#20 Righting the Wrongs

Charlotte wished more than anything that she possessed the ability to go back in time and change the past, to right the wrongs of her ancestors, and to put everything right. But she couldn't. It wasn't possible. Her family was the hand she had been dealt, born into the strange Greyson clan as a helpless child, for them to love and protect. She adored her family and had always felt their love. But Araminta was the strangest one of the lot. Charlotte never understood why she was there one minute and gone the next, like a superhero off on another mission. A spy, bat girl, super granny, no. The only person Araminta wanted to protect was Araminta herself.

Charlotte knew that now.

She lay in her warm bed as her mind whirled with repeating images from earlier that day. The envelope her grandmother left outside her bedroom door lay unopened on the top of the bedside table. A multitude of questions flew around her mind. At almost two in the morning, as the nocturnal animals embraced the night, Charlotte struggled to sleep. She couldn't help but feel betrayed by the family she loved.

The old springs of Charlotte's mattress groaned as she shifted over in bed. She tapped the base of the lamp and the light came on. It gave a gentle relief from the darkness, and her mind a break from the thoughts. The tips of her fingers touched the envelope that Araminta left behind. Part of her wanted to see what was inside, but the rest of her screamed for her to stop. Araminta was bad news. Whatever the envelope contained was bound to cause more drama and upset, and Charlotte didn't think her family could cope with any more of that.

But what if...

What if whatever was hidden away inside a small brown envelope were the answers to the questions that had burdened her mind? What if everything she needed to know was inside...

What if...

Fine

She slid the envelope closer to her, and as she picked it up, she carefully slid her finger under the flap and she tore it open.

There, lurking at the bottom was something Charlotte didn't expect to see. She reached inside and quickly retrieved a small bronze key. It wasn't big enough to open a door, but maybe something smaller like a chest of drawers or a filing cabinet.

She knew what it was. What else could it possibly be for? The curiosity inside her grew rapidly. She felt she'd drank far too much caffeine that day to be able to sleep. Charlotte flew the covers off and carefully climbed out of her sizable double bed. The old floorboards moaned and groaned as she crept across towards her dressing gown that hung on the stand in the corner of the room.

Charlotte wrapped the soft fleecy gown around her body and slipped her feet into her comfortable slippers before dropping the small key into the left pocket and then heading outside. The warm light of a torch glowed from further down the landing, casting a pale glimmer in the darkness and illuminating the old portraits that hung on the walls. Charlotte stopped for a moment and looked down the landing in its direction. She waited. She listened as a voice called her name.

"Charlotte..."

Charlotte watched as Clem slipped out of her room. Her pace quickened from a normal walk to more of a slow jog as she headed in Charlotte's direction.

"Wait... whatever you're doing, I'm coming too." Clem pulled the hood of her dark navy dressing gown up over her head and tightened the cord around her waist. "We may not have been related by blood, but she was a good person and a great friend to both of us. She deserves to be allowed to rest in peace."

Charlotte sighed, "Fine, you can come. But for fucks sake keep your voice down. If my dad finds out what we're doing that will be it. Understand?"

Clem nodded.

***

They stood outside a door Charlotte knew she shouldn't be. The only sound audible in the silence was the repeated beating of Charlotte's heart. Her hands trembled like fallen leaves and she carefully placed the key into the lock of her father's private study. If any information about Bethany's real parents still existed, that's where it would be.

The lock clicked loudly, its sound echoed through the hallway. Charlotte placed her hand on the cold brass door knob and carefully opened the door. Clem followed her inside and closed the door almost silently behind them.

"Right," said Clem, "where do you think it's going to be?"

Charlotte paused for a moment and took a glance around the small room. Her father's large sturdy writing desk sat in the corner of the room, his chair backed against the window. It had been in the family for generations, passed down from Greyson to Greyson, and usually to the second son. Charlotte always assumed it was because the eldest in the family inherited the title that the next in line got the desk as some sort of consolation prize. It was a heavy mahogany piece that consisted of nine drawers. The larger two at the base were locked with a small key and Charlotte felt certain that any important documents would be inside one of them.

She inhaled deeply and reached into the pocket of her creamy fleece dressing gown as she pulled out the tiny bronze key Araminta left outside her room earlier that night. Carefully she placed it inside the lock of the drawer on the right and turned it. It clicked loudly, and as she pulled the drawer towards her, a bright red box file with the word important written in large bold letters came into view.

"This must be it." She said

Charlotte reached forward and picked. Its lid was broken and half hanging off, and as she pulled it out of the drawer, a sea of papers slipped out from the broken spine.

Shit

Clem bent down and carefully began to gather up the papers that fell onto the floor. As she picked one up she placed it on the desk for Charlotte to look at. The paper touched her fingertips, as she scanned the soft cream page.

The heading stood out in thick bold, and underneath a grand and delicate crest sat the words, Certified Copy of an Entry, underneath, the word birth in bright red ink. A cold shiver ran down Charlotte's spine, like a blow of a frosty breath. Her hands trembled causing the documents to rattle through the silence. Each heading gave Charlotte the details which she craved.

The name was strange, and it wasn't something Charlotte expected to discover. The girl she'd known all her life as Bethany Elizabeth Greyson, was given a completely different name at birth, Chant-Elle Bethnee Richardson.

Richardson... The name echoed around inside her mind. Where did she know that surname from? Wait! Richardson. Could Bethany have possibly been related to the elderly couple who lived next to the family at their previous address?

Albert and Nora Richardson were the most perfect next-door neighbours. Quiet, and caring, who liked to keep themselves to themselves, but would often chat to Charlotte's parents over the garden fence now and again and pop in for tea. Constantly popping in for a cup of tea and a biscuit. The birthday presents, and the Christmas presents they'd send to the Greyson girls, now things started to make sense. While the couple gifted Bella and Charlotte a five-pound gift voucher, Bethany was given an actual present.

Charlotte cast her mind back and recalled the Lego set they'd brought for Bethany. The presents didn't stop there. A new coat, when hers was stolen at school, a trip to Alton Towers when she missed out on a school trip due to a nasty stomach bug that flew around. Charlotte was certain they would have given Bethany one of their new puppies when their dog fell pregnant if it wasn't for the fact Afghan Hounds were a little too big for a family with three young girls under the age of ten at the time.

It had to be them. Who else could it be? But hold on. Both Mr and Mrs Richardson were older than their parents. Charlotte quickly worked out that her mum was in her late thirties, even forty by the time she was born and would have been mid-thirties when she had Bella. She remembered her parents nipping next door to Mrs Richardson's retirement party, and the retirement age for women was sixty-six. So if she took away Mrs Richardson's year of birth from Bethany's, that would give her the age the woman would have been when she gave birth. Fifty-seven. Wow! Charlotte knew enough about women's issues to know that the chances of a woman that age becoming pregnant were very slim to practically nonexistent.

Okay, it was impractical. However, Charlotte was determined now more than ever to discover the truth about Bethany. It was obvious to her that they were related to her late sister, but what she struggled to make sense of was how. As far as she knew the couple didn't have children of their own... or did they?

"Clem, I know that name." She said, "Our old neighbours were Richardson's. They've got to be related."

Clem took a deep breath, "you mean that odd couple who kept buying Bethie stuff? I mean I can see why you'd think that."

Charlotte placed the certificate down on the top of the desk. "There." She jabbed her finger down as she pointed to the surname Richardson.

"Okay, I see... now what?"

Charlotte needed to think for a moment. She'd planned to find evidence that Bethany was adopted so she could let them know the truth. She assumed she'd find their address or phone number or something.

"I need to think."

Charlotte placed the paperwork back where she found it and slowly closed the door. Silently both girls exited the room, and Charlotte carefully closed and locked the door behind them. Charlotte's mind remained full of unanswerable questions and she headed back up the stairs to her room.

She felt as if she'd drunk a million shots of really strong coffee as she lay in her bed that night. Hundreds of questions flew around her mind. But finally, she'd managed to answer a few of the most important ones, as now she knew who Bethany's family was, and she stood a chance of righting the wrongs.

An eerie sound of faint giggles whispered from the floor above. Charlotte was certain the sound came from one of the towers where the ghosts hung out. She heard a couple of the younger ones giggling and laughing at something rather silly and random. As she listened, a faint smile appeared on her face. The sound brought back memories she thought she'd long forgotten, and a tear hinted in the corner of her eye. A single blink and it would run down her cheeks.

She found herself reminiscing of times in the past when the family was a happy family of five instead of a mournful one of four. She couldn't help wondering if her friends at school knew about Bethany, and questioned if they cared. It had been a long time since she'd heard from Emily or any of her friends back home in Cambridgeshire, and often found herself thinking of them. She tried not to. The more she tried the more she struggled and it ached to realise that she'd become what she never wanted to be, Charlotte who?

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