The Life and Second Life of Charlie Brackwood (The Brackwood Series Book 2) (4 page)

In slow motion I saw the sharpness of her profile and the familiar way she was standing. I took in the green T-shirt that was her work uniform and watched her hair bounce when she moved her head. I caught a glimpse of her face as she glanced in my direction. She stopped suddenly and her eyes narrowed in suspicion, green eyes that appeared irritated by my presence.

The scene must have seemed so ordinary to her, just another summer's day, but to me it meant everything. I struggled to tear my eyes away from Lucy’s as I continued to analyse her face. Was she happy? Sad? Grieving? I didn’t know. I had missed so much of her life that the face staring back at me was practically that of a stranger.

Chapter Four

After a short meeting with Lucy, Russ joined me in the garden. He waved me down to ground level and handed me a glass of orange squash. It was almost midday and not one cloud could be spotted in the clear, blue sky. I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead and the offer of refreshment was more than welcome. I sat down on a decorative bench I had bought for Lucy’s twenty-fifth birthday. It had large sunflowers carved into it, with a handful of bees and butterflies surrounding the pretty flowers. It was a stunning piece of craftsmanship. I looked over at Russ who was leaning against the trunk of a tree, petting Snoop’s messy mop of a head.  

“Ah, you’re a soft dog, you are,” he told the mutt affectionately.  

“He seems to have warmed to you,” I noted.

“Aye, we’re good pals him and me. I’ve known him since he was a pup.”

“Are you quite close to the owner then?”

“We go way back, me and Luce. Since childhood.”

“So you’re good friends?”

“Yeah, most of the time,” he said with a smirk.

I hesitated as I tried to find a way to get Russ to open up. I needed more information but I didn’t want to raise his suspicions. The whole situation was feeling very strange. I had never needed to work hard to get Russ to open up before and had constantly to remind myself that we were now little more than strangers.

“Have you ever been more than friends?” I asked bluntly.

Russ stopped stroking the dog long enough to look up at me.

              “Nope.”

“Oh, I thought I detected a romantic involvement when I saw you both just then.”

“Nah,” he said, fixing his gaze on an upper window of the house. “She’s hard to tie down, that one.”

              “I heard some of the older fellas talking in the pub before you came in. Something about a car accident that a local doctor had been involved in.”

              “Yeah, unfortunately. He’s in hospital now, the doc… in a coma. His chances of surviving are fifty-fifty at the minute. Lucy’s been hit hard by it, they’ve only been married a short time.”

I opened my mouth to reply but saw Russ’s gaze fixed on an object behind me; his eyes widened a little and a small but unmistakable smile appeared on his rugged face. I turned to see Lucy strolling towards us, a platter of thickly sliced sandwiches balanced on one upright palm. She had replaced her simple work uniform of black trousers and green T-shirt with tight-fitted navy blue jeans and a simple white shirt tucked into the waistband. Her hair was loose and fell in waves to her waist. It was the longest I had ever seen it and the weight of the new length pulled at her curls so that they were almost straight. Her skin was uncharacteristically tanned due to her recent trip abroad and it gave her an exotic look.  

She smiled politely at me; obviously her attitude had changed since her initial reaction to my presence. For someone whose husband was in a coma with only a fifty per cent chance of survival she looked extremely well. I was aware that I was staring but to me she didn’t seem quite real and I felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch her.  

“I made you boys some cheese and ham sandwiches, with it being lunchtime and all.”

              “Thanks, Luce.”

A silence fell over the three of us then and I realised they were both expecting me to introduce myself.

“Oh, I’m… er…” In all the excitement I struggled to remember the name of the body I’d invaded. “Er… I’m… Adam.”

              “Nice to meet you, Adam,” Lucy said politely. “I hear you’re my new helping hand.”

              “Yes. I hope I don’t disappoint you,” I said awkwardly.

              “I’m sure you won’t,” she said with a smile, “It’ll be nice to have someone around during the day.”

I nodded and glanced at Russ whose gaze was still fixed on her.

              “Well, I’d best go and make use of my half-day holiday,” Lucy said as she began to turn back to the house.

              “What are your plans, Luce?” Russ called, causing her to turn back.

              “I just have some errands to run in town, that’s all, I’ll be back for dinner. I wouldn’t miss your cooking, Russ.”

He nodded and watched her disappear inside the house while I quietly analysed her behaviour. She seemed to be coping with her husband’s car accident extremely well, no sign of stress or panic. For someone with a history of anxiety this calm, collected manner seemed unusual. Was this the result of some new medication? Had she had some form of therapy since the last time I’d seen her? I thought about mentioning her behaviour to Russ, but I wanted him to warm to me and to recreate the trusting friendship I had always had with him, so I kept quiet.

              We ate our lunch in silence and swiftly got back to work. Russ was unusually silent and I sensed Lucy’s departure was worrying him. As I worked on the treehouse I found certain areas that would benefit from repairs and made a mental note to mention them to him. I was hoping I could drag them out in order to spend more time in Lucy’s company.  

              “So, you got a family… a wife?”

Russ’s question came out of the blue and I looked over at him to establish whether his words were aimed at me.

              “Erm… ” I mumbled.  

Should I lie?  How could I answer that question when I hardly knew who I was?
 My mind wandered to the page I’d read in the diary, the young son and Adam’s wife Emma.

              “I have a son and I used to be married.” I could only assume Adam was now divorced as there was nothing belonging to a woman in the house, nor anything belonging to a child for that matter.

Russ fell quiet while he took in what I’d said.

              “I’m sorry about that,” he said finally. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

              “I don’t know, really. I haven’t quite figured it out.”

              “Women, eh? They never let you know what you’ve done wrong.”

              “Are you married?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

              “Nah, it’s not for me. No lass has managed to tie me down yet.”

              “Maybe you just haven’t met the right one.”

              “I’ve met plenty,” he said firmly.

God Himself knew that to be true. Russ had looked far and wide for Lucy’s replacement and still hadn’t managed to find anyone who held his interest like she did.

              “So what is there to do in Grassington then? I bet there’s more going on there than here.”

              “There’s the Folk Festival this Saturday,” I said, remembering a poster I’d seen on my way out of the village.

Russ looked puzzled. “Folk Festival?”

“Yeah, something to do with folk bands and real ales,” I explained.

“Sounds bizarre enough for a visit. You going?”

“I imagine it’s not much fun on your tod,” I replied.

“Come with me then, I want to see this Folk Festival in all its glory.” Russ said the words “Folk Festival” like they were the most ridiculous he’d ever heard, but I agreed to meet him there.  

I was happy at the prospect of spending time with my friend, on an outing we’d both have got a kick out of before my death. I was beginning to feel at ease again in Russ’s company and was relieved that the awkward moments were now few and far between.

Before long it was time for me to go. Russ agreed to run me back to the pub where I’d left my bike and I mentioned to him some of the repairs I thought the treehouse needed.

              “Are you sure you’re a teacher?” he asked jokingly.

I nodded awkwardly and once again Russ looked at me curiously. I was never a very good liar.

During the short car journey to the pub we passed Lucy in her Mercedes convertible. Her face was flushed and her forehead knitted in a frown. Russ waved as she passed but Lucy was too preoccupied to notice.

“I wonder if she’s been to the hospital,” he said, more to himself than to me.

We drove the rest of the way in silence. The lack of information was frustrating for me. Even more frustrating was the fact that I had known Lucy and Russ since childhood but they no longer trusted me enough to open up. I needed to find a different way to discover the information I sought.

I thanked Russ for the lift and reassured him that I could find the house myself from now on. Just as I was about to set off on my trusty bike, I spotted a familiar sight.  

Two figures stood very close together as they walked beside the same river that had claimed my life. They were holding hands, which wasn’t uncommon for them. A smile flashed between them as they spotted a fish in the clear water before they continued walking in my direction. I stared at my parents as if they weren’t real, my eyes widening with every step they took closer to me. My father noticed me standing there and offered a polite nod while my mother said a cheery “hello”.  I managed a swift “good evening” before they passed me and turned in the direction of their cottage.  

I thought about my parents throughout the ride home. I needed to be near them, to talk to them and eventually say my goodbyes. Seeing how happy they still were with each other was heart-warming and I was glad my death hadn’t put unnecessary strain on their marriage.  

When I reached the cottage my hands began to shake and a feeling of dizziness overwhelmed me. I sat down in the nearest chair until the dizzy feeling passed and realised that it had been hours since I had eaten. I had spotted a chip shop in the village square and, after finding a few coins in Adam’s wallet, headed back out into the warm evening air and breathed in the sweet scent of cut grass. I saw the light blue neon sign above the chip shop and made my way inside despite the long queue. The smell of fried batter wafted my way and my stomach began its loud cries for sustenance, alerting the entire establishment to my hunger.  

As I waited patiently in the queue I noticed a middle-aged couple in front of me, glancing my way and whispering. I looked directly at them and they instantly looked away in silence. Eventually it was my turn to order and the middle-aged couple walked past me, clutching their steaming, vinegar-scented chip paper and avoided eye contact. Before I could put in my order the portly, grey-bearded man behind the counter leaned towards me.

“Good to see you back ’ere, lad, it’s wrong what they did.”

He seemed sincere, as though he was on my side. I had the urge to thank him but I had no idea what wrongdoing he spoke of. Before I could answer he waved his fat hand in the air dismissively and asked for my order.

Back at the cottage I started to wonder about Adam and the life he had led before I took it over. I knew he was an English teacher and that he had a wife and son somewhere in the world. From his journal I gathered that he found some peace through writing and used it as a way to release his emotions.

The diary.
I had only read one page. There was more to learn about this quiet soul who was obviously down on his luck. I found the diary in the same spot I had left it the night before. I sat at the kitchen table with my fish and chip supper and turned to the next page of the journal.  

12 May 2012

My Ben! I am convinced we have a prodigy on our hands. He seems to pick things up so easily and is so eager to learn that sometimes I just sit and watch as he explores his new world in awe. Watching your child is such a strange feeling, like filling in the gaps of things you can’t quite remember from your own childhood. My own memories start at four years old and I have often wondered what happened to me between my birth and this age. Now I know because I can see my own child’s development and often see myself in him.

I watch transfixed as his chubby fingers work fast on the big, colourful puzzles and his eyes squint in determination until he’s completed every single one. Then he claps his hands together in glee and flashes me the most glorious smile.  

Emma took him out in his pram for the first time yesterday. She said he shook his little rattle all the way down to the river and once there he giggled at the geese. Emma says he is a happy baby. I wish I could tell him that. That we made him happy, that we never had any regrets. In years to come when he is an adult, I hope he is just as happy, just as carefree, because life will be tough. This was something I was never forewarned about.  

Emma is still struggling. After all, her life hasn’t exactly turned out the way she planned and sometimes there is simply nothing I can do or say to make things better. I confess, I am worried about her and have made a doctor’s appointment for us both in the hope that she will get the help she needs and continue to be a good mother to Ben. Our baby is all that matters to us now and we will do everything we can to make life easier for him.

The entry stopped almost abruptly at this last passage and I turned the page quickly, eager to learn more about the life of a man I’d never met.

13 June 2012

Today is Friday the 13th.  An unlucky day for some, a completely catastrophic day for me. I came home from a gruelling day at work, involving a child with a penknife and consequently an angry parent, to hear the sound of my own child in deep distress. The thought that briefly came to mind shamed me. For just a split second I was worried that Emma had hurt Ben in some way. I found him in his cot, looking anxious and frightened. He looked up at me in desperation and I picked him up tenderly, which silenced his cries almost instantly.