Love Interrupted

by Jade Winters

  ‘I will.’

  Dylan sighed in frustration. Harper wasn’t letting her in. ‘So I guess I’ll see you around?’

  ‘I suppose you will.’

  ‘Harper?’ she said gently.

  ‘What?’

  Dylan’s heart pounded. The seconds ticked away and she felt helpless. Was this really going to be the end before it even got started? Seconds later, Dylan’s tongue was still tied. The moment was lost. She had played things the wrong way, and it had backfired on her.

  Finally, Dylan said, ‘It was fun.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Harper said abruptly.

  The connection went dead. Fucking great. Now what? Do I just let her go? Or try and make her understand that I’m not the bitch she thinks I am. Dylan threw the pen on the desk and reached for the phone again, but stopped midway. She didn’t have much hope that Harper would listen to her explanation of how things had turned out. She was as stubborn as Dylan in that respect. As for giving up on her. Never! Dylan never stopped until she got what she wanted, and what she wanted more than anything was Harper. It was just a matter of figuring out how to get past her defences and straight to her heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Who said miracles didn’t happen? Abi had ridden the bus to Harper’s office checking and re-checking the statement from her bank. For once in a very long time her account was in the black. Robyn had finally coughed up money for maintenance—£1400 had been transferred to her account earlier that day. Not that it didn’t mean Abi wasn’t still angry at Robyn, because she was. Just not as much as before. Finding the money in her account had definitely been part of the catalyst.

  Abi entered Harper’s outer office, pushing the door open with a zest of energy that had been missing for a long time. Maybe it had something to do the McDonald’s breakfast she’d treated herself to an hour earlier. If Robyn continued to play ball there would be plenty more treats ahead, though mostly for Jake.

  ‘Hey, Abi, you’re looking well,’ Shay said, glancing up at her from her desk.

  ‘I feel it. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so good.’

  Shay smiled kindly. ‘Good. I’m pleased for you. Go in. Harper’s expecting you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Abi said walking past Shay’s desk and into Harper’s office.

  Harper was talking on the phone, but acknowledged her with a smile and a small wave of her hand. She gestured for Abi to take a seat.

  Abi slid on to the seat opposite her and once again looked down at the piece of paper in her hand. Maybe I should frame it. The giddiness inside was making it near enough impossible for her to keep still in her seat. She wanted to jump in the air and scream with joy. She had money, which meant control over her life. Finally.

  Abi looked up when she heard the phone being replaced on its cradle.

  ‘Abi I’ve got a new update—’

  ‘—So have I.’

  Harper clasped her hands together in front of her. ‘Okay you go first.’

  Abi held up the bank statement like it was the first prize in a competition. ‘Robyn paid me maintenance today.’

  Harper peered at the paper with squinted eyes. ‘She did?’

  ‘Yep. Fourteen hundred quid.’ Abi wrapped her arms around herself tightly as if trying to contain the happiness inside. ‘Oh, Harper. I can do so much for Jake with this. I can get him new clothes. Some decent food. I can even buy him a new cot. The one he has is second hand from a charity shop.’

  Harper smiled, but there was a troubled look in her eyes. ‘That’s brilliant, Abi. I’m really pleased for you.’

  ‘So what’s your update?’ Abi asked still wrapped up in a bubble of euphoria. It felt like she was on a winning streak and nothing was going to bring her down.

  ‘Robyn wants mediation, Abi.’

  Abi’s eyes widened. ‘She wants what?’ She felt the balloon slowly deflate as the seconds ticked by.

  ‘Mediation. To discuss access to Jake and financial arrangements. She wants to avoid going to court.’

  ‘Why the sudden change? When I last spoke to her she was furious and said she was taking me to court.’

  Harper shrugged her shoulders. ‘I told you it was hot air. It makes more sense to work out a proper custody arrangement for Jake between the two of you.’

  Abi stood abruptly, the adrenalin rush no longer from ecstasy but from fear. Just when it seemed she had managed to mount one obstacle there was an even bigger one ahead. ‘Well I don’t want it.’ Abi strode over to the window and looked down at the traffic below. ‘Not after all the crap she’s put me through. She doesn’t deserve it.’

  ‘I think you should consider it, Abi. Going to court will be stressful and expensive. Mediation could speed things up considerably—’

  Abi turned her head away from the window and held Harper’s gaze. ‘—What if I don’t want her around my son?’ Or me for that matter? Abi’s heart sunk. She knew if Robyn gained any sort of custody of Jake, it would mean she’d be in her life forever. While it hadn’t bothered her before and she would have welcomed it only a week ago, things had changed and it was all down to Robyn and her outrageous behaviour.

  Harper pushed herself to her feet and walked over to Abi. Her voice held authority yet was full of reason at the same time. ‘Look, I know first-hand how much Robyn’s hurt you. But even if it does go to court I’m certain she’ll get visitation rights at the very least. If you go to mediation it will be on your terms.’

  Abi could see Harper’s point but by agreeing Abi thought it was letting Robyn off lightly. How long do I really want this to go on for? she asked herself. Instead of using all of her energy fighting Robyn she could use it to nurture Jake. Her mind buzzed with the pros and cons. By the end of it the pros outweighed the cons. ‘You really think this is a good move, despite everything?’

  ‘Yes, Abi, I really do. If I didn’t, there’s no way I’d advise you to take her up on the offer. And remember, if you don’t agree on the financial aspects, we still have the financial order pending.’

  Abi turned back to the window. It was true the way things were going there’d never be a light at the end of the tunnel. Besides, Robyn had always insisted she’d make a good mother. So why not give her the chance?

  Abi ran a hand through her hair and sighed. ‘Okay, I’ll do it, but if she messes me about I’m pulling out straight away.’

  ‘That’s your prerogative. My advice is to go into mediation with a clean slate. I know it won’t be easy but try and put the past behind you. You need to be thinking with a clear mind. Make a list of your objectives and stick to them. Don’t let yourself become derailed by anything she says.’

  Abi looked at Harper and smiled. It was the pep talk she needed. It was as if Harper was sending her off to do battle with the dreaded enemy. In a way she was. Who would have thought that you could hate someone you used to love so much. You only had to look at divorce statistics to realise her case was nothing new.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Harper was exhausted, worn out. She couldn’t remember the last time she was so happy to be home after a long workday. For once, Harper had reshuffled her appointments so that she didn’t have to go into work early the next morning—a lay in was just what she needed. Not only did she need a physical rest, but a mental one too. The Massey case had consumed so much of her mind lately.

  Harper switched on her sound system and chose a Native Indian flute CD she always played when she wanted to centre herself. Placing the disc carefully in the tray, the luminescent blue numbers registered on the display. She bought the album long before the iPod was around, and it reminded her of a simpler time when money was tight. It felt like a million years ago, but the memories were happy ones, for the most part.

  Harper was glad for those hardships, it pushed her to where she was now. There was a star in the night’s sky she picked when she was seventeen—a beacon that could never wash away, or be taken by the wind. Every few months, she would look up at that star,
and ponder on how her life had become better or worse since the last time they ‘spoke’. That way, Harper made sure that she never took anything for granted, or lost sight of what she had achieved. Like an old mariner, she navigated her happiness, measuring it and reporting to that star of hers.

  On her dining room table, she selected a chocolate French fancy from its box and plonked down on one of the chairs. She sighed out loud as the cake melted in her mouth. Amidst the soft background music and mild thunder outside her window, relaxation crept over her. A loud ringtone snapped her right out of it.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ Harper grumbled as she withdrew the mobile from her pocket. She peered down at it. The display said ‘Private Number’, the kind she never answered.

  Eventually the phone stopped and chimed the message tone to remind her that she had a missed call. Harper only scoffed, kicking off her shoes and having another French fancy.

  Again the ringtone shattered the peace of her tranquil home.

  ‘I said go away?’ She flung the mobile phone onto the sofa, as if distancing herself from it would mercifully dampen her hearing ability and rid her of the annoying call. In the wake of the second call, not even the sound of the soothing flute was relaxing her anymore. Her quiet night had now been defiled once and for all, and she got up to switch her phone off.

  But as Harper’s nail pressed down on the red button, the phone rang once more, evoking a sudden thought—what if Abi trying to get through to her?

  ‘Hello?’ Harper said.

  ‘Harper? Harper, are you there?’ a familiar voice cracked over the line. It was a voice synonymous with anger and pain from Harper’s past, a voice she hoped never to hear again.

  ‘Yes,’ Harper replied without emotion. ‘How did you get my number?’

  ‘You’ve got your details on the internet. It wasn’t that hard to track you down.’

  ‘And why would you, of all people, want to track me down?’ Her fingers clenched the phone.

  ‘Because I need some help,’ her mother said. ‘Your dad’s dead; he’s gone.’

  Harper said nothing. Truth be told, she didn’t know how to respond. Inside, despite an acknowledgement that death brought sadness, she lacked any emotion at all.

  The thunder rumbled a bit louder outside as if it announced the melancholy conversation, but Harper hardly heard it. All she heard was her mother’s voice, explaining with great effort how Harper’s father had fallen from a high rise building where he was working and met his death instantly. Drunk no doubt.

  ‘So at least he didn’t suffer,’ the hated voice added, but Harper heard only that her stepfather was dead, and as she tried to find a way to feel, she realised that all she experienced was relief.

  Lucky him. ‘Sorry to hear that,’ Harper mumbled, hardly trying to sound convincing. ‘But he wasn’t my father. He was your husband, and that’s all he was to me. Like you aren’t my mother.’

  ‘How can you say such a thing? I’ve never stopped thinking about you. I’m proud you’ve made such a success of your life ... I’m very proud of how you turned out,’ her mother choked.

  ‘How did I turn out? I am exactly the same person you kicked out of your house. I’m a successful solicitor with a good income and a nice home ... not the “piece of shit that would amount to nothing” as your husband so eloquently put it.’

  Harper’s stomach churned and her heart ached with the injustice of what they did to her at such a young age, when she needed them most—when her own mother had stood there and let her alcoholic, drug abusing stepfather throw her out of his house ‘’Cause he was done raising another man’s bastard child’. That fateful day defined her purpose in life. She learnt that all things came to pass as they were supposed to, no matter how close it brought one to a brutal crash of faith. At the time it made no sense, and she was left to fend for herself, fresh out of secondary school with no family to give her that much needed foothold.

  ‘Harper, why can’t you ever let go of things? I thought you’d have outgrown clinging onto the past by now.’

  ‘Clinging onto the past? What? Am I supposed to just forget how my own mother treated me? How you stood by and watched me become homeless?’ Harper said, trying to calm her tumultuous heart. ‘What the hell did I do wrong? I wasn’t evil. I wasn’t a criminal. I was your daughter. Your own flesh and blood. But no, that was not enough for you.’

  Harper wanted to sound angry, but all she uttered was hurt; years of pain that made her voice bend uncontrollably as the tears burnt into her lids. As much as she tried to fight it, the tears rolled down her cheeks from the onslaught of the unfair treatment she believed she had successfully abandoned long ago.

  ‘You turned out alright didn’t you? What life would you have had if you stayed here? Up the duff and on the social that’s where. You should be thanking me. Not holding a grudge.’

  There was a brief silence before her mother spoke again. ‘Look, Harper, I need some money. He left nothing. Can you help me out?’

  Harper gave a short bitter laugh. ‘Are you for real? I could have been dead for all you knew, yet you didn’t give a shit then but now you’re broke, you somehow made the effort to find me.’

  ‘There’s so much you don’t understand, Harper. I did what I did for you. You’ve got to believe me.’

  Boom! There it was. The emotional blackmail Harper knew so well. She was wondering how long it would be before she started her crap.

  ‘How much do you need?’ Harper said, controlling her voice as best she could, failing miserably at sounding composed.

  ‘As much as you can spare. Things have been a bit tough lately. What with benefit cuts and everything.’

  Harper didn’t have the energy for this. If giving her money would make her go away she would give it to her with pleasure. ‘I’ll sort it out for you tomorrow.’ Now please go away.

  Her mother’s voice softened. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down. So are you gonna come to the funeral?’

  ‘What’s the point? He didn’t want to see me when he was alive, why the bloody hell should I pay him that courtesy?’

  ‘If you knew what I’ve been through … what I tried to save you from …’

  Harper ignored the sobs on the end of the line. The tears were ten years too late. ‘I’m going now. I’ll post you a cheque tomorrow.’ Harper disconnected the call without another word.

  Hearing her mother’s voice reignited old thoughts and fears she had swept conveniently under the carpet. But now, confronted with a situation where she had to address her own emotional abuse, she could not help but travel back to her sixteenth year and the unpleasant storm that ushered her into her coming of age.

  Turmoil and moroseness signified her childhood, but in her late teens it all just snowballed into a giant fuck-up of pure hypocrisy and judgement that culminated in her discharge from her family for good.

  With her nose in her cup, sipping at the liquid madness of the strong black nerve rush, Harper allowed herself to drift back to that terrible time, now so blissfully far behind in her trail that it detached itself as someone else’s life. These days, she was content. Happy? Not yet. Contentment was the precursor to happiness, once the bridge of success had been traversed. That bridge was the path which she was still navigating between two river banks—one of becoming the best at what she did with her exceptional track record as a solicitor, and the other of keeping her soul intact doing so. It was a fine cord, and Harper’s trapeze act was thus far quite balanced.

  Her goal had been to liberate others’ repressed rights by becoming a solicitor, but she went one further and crowned it with a humanitarian approach. This was certainly not the norm in the cold and unfair world of law, but that was precisely what Harper wanted to change. Money was never the reason she chose that profession.

  Justice was.

  With all the injustice she had suffered throughout her life, she elected to fight the similar scourges with their own methods. In courts where innocent people, good-hearted
people, got judicially sodomised by those who had more money, Harper Anderson was the spanner in their spokes ... and she loved it.

  Chapter Thirty

  Dylan thought she’d handled Robyn Massey’s case quite well, even if she did say so herself. Okay, so she hadn’t brought the case to a complete close yet, but that was through no fault of her own. If she were being honest, she was strangely pleased that Robyn had blind-sided her and opted for mediation. Unlike all of her other cases where she hadn’t given a damn about those involved, this one was different. Maybe some of Harper’s caring nature had managed to rub off on her. Whatever the case, she was relieved it would be resolved fairly. Her dad, on the other hand, had a different perspective. Sitting in the lavishly decorated living room of her parents’ home, Gregory stared at her with a look of disappointment.

  ‘All I asked you to do was win the case, was it really that difficult?’

  ‘You asked me to avoid court, which I’ve done. If you knew Robyn Massey, you’d know what a stubborn piece of work she is.’ Dylan turned to her mother, who was sat looking her usual prim and proper self—make-up applied with precision and her short bob, flawless. ‘Mum, you’re a baby person, explain to him about broodiness.’

  Her mother sipped her tea from the china tea cup, the large diamond ring on her wedding finger glinting in the sun’s rays. ‘Don’t get me involved. This is between the two of you.’

  Thanks a bundle.

  There was a gentle knock on the door before Rosa, her parents’ housekeeper came into view. ‘Mr Maynard, a Mr Massey is here to see you.’

  From the look on Gregory’s face, Dylan could see this was an unexpected visit.

  He sighed as he cast a look towards Dylan. ‘Bring him through.’

  Dylan began to rise but stopped midway when her dad raised his hand.

  ‘No, young lady. You’re staying here. This is your doing. You explain to him what’s going on with his daughter’s case.’

  Crap! Dylan glanced at her mother for some sort of reassurance, but she placed her tea cup down and stood, managing to avoid eye contact.