19th August 2012 – 05:00 - Woolpack pub, Emmerdale, Yorkshire, UK
Diane was woken by what she thought was the sound of the back door being shut and locked. She sat up in bed and looked at her clock – 5am. Far too early even for Chas to be up and about, despite the funny mood she'd been in lately. She heard a car start at the back and, curiosity winning over tiredness, she pulled herself out of bed and peeked out of the curtains to see a taxi pulling out of the car park. She walked quickly, but quietly through to Aaron's old room at the front of the pub to see if she could see who was in the cab, but she was too late, just seeing a silhouetted head in the back as it drove past the bin truck that was coming into the village on its round. Shrugging it off, she crept back to her room and slipped back into bed for a couple more hours sleep, putting her earplugs in so that the bin men didn't wake her.
When she surfaced four hours later, she plodded downstairs, surprised that Chas wasn't there on her fifth cup of coffee. She walked to the kitchen area to put the kettle on, then opened the cupboard to get coffee. There, leaning against the mugs, was a large white envelope with her name scrawled on the front in Chas's distinctive handwriting.
Suddenly wide awake and full of apprehension, she took the letter to the table and sat as she opened it. Inside the large envelope was a smaller envelope, and an official document in a black folder. She opened the small envelope and read the handwritten note.
Dear Diane,
You're the closest thing to a mother I've ever experienced and for
that you'll always have a special place in my heart. I hope that whatever
happens in the future, you'll remember all the closeness we've shared over
the last ten years and all the happiness we've created together behind that bar.
I know I will.
For reasons I can't go into, I can't stay in the village any longer. I also can't tell
you where I'm going, but be assured I'll be safe and well and you don't need to
worry about me.
You don't know how hard it's been the last couple of days, knowing I'm going
and not being able to say goodbye properly, face to face. I think at times you
thought I was going mad, especially when I started blubbing at that advert on
telly last night. It was because I'm going to miss you and this place so much.
You saved me Diane, twenty times over you saved me and I thank you for that.
I have arranged with my solicitor to sign over 30% of the business into your name.
I can't help you run it anymore, and the money that I used to buy it was never mine.
So have it, do what you want with it. All I ask is that the profits from the 20% I still
own will carry on going into my bank account for the time being. I'm going to need
to cover my mortgage and some sort of an income wherever I end up. If this suits you
(and I beg of you, please accept this) then all you have to do is sign the enclosed
contract and send it to my solicitor.
Tell my family I love them and I'm sorry. Please don't try to track me down . Burn
any correspondence you receive for me.
All my love and apologies
Chas
Diane looked around the room, wondering if this was some kind of joke. She flipped through the document and saw that it was indeed a transfer document with Chas's signature scrawled in all the relevant parts. Her hands shaking, she read the letter again, trying to make sense of the words, to find some subtext beneath them.
She pulled back her chair, walked upstairs on unsteady legs and pushed Chas's bedroom door open. It was bare. All of her stuff had been removed, most of it, Diane assumed, was in the three large boxes that were on her bed, a post-it note on the top of each. One read "for Gennie x", another "for Ding Dong x" and the last "for you x". She couldn't bear to open it, instead going into her own room and retrieving her phone. She found Chas's number and pressed the call button. Straight to answerphone. She decided to leave a message.
"Chas, it's Diane. If this is some kind of joke, it's not funny. Call me back please, we need to talk about this."