Chapter Eleven
"You look cheerful today." Charles commented as she dropped her bag by the door. He said it as though it was cause for suspicion, which in fairness to him it was.
"I am." She grinned. "Today's the day!"
"For what?" He frowned, looking at her suspiciously.
"We're taking Mark to the horse racing!" Mark and Charles looked at each other and she almost laughed.
"Horse racing?" He sounded as though he thought she was joking.
"Yes, flat racing." She tried to make it sound as though she knew what she was talking about. "We need to get going, if we leave now then we'll be there in time for the third race."
"Horse racing." He still hadn't moved.
"Yes. Mark has never been."
Charles swivelled to face Mark, studying him carefully. "This is a long held desire of yours is it, Mark?" He asked doubtfully.
Molly shot a look at Mark that made it clear he didn't want to find out what the consequences might be if he didn't play along. "Yes, yes it is." He said slowly, looking at Molly. "Always been a big fan, I'm sure I must have told you?"
"No, never." Charles answered dryly.
Molly breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't argue any further. She had forwarded Mark, she'd had to ring him and ask which day she could borrow him for, but there was still a sort of her which had been worried it might not all come together. Mrs James had agreed to pay him for the extra hours, mostly Molly suspected, because she didn't want Molly going anywhere with Charles without some kind of supervision.
"And what if I don't want to go?" Charles asked.
"Then you owe me forty pounds." She answered.
"How did you work that one out?" He looked confused, and maybe a little bit annoyed. Then again, that wasn't exactly unusual for him.
"My winnings from the bet I'm going to place." She grinned. "I'm told it's a sure thing!" She didn't add that the information on this had come from Dave, which meant it was actually about as unreliable as it could possibly get. Charles didn't say anything, she seemed to have caught him rather off balance.
"Excellent, nice day for it too!" Mark grinned. "Do you want me to make some lunch?"
Molly shook her head. "There's a restaurant there, when my horse wins lunch is on me!"
"You've been racing a lot then?" Charles asked. Before he could say anything else they'd bundled him into his coat and Molly ran outside to reverse the car out.
She'd had it all planned out in her head, which in hindsight might not have been the best idea. She'd pictured them arriving at the racecourse, the sun would be shining, they'd find a space to watch from and Charles' competitive streak would kick in. He'd be determined to win more than her or Mark and then when they'd had enough of watching the horses they'd go to the restaurant and have a meal before they headed home. She should've known that nothing was ever that simple.
It all started with the car park. She'd managed to drive the whole way there without stalking, kept chatting away cheerfully so that Charles wouldn't have time to start complaining and successfully got them there without getting lost at all. There hadn't even been a queue to get into the car park. The thing that no one had warned her about when she'd spent all the time planning this, was that the car park was grass- and not the kind of immaculate turf in the James' garden, but a wet muddy field that hundreds of cars had been driving over all winter.
She'd backed into a space, but even before they had the ramp down Mark looked worried. "It's too soft." He told her. "He's going to sink."
She glanced over at the entrance. "If we can get him over to the path then he'll be okay?"
"Yeah." Mark mumbled. "But that chair weighs a tonne and that's at least forty feet away."
"Oh come on, they must build these to be able to cope with a bit of soft ground!" She tried to sound optimistic, mainly because she wasn't going to let this stop them after he'd actually agreed to go out for the day. The fact her boots were sinking into the grass didn't bode well though.
They backed his wheelchair down the ramp, then watched in horror as the wheels sank a couple of inches into the mud. Charles said nothing, as he had done for most of the journey there, as her and Mark tried to work out what they were going to do to get him back out of the mud. Eventually, between the two of them, they'd managed to haul the chair through the mud- though by the time they actually got to the path they were both panting and Molly wanted nothing more than to go and have a lie down. She picked up the blanket that had been across his lap but had caught up in the wheels and the corner was now torn and muddy.
"Don't worry, I'm sure mother won't mind. It's only cashmere." He commented sarcastically.
She decided to ignore him. "Right, now we've made it- time for the fun bit!" Charles and Mark looked far from convinced despite her attempt to stay optimistic.
The fun bit, turned out to be making it through the actual entrance of the racecourse once they'd got him onto the path. They looked at the turnstiles at the entrance, at Charles' wheelchair and then back at the turnstiles. There was no way he was going through there. Eventually Mark had managed to track down someone who'd pointed them in the direction of a disabled entrance. It was another two hundred yards away, down a sandy path that was only slightly easier to navigate than the muddy car park. She knew she was babbling away about how they'd all look back and laugh about this, it was irritating even to her own ears, but somehow she didn't seem to be able to stop.
"Dawes." Charles sighed. "Just stop, okay? You're exhausting me." By the time they'd finally made it inside the stand she was almost ready to faint with relief. They stood for a moment, simply enjoying the relief that they'd actually made it that far, Molly trying to forget about the fact they were going to have to do it all again on the way out.
The crowd around them roared into life as another race started, making Molly jump. She was surprised to find it much more exciting to watch than she'd initially thought, cheering as the horses thundered up the track and across the finish line. Charles didn't say anything, he seemed to be withdrawing deeper into his scarf and coat with each moment that passed. She supposed when you'd been stuck indoors for as long as he had then any kind of outing had to feel weird.
"This is great!" Mark grinned, coming back through the crowd clutching his winnings in his hand.
"So how many races do we have to watch to fulfil this ambition of yours?" Charles cut in, sounding less than enthusiastic.
"Don't be so grumpy." Molly scolded. "They always say you should try everything once!"
"Except I think horse racing falls into the except this category with morris dancing."
"Well, you're always harping on at me to widen my horizons or whatever it is. Maybe if you weren't putting so much effort into pretending not to enjoy it you might actually have some fun." She shot back.
He didn't say anything, and she turned her attention back to the racing. Her and Mark both found themselves cheering at the top of their voices, and she knew she wasn't going to have a voice left by the end of the day. She glanced down again to find Charles sitting there with his eyes closed, a slight frown on his face. She knelt down beside him, raising her voice so he could hear her over the crowd as they cheered the horses on.
"Are you okay? Do you need something?"
"Scotch. A large one." He sighed. He opened his eyes and looked at her. He looked totally fed up and miserable.
Her heart sank. "Why don't we go and get some lunch?" She said, more to Mark than Charles. She had the feeling he was going to argue with anything she said.
They ran over more than a few toes on their way to the lift, Molly and decided that if people wouldn't move out of the way when asked nicely then it was only fair. They did eventually make it to the lift up to the restaurant.
"When was the last time you went out for a meal?" She asked Charles as they stood in the lift.
He looked at Mark, who shrugged. "Not since I've been there."
"Yes, well strangely enough I'm not a huge fan of being spoon fed in public." Charles snapped.
"It's fine, we can get a table where you can sit with your back to the room." She had already anticipated that one.
The restaurant was half empty, which was a relief. "Hi, can we have a table for three please?" She forced herself to smile at the miserable looking waitress.
"Badge?" The woman sighed.
"Excuse me?"
"Your premier area badge?" The woman rolled her eyes. "This restaurant is for premier members only."
She glanced behind her and Mark who was helping Charles out of his coat. "I um… I didn't know."
"I'm afraid the other restaurant is being refurbished at the moment but there are still the food stands where you can get something." The woman gestured to a couple of burger vans Molly could see out of the window.
"A stall?" Molly was getting annoyed now. She'd spent so long trying to make sure this was going to be the perfect day and nothing was going the way she'd planned.
"Yes."
Molly took a step closer to make sure Charles and Mark couldn't hear her. "Please? We've come a long way and my friend isn't good in the cold. We need somewhere warm to sit. It's really important that he has a good day." She pleaded.
"Sorry." The woman wrinkled her nose. "It's more than my job is worth to let you in. There is a disabled seating area down stairs that you can shut the doors on. It's warm in there but you won't be able to see the races."
"Look!" Molly couldn't suppress her rage anymore. Why was everyone determined to ruin this day? "There's barely anyone in here, what is your problem?! We don't want to sit outside!" She glanced over her shoulder and she could see the embarrassment on Charles' face. A couple of people eating turned around in their chairs to stare.
"Well, I'm afraid you should have bought a premier badge then." The woman shrugged.
"Molly, let's go." Charles called.
Surprisingly, she could feel her eyes beginning to fill with tears. "No, look you stay here and I'll go and get the premier badges and then-"
"I'm not hungry." He shook his head.
"We'll be fine once we've eaten. We can watch the horses and it'll all be fine." She wasn't sure who she was trying to convince here.
Mark stepped forward and put his hand on her arm. "Molly, I think Charles wants to go home. Come on."
Unable to help herself she turned back to the waitress who was now standing there smirking. "Thank you for being so fucking accommodating!" She snapped.
"Dawes." She could hear the warning in Charles' voice.
"It's wonderful just how helpful you've been, I'll certainly be recommending you to everyone I know for your excellent service!"
"Molly!" Charles was almost shouting at her by this point. She spun around and followed him out of the door that Mark was holding open.
"I think we'd better get something from one of those stands before we go, it's been a few hours since we ate anything." Mark suggested in the lift back down. He glanced at Charles as he said it and Molly knew who he meant by we.
They'd bought three rolls from the hog roast van and Molly and Mark had perched on a wall just in front of the van. Charles sat facing them. She shredded his into small manageable bites in between mouthfuls of her own. She could see the two women serving behind the counter watching her, whispering to each other like they thought she couldn't see them. She knew what they'd be saying. Poor man, what a way to live. She glared at them to make it clear that she knew what they were doing and they hurriedly looked away. She felt her stomach twist as she realised this was how Charles felt every time he went out.
Getting back to the car once they'd finished eating had been easier said than done. Less than 200m from the car the chair had got stuck in the sea of mud and there was no way they were going to be able to move it.
"It's not going to happen." Charles sighed.
"We're going to need help." Mark agreed quietly. Charles looked the most fed up she'd ever seen him.
"I could probably lift you into the front seat Charles and then me and Molly can sort the chair out afterwards." Mark suggested after a moment.
"I am not ending today with a fireman's lift." Charles answered through gritted teeth.
"Sorry mate." Mark grimaced. "But Molly and I won't be able to do this on our own…. Molly, you're prettier than me go and see if you can grab us a couple of extra pairs of hands will you?"
She couldn't believe how many people refused to come and help them. She wasn't usually good with strangers, but her sheer desperation made her fearless and she grabbed anyone she could find and begged them to help her. She'd eventually collared a stag-do, but even they had been reluctant to come and help her when they'd realised they weren't getting anything from her in return.
Then she'd spotted the tattoo.
"He's a soldier, well ex-soldier." She pleaded. "He was injured, and we just wanted to give him a nice day out but no one will help us."
"Come on lads, we're not having that!" And off they went, across the car park so quickly she was jogging to keep up with them. She could hear them muttering amongst themselves as they went. "Bloody civies… no idea what it's like… bloody outrage."
She hadn't realised quite how drunk they were until they'd picked the wheelchair up and lurched across the car park with Charles in it. Mark gave her a quizzical look and she just shook her head. She could hear them chatting away to Charles as they carried him, asking him about what he'd done in the army. She couldn't make sense of half of what he was telling them, but they sounded impressed and Charles didn't look quite so unhappy.
By the time they'd finally managed to get rid of the stag-do they'd all given her their numbers, much to Mark's amusement and promised to call her- despite the fact she'd managed to avoid giving her number to any of them.
"Well, they were helpful." She smiled as she slowly drove them back out of the car park. She was trying to stay cheerful.
"The bald one dropped an entire can of beer down my leg." Charles commented. "I smell like a brewery." He didn't say much the whole way home, he said goodbye to Mark as they'd dropped him off at home and then went back to staring out of the window in silence.
When they got home she helped him change, mainly because she wanted to wash the stench of beer off his clothes before Mrs James turned up. She made them a cup of tea each and they sat down to watch the news as they always did. It wasn't until then she realised that he wasn't talking- not because he was tired or because he was concentrating on the tv- but because he wasn't talking to her.
"Is everything okay?" She asked hesitantly.
"You tell me, Dawes."
"What?" She frowned.
"Well, you know everything there is to know about me. You tell me." He didn't look at her as he spoke, he just stared straight at the tv.
"I'm sorry today didn't turn out the way I planned." She sighed. "I just wanted us to have a nice day. I thought you'd enjoy it."
"That's my point."
"What?" She was totally lost again.
"You're no different from the rest of them."
"What's that supposed to mean?" She could feel herself getting defensive, but he was really winding her up.
"If you'd actually bothered to ask me Dawes, then you would've known that I hate horse racing. I always have. But you didn't ask, you decided that you'd like me to do it so off we went. You decided for me, just like everyone always does."
Her stomach flipped. "I didn't mean to-"
"But you did." He turned his chair slightly so he was facing away from her, and a couple of minutes of silence she realised she'd been dismissed.
