Filth on the Rich

“I am a writer, I am a writer… I am nobody.” Charlie looked at herself in the mirror, her long brown locks just about covering her nipples, the rest of her body uncovered. She swung her arms back and forth, softly stroking her hips in the movement. With a slight jump in her step she moved away from the mirror and turned around, staring out of the grand window that looked out over bright green meadows and a few horses. It was the day after her third book launch that had taken place at the local book shop. Half the town had come to hear her read aloud one of the chapters of her latest collection of poetry.

She was no longer nervous for those readings yet it felt different than usual. A woman had walked up to her after the reading and asked her what she knew about her family tree, Charlie had smiled and answered “I don’t know much but that my grandparents left me a house after their passing of old age. My parents are sailors and haven’t been in town for over a year, do you know more?” It was the way she spoke, every sentence a hint of sarcasm and unseriousness. She had lived her life on a whim and somehow that had led her back to the town she grew up in, three books assigned to her name and a house of her own, one she didn’t even have to pay for. The woman didn’t blink and replied “I might.”

The next morning when Charlie got up she decided to dig up some old family photo albums, a little love note had fallen out, written by her grandfather for her grandmother. It read “oh how I wish we had done it differently, oh how I would do it all a million times over”. To Charlie, her grandfather had always spoken in riddles, a mythical, poetic kind of way. One she didn’t understand until she started reading some of the books he used to read in his library in the basement of the house she now lived in. He had repeated multiple times how they had such a rich family history, even though to Charlie their family seemed the most boring of all. All sailors, making a living at sea and returning to their towns from time to time to say hello to their children that had been left behind with the child carer. Her mother would usually make grandpa shut up by giving him a sip of whiskey or handing him some pieces of caramelised pear. Her memories of when the family was still alive and together got brutally interrupted when the phone started ringing. Charlie slowly got up from the warm carpet in the living room, hoping the ringing would stop before she could reach the phone, which it didn’t. “This is Charlie?” “Hi, this is Amanda, we met yesterday and I think we should meet up for a coffee.” “Hi Amanda, could you give me a reason why we should meet up for a coffee?” “Would you like to be rich?” “Well… Would you?”

After Charlie had hung up she quickly ran upstairs, while making a run for her wardrobe to pick an outfit for her coffee with Amanda, she caught herself in the mirror on the wall. She stopped and looked at herself, left eyebrow raised a little. “Oh how I miss that smirk…” Her mother would say when Charlie would make such a face, Charlie never understood why her mom would miss that smirk when it was right in front of her. She looked at herself in the mirror and mumbled “I am a writer, I am a writer… I am nobody.”

In typical Charlie-fashion she arrived fifteen minutes late at the café she was meeting Amanda, who had just ordered her second cup of coffee. Charlie ordered a latte before she sat down opposite Amanda at a small round table in the corner at the back of the café. “So…” She mumbled. Amanda grinned then laid down a little black book in the middle of the table. It was a little black notebook with ‘Nilsson’ scribbled on the cover, written in gold marker. When the waitress came to deliver their two cups of coffee, Amanda nearly pushed her away from their table. Charlie raised her eyebrows and commented “That was unnecessary.” Amanda ignored her and started talking. “I am a journalist, I dig up the past of rich white men that have passed away and pitch my stories, most of the time filled with filthy secrets, to any newspaper or magazine that is interested. I have been doing that for a few years now and I have been able to travel the world while digging up the filth on the rich that rule our world.” Charlie couldn’t help herself but laugh out loud, which received a disapproving look of Amanda. “You are part of my latest story.”

Only two weeks later the two women met each other again at Manchester airport where they would take the plane to Toulouse. As soon as Charlie locked her seatbelt she felt the claustrophobia creep up on her, Amanda, empathic as always, shrugged her shoulders and said “It’s only a four hour flight!” Partly to distract Charlie from her fear of flying Amanda finally told her her latest story. “About a month ago one of the wealthiest Swedish businessmen, Axel Nilsson, passed away from testicular cancer. One of the editors I regularly work with asked me to dig up his past and find out why he left his company to some random British chick… You.” Charlie looked up from her lap in which her sweaty hands had started to make a little puddle of sweat. “What?” “I must say that this was one of the easiest diggings I have ever done, turns out you are his one and only daughter and he never got over his love for your mother.” “I told you there wasn’t much keeping me in Hitchin but to lure me on a flight to Toulouse to tell me some idiotic story about me, what, being Swedish and rich?! You must be delirious!” Amanda grabbed the little black notebook from her handbag under her seat and placed it open in Charlie’s lap, on its pages the official birth certificate of Charlotta Nilsson, including a photo and a letter.

On the photo Charlie was pictured with her mother, the letter read “Axel, my love, this is your daughter, Charlotta - we call her Charlie, you are welcome to come and visit when you can but I married Paul and Charlie now has a little sister, Eve! Warm hugs from your Alexandra” It seemed most cold-hearted but was without a doubt the handwriting and tone of voice of Charlie’s mother. “Why are we going to Toulouse?” “That is where your father passed away, in his summer house, alone and relieved that death finally came to take him away. We have an appointment with his lawyer who has the papers ready to be signed by the official heir of Axel’s business and a pot of money he had saved up for you to pay for college.”

As soon as the plane landed Charlie unbuckled her seatbelt and jumped up, right away being pushed back into her chair again by Amanda “Children and old people first, then pathetic twenty-somethings who have a stupid fear of flying…” When the two were finally able to leave the plane, the hot and sticky French air hit them in the face like a brick. “When we get to the hotel we’ll get a nap first but we have to meet your father’s lawyer at five o’clock.” Fifteen minutes late, the women arrived at the restaurant they were meeting François Fournier. Against their expectations he did not stay for dinner but simply gave them the address of Axel’s summer house and left after a brief introduction and a “Thank you for travelling all the way from picturesque England. See you tomorrow at two o’clock at this address?” A bit perplexed the two women were left sitting at a table in the middle of a restaurant too fancy for both of their likings. They left a €20 note on the table and made a quick silent exit, nearly stumbling over their own two feet.

“We’ve got the whole night to discover the city but have you seen the TV in our hotel room?!” Charlie gave Amanda a big grin and arm in arm the women made their way back to their hotel to stay in and order two large pizzas and a bottle of red wine. With the French local news on the television in the background, the two women finally talked and started to get to know each other. “Did you never expect that anything was a bit off when you were growing up? I can only imagine what it would be like for your mother…” “Are you saying that you feel sorry for her?” “I didn’t say that, I just can’t imagine what it would be like to carry such a secret around! Every time she looks at you…” “Maybe that’s why they are away so often.” “Do you think?” “No, I think they are just very selfish and don’t want to care for their children. But yes, I did notice things when I was growing up but I did not ever think of an alternative reality this big?!” “That’s a fair point… What are you going to do with the money?” “You know, I would rather just get the house, what does anyone ever do with a buttload of money?” “Travel, buy a house, get a car, open a shop…” “Yeah, yeah, plenty of things. It’s just a little overwhelming. I think I will donate half of it to cancer research…” “Ah, because of his balls?” “Yeah, my father’s balls…”

The day after the two women arrived at Axel’s summer house, surprisingly, on time. A classically built villa with a heavy door, antique wooden floors and large glass windows. François gave them a brief tour of the house after which they sat down to sign the papers. “I would have expected there to be more?” Amanda said with raised eyebrows. “All I am here for is to finalise the legality of this insane situation and hand over the keys, I have got one contract for the business but it just makes you a silent partner, there’s one for the college fund and one for the house.” “I get the house?!” Charlie couldn’t help but scream, which she instantly regretted as François let out a judgemental sigh. After the papers were signed François made the promise to email over copies of the contracts and left. Amanda was already nearly dressed in the appropriate swimwear to test the oval pool on the balcony when Charlie stopped her. “I would love to hang out here for the rest of our two weeks but I need to call my mom first…” “Yeah… I’ll order us some lunch and call the hotel for them to bring us our stuff?” “Thanks.”

Charlie started wandering, touched the wallpaper, let her fingers slid over the marble countertops in the kitchen and opened all the cupboards. There were some cups, glasses, two plates and two bowls, there was no food but the house was furnished. In a weird roundabout way she had never felt closer to her family, she liked the city, the people and their cold and distant ways of communicating, it comforted her. She didn’t have to pretend any longer, to be part of her family, to be her father’s daughter or to be rich. She did no longer have to pretend to be rich. Just two last things, first she made a donation of £10.000 to Cancer Research, then she called her mother. “Charlie, sweetheart, how are you doing?!” “Mom, who is Axel Nilsson?” “Oh darling…”