Chapter Twenty
Steven James
Molly moved in at the weekends. Not that Charles had said anything to him, or Mary. He'd walked through to the annexe one Saturday morning to see if Charles was okay and tell him Mark and been delayed and there she was, walking up the hallway in her pyjamas with a bowl full of coco pops. She looked mortified when she saw him standing there, he wasn't entirely sure why. He'd remembered, with a sad smile, that it used to be quite a regular occurrence to find some pretty young girl creeping out of his bedroom when Charles had been at home- before he met Rebecca anyway.
"Morning Molly." He tried to act as though his son had actually told him that she was moving in there. "Just bringing Charles his post."
"He's not up yet." She smiled awkwardly, looking as though she might've just realised that her pyjama shorts were barely covering anything. "Do you want me to give him a shout."
"No, no. If he's sleeping let him rest." He smiled, handed the post to her and headed back the way he'd come quickly, feeling like he'd intruded.
He'd thought, rather foolishly, when he told Mary that he might be pleased. She'd been so worried Molly was going to meet a man and break Charles' heart, she'd kept going on about it ever since the wedding. But she'd just looked a little surprised, then adopted that tense and disapproving expression that meant she was running through all sorts of undesirable consequences in her head. She'd never out right said it but he was fairly sure his wife was not very keen on Molly Dawes. Then again, he was never really sure who she did and didn't approve of anymore. Her default setting seemed to be stuck on disapprove.
They never quite got to the bottom of what had prompted Molly to stay- Mary had pestered Charles relentlessly until he'd eventually told them there was some kind of family situation- but they never really saw much of her when she was there anyway. She was always busy, and tended to keep going past the window in a blur as she hurried off to somewhere else, backwards and forwards to the travel agents and various other places, when she was at the house she seemed to be constantly cleaning and washing.
He would've said she brightened the place up, except he couldn't say anything like that to Mary anymore, not without getting one of those looks anyway. Still, Charles seemed happier with her around more, and that was all that really mattered to any of them. Often the sound of the two of them laughing would filter through the open windows. It was a long time since he'd heard his son laugh like that.
On Monday evening she'd stuck her head around the annexe door, rather timidly, and asked him and Mary to join them in the annexe. Mark was already sat at the table with Charles and she'd covered the table in travel brochures, timetables and insurance details. There was a copy for each of them in a little plastic wallet with their name on, all terribly organised.
She wanted to present her plans for their holiday to them, she'd said. They had all agreed they were going, and that whatever it was that she wanted to do they would go along with as long as Charles agreed, but he didn't miss the way his wife's eyes narrowed a bit as Molly listed all of the things she'd got planned for them.
It was an extraordinary trip, he had to give her that. It was filled with incredible activities, some of which he had a hard time picturing his son doing even before the accident, but she'd really put some effort in and everything she'd found was suitable for Charles to take part in too. White water rafting, bungee jumping and god knows what else. She kept telling Charles that if he wanted her to widen her horizons and try all these things then the least he could do was join her. He couldn't help but look at her with the same admiration as his son did, she was a resourceful little thing it turned out.
"So." Molly turned to face them when all of the question had been asked. "We'll be leaving in eight days. Are you happy, Mrs James?" There was a faint air of defiance in her tone, as though she was daring his wife to say no- something had definitely changed in the dynamic of their relationship, he just wished he knew what.
"If that's what you all want to do then that's quite alright with me." Mary nodded.
"Mark, are you still up for it?" Molly asked.
"You bet!" Mark grinned.
"And… Charles?" Molly looked a little bit nervous as she turned to him.
There was a pause, and he wondered if everyone else was thinking the same as him- that four months ago this had seemed literally impossible. There had been a time when Charles would've said no just to upset his mother, even if he had actually wanted to go. Charles looked up, and locked eyes with his mother for a moment, his face completely unreadable, then turned to Molly. His face split into a grin. "As you've gone to all this trouble Dawes it would be rude not to…. besides, I'm looking forward to watching you throw yourself in some rapids!"
Molly seemed to physically deflate with the relief, and he wondered for a moment if she'd actually been expecting Charles to say no.
It was funny, he had to admit, when she first wound her way into their lives he was a bit suspicious of her. Charles, despite all of his bluster, had been vulnerable and he had been a little worried that he might be easily manipulated. After all, with everything that had happened he'd been left feeling about as useless and worthless as possible, but he was still a wealthy young man and there was always a worry someone might try and take advantage.
But he saw the way Molly looked at his son after he'd agreed to go on the trip, a strange mix of gratitude and pride, and he was suddenly immensely glad she was there. Although they never actually spoke about what a horrific situation Charles was in, because Mary seemed to prefer to bury her head in the sand, whatever Molly was doing seemed to be making it at least a little more bearable for him, and he knew they'd always be in debt to her for that.
For a few days there was almost a celebratory atmosphere around the house. Mary wore a quiet air of hopefulness, though she refused to admit that's what it was. He knew what she was thinking- what did they really have to celebrate when all was said and done?
He heard her on the phone to Sophie late one night, trying to justify what they had agreed to. Sophie, ever her mother's daughter, was trying to find any way in which Molly might've used her brothers situation to her own advantage.
"She offered to pay for herself darling." Mary had sighed into the phone. "And your brother actually seemed really excited to go. We don't have much time left and I think this is our best shot. I'm just going to hope for the best and I think you ought to do the same."
He knew it pained his wife to be nice to Molly a lot of the time, let alone defend her. But she tolerated the girl because she knew, as they all did, that she was the only chance they had of keeping their son even halfway happy.
Molly Dawes had become, even though neither of them dared to say it out loud, their only chance of keeping their son alive.
He went out for lunch with Stella, seizing the opportunity while he knew Mary was tied up in court all day. He wasn't really sure why he was still creeping around, his wife knew, they were just still going through the motions and pretending she didn't for some reason.
"Charles is going on holiday." He told her, as they sat and finished their drinks.
"How lovely." Stella smiled back at him. He could see her fighting the urge to ask what that meant for their future.
She carried on, chatting about what brilliant news this was and how it might be a sign that he was finally starting to adapt to his new life and even embrace his future. It was sweet of her to try, especially given that she might've legitimately been hoping for an end to it all. After all, it was Charles' accident that had curtailed their plans for a life together. She must've hoped, at least at some point, that his responsibilities towards his son would end so that one day he could be free to live the life with her they'd spent years talking about.
As he sat there with her in the cosy corner of the restaurant he fought the urge to tell her the truth- the truth that just a handful of people knew. If Molly and her bungee jumping, swimming and tropical beaches failed in their mission, she would paradoxically he setting him free. Because the only way he'd ever be able to leave his family was if Charles still decided to go to Switzerland.
He knew it, and so did Mary, but they both refused to admit it. Only on their son's death would he be free to live the life he had dreamed of for years.
"Don't." Stella said softly, she knew what he was thinking without him even saying it. "You never know, this might be the start of a whole new independent life for Charles."
"Yes." He smiled at her. "You're quite right. He might come back full of tales of bungee jumping and whatever else they've got planned and be almost like his old self."
The thought had kept him smiling to himself for a while, picturing how things might all work out after all. He was full of optimism that his son might find himself again on his trip of a lifetime.
Then Charles got pneumonia.