Authors: J.E. Warren
It’s exactly what she needs and she’s thankful. Anna wants to reach over and ruffle his golden hair, run her fingers through it and tell him he’s the absolute best.
“Not to spoil the mood, but don’t you think it’s best we postpone next weekend? I doubt my bank balance will stretch to cover it now,” she says, thinking of her parents back home and how they might be quietly disappointed to find out her news.
“We should still go. I’ll figure something out; we only need to cover the train tickets. That’s if your folks are still happy to put me up for the night?”
She thinks of all their upcoming plans. Like the trip back home so Charlie can meet her family and sample the delights her favourite coastal town has to offer. Mentally rings up how much it’s all likely to cost.
She has all sorts of plans for them, keen to give him a proper tour so he can experience the feeling of wet sand between his toes, the smell of salt in the air. Anna misses it a lot and she wants to show him why to her there’s no place like it. Even in her insistence that London’s great, home still has her heart firmly in its grasp.
“Sure? Thought you might be happy to have an excuse to not go.”
“I’m sure. Not least because I’ve been mentally preparing myself for the parental interrogation for weeks now.” Charlie laughs, although something tells her he’s actually bricking it.
“Okay. Guess it’s still on then. I’ll save the burden of telling my parents until I’m there.”
“They won’t be angry, Anna. They’ll know you’ve worked hard. These things happen.”
“Hope so,” she replies. The thought of her mum and the reaction she’ll likely give worries her but it’s not anger that’s the issue. “My mum might even be happy in a way. Think she misses having me there.”
Charlie looks up, grins. “She can try, but I won’t let her steal you back.”
“I think you underestimate us Garrett women. Where do you think I get my stubbornness from?”
“Good point.”
Pushing thoughts of home to the back of her mind, because she can miss it later, Anna makes the decision to vacate the table she’s commandeered for the whole afternoon. And because the wine is messing with her ability to balance or think straight, she asks him if he can walk her back home.
With the bill settled, she snaps the loyalty card in half and leaves it on the table whilst Charlie stands and rolls his eyes. He pulls her away before she can steal the fancy bottle opener she’s had her eye on.
As they leave, she hears her stomachs start to generate loud noises. It churns all the way along the riverbank as they slowly stroll by.
“I’m hungry. What goes well with wine?”
He links his arm in hers. “Sleep.”
“Ha. I need something substantial. Actual food.”
“What constitutes actual food? Because last time you said this I got dragged into that horrible kebab shop so you could get doner meat and chips. It gave you food poisoning, remember?”
“Don’t worry. I know what I need,” she shouts, looking ahead to the small kiosk next to the river with the brightly coloured signage. Her eyes move past bags of candy floss that hang from it and past the cans of fizzy drinks.
If Charlie’s tired of her wobbly walk or loud, wine-spiked voice he isn’t showing it, Anna muses as she drags him over. She searches for loose change as the guy in the kiosk waits patiently.
Gently Charlie pulls her hand out of her skirt pocket and fishes into his own. Pulling out a crumpled five-pound note, he hands it over and says, “Whatever the lady wants.”
She laughs, squeezes his arm tight, breathing in his sweet scent that mixes with the sugary offerings before her. It makes her dizzy and hungry for him too.
On tiptoes to lean over the counter, she points to the ice cream board. “Mr. Whippy, please. Extra chocolate flake. Don’t scrimp on the ice cream. Ta muchly.”
“That constitutes actual food? You really think it’s going to mix well with all those glasses of wine?” he teases, and she laughs because he should know better by now than to try and convince her otherwise.
With a sly grin, Anna kisses the corner of his mouth and whispers, “Charlie, don’t you know that ice cream makes everything feel better?”
Charlie
June 13
th
2009
As they wait nervously outside Anna’s semi-terrace childhood home, she knocks on the door again and Charlie begins to wonder if he really should’ve made more of an effort to look presentable.
The sweat marks under his arms give away the fact he’s spent far too long on the train ride down stuck between a stranger’s unruly toddler and a sleepy girlfriend. His hair’s a tangled mess and he’s forgotten to shave away the week-old stubble in a rush to get to Waterloo and pick up snacks for Anna and their journey.
He thinks that if he were her parents he wouldn’t let him through the door. That or he’d have a serious chat about getting her a boyfriend who owns a hairbrush and decent clothes.
As much as he’s told Anna he feels relaxed about meeting them for the first time, he actually feels the opposite. Coming all the way to Lyme Regis is a big deal. No girl he’s dated before had ever wanted to introduce him to the parents. Charlie wonders if it maybe reflects his previous choice of girlfriends more than anything, but it still makes him nervous, apprehensive, and incredibly sweaty.
On the bus ride down from the train station into the sleepy coastal town that Anna called home, he made a pact to remember all his words. Be polite, charming. Use his manners and smile, but more importantly not give off the impression that he’s a penniless part-time busker and part-time employed twenty-four-year-old without much direction.
Not that Anna seems to mind, he notes when she puts her arms round his waist as they continue to wait. Like she’s bringing home something worthy of attention—to present him to her parents like a trophy—and for a moment he feels better. But it’s not long before the porch door swings open and his mouth goes dry.
It’s her dad. His large frame greets them as he takes a step down to give his daughter a big hug. He ruffles her hair.
“Dad!”
“Ello, Titch. Glad to see you’ve not grown any taller. You made it too, we were starting to think you might have forgotten the way home or got too good for us small town folk.” Her dad laughs.
“Ello, baldy. No, the train was delayed as per usual. We got stuck idling for, what was it, Charlie, like an hour?” she says, big brown eyes looking up at him for the answer. Her arms still firm round him.
“About an hour or so, yeah. Bit of a nightmare,” he replies, slowly distancing himself from her grasp. He flashes a big smile instead and adopts a similar cheery tone when he speaks. “But we’re here now.”
“Bet it was a nightmare. Usually is coming down from London.” He gives Charlie the once-over before turning back to his giddy, happy daughter. “And this little one wonders why we don’t make a habit of coming to visit her!”
Nudging him in the side, Anna hands over her small bag. “You going to let us in, then, or are we going to spend the evening out here?”
Her dad cracks the door wider and gestures for Charlie to follow down the narrow hallway. Anna’s already kicking off her sandals by the doormat, one hand against the wall for balance, and she almost takes out the cat that appears beside her.
“Mum’s still got empty nest syndrome, I see?” She chuckles, aiming the question at her dad whilst she jiggles the tabby cat’s sagging fur belly.
“She never stops feeding the blimin’ things. Mittens here can barely get up on the sofa now, and don’t even get me started on the other one—Geri can’t fit out the cat flap anymore,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Told her they need to go on a diet but she don’t listen. Never listens. Stubborn as a damn mule, Anna’s mum is.”
Charlie feels like he needs to find a way to be part of their easygoing banter. Clearing his throat, he jokes, “Sounds familiar.”
If her dad hears he doesn’t let on, because he’s already marching to the end of the hall into what Charlie assumes is the living room. Quietly he tags behind Anna, who’s busy picking at strips of loose wallpaper as she passes.
“I thought you were going to finish off decorating in here?” she calls out, leaving the paper to hang looser.
“What was that, darling?” a loud voice shouts back. It’s eerily similar to Anna’s, which startles him.
“The hallway—it’s still got that minging old wallpaper peeling everywhere.”
“If you want to give me and your dad a hand over the weekend, then be my guest.”
Charlie notes the sarcastic tone, again eerie. Familiar. It’s as if he’s listening to some distorted version of Anna sent from the future, and he watches as she sticks out her tongue to a figure in front of her, past the archway that opens up the lounge into a small dining room.
“Jog on, Mum.” Anna laughs, throwing her arms up to embrace the petite woman he’s one hundred and ten percent certain is her beloved, much talked about mum.
“Always such a pleasure to see you, now get him in here and introduce us. Don’t keep us both waiting, love.”
Caught up in trying not to invade Anna and her mum’s overdue reunion, Charlie doesn’t realise he’s meant to step forward out of the shadows and formally introduce himself. Like any other good and charming boyfriend might do, he thinks, and then the panic sets in as both parents wait for him to say something.
Maybe he should throw his arms out too, or perhaps give a firm handshake to show he’s the right man for their cherished daughter, but he doesn’t get that far. Instead, he shifts awkwardly on his feet and gives them a limp wave. Hoping as he does that he’s smiling, that they’ll pay attention to that instead and not the redness burning in his cheeks.
As Anna steps back towards him she gives an eager look to promptly snaps him into action. When he fails to speak up, she finally swoops in and saves the day.
“Mum, Dad,” she begins, slipping a hand into his. “This is Charlie.”
In the end he goes for a handshake, which probably isn’t the best idea as his palms clam up.
“I’m Anna’s mum, but you can just call me Janice.” She smiles, bringing him in for a quick peck on the cheek, smothering him with a mass of dark hair that’s streaked with red through the fringe.
“It’s great to meet you, Janice.”
Anna’s dad offers out his hand firmly. “Tony.”
“We’ve heard so much about you, and by that I mean you really were the main topic of conversation at Christmas.” Janice laughs, nodding towards Anna, who’s trying to fake embarrassment at being ousted by her own mother.
“Only good things, I hope.”
“Of course.” She covers half her mouth to whisper. “You were right, darling, he has got nice hair.”
There’s a lot of giggling, winking, and jabbing as Anna chides back, saying in a somewhat monosyllabic teenage tone, “God, Mum, you’re annoying.”
“Okay, you two. Give the poor lad a chance to settle in before you start with your little routine,” Tony sighs. Charlie senses he’s lived through their jokey yet affectionate mother and daughter act a thousand times before.
Janice ushers him into the living room and tells them both to take a seat on the large cream sofa while she makes a round of tea. When she asks quietly if he’d prefer something stronger, Tony nods and proudly brings out a selection of locally brewed ales. Charlie finds them all tempting, but passes so he can maintain control over his actions.
Whilst her parents root through cupboards for biscuits, Anna finds his hand and squeezes it. Rocks her head from side to side and quietly says, “It’s going okay so far, isn’t it?”
He doesn’t get a chance to reply as Janice comes back to hand him a milky tea and custard cream.
Anna says, “Ta, Mum.” Lounges back on the sofa. “Where’s Joe at?”
“Take one guess.”
“Really? I thought she kicked him out? Didn’t she sleep with his mate?” she grumbles back. “He’s such a fucking idiot.”
Charlie finds it all utterly confusing, completely out of the loop until Janice leans over from her armchair.
“Joe is Anna’s brother, our oldest. He’s a bit head over heels for this girl, Shelley. We can’t keep up. One minute they’re both madly in love and then she’s chucked him out, shacked up with his mate Baz.”
“Shelly is awful, Charlie. Seriously awful, you’d hate her,” Anna pipes in.
“You would, sweetheart. She’s not our cup of tea at all, is she, Tony?” Janice says a million miles an hour, her voice overlapping into Anna’s.
“Dad, you don’t like her, do you?”
Tony keeps watching the muted football match on the TV, just mumbles, “Nah, not our cup of tea.”
“So, just us tonight then, Mum?”
“Aye, just us and the cats.”
As if right on cue, a different one strolls in. It’s chubbier than the first and plants itself square at his feet.
“Geri, I’m guessing?” The cat’s claws dig in deep, eager to pull itself up from the hem of his jeans.
Janice’s booming laughter follows. “He’s Anna’s cat. We didn’t have the heart to tell her when she’d named him Geri after the Spice Girl that he was in fact, very much a
he
.”
“The name suits him, though. He’s always been an attention seeker. Doesn’t follow the rules.” Anna smiles, hauling Geri up to fill in the gap Charlie’s left between them to show some respect.
Between sips, Janice asks, “You got any pets then, sweetheart?”
“No pets, unfortunately, but I do love cats.” It’s his first lie of the evening, and it slips effortlessly from his mouth. Anna smirks at him because she knows he’s firmly a fan of dogs and not too fond of claws.
“Didn’t know that. Maybe we should get a kitten then, Charlie?”
Still, she doesn’t fully rat him out and the conversation carries on as normal, with Janice’s voice combining with Anna’s so it sounds like an army of foghorns have invaded the house. He’s grateful when the sun begins to set and night closes in.
He tries to contribute to the casual chit chat but feels like his accent sounds even more obvious in their company. Suspects her parents were born far from where they live now, maybe somewhere up north.
After another hour Charlie feels like his brain’s gone through a blender as he tries to soak up all the snippets of information passing back and forth. It’s like listening to old friends who haven’t seen each other in years, he thinks as Anna keeps on chatting and they all throw in rounds of sarcastic remarks, jokey banter, and tales from when she was little.
Somewhere between stories of toddler Anna dancing to an airport full of tourists in Lanzarote during a family holiday and her odd habit of putting butter on biscuits, it finally hits him—just how naïve he’s been to believe he’s the only one to know her. Because as he listens it’s apparent there’s many quirky strings to her bow, too many different pieces of her puzzle for only him to love and admire.
Her parents are so clearly in awe of her too and it reminds him that he’s lucky to be the one she’s bought back to show off with.
They remain happy to listen to Anna’s stories about foggy old London town, even when she finally plucks up the courage to tell them about losing her job. Both react with sympathy instead of judgment or disappointment.
“Sounds awful, darling, what bastards! How could they just do that to you?” Janice shouts as Anna quietly explains. She leaps off the sofa to give a big hug.
Tony also gives varying words of encouragement. “Idiots, but you know what—you’re too good for them, Anna. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”
Holding on to her hand, Janice says, “You always have a place to stay here, my love. Now that Joe’s living with that tart or kipping on mate’s sofas, you could have his old room. Of course it needs a deep clean and you’d have to get rid of all those dirty Maxim posters.”
Anna just smiles but it worries him. He thinks that maybe she’s been contemplating it all along—moving back in with her family.
“It’s a bigger room than yours.”
“I’ll see how I do with the job hunt, but it’s nice to hear you want me back so badly.”
Janice laughs. “It’s true, I do!”
“Your mum talks about you all the time to Sheila next door,” Tony sighs. “And to the kid in the corner shop, and the postman and the milkman, anyone who’ll listen, basically.”
“Guilty, it’s just I’m so proud.”
“She’s always been Anna’s biggest fan. Haven’t you, love?” Tony replies, sinking back another can of strong ale.
Giving her mum a quick squeeze, Anna sits back down and pulls up her knees to her chest.
“So Charlie, Anna tells us you’re a musician?”
He’d known that at some point the topic of conversation would change and all eyes would land on him, but he’s still not quite ready for it.
Anna answers for him again. “He’s great, although he’s too humble to admit it, aren’t you, Charlie?”
“Uh, well, it’s nothing special. I just play a bit of guitar here and there,” he replies quietly.
“Charlie can play pretty much anything, the talented bastard.”