Chapter 10: Questions…
“Alright,” Mr Harvey said, rubbing his hands together, and pushing aside the heavy-bound law books. “What have we got?”
Suzan placed the tray down. Cappuccino. Danishes. And some muffins with the tiny brown sugar crumbles.
Mr Harvey leant over and shook Father’s arm. “Breakfast, Mr Moppet.”
After they had eaten, Mr Harvey set back to work. He flipped through the pages of lawbooks he lifted from a case. “Marital law. Death Certification. Death at Sea.”
Father closed his eyes. “I don’t think this is right,” he said.
“But of course it is. Look,” Mr Harvey pointed to an underlined passage. “’If a man is missing, presumed dead, for a lengthy period of time, the wife can divorce him in his absence, and visa-versa.’ Visa-versa in this case meaning that the man can divorce a wife presumed dead, not that she can absence him in his divorce.”
“And if the man comes back to life?”
Mr Harvey scratched his head. “More tricky,” he said. “But I still think we have a strong case. In fact this briefcase has to be strong to hold these books without breaking.”
“I saw a shooting star last night,” Father said, apparently unrelated to anything they had been saying.
“Indeed?”
“And I wondered, was it placed there just for me? Is it trying to tell me something?”
“And was it?”
“Darned if I know, Mr Harvey. You had the right idea before, you know. We can’t keep at this, it will never work, we can hardly keep one job for more than a couple of days.”
“Which I always choose to blame management for, in their absence,” Mr Harvey interjected.
“I’m not going to force this divorce stuff on her. I’m just going to ask her to marry me.”
“When?”
“Right now.”
“Now?”
Father got up. “Yes. Now.”
*****
Jack touched the dirty glass of his flat window, and looked at the street far below. It was still early and the streetlights shone orange light up through the sleeping branches of the trees, forming stripped patterns of light and shadows on his clothes and face.
He had been here so many times. To this place where all seemed lost. But he never gave up hope, before, because he knew that Liza was always there with him. His first crime, his first jail sentence. The police had called her early in the morning, pulling her out of bed to the station. She’s bailed him out then, and the next time. When he received the sentence, she’d been there in the courtroom. She’d written him every week. When he broke out, she was there to protect him.
And all he did in return was make the same stupid mistakes.
Ron had been willing to pay him heavily for the information, and the certificate. Jack had been able to pass that money on to Don Canolli and save his own neck, but at what price?
He’d been so darn selfish, and never seen what there was in the world right in front of him. Jack hit himself in the head, and ran to the door. He had to see her, had to talk to her.
*****
Father strode quickly up the path, and onto the porch. He knocked on the door, waited. It seemed an eternity before she came, then the door opened and she was there all too soon. Father gulped. “Come drive with me,” he said. “Please.”
He held his hands to her, and she took them gently. He led her away from the house, into the car. “Where are we going? The twins...”
“They’ll be fine. We have to do this right now, it cannot wait.”
He started the engine, and drove fast, dodging light traffic. Mother had never seen Father like this, not for a long time. Excited, and nervous. Holding some secret, and acting on impulse. Father parked the car, and they got out.
She could taste the salt in the air. They were at the docks. Father took her hand and led her past the ships and rails to their bench. “Sit down,” he said.
“Alright.” She did. She sat, and waited.
Father clasped his hands behind his back, as if not sure where to begin. Mother sat up straighter. “What is this about?” she asked.
“Don’t speak,” Father said, grinning sheepishly. “You’ll put me off.”
“Ok.” She dared a smile. It lit her eyes.
Father stepped forward, and bent on one knee, grabbing Mother’s hand, taking her by surprise. “Christy Nicola Cole-Demetri,” Father said, his voice solemn and trembling. “Will you marry me?”
Whatever she had expected, it was not this. A gasp escaped her. She couldn’t find words to say.
“You don’t have to answer now,” Father said, speaking fast. “Or even right away. But the fact is, I need you in my life. And I can’t live without you.”
He opened his hand, revealing a topaz ring, as blue as the sky. It caught the sun reflected off the sea. “I don’t...” Mother said, but she never answered. Before she could, her mobile went off.
“Mum? Get here now. Dad’s here.” It was Vic.
She snapped the phone shut. “I have to go,” she whispered.
Father closed his fingers around the ring. He got up, brushed dust from his knee. He drove her home, and watched her walk into the house. He saw the window, where Ron was looking out, and then he drove away.
*****
Miss Mingostone ate cereals sprinkled with salt. As the cornflakes crunched in her mouth, she wished she could go back in time. Not far, just far enough not to do what she did. Not to shout, or not to take the blame. Not to steal the credit card, or read the files.
Then she realised. Even if she could go back, she would do the same again. Time makes many changes, but it doesn’t change what you feel.
She heard a quiet knock on her door, and started up from her seat. She slid back the bolt, and turned the handle. “Jack.”
The word lingered in the air over them.
“Sis,” Jack mumbled. “I’m, I guess I’m sorry.”
Liza raised half an eyebrow, then a slow smile crept across her features forming into a grin. She grabbed him, and hugged him. “I love you, Jack.”
“Sis.”
“Yes?”
“I am going to see Mr Moppet. Right away. I’m going to tell him the truth.”
She half laughed, not believing. “You are?”
“Yes. I want to start over, sis. I really do.”
*****
Vic sat on the sofa. His dad, Ron, was watching out the window with his back to him when Christy came in. “Ron,” Mother said.
“Nicky.”
Mother looked away from him, to Vic. “You should get to school.”
Vic frowned, deep inside himself. He nodded silently and got up. The twins squealed in the garden.
After he was gone, Ron stepped closer. “I meant what I said. Things can work that way. If you want them to. You can still be mine, you are still mine.”
Mother sighed. She shrugged. “I can’t make everyone happy,” she said. “Even if I wanted, I couldn’t. I can’t.”
“Then don’t.” Ron placed his hand over hers, encircled her waist, pulled her close. “Do you still dance?”
Nicky smiled, suddenly bashful. “Sometimes. I might have forgotten.”
“Impossible,” Ron said. They moved together, stepping in time to a silent beat, a silent rhythm that only they could hear. “You don’t have to make everyone happy,” Ron said again. “Only yourself, only now, this very minute. I can make you happy, right now, and every day.”
Christy looked down at her hands, entwined with his. “Can you?”
“We could get another galleon, return to the sea.”
Nicky smiled.
“Or, if you prefer,” Ron continued. “We’ll stay here. Your children are settled, you’re settled. And when you smile, every day I shall see the dimple in your chin, and the rosy tint of your checks.”
Christy rested her head on his shoulder. She wished she could, she...
“I only care for your happiness,” Ron said.
“Do you? Is that what you really care for?”
"And I care for you, Nicky, I care for you..."
To be continued...
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