A Night Of Royal Consequences. Susan Stephens
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never been to each other as she tossed a handful of moist, cool soil on top of the coffin.
‘Don’t worry, love,’ Ma said, putting her capable arm around Callie’s shoulders. ‘The worst part is over. Your life is about to begin. It’s a book of blank pages. You can write anything on it. Close your eyes and think where you’d like to be. That’s what always makes me happy. Isn’t it, our Rosie?’
Rosie Brown, Callie’s best friend and the Browns’ oldest child, came to link arms with Callie on her other side. ‘That’s right, Ma. The world’s your oyster, Callie. You can do anything you want. And sometimes,’ Rosie added, ‘you have to listen to the advice of people you trust, and let them help you.’
‘Anywhere ten pounds will take me?’ Callie suggested, finding a grin.
Rosie sighed. ‘Anywhere has to be better than staying round the docks—sorry, Ma, I know you love it here, but you know what I’m getting at. Callie needs a change.’
By the time they’d all crammed into the van, Callie was feeling better. Being with the Browns was like taking a big dose of optimism, and, after the lifetime of verbal and physical abuse she’d endured keeping house for her father, she was ready for it. She was free. For the first time in her life she was free. There was only one question now: how was she going to use that freedom?
‘Don’t even think about work,’ Ma Brown advised as she swivelled around in the front seat to speak to Callie. ‘Our Rosie can take over your shift at the pub for now.’
‘Willingly,’ Rosie agreed, giving Callie’s arm a squeeze. ‘What you need is a holiday.’
‘It would have to be a working holiday,’ Callie said thoughtfully. ‘I don’t have enough money to go away.’ Her father had left nothing. The house they’d lived in was rented. He’d been both a violent drunk and a gambler. Callie’s job as a cleaner at the pub just about paid enough to put food on the table, and then only if she didn’t leave the money lying around for him to spend at the bookies.
‘Think about what you’d like to do,’ Ma Brown insisted. ‘It’s your turn now, our Callie.’
She liked studying. She wanted to better herself. She aspired to do more than clean up the pub. Her dream was to work in the open, with fresh air to breathe, and the sun on her face.
‘You never know,’ Ma added, shuffling around in her seat again. ‘When we clear out the house tomorrow your father might have left a wad of winnings in his clothes by mistake.’
Callie smiled wryly. She knew they’d be lucky to find a few coppers. Her father never had any money. They wouldn’t have survived at all without the Browns’ bounty. Pa Brown had an allotment where he grew most of their vegetables himself, and he always gave some to Callie.
‘Don’t forget you can stay with us as long as you need to, until you get yourself sorted out,’ Ma Brown called out from the passenger seat.
‘Thank you, Ma.’ Leaning forward, Callie gave Ma’s cheek a fond kiss. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
‘You’d do more than all right,’ Ma Brown insisted firmly. ‘You’ve always been capable, and now you’re free to fly as high as your mother always intended. She used to dream about her baby and what that baby would do. It’s a tragic shame that she didn’t live to see you grow up.’
She’d soon find out what she could and couldn’t do, Callie thought as the Browns and their dogs piled out of the steamed-up van. She couldn’t stick around for long. She’d be a burden to the Browns. They had enough to do keeping their own heads above water. Once her father’s debts were paid, she’d go exploring. Maybe Blackpool. The air was bracing there. Blackpool was a traditional northern English seaside town with bags of personality, and plenty of boarding houses looking for cleaning staff. She’d research jobs there the first spare minute she got.
* * *
It would have been a grim task sorting through her father’s things the next morning, if it hadn’t been for the cheerful Browns. Ma checked every room, while Callie and Rosie sorted everything into piles for the charity shops, things that could possibly be sold, and those that were definitely going to the dump. The sale pile was disappointingly small. ‘I never realised how much rubbish we had before,’ Callie admitted.
‘Mean old bugger,’ Ma Brown commented. ‘He probably took it with him,’ she added with a sniff.
‘I doubt there was anything to find in the first place,’ Callie placated. She knew her father’s ways only too well when it came to money.
‘Nothing left after he’d been gambling and boozing, I expect,’ Ma Brown agreed, disapprovingly pursing her lips.
‘Well, that’s where you’re both wrong,’ Rosie exclaimed with triumph as she flourished a five-pound note. ‘Look what I’ve found!’
‘Well, our Callie!’ Ma Brown began to laugh as Rosie handed it over to her friend. ‘Riches indeed. What are you going to do with it?’
‘Nothing sensible, I hope,’ Rosie insisted as Callie stared at the grubby banknote in amazement. ‘It’s not even enough to buy a drink, let alone a decent meal.’
She would rather have her father back either way, Callie thought, which was strange after all the years of trying to win his love, and coming to accept that there was no love in him. ‘I’ll put it in the charity tin at the corner shop,’ she mused out loud.
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Ma Brown insisted. ‘I’m taking charge of this,’ she said as she snatched the banknote out of Callie’s hand.
‘Think of it as an early Christmas present from your father,’ Rosie soothed when she saw Callie’s distress. ‘Ma will do something sensible with it.’
‘It would be the first gift he’d ever given her,’ Ma Brown grumbled. ‘And as for doing something sensible with it?’ She winked. ‘I’ve got other ideas.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ Callie said with a weak smile, hoping the subject would go away now.
Knowing her friend was upset beneath her humour, Rosie quickly changed the subject and it wasn’t spoken of again. The next Callie heard of their surprise find was at supper with the Browns. When the girls had finished clearing up, Ma Brown folded her arms and beamed, a sure sign of an announcement.
‘Now then, our Callie, before you say anything, we know you don’t gamble and we know why you don’t gamble, but just this once you’re going to take something from me, and say thank you and nothing else.’
Callie tensed when she saw the five-pound scratch card Ma Brown was holding out.
‘You’ll need something to scratch the card,’ Pa observed matter-of-factly as he dug in his pocket for some loose change.
‘Close your eyes and imagine where all that money’s going to take you,’ Rosie urged, glancing at the other Browns to will them to persuade Callie that this could be a good thing if she got lucky.
‘All what money?’ Callie had to smile when the Browns fell silent. Silence was such a rare occurrence in this household, she couldn’t let them down.
‘It’s time for a change of luck,’ Rosie pressed. ‘What have you got to lose?’
The Browns had been nothing but kind. The money she’d get from the scratch card would likely take her as far as the hearth to toss it in the fire when it proved a dud. ‘Close my eyes and imagine myself somewhere I’ve always dreamed of...’
‘Open your eyes and scratch the bloody card,’ Ma Brown insisted.
As everyone burst out laughing Callie sat down at the table and started scratching the surface of the card.
‘Well?’ Ma Brown prompted. ‘Don’t tease us. Tell us what you’ve got.’
‘Five. Thousand.