Charlie
Oliver, youve done brilliantly today! Weve achieved so much together. Now, just wait for gran in the hallway, will you? I promise I wont be long. Shell be right out. Emily smiled and ushered the boy from her office.
Well, what do you think, Emily Clarke? Mary Bennett, young Olivers grandmother, looked visibly tense. She was perched anxiously at the very edge of her seat, clutching an old-fashioned handbag in her hands. When Emily said they needed to have a word, Mary nearly sprang to her feet.
Please dont worry, Mrs Bennett! Honestly, theres no need to be so anxious. Everything is going as well as can be expected given the situation. Oliver has started talking, becoming more open. There is progress. Youre really doing everything right, truly
But? I know theres a but coming! Mary glanced nervously at the young psychologist, whom others had recommended so highly. Shed been surprised the first time, almost thinking shed walked into the wrong office upon seeing Emily. But shed soon realised the reviews didnt lie. Where months brought no change with other specialists, thered been progress in just a week with Emily: Oliver had finally spoken.
Yes, youre right, there is one but. Hes frightened of you.
What? Marys brows shot up and didnt come down. How can that be? Ive always treated him well!
Its not that, please understand. He just doesnt feel safe yet. His whole lifes changed, and he hasnt recognised you as his family yet. At the moment, you are to his mind a stranger. Thats not something to be ashamed of. Its perfectly natural. Correct me if Im wrong, but you hadnt met Oliver before all this, had you? You didnt know his parents well, hadnt even seen him until you took him in?
Thats right. I only knew of him from letters, really.
Thats exactly it. To him, youre still a stranger, like anyone at the supermarket. He just needs time to see you as his gran and learn that you love him. Do you, Mrs Bennett? Emily fixed Mary with a kind, steady gaze. Mary, suddenly unsure of herself, looked away. And if the feeling isnt strong yet, thats nothing to fret over, either. Time and shared experience will build that bond.
I see Mary squeezed the handle of her bag and looked up at Emily. Is there anything I can do to help him settle? Something to help him accept me more easily?
The last thing to do is rush it. Time is what he, and you, both need. But there is something that might help. Do you have any pets at home?
No, none.
Sometimes, animals can be an excellent bridge between a child and their carer. Not that you must run out and buy him a Labrador this instant. Think about it. If youre prepared, anything a bird, a fish, a hamster, even a little turtle can be the catalyst you need. Youd share the responsibility, learn together.
Thank you. Ill consider that. Mary stood up.
At the door, she turned back to ask, Would a little dog be all right? Ive always dreamed of having one.
Any living creature. Even a snake, if you fancy. And if youre fulfilling an old ambition, all the better.
Mary bid Emily goodbye and stepped into the corridor. There, Oliver sat straight-backed on a chair by the door, hands neatly folded in his lap. The sight made Marys heart twist. The boy looked so small and utterly lost. She wanted nothing more than to scoop him into her arms and reassure him, but she stopped herself. Shed learnt her lesson. When Mary had first arrived at the childrens home to collect Oliver, placed there after the tragic loss of both his parents, shed rushed to hug him.
Oliver, darling! Im your gran!
She remembered how hed frozen in her embrace. His eyes filled with tears as he tried to wriggle away from her well-meaning fuss, finally squeezing his eyes shut, refusing any comfort. She never tried again. Now, five months on, not once had she kissed him goodnight or hugged him close she just didnt want to risk frightening her grandson.
Oliver, Mary called softly, and he turned to look at her. Once again, she saw the uncanny resemblance to her own son, Thomas. Oliver looked just like him: same nose, same eyes, even the ears, just a bit too big to be fashionable but touching all the same.
Come along, love, lets go.
Oliver slipped off the chair in silence and walked beside her. Always so serious, never misbehaving or pouting, and never laughing a little old man in a boys body. It haunted Mary, and she often wondered if she was to blame for his withdrawn, world-weary quiet.
Thomas, Mary’s son, had been remarkable from an early age precocious, thoughtful, quick to learn. Noticing his knack for picking up on her muttered French vocabulary while she translated for work, she started teaching him languages, and by five, he could hold simple conversations in French and German. After his grandad sat him at the chessboard once out of boredom and was stunned at the childs grasp of the game, they enrolled him at chess club, then music school although physics soon drew him in fully. Thomass love of science guided every step right through university and into a budding research career, until he met Sophie.
Sophie had just moved to London from Yorkshire to study. Completely lost and rather terrified, she asked Thomass classmate Lucy, his closest friend for directions. Lucy, catching Thomass glance, grinned and said:
Oh, thats hopeless, youll get lost anyway. Thomas, why not walk her there? You weren’t in a rush, were you?
Thus began Thomas and Sophies story. She gave him meaning and a sense of purpose to make her happy, to stay together. The emotion was simple, but the obstacles, as it turned out, were not.
From the moment she met Sophie, Mary found herself unimpressed. Her brow arched beneath her carefully trimmed fringe what on earth did her son see in this awkward slip of a girl? Mary, always composed, served cake politely, lips pursed, and ran through every argument that might dissuade her son.
When Thomas and Sophie left, Marys restraint cracked. Thomas had barely hung up his coat before she let loose, volume rising:
What are you thinking, Thomas? Is that really the kind of girl you should be with? She can hardly string a sentence together, shes a country girl through and through! And what about your future? Will this marriage hurt your career? She has no connections, no family in towndoes she even have any family at all?
None. Shes an orphan, daughter of a local doctor and teacher.
There! What did I tell you? Shes after a London address, nothing more! Think of the children youll have what sort of legacy is that? Give me one good reason you think this will work.
Thomas, fiddling with his flat keys, looked up. His eyes, so blue and familiar, didnt waver.
I love her, Mum. Isnt that enough?
Love? Honestly, Thomas, therell be other girls
She stopped, for Thomas silently walked out and shut the door behind him. Thats how they fell out. When Mary returned from work the next evening, Thomass room was empty hed moved out.
What is he thinking? Mary often unloaded her frustration to the photo of her late husband, as she always had during difficult moments. Am I wrong to worry for him?
The photo said nothing, only smiled in its calm way. Mary, in her anger, laid it face down and went off to brew yet another mug of tea.
Nearly a year passed with barely a word from Thomas. The only news came from his short, pragmatic notes: Alls well, have a flat, working on my thesis. Off on site trials, away a month, dont fret. Then an invitation arrived by post, cordially inviting her to his wedding but Mary couldnt bring herself to go. Her resentment towards Thomas blended with her stubborn disapproval of Sophie, and even the brief note letting her know she was a grandmother inspired only annoyance.
Grandmother! What nonsense. And hes just sure that boys his?
Mary didnt understand what was happening to her. Shed always been sensible, gentle-hearted, but something sour seemed to have crept in, making her arguments and grievances harder and sharper.
Thomas tried several times to make peace, offering to meet, but she refused him every time. From his letters she knew work was going splendidly, funding was stable, and the country girl was now a fully qualified surgeon in a top London hospital. Oliver, their son, was growing but she had not met him, not once, until the phone rang one Thursday morning.
Mrs Mary Bennett?
Yes, speaking.
Im calling from Rainbow House Childrens Home. Weve just received your grandson, Oliver. It appears youre his only living relative.
Marys heart skipped, and she slowly sat down, clutching the phone tightly.
Why is he there? What happened to his parents?
Im afraid youve not been informed? The callers tone quickly softened. Olivers parents drowned yesterday. His father seemed to get into trouble in the water a cramp, perhaps, or some other sudden illness. His mother tried to save him but didnt succeed.
Mary listened silently, gripping the phone so hard the plastic dug into her palm.
Are you still there? Shall we begin arrangements for you to collect him, or should we contact Social Services for foster placement?
Ill take him She almost didnt recognise her own voice, so calm and sure. The decision made itself. Please give me the address.
She methodically jotted down the directions and a list of documents, packed a bag, and within an hour was heading to Heathrow. It all felt like she was watching from a distance. There were no tears at first she couldnt comprehend that Thomas, her little boy, was gone. It was only after a fortnight, when all was organised and shed brought Oliver home, that she finally allowed herself to grieve.
The little boy, just five years old, who met her at the home, looked so much like Thomas it almost undid her. She couldnt help but frighten him with her attempts at comfort, grabbing him into a hug and wailing. She forced herself to be strong, collected him, and took him back to London.
The early days were the hardest. Shed catch herself watching Oliver and see only Thomas. The same habits, the same fidgeting at the table although Oliver would simply eat quietly and offer a polite nod of thanks, never speaking a word. Attempts to connect failed, so Mary started working her way through a list of psychologists. Only Emily really managed to coax Oliver out of his shell.
After their latest appointment, in the crisp autumn air, Oliver looked up at her questioningly.
Were not going home just yet.
He tilted his head, waiting.
Were going to visit an animal shelter.
Fear flooded Olivers face. He shook his head and stepped back from her.
Oh, darling, no! Not a childrens home a shelter for animals. A place for dogs and cats without homes. Well see if we can take one in with us. Living in a shelter must be so sad, dont you think?
Oliver nodded vigorously. For the very first time, he reached out and grabbed her hand. Mary pretended not to notice, just led them off cheerfully to the waiting taxi, asking him questions along the way.
Which would you like a cat? Or a dog?
To her surprise and, quietly, her delight, Oliver whispered, Dog.
Wonderful! Ive always wanted a little dog myself. Something small, with clever eyes and a fluffy tail.
They strolled down the rows of kennels for ages before Oliver stopped at one. Mary had to peer closely to see which animal had caught his eye. Several dogs were crammed together, but Oliver pointed to a scruffy little mite curled up in the far corner. Matted ginger fur disguised its face and tail so thoroughly, Mary could hardly tell nose from bottom.
This one? Are you sure? The young volunteer, a woman with bright trainers and a clipboard, glanced doubtfully. Wouldnt you rather think it over? Weve many healthy, lively pups. This ones already an adult and not well at all.
Whats wrong with her? Mary inspected the still little dog with growing concern.
She lost her owner a week ago, poor thing. Elderly chap, heart gave out. No family to take her, so she ended up here. Not in a good way barely eats or drinks, just pines after her old master.
What breed is she?
A Pomeranian. Theyre lovely when healthy and cared for, but shes had a tough spell.
Mary hesitated. Was it wise to bring home a dog that seemed so frail and hopeless? Would it do Oliver more harm than good? She glanced at Oliver, frozen at the cage.
Oliver, are you certain this is the one?
Yes! His voice rang out, clear and determined. Even the somnolent dog raised her head.
Well, that settles it then. Shes coming with us.
The volunteer shook her head doubtfully but fetched the little dog out. She looked a sorry state watering eyes, filthy fur, limp paws, her entire manner one of heartbreak and exhaustion.
At the vets, the nurse whistled in sympathy.
Shes had a rough time of it. How could anyone leave her like this?
Are we here to complain or to help? Marys famous brows drew together. Do everything you can, please. Shes my grandsons dog now.
A couple of injections, a drip, a haircut, a bath, and she looked a bit more like a real pet though her eyes betrayed her still. At home, the first thing Mary did was dig out an old mat and check with Oliver.
Where shall we put her?
Oliver led her to his bedroom.
Here? You want her to sleep beside you?
He nodded.
Right you are, Mary set the mat by his bed. But only on one condition. If were to help her get well, you must talk to me, Oliver. Otherwise, what if she needs something and I cant work it out without your help? Deal?
Yes, he whispered, kneeling by the little dog.
And shell need a name. Any ideas? Im stumped. What do people call Pomeranians?
I dont know.
Shall we look online?
Yes.
They spent the evening trawling the web for a name. Mary felt a twinge of regret at not asking about her name at the shelter, but the paperwork listed only some unpronounceable string of letters for the pedigree.
Charlie! Oliver finally said, with an excited smile.
Charlie? Oh, thats splendid! Like Charlie Chaplin.
Noticing Olivers blank expression, she raised her eyebrows.
Havent you heard of Charlie Chaplin?
He shook his head.
My dear boy! Youve so much to discover!
The rest of the evening passed before the TV, watching old Chaplin films. At first, Oliver only managed a timid smile; by the end he was giggling, belly-deep, at Chaplins antics.
Charlie the Pomeranian lay quietly by the bed, ears flickering when laughter echoed through the little flat. That night the food and water bowls remained untouched.
Mary watched for nearly a week as Oliver spent hours sitting with Charlie, whispering softly. Sometimes, hed hold the water bowl to her mouth, and eventually she took a drink. Two days later, Oliver coaxed her into nibbling some food. Mary herself carried Charlie outside three times daily. At first the dog only curled up forlornly in her arms, but soon she staggered onto her feet, then, after another week, managed to walk herself to the lift.
They all turned up together at their next appointment with Emily.
Oh! I see youve got a new friend, Oliver! Emily ruffled Charlies ears. Whats her name?
Charlie!
Wonderful! A famous name too. Do you know who Charlie Chaplin is?
Mary, listening at the slightly open door, dabbed her eyes as Oliver told Emily about the films he had watched. Charlie sat at his feet, lapping up every word.
This is wonderful! Emily said, shutting the door and turning to Mary, who, for the first time, sat relaxed in her chair, pencil poised with questions.
I see youre feeling a bit better too? Emily asked kindly.
Yes, I finally see were making progress. But Im still anxious will we be able to cope, after such a loss?
Im certain youll manage. One day, I hope well see each other outside this office for happier reasons.
So do I.
A year later.
Oliver, youre sure? You want to go yourself? Let me check with the stewards.
A quick word with the judges, and Mary returned to Oliver.
Theyve made an exception, but Ill be worrying the whole time.
Gran, you cant run with Charlie in the ring. We talked about this. Ill manage.
Of course you will, my darling! Go on when they call your number. Charlie! Behave yourself! You look so handsome, Im sure well win a medal for sure!
The dog show was a riot of people, barking, applause. Not long ago, Mary would never have believed it possible that theyd wind up here. But their little household had performed a miracle. As she watched her grandson jog proudly around the ring, Charlie fluffy and gleaming at his side, Mary clapped and grinned, her heart swelling nearly to bursting.
Are those yours? A friendly woman with a clipboard approached.
They are! My grandson and his Charlie.
What a wonderful pair! Theyre so in sync. Ive seen adults falter, but your two took the ring in stride. The way he introduces his dog!
His friend. His best friend. Mary nodded, scooping Charlie up in her arms as he bounced on her shoes.
Id say your friends are strong contenders for a prize!
Were counting on it! Marys eyebrow twitched upwards as she hugged Olivers shoulders. Just a little longer to wait for our medal, right boys?
