curtains at the
window, a bookshelf laden with art books. The bed was
neatly made, and a pair of his boots stood at the foot.
Through a door she could see into a tiny tiled bathroom.
Oliver followed her in, leaving the front door
open.
'Here it is.' He pulled down a glossy book from the
shelf. 'Philip Wilson, your namesake. You can borrow
it. Keep it as long as you like.'
She flicked it open, and saw inside the front cover: To Oliver, with love from Rosalind.
'My ex-wife.' He saw her reading it.
'Is she an artist?'
'No. She's a librarian.'
Charlie wondered about the break-up. Was there
another story here of loss, loneliness and rejection?
Was Rosalind obstinate and unapproachable, like
Mum? She longed to know more, but felt that she'd
been blunt enough already.
Oliver looked at his watch. 'Come on. It's time to
get back.'
Saturday Night
Charlie had had enough of this party. It was nearly one
in the morning and she'd have to be up again in six
hours' time. Rowan and Russell had disappeared
into one of the bedrooms, and she didn't want to be
the one to disturb them. Fraser Goff, supposedly keen
for her to come, had said little to her all evening and
was now wrapped round Lisa's friend Dawn who was
wearing what looked like a black nightdress. Charlie's
ex-boyfriend, Stephen Gee, had made a big show of
arriving with a glamorous dark girl called Melinda
from a different school, and kept looking at Charlie to
make sure she'd seen. Charlie hadn't taken much
notice of any of this earlier in the evening, when she'd
been laughing and joking with a group who were looking
at Lisa's photos of last year's ski trip, but by now
the party had deteriorated. A second wave – friends of
Lisa's older brother – had arrived after the pub closed,
and colonized the kitchen. There was so much dope
in the garden that a sweet-smelling drift came in
whenever anyone opened the door, and head-thumping
music made conversation impossible. Lisa's
parents had gone away for the weekend, leaving Lisa
and her brother, Rob, to clear up next day, so there
was no reason for the party to end this side of Sunday
afternoon. Charlie had fended off a drunken friend of
Rob's who lurched at her in a waft of beer and sweat,
and now she wanted to go home.
'Hey, you know who's not here, Lisa?' she heard
Dawn saying. 'Aberdeen Angus!'
'Oh, Angus is a prat,' Fraser said. 'He'll be
rehearsing for the play. You know he's King of the
Fairies? I mean, who else would volunteer for
that?'
'In green tights!' There were shrieks of laughter.
'Let's all go! Get front row seats!'
Charlie couldn't help sticking up for Angus. 'I think
it's brave of him. Not many people would have the
nerve.'
'Not many people would have the legs .'
'Not many people would have the utter stupidity,'
Lisa said. 'I mean, imagine hauling yourself into
school every day, after everyone else has left.'
'So, are you disappointed he didn't come tonight,
Charlie?' Dawn asked, in a snidey way.
'Oh yeah, Angus for Charlie!' Fraser made
smooching noises. 'Woah! They're an item – latest
celebrity couple! Call Hello! magazine!'
Rowan must have made it up, about him wanting
me to come tonight, Charlie thought. She looked
at her watch and considered phoning her mother.
'Don't get a lift home from anyone who's had too
much to drink,' Kathy had told her. 'I'd rather come
and fetch you myself. I don't like the idea of you being
driven about by someone I don't know. Someone you hardly know, by the sound of it.'
Charlie knew that her mother would be lying awake,
waiting for her to come in. Kathy never complained
about it – she trusted Charlie not to do anything daft
– but was unable to sleep until she was safely indoors.
When Charlie thought of all the disasters that could
possibly befall her – car accidents, kidnap, murder,
death from sudden illness – she worried more on her
mother's account than on her own. She couldn't let
Kathy down by getting herself killed, maimed or disfigured.
Kathy would
window, a bookshelf laden with art books. The bed was
neatly made, and a pair of his boots stood at the foot.
Through a door she could see into a tiny tiled bathroom.
Oliver followed her in, leaving the front door
open.
'Here it is.' He pulled down a glossy book from the
shelf. 'Philip Wilson, your namesake. You can borrow
it. Keep it as long as you like.'
She flicked it open, and saw inside the front cover: To Oliver, with love from Rosalind.
'My ex-wife.' He saw her reading it.
'Is she an artist?'
'No. She's a librarian.'
Charlie wondered about the break-up. Was there
another story here of loss, loneliness and rejection?
Was Rosalind obstinate and unapproachable, like
Mum? She longed to know more, but felt that she'd
been blunt enough already.
Oliver looked at his watch. 'Come on. It's time to
get back.'
Saturday Night
Charlie had had enough of this party. It was nearly one
in the morning and she'd have to be up again in six
hours' time. Rowan and Russell had disappeared
into one of the bedrooms, and she didn't want to be
the one to disturb them. Fraser Goff, supposedly keen
for her to come, had said little to her all evening and
was now wrapped round Lisa's friend Dawn who was
wearing what looked like a black nightdress. Charlie's
ex-boyfriend, Stephen Gee, had made a big show of
arriving with a glamorous dark girl called Melinda
from a different school, and kept looking at Charlie to
make sure she'd seen. Charlie hadn't taken much
notice of any of this earlier in the evening, when she'd
been laughing and joking with a group who were looking
at Lisa's photos of last year's ski trip, but by now
the party had deteriorated. A second wave – friends of
Lisa's older brother – had arrived after the pub closed,
and colonized the kitchen. There was so much dope
in the garden that a sweet-smelling drift came in
whenever anyone opened the door, and head-thumping
music made conversation impossible. Lisa's
parents had gone away for the weekend, leaving Lisa
and her brother, Rob, to clear up next day, so there
was no reason for the party to end this side of Sunday
afternoon. Charlie had fended off a drunken friend of
Rob's who lurched at her in a waft of beer and sweat,
and now she wanted to go home.
'Hey, you know who's not here, Lisa?' she heard
Dawn saying. 'Aberdeen Angus!'
'Oh, Angus is a prat,' Fraser said. 'He'll be
rehearsing for the play. You know he's King of the
Fairies? I mean, who else would volunteer for
that?'
'In green tights!' There were shrieks of laughter.
'Let's all go! Get front row seats!'
Charlie couldn't help sticking up for Angus. 'I think
it's brave of him. Not many people would have the
nerve.'
'Not many people would have the legs .'
'Not many people would have the utter stupidity,'
Lisa said. 'I mean, imagine hauling yourself into
school every day, after everyone else has left.'
'So, are you disappointed he didn't come tonight,
Charlie?' Dawn asked, in a snidey way.
'Oh yeah, Angus for Charlie!' Fraser made
smooching noises. 'Woah! They're an item – latest
celebrity couple! Call Hello! magazine!'
Rowan must have made it up, about him wanting
me to come tonight, Charlie thought. She looked
at her watch and considered phoning her mother.
'Don't get a lift home from anyone who's had too
much to drink,' Kathy had told her. 'I'd rather come
and fetch you myself. I don't like the idea of you being
driven about by someone I don't know. Someone you hardly know, by the sound of it.'
Charlie knew that her mother would be lying awake,
waiting for her to come in. Kathy never complained
about it – she trusted Charlie not to do anything daft
– but was unable to sleep until she was safely indoors.
When Charlie thought of all the disasters that could
possibly befall her – car accidents, kidnap, murder,
death from sudden illness – she worried more on her
mother's account than on her own. She couldn't let
Kathy down by getting herself killed, maimed or disfigured.
Kathy would
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