any unnecessary strain on our friendship.

Little did I know how complicated things were about to become.

Chapter Twelve

The months that passed were largely uneventful. The season changed from one of green leaves and the scent of cut grass to spiky, bare trees and gallons of rain.  The wet season finally came to an end in the north of England only to make way for the snowy season soon after. 

To a resident of a small remote village, snow was not a friend. To many people it was seen as a barrier between them and the outside world.  All of a sudden the freedom to move they’d once had was taken away and even the simplest of household chores, such as shopping for food, became difficult. 

The narrow and winding country roads that provided an escape route out of the village became treacherous and barely viable.  The older generation hated the snow and took every opportunity to complain about it to anyone unfortunate enough to happen upon them.  Yet they refused to live anywhere else but in their beloved village.

It was now December and the soft glow of Christmas tree lights could be seen from the windows of every cottage.  The smell of burning coal filled the cold, dry air and the plumes of smoke that escaped from the clustered chimneys were a constant reminder of just how cold it had become. 

The temperature had plummeted and the entire village was prepared for snow.  Days had become shorter, mornings dark and dismal. When the sun left the village for the day everybody made sure they were indoors curled up in front of an open fire. 

Lucy used to say that the mornings were darker in winter because that was the time of year the sun chose to have a lie-in.  ‘Having been an early riser most of the year, I guess we could let the sun have its little lie-ins once in a while.’  Sayings like that were typical of her and I often marvelled at the things she came out with.

In the months leading up to Christmas our letter writing became a regular routine, and for me the only thing in my life I looked forward to.  She mainly wrote about her   student activities, her achievements on her courses and the friends she had made there.  To me her life seemed like a never ending stream of excitement, full of different experiences and camaraderie amongst new friends.

I myself had not seized the same opportunities and felt dull in comparison and unworthy of her time.  But after a few weeks in Bath Lucy's letters had become less positive and increasingly full of worry.  Even though she was miles away from her parents they were still making her life more difficult than she needed it to be.

She would receive phone calls from her mother, demanding to know her whereabouts at all hours of the day as well as asking her whether she was still going to church.  Another common topic was Lucy’s grades.  Her mother would insist she must work harder despite the good results she was already achieving. She would constantly be reminded that her parents were paying the tuition fees and they expected glowing results.  Lucy mentioned in her letters that she would often feel punished by her mother for wanting to go to university. I believed the root cause of the drama constantly created by Mrs Elliot was jealousy.  She’d never had the opportunities Lucy did and this caused bitterness to develop.

Another issue often brought up by her mother was her parents’ failing marriage.  Lucy’s mother seized any opportunity to bad mouth her husband in an attempt to get Lucy on her side, which felt like emotional blackmail.

Her mother's constant needling was emotionally draining for Lucy. She stopped answering her mobile phone when her home number flashed up, in an attempt to avoid the anger and hatred her mother took out on her. 

Christmas was looming and Lucy's letters had a nervous undertone that suggested she was dreading the family occasions that were compulsory around the festive season.  I hoped that she wouldn't change her mind about returning to the village and dreaded the possibility of her deciding to stay in Bath.  The urge to see her again was so strong, I felt like an addict waiting for my next fix. 

The letters I received from her were very much treasured. They were a watered down version of her but our only connection for the time being.  Lucy was like a drug to me and the letters helped to ease the symptoms of my loneliness a little, but were nothing compared to the real thing.  To see her, to touch her, to study the green of her eyes… these were the things I daydreamed about.

I tried to inject some humour into the letters I sent her, in an attempt to lighten Lucy’s mood.  With every letter I wrote there was a strong urge to tell her my true feelings but I knew that her life was full of enough stress and worry. My plan was to bide my time and reveal my true feelings only at the right time for her.       

Instead, I wrote to her about mundane village affairs.  The Christmas lights being switched on, mince pies in church, Mrs Vain's hilarious attempt at transporting a Christmas tree in a soft-topped sports car and how, in the end, she had to leave the top down just to fit it in and drove around with a seven-foot tree poking out of the roof of her car.  Of course it had never occurred to her to choose a smaller one.

Sometimes Lucy would bring up the topic of my love life in her letters and I would shyly tell her it was non-existent.  Finding love elsewhere had never crossed my mind. I had already found it, even if I had no idea how the object of my affection felt about me.  She was the one I wanted and I didn't need to look elsewhere.    

Of course, my head was occasionally turned by the visitors who showed up in the pub now and again, here for the weekend and gone by Monday.  A no strings attached fling would have been so easy, so uncomplicated, but also so unromantic and sleazy.  These women knew nothing about me and I knew nothing about them.  These brief interludes may excite some men but I could never see the attraction in a one-night stand with a stranger.

In her letters Lucy also talked about her studies and she would always give the impression they were going well. She was happy with the subjects she was learning and talked passionately about many topics, including biodiversity and ecology.  She would often talk about man’s responsibility to preserve nature and to lessen the damage already inflicted on vulnerable ecosystems.  I was proud of my friend but in time I began to see her as someone who was out of my reach.  Someone whose intelligence was far greater than mine.

There was only one positive to Lucy’s departure; my friendship with Russ was thriving and we spent many nights sitting around a roaring fire in the pub, talking about our careers and futures or often just sitting in silence as we watched the snow flutter down slowly outside. It looked magical viewed by the glow of the firelight inside the sixteenth-century inn. 

Lately I had been feeling frustrated in my chosen occupation and began to wonder if there were greater things out there for me.  Russ listened with the occasional nod as I offloaded my concerns about telling my father that the family business wasn't for me.  I had no idea what my dad’s reaction would be and didn't want to get into a feud with him.  He was passionate about his work and I didn't know if he would be upset with me for even contemplating leaving the business he loved and had worked so hard to establish so that I could one day take it over.  I also had no idea what career path I wanted to take instead or what occupation I would feel more comfortable pursuing.

Russ encouraged me by stating that I was capable of much more than I was currently achieving.  He told me I was smart and would be successful in any business I chose to turn my hand to.  For so long I had felt frozen in place while everyone around me was steaming full speed ahead.  I knew the fact that Lucy was pursuing her dream and realising her potential had provoked these feelings in me. I had taken the easy route and fallen comfortably into the family business.  I didn't want to be comfortable any more.  I wanted to shake things up a bit.  I needed a new challenge.

The village had been preparing for the Young Farmers’ Christmas Gala for months and a huge marquee had been erected on the green. Colourful banners advertising the event could be seen everywhere.  This also acted as a warning to some villagers, a way to prepare the old folks for a night of loud music and drunken youths.

Snow had lingered and so access to and from the village became problematic.  Farmers proved to be of great use during these times as they ferried locals about on their large, trusty tractors so that they could pick up essential supplies such as coal and wood to keep the chill at bay. 

During the winter months everyone pulled together and even the most bitterly judgemental individuals of the village seemed to take on a warmer, more friendly character.  The sight of this change brightened my soul and their newly caring attitude made up for their behaviour in previous months.

When Lucy came home that Christmas she seemed like a brand new person.  Clearly no longer a girl, she had metamorphosed into a beautiful woman, as enchanting and luminous as the butterfly she so admired.  We met for the first time since our goodbye in September at the Christmas Gala, and it is a memory that is too bright for me to forget.  But it also a sad memory, full of pain and anguish.  The reason being that Lucy had changed so much I did not even recognise my dear, old friend.  She had become a mysterious stranger who, oddly, brought a new thrill to my otherwise dreary life.  Lucy had become something she had never been before.  An enigma to me. 

That night stands out in my memory like a flashing light in the dark, which is what I happened to be staring at a few moments before Lucy approached me that night.  I was talking shop with a lad named Stuart Smithe, a fellow sheep farmer of around my age.  Stuart had blazing red hair, very pale skin and long blond eyelashes… not the most desirable features and he was always at a loss with the lasses, but he was a good sort with the ability to laugh at himself. 

He was in a sombre mood that night, though, as he talked about the number of lambs he and his dad had lost that year.  Some of them had grown weak from bacterial infections and not been strong enough to pull through but the majority had been killed by an aggressive dog that was out of control.  This problem is all too common, and devastating for farmers of livestock, especially when it involves vulnerable lambs. 

That spring five of Stuart’s flock had been killed in the fields and seven were left injured.  The dog responsible had been collared by its irresponsible owner and the pair sped off, never to be seen again, leaving death and devastation in their wake.  Though this had yet to happen on our farm, I deeply sympathised with Stuart. 

Lambs equalled income for him and his family and now they would lose out financially.  But even more upsetting was the pain and distress the animals would have endured before their death.

The conversation trailed off as the upsetting reality of their fate weighed heavy on our minds.  I stared at the colourful spectrum of lights as they moved over the dance floor, not really thinking about them but most probably appearing entranced to anyone looking in my direction.  My eyes followed two young friends picking up balloons and throwing them at one another.  The little boy appeared slightly older than the little girl and the sound of their ecstatic laughter carried over the music and into my heart, filling it with warmth.  They reminded me of Lucy and myself at their age and I took pleasure in witnessing their fragile friendship.

I heard a gasp escape from Stuart's mouth just as I felt someone tap me on the shoulder.  I turned around with a mixture of curiosity and confusion in my expression.  Before me stood someone whose confidence shone through.  Someone who appeared to stand a little straighter, whose smile was a little wider than usual, and whose eyes met mine without wavering.  I looked into a face that was both familiar and foreign to me.