Blind-Date Marriage

by Fiona Harper

  She looked like an Olga. The chunky ribbed jumper of her uniform didn’t do her broad physique any favours. Those shoulders wouldn’t look out of place on an Olympic shot-putter.

  She caught him looking at her and gave him a hard look. ‘DC Carlisle will be with you shortly, sir.’

  He nodded, and watched as she pulled the pencil out from behind her ear and continued scribbling in an important-looking log. His eyes swept round the small lobby, trying to find anything new of interest. The walls had been painted a soothing blue, to complement the navy of the steel bench. Even so, the foyer of Chelsea police station was the most depressing place he’d ever been.

  The righteous anger of the night before had deserted him. All that was left was a creeping sense of guilt. God knew his father deserved this. He shouldn’t care.

  Mel had burst into tears when he’d told her his plans. She’d even confessed to seeing their father in secret. A cold feeling grew in his stomach every time he thought about how she’d learnt the hard way about Dear Old Dad. He should have done more to protect her, and he would have done if he’d have been less preoccupied. Hopefully DC Carlisle and his team would be able to recover Grandma’s engagement ring when they caught up with the mongrel.

  He stretched his legs and looked at the door to his right, willing someone to come and collect him. Today was a day for putting the past behind him, for ruling a line under things and getting on with his life. No more if onlys. He would forget her and move on to pastures new.

  He sighed, pulled a pound coin out of his pocket and dumped it in the charity box on the shelf next to him. Fining himself for wayward thoughts had seemed such an inspired idea half an hour ago. Now his pocket was considerably lighter than it should have been. If he didn’t kick this habit soon he was going to have to move on to notes.

  However, he couldn’t evict the thought of how Serena had looked last night as she’d turned to leave—quiet resignation and hopelessness. He should take the same attitude, but all he could do as he sat and waited for the detective was burn with indignation. She’d given up on him, taken all he had to offer and thrown it back at him. Being a bad risk smarted more than he cared to admit.

  He was saved from further poverty by a squat man who appeared through the door.

  ‘Mr Jacobs?’

  He stood up and offered his hand. ‘Detective Constable Carlisle.’

  ‘I believe you have some information we might find useful?’

  He picked up his briefcase and stood ramrod-straight. ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’

  ‘Well, if you’d like to come this way, sir?’

  Jake hid a smile as DC Carlisle punched the code into the door lock. That tie was hideous. Serena would have had a fit!

  Blast!

  He peeled a fiver out of his wallet and stuffed it in the slot of the plastic box. Olga gave him a funny look, but he was saved from an explanation when DC Carlisle ushered him through the door to an interview room.

  The door to the studio creaked as she opened it with an elbow. The tray she carried tipped at an awkward angle and tea sloshed out of the cup and into the saucer.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Over here.’

  Through the long horizontal window she could see him standing at the mixing desk, messing around with sliders and buttons.

  ‘I brought you some breakfast. You haven’t been up all night, have you?’

  He nodded towards the battered old sofa in the main part of the studio. A blanket was falling off one side and the dents in the cushions suggested a makeshift bed.

  Hope welled in her heart as she saw him standing there, only just inhabiting the same world as her, his brain whirring with chords and lyrics.

  ‘What have you been working on?’

  He shrugged. ‘Just an idea.’

  ‘Play me a bit?’

  Music flooded the room. It was soulful and atmospheric, every bit as good as his compositions of twenty years ago—better, even. There was an added depth to it.

  ‘You know, you ought to come and help out at the music project. You’ve got so much experience. It seems a shame not to share it.’

  Her dad made an as if face. Did he know how much like a teenager he looked when he did that?

  ‘They won’t want an old has-been like me around.’

  ‘Nonsense. And I’m not just talking about music. I’m talking about life experience.’

  Dad laughed so hard she thought he was going to fall off the stool he was perched on. ‘I’m hardly a poster boy for good clean living.’

  ‘But that’s the point! You’ve made the mistakes, you know first hand what drugs and alcohol can do—and you’ve kicked it.’

  ‘One day at a time, petal. Don’t get ahead of yourself.’

  She handed him his cup of tea. ‘Just think about it, Dad. Please?’

  ‘Okay. For you.’

  ‘The big performance to mark the end of the project is at the end of term. It’d only be for a few weeks, Dad.’

  He took a sip of his tea and smiled at her.

  A sudden realisation of how lucky she was hit her like an express train. Life might have been chaotic with Dad, but she had always been loved. Just thinking about the contrast between her own father and Jake’s made her shiver. No wonder he was so wary of commitment.

  ‘I love you, Dad.’

  An uncharacteristic sheen appeared in her father’s eyes. ‘I know. How could I not? You’ve looked out for me all this time, when I should have been looking out for you.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It should.’

  She slid her arms around his neck and squeezed him hard.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ he whispered in her ear.

  Just for that she rewarded him with a big kiss on the cheek. Grinning, she balanced herself against the edge of the mixing desk.

  ‘But remember, it’s only three weeks until the big performance. After that, we’ve got to decide what to do with the rest of our lives. We’ve wasted too much time.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She watched him dig a fork into the plate of scrambled eggs. ‘Time to decide what I want to be when I grow up.’

  ‘It’s in here somewhere.’

  Jake waited while Serena threw a purse, three pens and a pot of lip balm out of her handbag. Finally, when there was more junk on the kitchen table than in the bag, she produced a rumpled bus ticket. The innards of a woman’s handbag were no longer a mystery, but still a source of fascination.

  The way her fingers worked on the ticket, smoothing the wrinkles out, mesmerised him. Not so long ago those fingers had been…No.

  ‘I really appreciate this, Serena. I know it’s a little awkward…’

  She looked up and smiled at him, but it was all lips and teeth. ‘No problem. Really.’

  He shouldn’t feel the need to defend himself.

  ‘It’s going to save the police a lot of time and resources if I can set up a meeting with my father rather than them having to look for him. I’m going to phone and say I want to see him.’

  She handed the ticket to him. He made very sure their fingers didn’t brush.

  ‘Do you think he’ll turn up? You hardly parted on good terms last time. Won’t he think it’s a little fishy?’

  Yup. That was the gaping hole in the plan, but what other option did he have?

  ‘It’ll be fine. We’re very lucky you kept his mobile number. DC Carlisle will be chuffed. I think he’s looking to get brownie points with his sergeant.’

  ‘He’s the policeman looking into the case?’

  ‘Mmm-hmm.’

  ‘You said they were already looking for your dad. What do they want him for?’

  ‘Deception. Apparently Sussex police have had a warrant out for his arrest since before he went to Spain two years ago. Some scam involving lonely widows and internet dating sites, I believe.’

  ‘I won’t have to go to court, will I?’

  ‘You don’t have to press charges unless you want to. They have more than enoug
h to detain him at Her Majesty’s pleasure for the rest of the decade even without the blackmailing charges.’

  ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do. It wouldn’t be very good publicity for Dad.’

  Wasn’t it about time she cut the apron strings?

  ‘You need to do what you want.’

  She started stuffing things back into the bottomless pit of her handbag—a good excuse to avoid eye contact, probably. Perhaps her dad was just a good excuse too. If she pressed charges they would keep running into each other, and every look, every bit of her body language, screamed that would never do.

  He stood up too fast and bumped his knee on the table. They both ignored it.

  She walked a wide path around him and led him back to the front door. He waved the bus ticket with the biro scrawl on the back. ‘Thanks for this.’ She didn’t answer.

  He knew he should have said a proper goodbye, but he needed to get away from her before he did anything stupid. If he could just reach the path before he turned around and waved, he’d be far enough away not to want to run back up the steps and pull her into his arms.

  ‘Jake?’

  Two steps to go. Don’t stop. He skipped down the last steps and waited till his feet were firmly planted on the path before he turned. He’d miscalculated. The urge was as strong as ever.

  ‘Would it help if…if I called your father?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘He might believe I’ve weakened more easily than you.’ She had a point.

  ‘I don’t want you to get involved.’

  ‘I already am involved.’ Her fingers jumped to the yellow bruise on her cheek.

  ‘No.’

  She walked down the stairs towards him. ‘It would help me too, you know. If he doesn’t take the bait we’ll always be wondering when he’ll pop up again. At least this way we’ve got a better chance of having some closure.’

  Closure. Heaven knew he needed some of that. On more than one front.

  He pulled his mobile out of his pocket. ‘Let me see what DC Carlisle says.’ With any luck the detective would pull the plug on her idea and he and Serena would both be spared any further agony.

  Fifteen minutes later the man in question stepped out of a car and walked up to where Jake was leaning against the balustrade. He always looked crumpled, as if he’d just pulled his clothes from a tightly packed suitcase. Jake led him inside to talk to Serena.

  ‘Hello, DC…’ her eyes skittered down to his Hawaiian tie and she fought to control her lips ‘…Carlisle. Nice to meet you.’

  If she didn’t stop pacing soon she was going to wear a track in the carpet. Serena pressed her nose against the glass and tried to see if there was any hint of a grey overcoat on the horizon.

  Two hours. He couldn’t be much longer, could he?

  She resumed her circuit of the dining room. They’d chosen to sit in here because it overlooked the front steps.

  Jake was sprawled across one of the antique chairs. She wasn’t sure if she dreaded or looked forward to going past him as she circled the table. Her pulse drummed that little bit faster, whatever the cause.

  ‘Sit down. You’re doing my head in.’

  She kicked the back of his chair as she went past. ‘Well, excuse me. Never mind this is all to help you out! Pardon me for being a bit nervous.’

  ‘I didn’t say you shouldn’t be nervous.’

  She yanked out a chair and plopped herself down on it with a thud. ‘Better?’

  ‘Much.’

  The silence grew thick.

  Jake tapped out the beat to an unknown song on the polished wood of the table. She reached over and slapped his fingers flat. He glared. Her hand curled back and she reddened.

  Studying her empty cup seemed as good a diversion as any. ‘I need another coffee.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be so jumpy if you hadn’t pumped yourself full of caffeine.’

  He was right. Of course he was right. But she couldn’t just sit here waiting. Especially not alone—with him. It was driving her nuts. She gave him a high-handed look and stalked from the room. Making sure her feet clomped down the stairs to the kitchen didn’t give nearly enough release. She needed to throw something, break something.

  ‘Black with two sugars.’

  The mug almost flew out of her hand.

  ‘Don’t do that!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sneak up on me.’

  ‘I didn’t sneak anywhere. You were making enough noise for the both of us.’

  She banged another mug onto the counter.

  ‘Go and ask Dad if he wants one, will you? He’s through there.’ She waved a hand towards the studio door and turned back towards the kettle. The thud of the door made her flinch.

  Her own coffee was finished and Jake’s was going cold when she relented and went looking for him. First she shoved his cup in the microwave to warm it up. Who cared if it killed all the flavour?

  She found him in the studio with her dad. The pair of them were hunched over acoustic guitars, strumming away.

  She plonked Jake’s cup down on a shelf. His head jerked up.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I wouldn’t drink it if I were you. It probably tastes awful by now.’

  Her dad’s eyes darted between her and Jake. ‘It was my fault, love. I asked him to stay.’

  She sighed. ‘Well, I suppose it’s one way to pass the time. Don’t let me interrupt you.’ They bent their heads back over their guitars and carried on. They could have protested a little harder before they ignored her again.

  If you can’t beat them…

  She dropped into the couch and swung her legs up. Her eyes drifted closed. All the tension had suddenly gone from her limbs. Her voice came out softly, almost dreamily. ‘Jake, why don’t you play Dad that thing you played me?’

  Rustling from the other side of the room. Silence.

  ‘Go on, don’t be shy.’

  ‘I’m not sure I—’

  The doorbell. All three of them froze.

  She rocketed to her feet, eyes wide. ‘What do we do now?’ Her chest was thumping. She held out a hand. Her fingers were trembling all on their own, no matter how hard she told them to stop.

  ‘They’ll need someone to make a positive ID.’ Jake’s mobile rang. He picked it up and punched a button. ‘Yup…Okay…Will do.’

  With that, he sprinted out of the room. She could tell by the rhythm of his feet on the stairs that he’d taken them two at a time. She looked at her dad. He put his guitar down and they stared at each other, ears straining.

  Suddenly, she was running. She emerged into the hallway just in time to see Jake shutting the front door. He turned, a look of bemusement on his face.

  ‘Jake? Who was it? Was it him?’ Her voice was uncomfortably shrill inside her own skull.

  He nodded slowly. ‘They got him.’

  She ran to the door and wrenched it open. Jacobs was being helped into a police car by two uniformed officers and DC Carlisle. He gave her a thumbs-up sign. She raised a hand and lifted her own thumb in slow motion. The door swung closed.

  ‘So that’s it, then? It’s over.’

  He didn’t seem to be looking at her, at anything. ‘It’s over.’

  ‘I thought it was going to be much more dramatic than that.’

  ‘You’ve been watching too many cop shows.’

  She slumped against the door. Hilarity seemed the only way to cope. ‘I was expecting at least one “Shut it!”.’

  He didn’t seem to have heard. So much for lightening the situation.

  ‘Say thanks to your dad for me.’ He pulled his coat off the hooks near the door. ‘Bye.’

  She watched him go, a sense of helplessness paralysing her limbs. ‘Are you going to the performance next—?’

  He was down the path, even steps carrying him away from her.

  She went upstairs, collapsed on her bed, and wallowed in the sense of anticlimax.

  He’d drifted out of her lif
e. Just like that.

  What she’d felt for him had deserved a momentous farewell, a mourning of what might have been. Not a halfhearted ‘Bye’ and a backwards wave. How could he just switch it all off like that? It made her want to scream.

  She stopped outside Lewisham Theatre and cast an eye over the exterior. It had once been a lovely piece of art deco architecture—it still was under the pigeon droppings and pollution stains. She took a deep breath, smoothed her hair down and told herself she was being stupid. After all, she didn’t even know if he was going to show up.

  Max would be devastated if he didn’t. This was what they’d all been working towards, the big gala performance to mark the end of the Youth Music Project and, hopefully, the start of enough funding to do more in the future.

  She could see Cassie waving at her through the diagonal panes on the door. A hefty push and she joined the crowd milling in the foyer. Cassie gave her a peck on the cheek.

  ‘You’re looking good tonight, Cass. Finally shaken that stomach bug?’

  Cassie shrugged and looked at Steve. ‘Steve, tell Ren about the all the celebrities you’ve invited tonight.’

  ‘Anyone I know?’

  ‘Not apart from your dad and Daddy K.’

  ‘Kevin.’

  ‘Kevin, then. I don’t think you’ve met anyone else. They’re mainly homegrown celebs, doing it to raise their profile. I’ve got the mayor, two footballers and a model. Enough to get the front page of the local paper, I hope.’

  Cassie jumped up and down and waved her arms. ‘Oh, look, there’s Mel!’

  She needn’t bother with all the flapping. Her pink hair was like a beacon. Mel spotted them in seconds and waved back.

  Steve looked at his watch. ‘Only five minutes until curtain-up. Let’s go. I’ve put all the helpers and local bigwigs in a block.’ He doled out tickets indiscriminately.

  Cass grabbed Serena’s elbow and held her back as the group set off for the circle. She waited for the others to climb a few more stairs before she hissed in her ear.

  ‘He’s here, you know.’