We're Not Strangers Anymore

Chapter Five - Irene Broomer

Charlie Broomer unlocked the rusty door to the back entrance and went inside - Jamie Manley followed, both nervous and apprehensive.
'This place isn't as bad as you made out,' Jamie said, looking shocked and bewildered.
Charlie met him with a frown, and replied, 'I didn't say it was a bad place, I just warned you that it probably isn't half as nice as yours.'
The two shrugged it off and walked through to the kitchen, where Irene Broomer was peeling potatoes. She heard her son enter the room and turned around almost immediately, a look of anger plastered onto her face.
'Here, what's this I hear about you today, hitting your teacher? Huh?'
Charlie's face dropped in an instant; he had wiped it from his memory completely.
'Mum, I can explain.'
'Well don't bother, just go up to your room.'
'Mum, this is Jamie.. Is it okay if he stays for his tea? I said it would be alright with you.'
'Sorry, I don't remember this house suddenly becoming a restaurant!'
'I'm sorry, but is it okay?'
She turned around to face the window and sighed, adjusting her frock and wiping her face with a tea towel.
'Well I suppose it'll have to be, won't it? Look, I'm sorry son, I've just had a long day. I've been made redundant and it's hard enough to make ends meet as it is, without that school of yours phoning me up and moaning. Why did you hit your teacher, anyway? You know full well that I don't like things like that.'
'He was talking badly about Dad, and I warned him, I did. I'm sorry.'
Irene suddenly stopped and put down the kitchen knife. A look of raw grief and upset struck her face.
'He was talking.. about your father?'
Charlie sighed.
'Yes. I know I shouldn't have went for him, but-'
'No, you listen to me son. You did the right thing, and to be quite honest with you I'm damn annoyed at that bloody school of yours for not explaining the full story. Of course your friend can stay; hiya Jamie, how are you m'love?'
'Fine thank you, Mrs Broomer.'
She smiled and wrapped her arms around Charlie, kissing his forehead and ruffling his long, dark hair.
'I love you, son. Don't you ever forget that.'
'Thanks Mum, I love you too. Come on Jamie, let's go upstairs. Can you turn the radio up so I can hear it upstairs, Mum?'
'Of course I can dear.'
The boys left the room feeling relieved and joyous, but as soon as Irene Broomer heard the pitter patter of feet running up the stairs, she began to cry. She lit a cigarette, took a few drags of it and walked over to the other side of the kitchen. Next to the coffee jar she found a photo of Charlie's Dad, taken approximately six months before his death.
'Oh, Ronald,' she whispered, stroking his face as she picked it up, 'I miss you so, so much.'
She kissed it, held it to her chest, and then put it down.
You'd be proud of our Charlie, she thought to herself. You'd be dead proud.

Forty-five minutes had passed like a jet, and the two schoolboys were now playing with what appeared to be a rubber ball, throwing it back and forth to each other as they spoke.
'Mate I'm having a great time, but don't you think it's a little weird that the station managed to play The Beatles twice?'
Charlie thought for a second, and then agreed.
'Yeah, I suppose it is a bit odd. This has been great though, really great. We'll have to do this again sometime, go back to your place one night after school or somethin'?'
Jamie Manley froze on the spot.
'Erm, y-yeah, definitely.'
'What's the matter? Don't you want me to come to your house?'
'Nah, it's not that. You just, might.. I dunno, get bored? Not much to do over at mine, so we're better off here.'
Charlie stopped throwing the rubber ball now and instead sat forward, putting his feet on the floor.
'Jamie, look, what is it that you're keeping from me? You don't seem to like anything about your Dad, or even your house being brought up - what are you hiding?'
'Hiding? Charlie, I'm not hiding anything from you. I'm just saying, it'd be boring for you. My Dad.. well, my Dad hardly talks, and what he does say is dull anyway, and my Mum just cooks the tea and then goes to bed, so I doubt it'd be a barrel of laughs. Whereas your Mum, she's lovely.'
'The lady doth protest too much, methinks,' Charlie replied, a pleased-with-myself look on his face. 'That's fine, I was just wondering.'
The two boys giggled to themselves hysterically and continued to play catch, and just two minutes later Irene called up from the bottom of the stairs.
'Boys, your dinner's ready! Come down, please.'
'Sweet,' said Jamie, 'I've been looking forward to this.'
'Mate,' replied Charlie, 'wait 'til you try it, just wait. You're gonna die, man.'
They both laughed and left the room, running down the stairs as fast as they could.