Charlotte’s Tale–part 18
by Angharad

We danced as a gang, handbags pooled in front of us and I was actually quite enjoying myself, shaking it all about. By common consent we repaired to a table and drank some more of the cola which had cost an outrageous amount, so we made our drinks last.

“If we come again, we’ll bring our own,” said Daisy, who seemed quite free with her opinions, but so far this was the only one with which I agreed. I drank some of my cola and listened to the music and the occasional conversation when the music was quiet or the conversation loud enough to actually hear it.

“C’mon, Jane,” Daisy prodded her and they both went off somewhere.

“Where have they gone?” I asked wondering if Jane was cooking something up. Chloe thought they’d gone to the loos, though she used a rather cruder word which would have been common place in my old school — bogs. Was I becoming a prude? My reverie was interrupted by some boys asking us if we’d dance with them. We declined because we’d agreed as we went in that none of us would dance with a boy. Jane had given me a knowing look and smirked.

I drifted back into my dream state, I was actually quite tired–all the shopping yesterday and the emotional drama of walking with Simon and that bit with the boy on the train. Was I a floozie? I didn’t think so, but I’d have preferred to have had Simon here to dance with rather than this coven of Jane’s friends.

The music stopped and the DJ spoke loudly and clearly. “We’ve had a request for Cliff Richard’s Miss You Nights and not only that girls and boys, we have someone here who has actually sung it on stage with him. Perhaps, if we ask nicely she’ll do it for us.”

I went from semi doze to instant paranoia–this had Jane written all over it and sure enough when I glanced over to the DJ’s station, Jane and Daisy were standing there talking to him.

“C’mon, Charley, come and give us a song.” He called at me and I felt myself getting hotter. The crowd started calling ‘Charley’ and clapping.

“That’s you, isn’t it?” asked Zoe. I nodded unable to say anything.

“You’d better go and do it, Charley.” Chloe began to clap and call my name.

“Let her be, she doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to,” only Suzy seemed to support me, but then she seemed nice anyway.

Jane came up to me and grabbed my hand–now they knew who I was, “C’mon, girl, your public awaits.”

“I don’t want to do it, I haven’t warmed up or anything.”

“Too bad, grab her Dais.” The two of them pulled me towards the DJ.

“Is that right, you’ve actually sung this song with Cliff himself?”

I mumbled yes and wanted to die.

“Speak up, darlin’, they can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” I said and stared at the floor.

“What’s he like?”

“He was very kind and considerate.”

“Where did you sing with him?”

“He guested at a concert we were doing to raise money for Darfur.”

“So he’s a nice guy and you liked him?”

“Yes, he’s very nice.”

“Would you sing with him again? If you had the chance?”

“Yes I would,” I said realising that he’d now trapped me.

“Right well, he’s here on this CD and I have a mic here for you,” and before I could drop it and run, he said loudly, “Let’s hear it for Cliff and Charley.”

Suddenly I was faced by a growing crowd of people, all about my age standing round and clapping and whistling, what could I do. I froze for a moment then heard the music begin and closed my eyes thinking myself back to that magical night and my duet with a living legend. I heard his voice begin to sing and in my head he was standing beside me, facing me and singing to me. We’d rehearsed it enough for me to remember the words and the timing, which is crucial

Somehow, the DJ was able to mute the record on my part and I gave it a go, and this without any warm up or preparation. I paused and Cliff Richard came back, then we did the chorus together and then a line each and finally the chorus and fade out.

I opened my eyes and they were all standing there absolutely silent. Then the DJ took up his microphone and said, “That was absolutely brilliant,” he began to clap and the whole place erupted in applause.

“D’you sing much?”

“I used to, and I’m hoping to do some more in my new school.”

“I think you should, that was magic–everybody, let’s give Charley another round of applause.” I handed him back his mic and waved as I walked back to my seat and the remains of my drink–I was sweating profusely and although buzzing with adrenaline, I wanted to go home.

“See, told you it was her,” said Daisy to some boy who walked beside her. I was beginning to heartily dislike Daisy and began to wonder if I would now live in fear of two ‘Janes’ at my new school.

“That was really kewl,” said Suzy and squeezed my hand.

“Will you come to the loos with me?” I asked her and she nodded. Once in the cubicle I vomited and she knocked on the door and asked if I was alright. I told her I was–it was just nerves.

“Those two should have asked you first, it wasn’t right to put you on the spot like that.” Suzy was holding forth outside my cubicle. I wiped my face with toilet paper and flushed the loo. Then repaired my makeup, mainly my lip gloss and she offered me a peppermint. I accepted it gratefully to help take away the taste of the sick.

As we walked back to the table people patted me on the back and muttered compliments. It was okay I guess, but I’d have preferred not to have sung tonight. Another hour and it was time to go–I for one, wasn’t entirely sorry. I think it also meant I wouldn’t go again.

Back at home, Mummy noticed I looked a bit washed out. “Are you alright, dear?”

“I’ll be okay, I’m just tired.” I went to bed early without any supper–a rather unusual event for me and totally zonked. I don’t think I woke until about seven the next morning when I felt better but not entirely so. I was still worried about Jane and her malevolence.

I was lying in bed looking at the lampshade and thinking–well that might be a slight exaggeration–my mind was in drift mode and kept washing up on a reef called Jane or Daisy and sinking, or was the sinking feeling just in my tummy–I think they call it the solar plexus or something; funny that, I always thought solar was to do with the sun. Does that make me a sun belly?

Mummy came in, she was already dressed, and held a mug of tea for me and one for herself. I sat up and accepted the cup of warming fluid. “How did yesterday go?”

I know she wants me to make new friends and therefore encourages me to do social things, but I feel less inclined than I did before, especially if Jane is involved. I don’t know if it’s personal or just my hypersensitivity but whenever she is involved, I seem to be on the receiving end and it’s not very pleasant.

“It was alright, I guess.” I sipped my tea.

Mummy gave me one of those questioning looks which when I was younger made me ’fess up even if I hadn’t done anything. Unfortunately, it still had the same effect and before I knew it I was telling her about my experience in the club and being tricked into singing.

“That wasn’t very friendly of her and Daisy was it?” said Mummy and I nodded my agreement, my eyes brimming with tears.

“She’s like it all the time, even Simon is scared of her, he calls her a psychopath.”

“I think that’s just a sibling exaggeration, after all she was very kind to you that first day you met in the changing room, wasn’t she? If she was a psychopath, she’d have no empathy or sympathy for anyone.”

“They said Adolf Hitler could be very nice and so could Josef Stalin,” I challenged.

“I’m not sure where you get your ideas from, my darling girl, but comparing Jane with two monstrous mass murderers from history is something of a mismatch, isn’t it?”

“Only of scale and opportunity,” I offered back and she laughed.

“Darling, you have very cynical view of your contemporaries for one so young.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked back.

“Well you seem to think that all your friends have a sort of Machiavellian hidden agenda to embarrass or humiliate you.”

“Suzy was nice.”

“In which case why don’t you cultivate a friendship with her and keep Jane at arms length?”

“What’s a mackywhatever you said?” I had no idea.

“Machiavelli?”

“I think so?”

“Oh he was an Italian in the fifteenth century, in Florence I think, who wrote about political science. He was very clever and his ideas were about clever analysis and strategies of the ruling classes. Usually we use it in a derogatory sense about people being manipulative in achieving what they want with others being pawns in their games.”

“Oh,” I said still having no idea what she was on about, “does that make Jane a conniving bitch?” I said out loud.

“Charlotte, please; none of that street language here,” she said firmly then her expression softened and she added, “That about sums it up, and it seems your friend too.”

She finished her tea and said to me, “Why don’t you have a nice relaxing bath and get dressed and I’ll make you something nice for breakfast?”

“I’m not very hungry, Mummy.”

“Well go and have a bath anyway, I find it makes me feel better when I feel a bit down or tired–and you can use some of my bath oil.”

Her bath oil was very expensive stuff that Daddy had bought for her in Harrods, so that was incentive to get out of bed. I pulled off my jammies and ran the bath, adding a capful of the expensive bath oil to the running water causing it to begin to go all frothy. The scent of the water was delicious and in a few minutes I checked the temperature, gave it swoosh round with my hand and clambered into the warm, sweet smelling water.

I quickly washed myself with my flannel and lay back to enjoy the warmth and scent of the relaxing water. I must have nodded off, because Mummy called me to come down because Simon was at the door.

I jumped up, slipping on the slippery surface of the bath and went flying, landing on my back on the floor of the bathroom.

“Are you alright, darling?” called Mummy probably after hearing me thudding against the floor.

“No,” I tearfully called back, “I’ve hurt my arm.” My left arm was turning all sorts of colours and lying at a funny angle–it was also hurting so much I could hardly bear it.

I called for her and she came rushing up to the bathroom. Fortunately I hadn’t locked the door and she was able to enter and help me. I was now in agony. She wrapped a towel round me and called Simon to come and assist. He was there in moments and between them they got me up and into my bedroom. It became pretty obvious I had broken my arm and would need to go to hospital.

Somehow, they dressed me, managing to get a short sleeved blouse up my now rapidly swelling arm and some shorts on my lower body. I didn’t remember, Mummy pulling on my bra, but when I got to hospital I was wearing one. Mummy took me in the car, and I groaned and cried all the way there.

Some sort of doctor examined me, made the pain worse–I actually screamed at him at one point. I had some X-rays, which hurt like hell as well. After that, the doctor gave me an injection and I woke up with my arm in a sort of splint thing with a bandage holding it on.

It was still hurting although he had apparently given me a pain killing injection and I had some pills to take when we got home. They don’t put the limb in plaster until the swelling has gone down and that would be another day or two. I had to return for an appointment at the fracture clinic the next day. Wunnerful, I’ve only been in school five minutes and I’m off sick–boy, does it hurt–a deep nagging ache and my fingers are all black and blue. I wonder what colour nail varnish would go with that?

Simon came round that afternoon with a bunch of flowers, he’s so sweet. He also offered to kiss my arm better, which I accepted until he took hold of it in his hands and a pain shot through me and I jumped. He blushed and looked very guilty.

A bit later, he admitted he felt he was to blame because if he hadn’t come round I’d wouldn’t have fallen and broken my arm. Jane called by in the late afternoon with a box of chocolates. I wondered if she poisoned them but the cellophane stuff was still on them so I suspected they were safe to eat.

After tea–Mummy had to cut all my stuff up because I couldn’t hold a fork properly–Suzy phoned and that cheered me up. She offered to come and see me the next day after school. I looked forward to that and told her not to tell Jane she was coming. I think she understood because she just said, “Okay, I won’t.”

For the next couple of days we were back and fore to the hospital and once I had a cast on my arm, I could go back to school. It wasn’t plaster of Paris but some other stuff–and you can choose which colour. I chose a lovely rose pink one, which got me teased by Jane. “You’re such a girly, Charlotte. I’d have had a black one.” I thought that said loads about her.

I could just about dress myself now, although it was a laborious task and having spent ages learning how to put on a bra properly, doing it up behind me after butting my arms through the straps, I now did it up in front and turned it round then put my arms through. I know lots of girls do it that way, but it isn’t very elegant is it?

I could do most things, but cried off games and gym, being sent to the library instead where I did most of my homework leaving me free to do other things in the evening, like some singing practice in the garage.

Fortunately, I was able to just about manage to do my hair and makeup by myself so when Mr King dropped by having heard of my accident, I looked fairly presentable and able to make him a drink of tea and a offer him a slice of homemade sponge.

He told me of a concert that was coming up and asked me if I’d like to participate. It was called Angel Voices and was primarily about singing religious songs and anthems. There were two categories, solo and choirs and he told me to get in quickly because the early applicants would have a greater choice of works. I asked him to apply for me and I’d sing Ave Maria and Pie Jesu. Then we’d have to sort out some practice sessions, and he’d speak to my headmistress about trying to get me time off to go to the boy’s school to practice. Given they had a music room there with that special piano, I accepted his offer.

Later the next morning the headmistress sent for me. “I’ve had a call from Mr King.”

“Oh,” I said, she didn’t look very pleased.

“Why can’t we do your singing stuff here? Why have you got to go to the boy’s school?”

I related how I’d worked with Mr King and Miss Daws for several years, and as Miss Daws would be my accompanist I felt it was only right I should practice with her, and she went to the boy’s school.

“I’ll agree to this on one condition,” she said looking pretty pissed.

I nodded my understanding of what she was saying.

“You must sing something for an assembly here one morning.”

That stopped me in my tracks. In itself singing something anywhere wasn’t too big a problem–it was what I did. However, it would mark me out amongst my peers and that could mean I could be an object of curiosity or envy–either way for someone trying to adopt a low profile–it could be something of a drawback.

I agreed, on the basis that we would both choose what I sang. She also told me that she wanted me to work with the music teacher at this school, a Miss Appleby, who coached the choir and occasional soloist, “though I’m not sure we have anyone at present who approaches your apparent ability. I’d like the school to help you develop it and then we both benefit.”

As most school singing coaches were pretty rubbish, I wasn’t entirely happy with the idea, but I’d do it to shut her up. I was going to speak with Mummy to see if we could find someone privately, or even ask Miss Daws or Mr King. If necessary, I was sure we could always buy a piano and have someone come to the house. I might even learn to play it myself too. Yeah, I like that idea–play the odd Rachmaninoff concerto before breakfast and a Chopin after dinner–yeah, I could just see me doing that, though I suppose it would have to wait until I got this wretched plaster thing off my arm.

I suddenly had a horrible thought, I’d be wearing this stupid thing on my arm when I did the concert–oh joy.

Suzy was becoming a good friend and we occasionally met up in town on Saturdays, when I wasn’t either practicing or out with Simon, or should that be practicing with Simon. I won’t tell you what we were practicing, I’ll leave that to your imagination–as Mummy says–too much information.

One Saturday after I’d been doing my singing training at Miss Daws’ house I met up with Suzy in town. She wanted a new bra and I wanted to look at shoes–I had dozen’s already, well a dozen shoes, so half a dozen pairs. We were coming out of Sensual with Suzy carrying her little pink bag containing her bra when we bumped into Jane and Daisy.

“Well what have we here?” said Jane, “Our little lezzie friends.”

“What?” I gasped.

“Shut it,” Suzy snapped at her.

“Oh didn’t you know? Suzy here is our very own...”

“Shut your stupid gob, Astley,” Suzy said looking very angry.

“But then you should be safe enough, eh, Charlotte?”

I blushed and before I could respond with a suitable riposte, Jane and Daisy walked away, chuckling like evil goblins.

Suzy was shaking and her eyes were moist. I took her arm and led her to a bench nearby where we could sit and talk for a moment. “She’s evil, that girl and her snotty little toady.”

Suzy took a deep breath and said, “But she’s right.”

“What d’you mean?” I asked feeling like I was out of the loop on something.

“I prefer girls,” Suzy said, “So I suppose that’s our friendship over.” She made to rise from the seat.

I put my hand on her arm, “I don’t care, I like you as my friend, you’re nice.”

“You’re not scared of me?” she seemed surprised.

“Why should I be–I don’t think you’d hurt me, would you?”

“No, it’s usually me who gets hurt. Once other girls, once they know tend to avoid me. I had to leave my other school because of it.”

“I’m sorry, that must have been difficult for you.”

“Not really, Charley, it was relief to get out of there–name calling and other abuses.”

“I know the feeling,” I let slip.

“Oh, how was that? I thought you were thick as thieves with the poison dwarf’s brother? You’re not, you know, are you?”

I blushed and regretted my lapse.

“Hang on, Jane said you’d be safe with me–what did she mean?”

I blushed like an electric fire, my face was burning, “I have no idea.”

Suzy looked me in the face and said, “Why are you blushing–there’s something I don’t know about you that Jane does, like you didn’t know about me–did you? So come clean, Charley, what is it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I spluttered.

“I’m sure Jane would tell me, I could always give her a ring,” to prove her point she brandished her mobile.

“Okay, I’ll tell you.” My eyes were moist now and I had void opening in my tummy. Bang goes this friendship.

She looked curiously at me, “You’re a boy, aren’t you?”