Chapter 25 Charlotte
Charlotte
Squatting on the floor behind her desk, Charlotte risked a glance up as Mr. Wilson came lurching over.
‘He’s gone,’ the headmaster said. ‘Do you want to tell us what that was all about?’
Charlotte shook her head. ‘I’d rather not.’
‘Well, he’s gone after Billy Toad. Is he safe around children? He looked a little unhinged.’
Charlotte remembered the conversation she’d had with a tearful James the night before. ‘Ah … I’m not sure.’
‘For goodness sake, Ms. Harding, you’re going to have to be a little bit clearer on things. I’ll have Maud call the police just in case.’
‘I don’t think—’
‘Do you want to take the risk, Ms. Harding?’
Charlotte, cheeks burning, shook her head. ‘Perhaps not.’
‘All right. Well, why don’t you get off home now?’
‘Okay, I will.’
With the snow still making the roads difficult for any vehicles without four-wheel drive, Charlotte walked. Halfway home, and aching with despair, she pulled out her phone and called Kelly.
‘Are you free?’ she asked. ‘I’m having a bit of a drama.’
‘Just got off a shift. Sorry I missed your call last night. I had to do an all-nighter.’
‘Are you all right?’
‘Nothing a bit of coffee won’t fix. You know the Oak Leaf is open late in December? Meet you there?’
‘Great.’
Charlotte headed over to Sycamore Park. A fresh dusting of snow had left the park looking delightfully Christmassy, with strings of fairy lights lining the paths turning it into a glittery wonderland.
Charlotte walked past the theatre, where a towering poster of James advertised his shows, even though tonight it was showing a midweek performance of The Nutcracker, performed by a local theatre group, then crossed in front of the public library to where the Oak Leaf Café sat on the northern edge of the park.
A sign outside advertised openings until seven p.m. right through December.
A pretty cuckoo clock over the counter told her it was just after half past five.
A few couples, mostly elderly people, occupied some of the tables.
A sleepy cat looked up from a basket by the door, above which was a noticeboard covered with postcards from around the world.
Charlotte looked at a couple from Italy, one from Egypt and another from South Africa, then the waitress appeared and showed her to a corner seat.
A little snowman ornament held the menu in wiry twig-fingers. Charlotte was just trying to decide between a marshmallow tower hot chocolate with Christmas spice and a ginger and cinnamon latte topped by miniature gingerbread men, when the door opened and Kelly came in.
‘You sounded desperate,’ Kelly said. ‘I came as fast as I could. Whatever we order comes with an espresso, or my advice will be half-baked and lacking clarity.’
‘Deal.’
They ordered, both opting for the ginger and cinnamon latte, with a side order of Christmas cake.
‘My life is a total disaster,’ Charlotte said, fighting back tears.
‘Tell me from the start.’
Charlotte gave Kelly a brief overview of the events of the last day, leaving nothing out. Kelly was a nurse; she could spot a misdiagnosis at a hundred paces.
At the end, Kelly ran a hand through her hair, blinked sleep out of her eyes, and took a long swig of what latte was left.
‘So, you really think you have feelings for Jacob the Milkman, while the rich and powerful, world-famous illusionist who literally flies you to Paris and then picks you up in a Rolls Royce isn’t good enough? ’
Charlotte grimaced. ‘In a nutshell.’
‘But the Milkman is actually the evil stepbrother?’
Charlotte took a deep breath. ‘After the soaking incident—’
‘Don’t feel guilty. Consider it a kind of payback for the milk.’
‘—after that, James told me all about it. For the first time I got to see behind the wall he keeps around himself, and now I’m just confused.’
‘Talk me through that bit again, but take more breaths this time.’
‘All right. He told me that his father married Jacob’s mother, but while his father did everything he could to help James’s career take off, Jacob and his mother tried to sabotage it.
There was an … accident. James’s father died, and Jacob’s mother was injured.
Afterwards, Jacob and his mother cut James off, and even tried to smear his name in the press. ’
‘That doesn’t sound very nice.’
‘No.’
‘It also doesn’t sound very clear. Much as I hate to say this, but I really think you should talk to Jacob.
It’s like when people come in to the hospital and claim they’ve already diagnosed their problems using the internet.
It’s almost always wrong. The only way you can get a clear diagnosis is by looking directly at the problem and talking to a professional. ’
‘So you think I need to see a professional? Like a therapist?’
‘No! Talk to Jacob. That’s all. Get his side of the story, then you’ll be in a position to make a decision. Or you could just ditch them both. That’s probably what I would do.’
‘Really?’
‘But I’m not you, am I?’ Kelly patted her hand. ‘You have to follow your heart sometimes, Charlotte, although let your head do a bit of steering. That might make things a little less painful when you crash into an iceberg or something.’
‘You think?’
‘Yes. Trust me, I’m a nurse.’
‘Do you ever lie to your patients?’
‘Not very often.’
Charlotte nodded. ‘All right. I’ll go there now. Oh my goodness.’ She looked up the cuckoo clock, then down at her watch, as though to confirm the time. She thought about taking out her phone as well, but the times aligned well enough that a little trust was possible.
‘I have to pick up Harry from Clive’s. Clive wanted to see if he would get on with a couple of his regulars. Oh goodness. I told him five o’clock and it’s nearly six.’
Kelly gave Charlotte a grave look. ‘You’re my best friend. I can do this for you. Just give me Clive’s address, and your house key, and I’ll meet you back at yours with your dog. Go to the tearoom and talk to Jacob.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s finish these lattes first.’
‘Down it. Stop stalling. Take the rest of the cake in a bit of tissue. You might need the calories.’
They headed out. At the entrance, Kelly gave her a warm hug, like a mother sending her daughter off to war.
‘Good luck, Charlotte.’
‘Thanks.’
She headed up into central Brentwell. It had begun to snow again, gentle flakes drifting down, glittering against the fairy lights strung along the eaves of the shops.
Charlotte couldn’t help but feel the Christmas spirit, even though her heart was heavy.
She wanted only to see Jacob, even though she had no idea what she would say when she did.
If James was to be believed, he was calculating and manipulative, but that just didn’t fit with her impression of him.
He just seemed … nice … although she knew well that appearances could be deceiving.
Charlotte had just turned the corner onto the high street when her phone buzzed. Up ahead, the lights of the tearoom spilled out onto the street. A shadow fell across the snow, someone sweeping up inside.
She pressed her phone to her ear. ‘Hello?’
‘Oh, Mrs. Harding. It’s Mr. Wilson. I thought you’d like an update on that young man who showed up at school.’
‘Right. What happened.’
‘Well, the police picked him up. Apparently he was pursuing the boy in question, displaying threatening behaviour—’
‘What?’
Charlotte looked down at her phone, but perhaps due to the cold, her battery had died. She tapped the screen a couple of times, but to no avail.
A single tear dribbled down the side of her face, kept from freezing by the warmth of her cheek.
The police had arrested Jacob. So, it was true.
He was a criminal. Not only had he sabotaged James’s career, but he had also tried to attack Billy Toad.
It just didn’t make sense, but the evidence was there, undeniable.
She needed to sit down, but there was literally nothing around that wasn’t covered in snow.
She walked on a few paces until she came up alongside Aunt Marjorie’s Tearoom.
Inside, Marjorie was putting chairs up on the tables, but there was no sign of Jacob, of course, because he was most likely in a cell at the local police station, getting ready for sentencing or whatever it was they did.
She didn’t like to think about it. Even though he was obviously a criminal, she hoped they treated him well.
The snow was getting heavier. Charlotte stood there for a few seconds, staring in through the tearoom windows, feeling more alone than at any time in her life.
For a moment, Marjorie turned, appeared to pause, perhaps seeing her, but by now she probably resembled a snowman dressed in a fake fur jacket.
With a deep breath, she turned and began the long trudge towards home.