This is a short story I wrote that was inspired by my mother's upbringing near the bombed buildings of wartime London. The story reflects my love for romantic suspense stories. I hope you love this sweet story too.
Charlie's Angel:
I tried to ignore the alcoholic glare from my father as I squeezed my blistered heels into pink shoes that had already been worn by my four older sisters. As I did up my heavy coat, the unexpected loss of my top button had me checking for it on the tattered rug, but I didn't hold much hope. My jacket already had several mismatched buttons.
My mother kneeled by the fire, staring trance-like into the dancing flames. Her hands rested on her knees, and she was unnaturally still, as if one move would destroy whatever world she'd escaped into.
I pushed my tattered gloves into my coat pocket and squatted at her side. Careful not to scare her, I put on a relaxed smile as I touched her bony shoulder. Mom still jumped, but a smile soon crept onto her cracked lips, showing off her toothless gums.
I hand-signed and mouthed a silent message to her. "I'm going now, Mom."
She replied in a voice that hadn't been articulate for over six years. "Is it that time already?" Mom no longer had any concept of time, each day was like a dream that she couldn't wake from.
"I'll be back before dark."
"Is it snowing outside?" Her hands signed the words with difficulty as tuberculosis had robbed her of six fingers along with her hearing.
"Yes, but I'll be fine, Mom." I kissed her cheek and adjusted the crocheted blanket over her lap, ensuring it was a good distance from the fire.
I left her side and crept past my father, aware that one wrong move would set him into a rage. Mom's illness had not only robbed her of a normal life, it ruined my father too. He was dragged from his Navy posting to look after his seven children while Mom fought the disease in the hospital for four years. The woman who returned to our home was a shadow of the woman he married, and the bottle became his new love. Each day started full of hope and promise but ended in unpredictable moods and dubious meals.
I tugged at the handle of my rusted trolley, reached for the front doorknob and braced for the cold blast of air that I knew would come. A steady peppering of snowflakes fell from the gray sky, transforming everything into a frosted landscape. My trolley clanged down the broken concrete steps and as if he'd predicted my arrival time, Charlie appeared at the fence. His presence made my heart flutter and as usual the first glimpse of him stole all possible words from my throat.
"About time you got here." Puffs of steam rose from his ruby lips with every word he said.
"Sorry, Dad's having a bad day."
Charlie was my only friend who understood this. Others saw Dad as a victim - a man whose life was ruined by cruel fate. However, they never saw what his behavior did to the real victims. . . his wife and children.
"Come on, let's get going." Charlie stomped ahead, tugging his trolley, a more robust version of mine. I was mesmerized by the sway of his heavy coat and the snow that danced around him as if riding the wave of his aura. Three afternoons a week we met, and yet I never tired of following him. We were no longer school children - that was a luxury our families could no longer afford. Our job was begging for bread that we sold to a local pig farmer who was a burly thug with rank body odor and a thief's swiftness. But I had quickly learned how to read the scales to calculate my correct payment, and I always counted the coins he dropped into my hand, making sure he didn't cheat me out of a penny. But more often than not, hours of work barely earned enough pennies to buy enough milk for my family.
We passed a row of townhouses, and the wind howled down the frosted street like a tormented spirit, freezing my ears and whipping up my skirt. I tugged my moth-eaten cap around my head and raced to catch up with Charlie. Anticipating his direction, I readied to trudge up the slippery hill, however I stopped when he turned into Ladywood Road.
"Where're you going?" I yelled into the wind blast.
"Taking a shortcut."
I was torn between following him, going the long way around, or returning home empty-handed. Visions of my father's clenched jaw eliminated the latter option, but Charlie was dicing with danger cutting through this street. Bread beggars guarded their territory like battle-hardened soldiers, and being caught in someone else's street could result in a vicious beating. My oldest brother lost one such battle and his right eye. Father still hadn't forgiven him.
But ice had already formed on the road ahead, and with little tread left on my shoes, I knew the steep slope and treacherous downhill on the other side would be impossible without Charlie's help. Without any other choice, I bowed my head into the breeze and raced to catch up.
The street was lined with row after row of brown townhouses, each one only slightly different from the one beside it. Years of ash had settled on every available surface, smearing the buildings like dark bruises. Not a tree or blade of grass was in sight, and overhanging roofs made it impossible for the sun to get through.
I felt like I'd entered the devil's throat, and each step drove a spike of fear up my back. My trolley clanged along the rugged cobblestones, the sound ricocheting off the buildings. I imagined eyes peeking around every tobacco-stained drape. I concentrated on Charlie's brisk strides to block out my panic. But a new noise raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I stopped and turned.
A scream caught in my throat. At least a dozen kids of varying ages had gathered like a pack of dogs behind me. Each one wielded a weapon of some description - planks of wood, cricket bats, even broom handles - but the evil in their eyes scared me more.
I turned and ran.
My fingernails dug into my palm as I clung to my trolley. Charlie paused, his outstretched hand searching for me like a safety harness. I grabbed it and together we barreled up the street, our trolleys bounced along behind us, testing the quality of the ancient wheels.
We raced from the cobblestone street with the sounds of the screaming tribe behind us and turned into an even narrower lane. My trolley skidded sideways and smashed into the corner of a stone pillar, I felt it resist for a brief second and then there was nothing. I was left holding just the handle. My mind skidded to my father’s reaction to this, and renewed fear drove me onward. I was no longer being pulled by Charlie; I was at his side, running with him.
A cheer erupted from the gang, and I knew why. My trolley was a grand trophy they’d display as a victory. We turned into yet another narrow street where the freezing wind stung my eyes. My toes ached with each slippery step, but we didn’t stop until we could no longer hear the angry mob.
Gasping for breath, we finally slowed down, and I tugged Charlie’s hand to stop him. I doubled over to settle the cramp in my side and Charlie sat against a rock pillar beside the road, his knees pulled to his chest. Plumes of breath rose from his lips as sweat trickled down his temples and over his crimson cheeks.
I sat beside him and waited for the pounding in my chest to subside. My mouth was beyond dry, I longed for a sip of water. I swallowed hard before I spoke. “My dad’s going to kill me.”
Charlie looked up from his knees and I fell into his jade green eyes. He didn’t need to say anything. I could already see his regret. “I’m sorry, Rosie.”
I sucked in a deep breath and looked away. The street was deserted, and not just empty of people, a genuine feeling of abandonment. The buildings were in rigid rows, each one sharing a wall with the one beside it, but half of the building ahead was crumbled inward as if it’d been stomped on.
I stood and turned to the building behind me. Crossed over wood blocked off the entrance door, but the boards were a pointless barricade with the smashed right window beside it. Curiosity got the better of me. I was drawn to the window, lured by the mystery of what was inside.
“Where’re you going?” Charlie reached for my arm, but I dodged it.
“Inside.”
“Are you crazy? It’s condemned.”
“I know.” I stepped over a pile of loose bricks, none of them whole. The window glass was gone, replaced with jagged splinters that scrambled in all directions. I poked my head inside and held my breath until my eyes adjusted to the darkness.
I expected to see complete destruction, but the room was intact. Against a floral wallpapered wall was a small bed, still dressed in bedclothes. The mirror set in the middle panel of a freestanding wardrobe was awash with cobwebbed splinters, but my gaze caught on the key that was still in the closed wardrobe door. I eased through the window and glass crunched beneath my feet as I stepped into the room.
Charlie snatched at my arm. “What’re you doing?” He smiled though, showing he was just as curious as I was.
I urged him in. “Come on, we might find another trolley or something.”
He clicked his tongue but still climbed in with me.
I tip-toed over the broken glass to the wardrobe, turned the brass key and tugged the door open. My jaw dropped. Inside, clothes hung from metal hangars. A camel-colored woolen coat fell into my hand as if I was meant to have it. I held it against me, assessing its size.
“You can’t have that.” Charlie gasped.
“Why not? It’ll fit me perfectly. Look.” I undid the buttons and slipped the jacket over my shoulders. Never before had I enjoyed the heaviness of such a quality jacket. It felt like a cloak of security. Before Charlie could take it from me, I buttoned it up and tied the belt around my waist. With a proud grin, I put my hands on my hips and tried to decipher my image from the fractured mirror.
“Rosie?” His voice belied the anger on his face, and I knew he’d let me keep it.
A scraping noise sounded outside. Ducking down, Charlie grabbed my hand and dragged me further into the deserted house. Glass and debris plastered the floor, and the air had an odd acidic smell. Charlie led me up the stairs where black and white photos of a happy family hung on the walls at odd angles, and several had smashed onto the stairs.
We arrived at another bedroom that looked like it had been slept in today. Uneasiness crept up my spine.
“Who’s in here?” A deep voice bellowed from below and I froze. Charlie placed his hand over my mouth and held me to his chest. We kept still, listening. I suddenly regretted wearing the jacket and I squeezed Charlie’s waist tighter.
We remained huddled as one for an eternity, but no other voices came. His beating heart boomed in my ear until eventually he relaxed his grip.
Charlie leaned down to whisper in my ear, and his hot breath brushed my neck. “Let’s get out of here.”
“But we can’t go out the front. He might be waiting for us.”
He reached for my hand and his grip was both firm and comforting as we tiptoed along the landing. The boards beneath our feet creaked and the sound seemed amplified in the deserted house. A loud crack thundered from the floorboards and squeal burst from my lips as I fell through the floor.
“Rosie! Rosie!”
Jagged pieces of wood sliced my skin and pain ripped up my legs as I fell into the void. The coat snagged breaking my fall, but then it broke free, and I slammed onto the tiled floor.
My head hit the floor. Pain shot up my neck.
The walls seemed to sway as I pushed to sit up. With trembling fingers, I pulled up my skirt to see my stinging legs. Dozens of jagged cuts ran from my ankles to my thighs like I had been attacked by an angry tiger. My white stockings were ripped to shreds and covered in blood.
I sobbed as I pulled a splinter out of my thigh.
Charlie raced to my side. “Oh God, are you okay?”
“No.” The injuries to my legs looked horrific, but most of the cuts were shallow. The heavy jacket saved the rest of my body from the same fate.
Charlie wiped a tear from my cheek and eased back to lie down on the floor. He removed his coat, took off his shirt and used it to wipe away the blood. “This is bad, you need a doctor.”
“I’ll be okay. It looks worse than it is.”
He started at my ankle, dabbing at the wounds and moaning sounds of sorrow. I felt disconnected as he moved up my leg. The higher he went the more I felt him. This was the first time Charlie had seen my thighs. His touch aroused something within me that I’d never felt before. For a long time, I had wanted more than just a friendly touch, or playful hug.
With my eyes closed, I imagined him leaning towards me with desire in his eyes.
I wanted to kiss him, to feel his lips on mine.
I opened my eyes, pulled myself up and he turned towards me, his lips parted ready to speak and I kissed him. An initial shock registered in his eyes, but then his lips parted, and his tongue danced with mine. A shiver tickled my neck as his fingers ran through my hair and cupped my head to ease me down again.
I tingled with pleasure as his hand ran over my breast, and I pressed my hand to his bare chest, feeling his hard nipples. Our tongues danced in a united want for each other. He tasted of cinnamon and berries, and lavender scented his skin.
I didn’t want the moment to end.
This was the best day of my life.
He broke off our kiss and eased away.
I opened my eyes, and his dark eyelashes were an inch from mine, flickering as if trying to wake from a dream. Our kiss ended too soon, and he sat back. I chewed on my lips as I waited for him to speak.
“Feel better now?” A smile danced across his mouth.
I nodded.
“I had no idea you…” He trailed off.
I touched his cheek. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t know if you wanted to?”
His lips brushed mine in the sweetest kiss ever. “You’re the most beautiful, amazing girl. How could someone like you want to be with me?”
A tear trickled down my cheek and as I studied his beautiful eyes, I knew that no matter how dire our situation was, that even amidst the rubble, we had something truly special.
My mom's begging ensured her siblings had some food on the table when her mother and father couldn't provide for her family. Mom taught that old pig farmer a lesson or two.
And yes, she did marry Charlie. He was my father.
Mom's love story may explain why I am a hopeless romantic. I love taking my characters on a harrowing journey that forces them to discover who they really are, and of course to give them a happy ever after that they deserve.
I have an extensive collection of romantic suspense novels that I think you'd really enjoy. These stories blend elements of mystery, intrigue, and intense emotional connections, which I find captivating. I hope you find a new book to take you on a journey in my Romantic Suspense Collection.
Check out my blogs for more stories behind what inspired my books.