Read Online A Proper Charlie by Louise Wise - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Louise Wise
Ads: Link
embarrassment into anger and flapped at Charlie as she placed the potted plant on the floor. ‘And don’t be so nosy.’
Charlie flushed, feeling guilty even though she knew she was innocent.
Another workman came in wheeling a dark brown leather chair.
‘ Do you want my men to help move you?’ Clair Michel looked around and then pointed to a spot in front of his office’s window. ‘We could position your desk there facing the room.’
Mr Fanton nodded miserably, as Charlie and Faye giggled between one another.
Charlie’s eyes fell on the framed picture. She moved away the polythene so she could see it properly. It was the famous picture of the earthrise from the moon with the caption : God gives us dreams a size too big so that we can grow in them.
‘ Inspiring, isn’t it?’
Charlie looked up at Clair Michel.
‘ I think he glances at that for motivation on bad days.’
‘ Does he get many bad days?’ Charlie couldn’t believe old Mr Middleton thought days as bad or good.
‘ He could be happier,’ she said. She took the picture from Charlie as if afraid she’d break it and placed it back against the office wall.
The two workmen were lifting Fanny’s desk with his paperwork still on top. He was running around trying to stop stuff from sliding off. His comb-over was slipping off his bald patch and he licked his fingers to stick it back into place. Poor Fanny, he was reduced to a small desk alongside everybody else’s.
That evening, Mr Middleton’s picture and its caption inspired Charlie to open up her laptop and find her article. She hadn’t looked at it since she and Andy had split up and Melvin had told her the article was already being covered.
She sat looking at her words; not reading but just thinking about Melvin’s reluctance to encourage her. He’d always been the same. Never strive, never hope and you won’t be disappointed was his motto. Despite his sexuality, or maybe because of it, he wasn’t as liberal as he looked. She supposed his nature was because of the cruel way his parents were taken from him. He barely drank and was terrified she was going to be led astray by free-thinking friends.
The authorities took Melvin away when she was twelve; she had never forgotten the pain; it had been like a tumour inside. Expanding each and every way until she couldn’t eat or breathe. It had never gone away – oh, the pain had certainly gone, but the fear of being left alone; of being deserted was always there and that, Charlie suspected, had been the birth of her embarrassing panic attacks that dogged her life.
Melvin was adopted at fourteen and his adoptive parents had wanted to separate them, believing she was a bad influence on him; something her social worker agreed with. They all believed that because she had been in care since forever and Melvin only five years, he had more prospects whereas she was doomed. OK, she was being fanciful as usual.
Then Melvin’s adoptive parents moved to London, taking him with them. Charlie was left behind in her hometown of Northampton, and gradually they lost touch; the social workers and his adoptive parents had succeeded in splitting them up.
But Melvin found her again. Dear Melly. It was thanks to him that she had a job with London Core .
She didn’t know anything about reporting, but she knew about writing . There had been many stories about the prostitutes in a negative light, and Charlie knew she could write something in a sympathetic slant instead. It didn’t have to mean an article . Melvin was right, she could write fiction. A novel!
*
Ben was sitting in the smart office of Mr Kevin Locke. He studied the picture of the cartoon Pink Panther on the back wall. Locke was writing something down in a notebook, a pink tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Ben dragged his gaze away from the cartoon and studied the top of Locke’s bent head. He had a bald spot the size of a two-pound coin. Ben fingered his own
Charlie flushed, feeling guilty even though she knew she was innocent.
Another workman came in wheeling a dark brown leather chair.
‘ Do you want my men to help move you?’ Clair Michel looked around and then pointed to a spot in front of his office’s window. ‘We could position your desk there facing the room.’
Mr Fanton nodded miserably, as Charlie and Faye giggled between one another.
Charlie’s eyes fell on the framed picture. She moved away the polythene so she could see it properly. It was the famous picture of the earthrise from the moon with the caption : God gives us dreams a size too big so that we can grow in them.
‘ Inspiring, isn’t it?’
Charlie looked up at Clair Michel.
‘ I think he glances at that for motivation on bad days.’
‘ Does he get many bad days?’ Charlie couldn’t believe old Mr Middleton thought days as bad or good.
‘ He could be happier,’ she said. She took the picture from Charlie as if afraid she’d break it and placed it back against the office wall.
The two workmen were lifting Fanny’s desk with his paperwork still on top. He was running around trying to stop stuff from sliding off. His comb-over was slipping off his bald patch and he licked his fingers to stick it back into place. Poor Fanny, he was reduced to a small desk alongside everybody else’s.
That evening, Mr Middleton’s picture and its caption inspired Charlie to open up her laptop and find her article. She hadn’t looked at it since she and Andy had split up and Melvin had told her the article was already being covered.
She sat looking at her words; not reading but just thinking about Melvin’s reluctance to encourage her. He’d always been the same. Never strive, never hope and you won’t be disappointed was his motto. Despite his sexuality, or maybe because of it, he wasn’t as liberal as he looked. She supposed his nature was because of the cruel way his parents were taken from him. He barely drank and was terrified she was going to be led astray by free-thinking friends.
The authorities took Melvin away when she was twelve; she had never forgotten the pain; it had been like a tumour inside. Expanding each and every way until she couldn’t eat or breathe. It had never gone away – oh, the pain had certainly gone, but the fear of being left alone; of being deserted was always there and that, Charlie suspected, had been the birth of her embarrassing panic attacks that dogged her life.
Melvin was adopted at fourteen and his adoptive parents had wanted to separate them, believing she was a bad influence on him; something her social worker agreed with. They all believed that because she had been in care since forever and Melvin only five years, he had more prospects whereas she was doomed. OK, she was being fanciful as usual.
Then Melvin’s adoptive parents moved to London, taking him with them. Charlie was left behind in her hometown of Northampton, and gradually they lost touch; the social workers and his adoptive parents had succeeded in splitting them up.
But Melvin found her again. Dear Melly. It was thanks to him that she had a job with London Core .
She didn’t know anything about reporting, but she knew about writing . There had been many stories about the prostitutes in a negative light, and Charlie knew she could write something in a sympathetic slant instead. It didn’t have to mean an article . Melvin was right, she could write fiction. A novel!
*
Ben was sitting in the smart office of Mr Kevin Locke. He studied the picture of the cartoon Pink Panther on the back wall. Locke was writing something down in a notebook, a pink tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Ben dragged his gaze away from the cartoon and studied the top of Locke’s bent head. He had a bald spot the size of a two-pound coin. Ben fingered his own
Similar Books
