Lynda Plante - The Talisman

‘Fine by me — what’s up, the wedding off?’

Charlie shrugged, poured himself more coffee. ‘Not much point, really... I’ll explain when we’re on the road. Just think we should make preparations to leave.’

Edward didn’t argue, and was left eating alone. He wondered if Charlie knew about Lady Primrose and himself. Something was up, that was for sure. He finished his breakfast and went upstairs to his room to pack.

Charlie popped his head round the door. ‘Look, I’ve got my gear in the motor. You go upstairs to the attic and take what you want. I’ll be outside waiting. Really, just take anything that takes your fancy...’

‘Charlie? Charlie, what’s wrong? What’s happened?’

‘Tell you later. Get a move on, I’ll have to go and see Ma.’

Edward searched the musty, dust-filled attic of the castle. He found three oil paintings, two embroidered velvet curtains, vases and candlesticks. He would have taken more but he felt there wouldn’t be enough room in the car. He carried everything downstairs and piled the boot high with his luggage first — all his new clothes, courtesy of the dead Clarence. Somehow he managed to fit all his pieces of furniture in. As he was coming down the stairs on his final trip, the drawing-room door was open. Lady Primrose sat on the sofa, weeping, with Charlie next to her, holding her hand. Edward stood outside by the car, unsure whether or not he should disturb them. At long last Charlie came out.

‘Don’t you think I should say goodbye to your mother, Charlie?’

Charlie hopped into the driving seat, searched his key-ring for the car key and said nonchalantly, ‘No... Besides, I have a feeling your goodbye would take longer than a peck on the powdered cheek.’

Edward flushed at the insinuation. So Charlie had known about himself and Lady Primrose. Charlie laughed, ‘Write her a note. She’s a bit upset... come on, let’s get cracking. Good God, it looks like a removal van.’

Edward went even redder. ‘Well, you told me to choose...’

‘I was joking. I suspect you’ve earned every stick of it. Now get in and stop rabbiting. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest, more than likely it gave the old boiler a new lease of life.’ He revved the MG and slammed it into gear. They shot off down the gravel path as Lady Primrose opened the door, just in time to see the bright red car career out of sight. She leaned on the door and sobbed.

From his bedroom window, David Collins looked out. It was a beautiful, sunny day. He presumed they were off on a picnic. ‘Pity,’ he thought. ‘They should have asked me along. Nice day for a picnic.’

Charlie drove fast, bumping over cattle-grids, and Edward had to reach over the back to secure one of his paintings. The car skidded around a narrow bend and they almost ended up in a hedge.

‘For Christ’s sake, Charlie, there’s no need to kill us both.’

Charlie brought the car screeching to a halt, and rested his head on the driving wheel. ‘Oh, shit, shit, shit...’ When he looked up, his eyes were brimming with tears. ‘Got the old papers, bloody awful... You know, I wanted to go so badly, but now I am, well, it’s just so ruddy inconvenient.’

Edward was not sure what Charlie was talking about.

‘I’ll be in uniform, old bean, off to fight the ruddy Germans. I’m joining my regiment as soon as I report back to college. Ask me, it’s bloody Emmott’s fault. He couldn’t wait to get rid of me.’

Edward was stunned, but Charlie shrugged it off in his usual manner. ‘Will you do me a favour, sort of keep in touch with Ma? She’s taken it awfully badly — Clarence, you know. The old man’s no use to her, he’s completely whacko. She liked you, so drop her a note.’

Edward slipped his arm around Charlie and gave him a hug.

‘You’re an odd chap, Eddie. Underneath all your brooding, you’re all right. Tell you what, why don’t you take over my old rooms? I dare say a lot of my stuff I won’t need where I’m going.’

Edward smiled his thanks, and they started the drive back to Cambridge. Charlie began to whistle, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Edward took over Charlie’s rooms, and now he had his own bathroom, study and bedroom, plus a small area for cooking if he wished. Additionally, he had the services of a bedmaker and cleaner, and, with all his acquisitions from the castle, he made the rooms look very classy. He sat and surveyed his handiwork, well pleased. He had his own castle now, and a wardrobe that was more than suitable. Even better, he had cash in his pocket.

Edward hung the oil paintings and threw all Charlie’s outrageous black sheets into a corner. He preferred the room more austere and, with the heavy curtains he had taken from the attic of the castle, he didn’t need the sheets as blackouts. Pleased with himself, he lay in his bed, surveying the room. Sleep was hard to come by, and when he eventually dozed off it was only to wake again, sweating. He looked at the alarm clock Charlie had left behind and saw that it was only two o’clock. He tossed and turned, and couldn’t tell if he was awake or dreaming. He saw boats, hundreds and hundreds of boats of all shapes and sizes, landing on a long beach. Men were running, screaming... a small group of soldiers was rushing to the water’s edge, carrying a soldier in their arms... Edward sat bolt upright. The boy was Charlie, bleeding, his head blown away on one side... ‘Charlieeee...!’

Edward ran to the gates. They were locked and bolted, and the night porter came to the door asking what the hell Edward thought he was doing. If he was drunk, he would be reported; if not, he should go back to his rooms immediately. Edward climbed the stone steps and returned to his rooms, telling himself he was just being stupid, he was crazy... It was just a dream, a nightmare. Old Charlie would be all right.

Edward’s premonition of Charlie Collins’ death became a reality. He died in action six months later in the arms of two young officers as they carried him towards a waiting ambulance. Shrapnel was embedded in the left side of Charlie’s skull and his face was horribly disfigured. When Lady Primrose received the news, she arranged for her husband to be committed to a nursing home. She returned to the castle and dressed herself in a full-length, floating, pink evening gown. At the inquest, her butler said he had heard the gramophone playing in her room, so he had not disturbed her. The following morning her body was found in the swimming pool. The remains of a note were found. It was addressed simply to ‘Edward’. She had begun the letter and been unable to send it as she could not remember his surname. The torn fragments were pieced together from the waste-paper basket. It contained no reason for her suicide.

David Collins lived contentedly in the nursing home, in a world of his own, until he died alone, ten years later.

Alex Stubbs became prisoner number 4566. He occupied a cell with four bunks in the juvenile section of Wormwood Scrubs. They were separated from the prisoners in the main block, the old lags. But the boys in the juvenile section were hardened offenders, most having had one or two stays in the more lenient borstals. The Scrubs differed greatly from the borstals and remand homes, as it was run on similar lines to the main prison.

Alex was quite pleased that he was allocated a cell with a friendly faced cockney boy. Some of the men he had seen looked like real criminals, at least Dick was around his own age. As they prepared their beds two more inmates appeared. They were tough-looking, and already on friendly terms. Tom Donaldson had red hair and a freckled face, and he chucked his sheet on to the top bunk opposite Alex. ‘You take the lower deck, Joe.’