It's Not Fair! Chapter 3

It was October half term: the leaves were falling, the air had a nip in it, Matthew had managed half a term at his new school quite successfully – and although Charlie didn’t know it, today was the day Hanako and Matthew were making their move on her. Charlie thought they were just showing Matthew round the original village and the Saturday market… “So who lives in that gloomy house on top of that hill over there?”
Matthew was keeping Charlie talking while Hanako double-checked something.
“Oh. Griselda Tostead. She was at school with Grandpère, so she’s pretty oldish. Fabulously wealthy, and lives there all alone with a bunch of cats. I used to be scared of her when I was little – I thought she was a witch.”
Hanako came back towards them. “Right,” Hanako said to Charlie. “You know I said your birthday present would be late this year?”
“You and loads of others too! Mostly I just had cards on the day.”
Hanako smiled secretly to herself. “Well, you’re just about to get mine. Tania’s cutting here today and she’s brilliant. You are about to get a proper haircut, wash, condition – the works. And she’s going to show you how to style it properly. I’ve talked to her – she knows what to do with you.”
Charlie just gaped at Hanako.
“Go on – off you go, up those stairs. Matthew and I will meet you afterwards.” And that was it. No more arguments. Charlie went in and headed upstairs with some trepidation. Hanako and Matthew sat down for a game of chess while they waited.
“Does she know what’s coming next?”
“No,” Hanako said happily. “But I’ve been wanting to do this forever. Thanks for your support!” They were on to their second game when a slightly stunned-looking Charlie reappeared. “That looks so much better,” Hanako said.
“Yes – but you still look like you,” Matthew added.
“Okay,” Hanako said, abandoning the game. “Time for stage two.” “Now this,” Hanako said, leading the way in, “is one of my most favourite shops ever.”
“Clothes!” Charlie said. “Oh no. You’re not getting me trying clothes on.” Charlie was jibbing like a nervous horse. Matthew could almost see her ears go back and her eyes start rolling. Without thinking, he put on his soothing voice. “Come on Charlie, what are you afraid of?”
“I’ll tell you,” Hanako said. “For Charlie, trying clothes on means being made to look awful, to look a fool, to be run down and compared unfavourably with Daisy. I’ve been there and seen it happen. Only the thought of what my parents would say to me if I was rude to someone so much older stopped me from being - shall we say - quite forthright.”
Charlie didn’t deny any of it.
“This time, Charlie, it’s going to be different. We’re going to find out what you like and what suits you.” “No. Not that. High-waisted trousers aren’t you. And I don’t think those are your colours either.”
And Hanako was back into hunting through the eclectic range of garments that were on sale. “Now that style suits you better.”
“Yes, but – Hanako, I’m not really the short skirt type. Okay, I could put leggings with it, but…” “Now this I do like.”
“Yes, you’re right. It suits your personality too. Matthew, come and tell us what you think.”
“But I’m a bloke!” “Yeah, that one’s good too, if you’re going to dress up,” Matthew said, resigned and slightly amused by his role as fashion consultant. “Hey, your grandpère told me a joke.”
“Oh no. Go on.”
“What do psychiatrists eat for breakfast?”
“I don’t know. Tell me.”
“Freud eggs.”
Both girls groaned. “Now that’s the sort of thing Grandma H would want me to wear,” Charlie thought, looking at the pink flowered dress next to the mirror. “But Hanako and Matthew are right. These are the clothes that look good on me. I wonder how long it would take me to save up for them?” “What do you mean, I can have them all?”
“They’re your belated birthday present form your grandmère and grandpère,” Hanako said smugly. “Matthew went and told them what we were planning. They thought it was a great idea.”
Charlie was lost for words. She knew Matthew got on well with Grandpère – had even been helping with the car – but this was amazing. “So, tell me all about it,” Jonathan said, as Matthew straightened himself up. “Was the expedition a success?”
“Hasn’t Charlie thanked you?” Matthew was surprised.
“Of course. But I want an eye-witness account. Although wait – Lorraine will want to hear it too. Tell us both together when we go inside for coffee. How are you doing?”
Matthew appreciated talking to Jonathan, here in the oily-smelling garage whilst they worked on restoring the car. He, his father and Bryony were all still being polite and cautious with each other whilst they negotiated their new roles. With Charlie’s grandfather he could be open, honest – sound off if he wanted to, without breaking anything.
Jonathan listened as Matthew paced around the room, and from time to time made gentle statements that encouraged Matthew to talk more. It was hard for boys, he thought: girls talked endlessly, helping each other to find a way through the maze that was growing up. But boys were supposed to do it on their own.
“Yes,” Matthew said. “I think Dad is happy now. And Bryony’s okay – we just don’t know each other very well yet.” He smiled briefly. “We get on best when we talk about the horses.”
“Common ground is a good starting place,” Jonathan observed mildly. What he did notice was that in Matthew’s talking there was always a gap, in the shape of his mother. Jonathan didn’t pry: Matthew would talk about her when he wanted to. “I have a joke. What do burglars eat for breakfast?”
“Go on,” Matthew said, laughing already.
“Poached eggs! Now tell us all about Charlie and the clothes. In detail.”
So Matthew did, from Charlie’s original no-I-won’t-try-clothes-on refusal to her I-look-good-and-this-is-fantastic clear round. Lorraine was smiling fondly. “And does she still feel good?”
“Oh yes. She’s suddenly – I don’t know, grown in confidence or something. She’s more sure-footed. Daisy doesn’t like it one bit. She can’t sneer at Charlie about her clothes or looks any more.” “In fact, why has Daisy got it in for Charlie so much? Charlie’s so nice – and Daisy’s playing all the aces.” Matthew was genuinely puzzled – and a bit worried too.
Joanthan sighed. “But Charlie is happy in who she is. And I don’t think Daisy has that. I wish we could make a difference.” Daisy looked at what her parents were wearing and sighed. “Honestly, chunky knitwear is so like, last Tuesday. Knitwear has to be thin and…”
“Chilly,” her father interjected, whilst Jonquil added tartly, “I’ve had my mother criticising my dress sense all my life. I don’t need you starting too.” “The fashion raven is in,” Charlie observed placidly.
“You men fashion maven,” Daisy corrected her.
“No I don’t. I mean raven. Always croaking doom and gloom and disaster because nothing’s ever good enough.”
Both her parents laughed, much to Daisy’s disgust. “What are you both doing today?”
“I’m going out for a walk this afternoon – I said I’d take Matthew up to the pond, show him where we might get some skating if it’s cold enough.”
“I’m going out with my bezzies. Poppy wants to go clothes shopping. And Grandma gave me some money, so I might buy something too.”
David frowned. He didn’t like Cynthia’s constant hand-outs to Daisy. “Did you ever find out how much your mother gave Daisy for holiday money?”
“Dad says it was twenty pounds to Charlie’s ten. But I don’t see how Daisy could have bought all those clothes for that price. Which means Daisy is lying to us…and I don’t like that. I guess it was Poppy subsidising her – she’s got more money than is good for her.”
“Guilt offerings from her absent father. But have you thought that it might be your mother who’s lying to us?”
Jonquil was silenced – and worried. Matthew had admired the pond, agreed with Charlie that if it kept getting as chilly as this, then they might get some skating in before Christmas – and told her that her grandmère and grandpère had invited him, his father and Bryony to their annual Christmas Eve party. Her total delight about that had really pleased him – and suddenly he found himself talking to her about his mother. Like her grandfather, Charlie was a good listener.
“She just left. She just said Dad was such a failure, there was no point in staying. Who wants a loser for a husband? And for ages after, that’s what he believed about himself.”
“But why?”
“Money.” Matthew’s voice was bitter. “She thought Dad was going to be another Olaf Hansen, that he was going to come out with some amazing invention that would make millions. But he’s not that sort of scientist. He doesn’t make that sort of discoveries.”
He went on talking as they walked through the woods together, and Charlie just listened. Hanako was a bit like this: she’d store things up and then spill them out all at once.
“Who lives here?” he asked, breaking off from his story, intrigued.
“No-one. Look at it. But there used to be people living in these woods – Grandpère could tell you, he’s hot on history.” They sat – cautiously at first! – on the chairs outside the abandoned hut and went on talking, Matthew spilling out more of his hurt and frustration.
“She hasn’t seen me since I was seven. I don’t suppose she’d even recognise me now. She doesn’t know where I live – I’ve got no address for her to be able to tell her. How can somebody do that? Just walk out on the people who love them?” Somebody, somewhere had lit a fire. Matthew could smell the woodsmoke sharp on the air. For the rest of his life, the scent of woodsmoke would bring him back to this late autumn day, the sun warm but the air crisp and cold and the sense of release that came with telling Charlie about his mother.