Charlotte's Search

Chapter 4: Her Master's Wedding, Part 4, Uncle Albert's Funeral

BETH

The car crunches onto the drive, pulling up by the front porch. Ross jumps out then walks around the car to open my door. "Will there be anything else, Mrs Haswell?"

"No, that's fine thank you, Ross. You go home. It's been a long day."

Inside, Richard is waiting. "Elizabeth, it's good to see you." He kisses my cheek, takes my coat and offers me the armchair near the fire. "How did it go?"

I feel sad. Not upset, but sad. The old uncle I knew as a girl had long since vanished into a haze of confusion and bitterness. His time had come....

No, not upset, but yes, sad.

"Oh, you know funerals. Everyone was there, whether they really knew him or not. All exchanging family chit-chat and nonsense over canapés. No-one was really close to him anymore, not even David and Stephen."

"David and Stephen?"

"Uncle Albert's two sons. He'd pretty much stopped talking to them over the years. I think they were just going through the motions today."

Richard perches on the chair arm next to me. He strokes my face, kisses the top of my head. "I'm sorry, my Love. I know you were fond of the old fellow." Tilting up my face with a finger under my chin, "Can I get you anything? A glass of wine? Something stronger?"

"A gin and tonic would be nice."

"Coming up. I'll just get some ice."

He reappears a couple of minutes later with two G&Ts clinking with ice and lemon. "Thought I'd keep you company," he smiles. "Come on. Sit with me by the fire." He gestures me down, winding an arm around me as we sit together on the rug, staring into the flames.

After a while I say, "Since the whole family was there, I tried asking about Charlotte again. Not the details obviously. Just that I had a friend who looks a lot like me and we think her mother was called Kimberly."

"And?"

"And, nothing. Blank stares from the younger ones and the older generation found something else to talk about."

"You think the topic was being cold-shouldered?"

"Mmm, yes. By the oldsters at least. I don't think the younger ones know anything."

"So, maybe it was your Uncle George after all? Climbing through bedroom windows and making a scandal."

"Well, if it was, it's too late to ask him. He died five years ago. That generation has gone now. Uncle Albert as the last of them."

Richard watches me for a minute, then leans in, brushing his lips over mine. "I don't think you should dwell on it. It's obvious that you and Charlotte are something to each other. Why don't we just call the pair of you cousins and leave it at that?"

"Because Charlotte wants to find her mother."

*****

RICHARD – CHARLOTTE'S PROBLEM

"Is something bothering you, Charlotte?"

"Um, it's a bit embarrassing actually."

"Can I help?"

She hangs her head.

"Charlotte, we're friends, aren't we? Is it something I can help with?"

She watches her own feet, toeing at the ground. "I've been looking at the menus for the wedding reception. Michael and my Mast... James, seem to be planning something quite.... complicated."

"Don't you like what they're planning? It's your wedding too, remember. The bride gets first call. If you don't like something, you're entitled to say."

"Oh, no. It's great. All of it. It really is... It's just.... For the meal... There's all these courses. And I don't know what most of the food is...."

"Like what?"

"Well, what's sad-zee-kee?"

Sahdzeekee?

?

?

I try to move my head to Planet Charlotte....

Ah.... Tzatziki....

"It's yoghurt and mint. It's a popular dressing on spicy food."

"Oh...." Her face brightens. "That doesn't sound so bad. What about Wellington? It sounds like a boot and I.... I didn't like to ask." Her head droops again.

"Charlotte, you shouldn't worry over asking about something you don't know. How else will you learn? And wellington is beef baked inside pastry. Or sometimes a vegetarian version will be served, with say, a cheese, herb and nut filling."

"Oh! Well.... That sounds okay as well, I suppose. But then there's a lot of knives and forks and things.... And I don't know what I'm supposed to do with them all." Her face is tragic. "Michael and James... I know they're both looking forward to it so much. I... I don't want to look a fool and spoil it for them."

"Charlotte, it's easily dealt with. Elizabeth can show you your way around the dinner table. And then, James and I have to attend one of those infernal charity dinners next week. I rather not, but I'm expected to be seen at these events. However, in this case, I think you should be there too. It will give you some practice at, um, formal eating."

"Thank you." Her voice is small, subdued.

Poor kid....

All the things she seen and done and gone through, and it's her own wedding meal that scares her....

Most women would kill for the invitation I just gave her.

"Come on, Charlotte. It's your wedding. It's is your day. Learn to enjoy it. Michael and James maybe as happy as sandboys organising it all, but no-one cares about them. You're the bride. On the day, all the eyes will be on you."

"That's what I'm nervous of."

*****

JAMES

Charity dinner night and the four of us make our way to the table, Elizabeth on Richard's arm, Charlotte on mine. Like Richard, I detest these events, but these days it's expected of me and at least this evening I have some entertaining company.

But Charlotte looks glum, muttering under her breath.

"What's bothering you? I thought you wanted to come?"

"I feel like the ugly duckling."

?

?

I look down at my Jade, exquisite in a plain black dress, cut to her figure and stopping just short of the knee. "Why Charlotte?"

She gestures around the room. "Look at them all, in their dresses and jewellery and...."

*Sigh*

"Charlotte, look at the other women in this room. They may all have designer dresses and jewellery and bags and shoes. You could have all of that too if it meant a damn thing to you. But it doesn't, and I don't insist, because if you were wearing a sack, you would still outshine every other woman here."

She rolls eyes at me but looks a little reassured.

Richard harrumphs and I smile to Beth. "Present company excluded of course." But there's a twinkle in Richard's eye.

I turn back to Charlotte. "Besides which, I'm sure you know as well as I do, the ending to the story of the Ugly Duckling."

I wink at her, and she smiles.

*****

RICHARD

At the large circular table, I have Elizabeth to one side, Mayor Vandervoort to the other. My elegant wife makes a manful effort to smile as she exchanges chit-chat with his wife, Veronica, a couple of seats along. She's doing a great job. I know she loathes the woman, an overly-made-up blond who nurses the illusion that traffic-stop-red suits her complexion. If you stepped in her personality, you wouldn't wet your feet.

Beyond her are my old friend, Will Stanton, the Police Commissioner and his wife. Across from us are some of the local Councillors and minor politicians with their assorted females. And finally, there is James, and beside him, looking petrified, is Charlotte.

Completely out of her depth....

.... and her comfort zone....

But the practice is good for her....

When I get her on my Board in a few years' time, she'll need to be to grips with this....

However, regardless of the quality of some of the company we are keeping, the food is very good and Charlotte, finally raising a smile, tucks in. Her eyes, I notice, follow Elizabeth as the hors d'oeuvres are served. Her hands hover over the cutlery, before, following Elizabeth, she picks up the tiny rounds of toast and pate in her fingers.

I keep watching, surreptitiously of course.

The soup, a Vichyssoise, is delicious, and after a doubtful moment, while she sniffs then tastes, true to form, Charlotte spoons it up with relish, right to the last drop. Her dish emptied, she tears a chunk from a roll, swiping around her plate, then gulping the bread down in large economical bites as she polishes away the last smear of soup.

After a moment the conversation lulls and she glances up. Everyone is looking at her, watching the performance. Veronica wears a faint sneer.

Charlotte flushes, looking around at the assembly, and then to James who eye-points the remains of the roll in her hand. With a guilty look, she drops it on her side plate.

"You know," I comment, reaching for the basket of bread. "I've often thought...." I take a roll and break off a piece, wiping it into my own bowl. ".... That when we become wealthy, we shouldn't lose sight of some of the core values that got us here. And one of those is not wasting good food."

I break off another piece, polishing the enamel with it. "This is, after all, a charity dinner, isn't it, for the homeless. We should be seen to practice the values we claim to espouse."

Chatter bursts out, abrupt and noisy.

"Quite right."

"Yes, just so."

Suddenly, the basket of rolls is empty and I drop a wink to Charlotte.