Chapter Text
Charlie hauled himself out of bed, wincing as his bare feet touched down on the cold floor. He changed into clean clothes quickly, layering a chunky crocheted jumper over the top of his t-shirt to combat the chilled sea air he knew he’d encounter the moment he stepped outside.
He spared a glance at himself in the mirror he’d affixed to his bedroom door, patting down his curls in an attempt to tame them into something presentable. Once he was as satisfied as he was going to get, he headed down to the kitchen, where he knew Isaac, and probably Imogen, had already gotten to work for the day.
The pop girlies playlist he could hear blasting as he neared the kitchen, confirmed his assumption. He stopped in to greet them quickly, snagging a piece of toast and the cup of tea that one of his friends had set out for him.
“Morning, babe,” Imogen said brightly, somehow managing to look perfect despite the early hour, “What’s on the schedule for today?”
Charlie took a sip of his tea, “I’ve got some furniture to repair and then I need to head into town to buy a few things - Isaac let me know if you’ll be needing any groceries for this week - I’m also stopping by the post office and the council office to see about the permits we requested, and then I should be back in time to help get dinner out. That does mean I’ll need one of you to cover the front desk between breakfast and dinner, though.”
”No problem,” Isaac replied, adding a pinch of salt and a few grinds of pepper to the pan of eggs he was cooking, “I’ll text you a grocery list when I have a moment.”
Satisfied with that, Charlie departed with a wave and headed out behind the inn, where several pieces of furniture salvaged from charity shops and roadside drop-offs awaited him. He popped his AirPods in and got to work repairing, sanding, and staining the various pieces he had collected, shedding his jumper once he’d worked up enough of a sweat.
By the time he’d finished reupholstering two dining chairs, sanding and staining a set of end tables, and putting the first coat of paint onto the bookshelf he’d snagged for his bedroom, Charlie figured that the shops he’d needed to stop by had opened. He brought the hem of his t-shirt up to his face, wiping off the accumulated layer of sweat and grime, his chest still heaving from the exertion. He popped into his bedroom quickly to change into a less sweaty shirt, and slipped back out of the inn, not bothering to let anyone know he’d headed out - he’d already told Isaac and Imogen that he’d be running errands, and they’d figure out where he was if necessary.
He clicked his tongue twice as he passed the cemetery, and within seconds, was joined by a scraggly black cat.
“Hello, darling,” Charlie cooed, stooping to scratch the creature’s chin, “Fancy a trip to the shops? I reckon you’ll get a few treats out of it.”
The cat purred as if understanding his words, pressing his head further into Charlie’s hand. Charlie grinned and stood back up, “Come on, then, let’s see if Jack’s got a fish for you.”
With that, the two of them made their way down the winding path, past the chapel and the old schoolhouse, past rundown farms and houses, until they reached the main - and only - paved road in town.
Charlie headed into the post office first, stopping by to pick up a few packages that he had been awaiting, but that he had needed to sign for due to their foreign origins. The post office was a quiet place, with just the one elderly woman who sat at the desk and glared at nearly everyone - not Charlie, though - and her husband who did most of the mail delivery on the island.
Leaf jumped up onto the counter, causing Muriel to clutch her chest with a gasp, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she said, wagging a scolding finger at Charlie, “That damn cat will be the death of me!”
Charlie grinned, “He’s just keeping you on your toes, you should be grateful to him.”
Muriel let out a laugh, setting a cat treat on the counter, “What brings you in, love?”
“Gregory told me that I had some, ‘suspicious, bedevilled packages’ waiting for me and that he’d sooner ‘fornicate with one of Hannah’s evil goats than pick them up’ lest he ‘gets possessed by the devil’.”
Muriel rolled her eyes and scoffed at her husband’s words, knowing that Charlie had quoted him directly, “Sorry dear, I’ll give him a good whack upside the head for you when I get home tonight, that bloody old fool. As for Hannah’s goats, he’s honestly more likely to meet the devil that way than by delivering your packages, no matter how strange they might be.”
Charlie let out a laugh, “It’s no problem, I needed to come into town to do some shopping anyway.”
With that, Muriel dug out his packages, which admittedly did look a bit sketchy, rumpled brown paper packaging, covered in occult symbols and held together with an excessive amount of tape, as if the sender was abnormally desperate to prevent the contents from spilling.
“Alright dear, I’ll see you around, then,” she said, once Charlie had signed for and accepted the packages, slotting them into his backpack.
Charlie gave her a nod, “You and Gregory should stop by sometime this week, I’ll have Isaac cook up a chicken and we can play Scrabble.”
Muriel patted his hand, “Of course dear, see you then.”
With a final wave, Charlie turned and left the post office, Leaf close behind him as they made their way to the next stop. Charlie steeled himself as he stepped up to the front door of the council office, knowing that he needed to lean into a more masculine persona when talking with Harvey and his staff. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and pushed the door open, his cat still trailing behind him like he owned the place.
“Charles,” the receptionist, Catherine, greeted, a cool smile on her face, “What can I do for you?”
“Charlie,” he replied, purposely pitching his voice down, “My name is Charlie. I’m here to check in about the permit I requested recently? I was told I’d hear back within a week, and it’s been nearly three.”
Catherine tapped away at her old computer, the ancient keys clacking loudly in the otherwise silent space. She hummed disapprovingly as she read whatever document she had pulled up.
“Yes, it looks like your request was denied. We would have needed Form A-17 signed by the property owner and notarized.”
”Well,” Charlie said tightly, “The former property owner is dead, as you well know, and she legally transferred ownership of the property to me, when she died. So I don’t see why I’m not able to fill out that form myself.”
Catherine let out a condescending laugh, “Dear, you do realise that before her death, Caroline’s memory was slipping, don’t you? Do you really think she filled out everything she needed to do in order to legally transfer ownership? The only reason you’re still running that silly little inn is that Harvey hasn’t yet had the time to legally seize it from you. The property will be ours before the year is out, darling. You’re not getting that permit.”
Charlie turned on his heel and left the building, before he shed tears, or said something that would get him arrested, whichever came first. He walked away as quickly as possible, and Leaf increased his own pace to keep up. Once he was far enough away, he allowed himself to feel the anger and sadness that were welling within him.
Charlie looked up, trying to keep the frustrated tears from falling, but a few escaped anyway, and he was quick to scrub them away with the back of his hand. Leaf leapt up onto a fence post next to him and Charlie couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the cat’s insistence to be in his business at all times.
“No privacy from you, huh?” Charlie said, his voice a bit wet as he scratched the cat behind his ears.
After a few moments, Charlie shook off his brief emotional moment, straightened his shoulders, and walked the rest of the way to the grocery store, pushing his way inside without hesitation. Leaf knew better than to enter the store, so he leaped up, perching himself on a nearby retaining wall to observe and beg passersby for food scraps.
Once inside, Charlie waved to a few familiar faces milling about the store and then scrolled through the list Isaac had sent him. Fortunately, it was a fairly small list, so Charlie grabbed everything necessary fairly quickly, and then grabbed a few cans of Redbull for himself, knowing that he’d need a boost to get through the rest of the day. He made his way to the only staffed checkout line and loaded his groceries onto the ancient conveyor belt.
“It’s been too long, Charlie!” Jack greeted him, beginning to ring up Charlie’s groceries.
“I know,” Charlie replied with a wistful smile, “I’ve been all caught up with other stuff since Caroline passed,” he said, proud that he’d gotten the words out without choking up, “I didn’t realise just how much shit she dealt with… and then decided to leave me with!”
“Awful woman,” Jack teased, shaking his head, “How dare she die and leave us all in shambles like that.”
Charlie smiled, “I’m sure it was the final straw that sent her off to hell.”
The two laughed together for a moment, forgetting their grief as they joked in a way they knew their mutual loved one would have enjoyed.
“You should come to visit sometime,” Charlie said once he had calmed his laughter, “Just because she’s gone doesn’t mean you don’t still fit right in with the rest of us.”
”I know,” Jack replied, a bit of sadness trickling into his features, “It’s just hard to … see that place and know that she’ll never be there again.”
Charlie nodded, finding himself unable to comment further on the matter. He swallowed thickly and paid for his groceries, “Well, I hope to see you soon. Wherever we see each other next.”
Jack smiled, “It’ll be soon, for sure.”
The trip back to the inn dragged on longer than the trip into town, as Charlie was weighed down by his purchases and packages, but he chatted to Leaf just the same.
“Do you think she’ll like her gift?” Charlie asked, surprising himself with the nerves he felt over the whole thing, “You spend more time with her than I do.”
The cat, obviously, did not respond, but Charlie was pretty sure he could interpret an approving quirk of his tail.
“I’m just afraid that, like, maybe I’ve been reading the signals wrong. I’m really out of my depth with this whole thing. Maybe it was stupid of me to even try something like this. It probably is. Fuck, I should just throw it away.”
Before he could spiral too much more, Charlie and Leaf reached the inn, and Charlie knew better than to be seen talking to the damned cemetery cat, so he shut his mouth.
Charlie made his way inside the inn and deposited the groceries on the kitchen counter with a quick, but friendly greeting to Isaac.
“Are you hungry?” Isaac asked, “I was about to make lunch for Imogen and me before we get too caught up in the dinner rush.”
Charlie nodded, “I could grab something quick,” he said, “I’m just going to drop these packages off in my room, and then I got a message about a plumbing issue up in room 17, so I’ll take care of that first… and then I’ll grab whatever’s left over.”
Isaac gave him a knowing smile, “I’ll save a sandwich for you, whenever you’re ready.”
Charlie gave him a grateful, slightly bashful smile, “I appreciate it.”
Taking the stairs two at a time, Charlie ran up to his room to drop off the packages and then grabbed his toolkit to deal with the plumbing issue in room 17. He shrugged off his jumper, knowing that he’d inevitably get wet and dirty anyway, and washing crocheted garments was way more of a hassle than washing his white cotton t-shirt would be.
He made his way over to room 17 and knocked on the door, announcing himself as he did so, “It’s Charlie! I’m here to fix your sink.”
Charlie heard a bit of shuffling around behind the door and after a moment, the elderly but elegant face of Mrs. Bauer greeted him, a hint of German accent seeping into her tone.
“You came quick, dear,” she said, hobbling aside to let Charlie in.
“Of course! I came as fast as I could,” he replied, walking toward the bathroom, “So, what’s been going on?”
“I’m not quite sure, dear…” she said, chewing on her lip, “I may just be a silly old woman, but I swear on my newborn baby grandson, this sink keeps turning on by itself. I find it running all the bloody time. My memory may be going but… I swear it, Charlie. It’s turning on by itself.”
The statement chilled Charlie, but he remained professional, plastering a smile on his face, “I’ll bet it’s just a leak,” he replied, “I’ll take a look and see what I can do about it, don’t you worry. Go ahead and relax, I know your show’s on the telly in a few minutes.”
Mrs. Bauer gave him a grateful smile and retreated from the bathroom, and after a moment, Charlie heard the telly click on as the old woman navigated through the channels. Content that he had relative privacy, Charlie set up his flashlight and got to work under the sink, examining the pipes for any loose connections, or any reason why it could be turning on by itself.
One of the pipes did have an occasional drip, which dampened the front of Charlie’s shirt, but couldn’t really account for the phenomenon that Mrs. Bauer had claimed to experience. Charlie sighed. He tightened the connection that had allowed the slight dripping to occur, but had no other solutions to offer the old woman. Defeated, he stood up and made to leave the bathroom to have another chat with her, but when he took one final look at the sink, right before his eyes, the tap moved, and a steady stream of water poured from it, just like Mrs. Bauer had claimed.
“What the fuck,” Charlie whispered, eyes wide as he watched the water trickle down into the drain.
With trembling hands, he reached for the tap and turned the water off, even more unsure of how to proceed than he had been.
“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
He spoke to Mrs. Bauer, explaining it away as a case of leaky pipes and the aging infrastructure of the building, “I’m sorry about that,” he said, forcing himself to smile, “I may have to call in a real plumber.”
”It’s alright, dear,” she said, patting his shoulder, “Thank you for taking a look at it.”
Charlie gave her a shy nod and headed out, embarrassed that he hadn’t been able to fix her problem, but concerned in equal measure by what he had seen. He stopped by the kitchen and snagged the sandwich and crisps that Isaac had left out for him. After a moment of consideration, he went over to the fridge and pulled out one of his cans of Redbull as well, figuring he’d need a boost of energy to get through the rest of the day.
Before Charlie could make his exit, Imogen pushed open the kitchen door, a pile of dirty plates stacked precariously in her arms.
“Fuck, let me help you,” Charlie said, rushing to set down his lunch so that he could grab a few plates off the stack before the whole thing toppled over.
“I would’ve been fine,” she grouched playfully, “I know what I’m doing.”
”Well I’m tired and don’t feel like driving you to A&E after you slip and fall and all these plates knock your teeth out, so be careful.”
Imogen let out a laugh, “You know you’d carry me and run, you little prick. It’d get us to A&E faster than that old truck, that’s for sure.”
The two bantered back and forth as they worked their way through the pile of dirty dishes, and Charlie felt his earlier discomfort melting away. By the time they’d finished, he was starving, though, so he finally picked up his lunch and nodded to Imogen.
“Not eating in here?” She asked, tilting her head to the side slightly, “I’ll leave if you want to be alone.”
”Nah,” he replied, shaking his head, “I’m going to sit in the cemetery for a bit. I’ve just been missing her a bit extra today, for some reason.”
Imogen gave him a sympathetic smile, “I’m here if you need to talk.”
Charlie, with a plate in one hand and a can of Strawberry Apricot Redbull in the other, pushed the outside door open with his hip, “I know. I’m alright, thanks though.”
Taking a shortcut through the brush, Charlie made his way to the cemetery. He wandered through seemingly endless rows of moss-covered headstones and crumbling statues until he found the plot he was looking for.
He plopped down next to Caroline’s grave, setting his plate down on the flat ground beside him. He cracked open the Redbull and took a long drink before he felt like he could speak.
“There’s some weird shit going on, Car.”
He took another drink, “The sink in room 17 keeps turning on by itself. The woman staying there is pretty old, I might have just written it off as her being forgetful but, I saw it myself. The tap moved, and water started pouring out. And that’s not the only thing. The books keep moving around the library, our library. I suppose it could be a guest sneaking in and fucking it up on purpose but, you know the shelf under the counter where I used to leave books for you?”
He waited for a response, then shook his head, knowing one wouldn’t come.
“The books keep changing out, but I haven’t been doing it. I’ve left that shelf empty for months , and like fucking clockwork, every few days, a new one appears. It’s bloody weird, Caroline.”
He took a bite of his sandwich, turkey, bacon, and avocado piled high on sourdough bread - his favourite.
“It’s had me… I know it’s fucking stupid, but it’s just had me wondering. If maybe there’s a ghost. I know you’re probably laughing at me, wherever you are.”
He let out a laugh, then, remembering his conversation with Jack, “Your grandson and me are pretty sure you’re in hell. It’s what you’d deserve for leaving us when you did.”
He was joking, of course, but for some reason his own words brought back a memory that he hated to recall. Without permission, his brain brought back the image, brought back the shock and horror and gut-wrenching agony that had dropped to him on his knees when he’d found —
He shook his head, swallowing hard. He remained silent for a few moments, and then took a deep breath.
“Anyway,” he said, his voice still wavering a bit, “ I’ve been trying to convince Jack to come visit for dinner or one of the game nights. I think he and Hannah might’ve finally started dating, but I haven’t talked to him enough recently to figure it out for sure.”
He picked up a few crisps, and the crunching sounds summoned Leaf, who sat down very politely and stared at Charlie until he relented.
“One,” Charlie said sternly to the cat, “You may have one. ”
With a roll of his eyes, Charlie passed over a single crisp to the scrawny cat, and then ignored any further pleading glances.
“I’m sure you’ll be shocked to hear that I have had no recent romantic developments. I’ll have to leave this bloody island sometime soon if I want a husband before I’m 30. Like, yeah there’s the occasional attractive guest, and, don’t get me wrong, I… you know,” he said, blushing, “Enjoy my time with them. But the romance department? There’s just fucking nothing. It’s dismal out here unless I want to finally relent and take Albert up on his offer… but he’s creepy and his breath smells like onions literally all the time, and he’s old enough to be my grandfather so, I’d rather not.”
Charlie fully intended to continue rambling, but his eyes caught on an unfamiliar man making his way up the dirt road to the inn.
“I think I’ve got a new guest,” Charlie said to Caroline, or maybe the cat, “I’ve got to go.”
He picked up his plate, crushed his empty can and made his way over to the road, startling a gasped “ Fuck” out of the taller man.
“Sorry, hi,” Charlie said, smiling politely.
”Um… hi,” the man replied, his eyes red-rimmed, “Are you… do you know if… does that inn have any vacancy? I really need somewhere to stay.”