Charlie Is My Darling

by Jane Manning

Sitting in my favourite armchair, I am ticking off a mental checklist. I have gone over and over all the arrangements and hopefully everything should go smoothly tomorrow. My cup of hot chocolate cools as I close my eyes. I imagine my Charlie walking down the aisle, dressed in the gorgeous white lace dress that is hanging in the spare room. She will be the most beautiful bride in the world and I will be the proudest mother that ever lived. I guess that all mothers feel just the way I am feeling.

It is strange when you remember your children as little ones, needing kisses, cuddles and reassurance and then realise that the years have rushed by and now they are adults about to marry and make completely new lives for themselves. Charlie had always been older than her years. I smiled to myself as I recalled yet again, our very first meeting.

"My Mum says that you don't have any kids of your own, why not? Don't you like kids?"

I was weeding in the garden. Sam my big, black ancient cat was twitching in the shade of the old lilac tree.
Startled, I stood up rubbing the small of my aching back as I looked for the owner of the voice. A small rather scruffy child was peering through a hole in the hedge. I had noticed her before in the garden sometimes with a thin rather shabby woman who was probably her Mother.

The child was right I don't have any children. Peter and I were perfectly content just the two of us. If children had come along, I am sure we would have been thrilled but it just didn't happen. Back then I didn't really know then how to talk to children, as I had no experience s ignoring the voice and grubby face I carried on weeding.

"Oy! Didn't you here me talking to you?" The child was certainly persistent.

"Don't you like kids then, is that why you haven't got any?"

I decided that even if I ignored this child, it wouldn't take the hint, so I smiled and replied, "What are you called". Taking this as an invitation, the child scrambled through the hedge and came over.

"My name is Charlotte, but my Mum calls me Charlie". A moment's hesitation, "you can call me Charlie too if you like".

I think it was at this very moment that I first began to love this little urchin. The feelings just swept over me in a great wave and I understood something of what new mothers feel as they gaze at their newborn babies. I had never imagined myself having maternal feelings and it came as a bit of a shock. Charlie immediately started quizzing me about my life and I explained that I was a widow my husband Peter had died two years ago and now I lived alone with just Sam my cat for company.

"My Mum only has me for company" Charlie informed me solemnly.

"Has your Dad died then?" I asked a little naively.

"No way" retorted Charlie. "We don't have nothing to do with men, they are all a waste of space, my mum is a single parent" This was said very proudly and I silently applauded the courage of Charlie's Mum, who had found the strength to bring up a child alone. "I must go home now" Charlie stroked the cat and was gone through the hedge.

The next day I was prepared. Hoping for another visit I bought orange juice and made a special chocolate sponge. Going into the garden I was rewarded with the sight of Charlie busy weeding. Actually her weeding was more a case of pulling out anything green but somehow it really didn't matter, I was just terribly pleased to see her again. "Are you sure your Mother doesn't mind you coming in here Charlie"
I thought I had better make sure her mother knew where she was.

"Mum is in bed, she won't get up for ages she won't need me 'til then"

" Is your Mother feeling ill"?
I asked very hesitantly, thinking that I could perhaps call the doctor or help in some way.

"Mum is always ill cos she's got Cancer but don't worry, I look after her, we get on fine". It was said very matter of factly.

"How old are you Charlie"? She was seven and her Mother had Cancer and she looked after her.
I felt very humble. This small child had so much responsibility and I only lived next door but had just not realised. Since Peter's death, I had felt very withdrawn. I suppose that is part of the grieving process but it meant that I had neglected many of our friends, refusing invitations and in doing so, had become rather isolated and lonely.

Charlie and I ate our sponge and drank the orange juice in companiable silence. It was a pleasant experience for me. Just the child and I with the cat purring beside us in the warm summer sunshine.
Charlie came in most afternoons during that summer. I found myself looking forward to her visits and always tried to have a small treat ready. We talked a great deal. Although she was only seven, she could be very sensible, perhaps too sensible. I decided she needed some fun so I went next door to ask her Mother if I could take Charlie to the funfair that had just set up quite close.

Charlie answered the door and took me upstairs to see her Mother. She was in bed and looked very frail.
Her body hardly made a bump under the bed clothes she was so thin. She seemed pleased to see me and her face lit up with a smile so like Charlie's that I had to fight to stop the lump in my throat boil over into tears.

We went to the fun fair Charlie and me and Charlie won a big pink furry pig for her Mum. That was the start of many visits next door. While Charlie was at school, I would pop in and make a drink for Grace. We would sit for hours together not saying very much because by now Grace was so weak it was heartbreaking to watch. When I arrived, I would call up the stairs. "It's only me" and by the time I climbed the stairs, Grace would have a huge welcoming smile on her thin face. She was so brave. It seemed so cruel that a woman like her, with so much to live for, would very soon die.

As she got weaker, Grace began to fret about Charlie. "What will happen to her when I die".
We discussed this one glorious summer day. As the strong warm sunshine fought to get in the room, I could see that Grace's spirit was fighting to leave. It could only be a matter of hours now. The doctor came and gave her another injection and shook his head. The Hospice nurse tiptoed in and told me to call her at once if I needed anything at all.

"Do you want Charley to come home from school now?" I asked very quietly. Grace clutched at my hand.

"We said goodbye this morning before she went to school, she understood I was very ill". She tried to say something. I leaned closer.

"You must promise me, you will look after Charlie, there is nobody else and she loves you".

I nodded my head, the tears threatened to choke me. I held her hand and she died quietly.

The week after the funeral Charlie was eight. Somehow we got through the birthday and somehow we got through the months that followed but it was not easy.

After a lot of visits from Social Services I was finally given guardianship of my darling, brave Charlie. Things began to get a little easier now. Charlie felt more secure and our relationship began to change very subtly. Instead of Charlie doing the caring, now she was allowed to be a little girl once again and she became much more lighthearted. She had always seemed a happy child but now she was carefree. We laughed a lot and did stupid things and it took years off my life.

There was just one more hurdle to overcome. I sat down with Charlie and we discussed adoption.

" Would you be my real Mother then". Charlie was trying hard to understand, not an easy task at eight years old.

"I would be your adoptive Mother but Grace will always be your real Mummy, I promise to always love you, just like she did"

"Will I have to call you Mum, if I am adopted?"

" You can carry on calling me Auntie Jane if you want to because nothing is really going to change, all we are doing is getting a piece of paper, that says we can both live together for always if we want to".

The day the Judge agreed the adoption, was one of the best days of my life. Now I was sure that nobody could take Charlie away from me. We went out for a burger to celebrate and as we left the restaurant, Charlie put her small hand in mine and whispered, "I really love you Mum". My heart nearly burst with pride and I didn't care who saw me wipe away a tear.

"Wake up Darling, it is a beautiful, bright summers day". I carry the tray of tea and toast into my Daughter's bedroom and pull back the curtains. "How are you feeling on your Wedding Day?" Charlie smiles lovingly up at me, as always so caring.

"How do you feel Mum?"

I know she is worried about me being on my own again but I will be fine. I can look forward to visits and who knows, maybe a Grandchild or two. I may be getting on in years but I still have a lot of life left in me.

I walk slowly up the aisle, my beautiful daughter holding my arm. I had fought so hard to get her and now I was giving her away. I wipe a tear as David takes Charlie from me. He loves her as much as I do.
My only regret is that Grace can't be here for the wedding, although I am sure, if it is at all possible, she will be watching.

How proud she must be, to see our daughter, all grownup and getting married.