Page 25 of Charlie Sunshine
I smile and hold out my hand. “How about you choose one for me, my queen.”
She narrows her eyes. “Well, with all that charm I can see now why you get so much cock, Misha.” Mr Turner chokes on his own mince pie and she pats his back while still talking. “It was always a bit of a mystery to me before.”
“Oh, lovely,” I say faintly. “Well, as long as you’ve seen the light now.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” She looks back at where Charlie is talking to some parents. “He’s not right, Misha,” she says, dropping her humour.
I sigh. “I know. I’m going to do something about it. I’ve let this go on for too long.”
She looks at me thoughtfully. “Make sure you do. That boy is an angel.”
I smile at her. “He is. But I have to point out after years of knowing him that his halo is slightly dented and no one ever notices.”
“Oh, darling, we’ve all got dented halos. Of course, yours is probably languishing in a scabby old junkyard somewhere, buried beneath a mountain of rusting metal and the failed dreams of your latest twink.”
I blink. “That’s fairly graphic.”
“Misha, Misha.” She pats my cheek and pinches it gently. “If you weren’t destined for someone else I would be in you quicker than when I go through John Lewis’s doors during the sale.”
I freeze, not wanting to make any sudden moves. “Erm, didn’t you black someone’s eye last year? Not sure that’squitemy idea of good sex.”
She shakes her head with a coquettish look on her face. “One should never reject new experiences.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what Ann Boleyn said about marriage.”
Marlena laughs. “Oh Misha, don’t think too hard, you pretty, pretty boy.”
I suddenly remember what she said. “Anyway, who the hell am I destined for?”
She smirks at Mr Turner and jerks her head towards me. “Pretty, but not terribly bright, Arthur.”
The little old traitor nods. “You are, as usual, completely right.”
She accepts that as her due and gets to her feet. “Well, I must be off. My Brian will be waiting in the car park.” Brian is her husband, a small bald man. The two of them look unlikely spouses, but they adore each other.
Mr Turner and I get to our feet.
“My queen,” Mr Turner says, taking her hand and kissing it.
She inclines her head regally and pats him on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Arthur.” She turns to me. “You may hug me,” she instructs me, and I hasten to obey her. She hugs me tight. “I mean it,” she whispers. “Make sure that boy gets looked at.”
We move apart, and I smile at the sight of Charlie who is putting a cup of hot chocolate in front of Nick, the homeless bloke who usually comes into the library to get warm in the afternoon. Charlie pats Nick on the shoulder and walks over to us.
“Another amazing story time, Marlena,” he says happily. “The children loved it. Thank you.”
She hugs him, her face full of affection. “Merry Christmas, Charlie,” she says. “Thank you so much for this year.” She stands back, grabbing his shoulders. “It’s meant such a lot to the community, and I swear it’s given me a new lease on life.”
He smiles at her, and everything that’s Charlie is in that smile. Warmth, sunshine, and a caring nature. You can totally see why people bend over backwards to look after him.
“You didn’t need one,” he says. “You’ll always be younger than anyone else in the room.”
“Dear boy.” She pats him on the cheek. “Make sure you take care of yourself, Charlie.” She pauses. “Or I will find you and inflict great pain.”
He looks startled. “Oh. Of course. You too,” he says faintly, and I snort.
She turns back to me. “Merry Christmas, Misha. Don’t be stupid for much longer.” And then she’s gone.
“And just what didthatmean?” I say indignantly. “She says it every single time I see her.”
