Blazing Obsession

by Dai Henley

  “I don’t know how I did it. Thank goodness, he believed me. On the plane coming home, I had a few anxious moments. He asked me whether the police really would drop the charges against him. ‘Of course’, I said. Then he made me promise him we’d be ok together.”

  She shuddered and continued, “Then I panicked. What if the police didn’t arrest Nick? I’d be back where I started; living with someone I detested more than I did before.”

  She had no idea how pleased I was to hear her say that.

  I held her hand and said, “Well, the main thing is you have Georgie back. He’s been through a lot too, but hopefully when he gets back into the routine of home and seeing his mates at school he’ll settle down. I want to help. If there’s anything I can do, I will.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “What does Georgie think about his father now?”

  “Well, I told him his father had done bad things and that it’s most likely he won’t see him for a while. He gave me the impression he accepted it, but he’s hard to read at the moment.”

  “He needs time. I know this sounds daft, but actually, I’m feeling sorry for Nick. I’d have been perfectly happy for him to have as much contact as he wanted. But it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted you as well. He’s brought all this on himself. He’s screwed up his life.”

  “Don’t tell me. He’s been doing that for as long as I’ve known him.”

  We chatted until the early hours. As I left, I turned to her and said, “Look, you and Georgie are back home, Nick’s out of the picture and you’re expecting my baby. Why don’t we get married?”

  “I’m not ready yet, James. I need a bit of time to get over this… Nick business.”

  “Do you blame me for what happened? Is that it?”

  “No… not really. I’m confused, that’s all. I need more time to sort myself out. Let’s carry on as we are for a while.”

  I didn’t push the point. “OK. If that’s what you want.”

  I tapped her bump and said, “Look after that baby of ours,” then hugged her tightly and kissed her neck. Her smile became broader and the sparkle in her eyes appeared brighter.

  *

  Two days later, as I arrived at my office, Peter rushed in. He thrust a photocopy of a press cutting from The Times, dated 20th February 1996, in front of me.

  John William Hartley had been sentenced to five years imprisonment for embezzling funds from a charity organisation he’d worked for before his time with us.

  The press cutting mentioned that he’d also been convicted of causing actual bodily harm to one of the organisers.

  Peter said, “I’ve been digging around. Spoke to one of our customers who knew we’d employed Hartley. He remembered something in the papers about him. I checked back through the archives on various websites. It took me ages, but this is what I found. Don’t know how we missed it. At least, it explains why he went AWOL.”

  “Didn’t you check his references?”

  “Well, as he’d been taken on by the Greenwich business before we took it over, I assumed they’d checked. I’ve since gone through his file and the references were impeccable. Obviously forged. We’ve been well and truly conned.”

  “You could say that.”

  I didn’t blame Peter. Especially when I thought about the time I attended a two-day leasing conference in Birmingham with Hartley. Peter couldn’t make it, but as it represented a good networking opportunity, I went in his place and spent a lot of time with Hartley.

  We didn’t talk about relationships or anything deep, men seldom do, more sports and business. I only knew he was married, no kids. Although he said he’d have liked one.

  I found him tolerable enough, although his self-confidence could be overpowering. What separated him from anybody else I ever knew was his ability to draw people into his network – big hitters included. They attached themselves to him like steel pins to a magnet. Once under his control, he manipulated them at will. The ultimate salesman… or con man.

  He had the balls to steal from me whilst simultaneously building my business. He’d got to me too.

  *

  For the next two months, we became a family again. Lynne’s mood brightened and we got close to how we used to be before Georgie’s abduction.

  I talked to him a lot, but the chatty, ebullient Georgie I’d known before the abduction had been replaced by a brooding, quiet boy. Except when we chatted about his passion for football and his mates at school. Only then did he become animated.

  I deliberately didn’t raise the subject of his father with him; I thought he’d talk to me about it when he wanted to.

  Just a matter of time, I reasoned.

  *

  At Nick’s trial for abduction and drug dealing on Monday 23rd June at the Inner London Crown Court in Newington Causeway, on London’s south bank, he pleaded guilty in the face of the overwhelming evidence against him. This meant a heavily pregnant Lynne wouldn’t to have to face him in court. I imagined him vaulting the dock and carrying out his promise of throttling her to death.

  DS Evans called me shortly after the trial.

  “He got three years for the abduction and four years for drug dealing, the sentences to be served consecutively. We’re pretty pleased with that. I’m sure you are too.”

  I thanked him for his help and understanding. I called Lynne with the news.

  “Good. At least we can get on with our lives now without that bastard screwing it up!” I wasn’t sure whether by ‘our lives’ she meant together or apart. But her feelings for Nick were abundantly clear.

  With the trial out of the way, we focussed on the arrangements for our big event. Our baby was due on 15th August. I couldn’t believe how obsessed and excited I’d become about it, looking at families with babies in the street, inspecting and discussing with them the merits of the buggy they were using. It became a major topic of conversation between Lynne, her mother and me.

  We had endless discussions about the baby’s name. I favoured Jack or Josh for a boy and Lynne preferred Jess or Emily for a girl.

  Emily’s birth two weeks prematurely at the Royal Hospital in Whitechapel, at 2.24pm on 31st July, weighing six pounds two ounces, proved to be the most emotional experience of my life.

  I regretted my parents hadn’t lived long enough to see their granddaughter. As their only child, they’d often told me they looked forward to being grandparents one day. Their death in the car crash over twenty years ago still haunted me.

  Gowned-up and present at the birth, the midwife asked if I wanted to cut the umbilical cord, which I did. I couldn’t have been happier.

  Then she handed the most precious blonde bundle to Lynne, whose joyous face made me want to cry. Then she passed her to me.

  “She’s gorgeous. What a beauty!” I said, as I peered into her tiny face. I’ll never forget the warmth of her body steadily breathing next to mine and the indescribable smell of a brand new human being I’d help create.

  *

  Emily became the sole focus of attention for the following few months, to the detriment of everything else. Lynne’s mother, too, devoted herself to her granddaughter’s welfare. Emily took her milk from Lynne greedily and from week to week grew bigger, stronger… and noisier.

  Georgie, despite at first liking the idea of having a baby sister, became more withdrawn, sullen and preoccupied. I thought it might be something to do with his father. I asked Lynne whether she’d told Georgie about Nick’s offences and the sentencing.

  “I said he’d be in prison for a long time and that Georgie wouldn’t be able to see him until he was a grown-up. If he wanted to write to his father, I told him he could. He said he understood.”

  “You do know that Nick could apply to the family court to insist that Georgie visit him in Belmarsh, as long as he has an adult with him, don’t you?” RP had mentioned this as a possibility.

  She shot back, “Oh, really! Who’s going to take him then? I certainly won’t. And if you too
k him there’d be a prison riot. Nick can apply for as long as he likes. There’s no way I want Georgie near that man. No, I think it’s best the way it is.”

  Nick did apply to the court and, unbelievably, the judge sent round a court welfare officer to ask Georgie whether he would like to visit his father in Belmarsh prison.

  Georgie’s opinion, apparently, carried great weight in the judge’s eyes. It must have been distressing for a nearly nine-year-old lad to have to make such a choice.

  Lynne too, found it difficult to remain impartial, but didn’t want to be accused of influencing her son – an impossible task.

  In the event, Georgie told the welfare officer he didn’t want to see his father. I don’t think Georgie hated him, he simply chose to avoid him. I suspect he felt deeply embarrassed too, having a father serving time, although he never admitted it to Lynne or me.

  I didn’t have to be Einstein to guess Nick’s reaction. He’d naturally blame Georgie’s decision on us, fuelling his hatred of Lynne and me still further.

  As the autumn leaves flittered down from the trees and the days grew shorter, Georgie’s attitude to both Lynne and me deteriorated. He became monosyllabic; grunting one-word replies when asked a question. Rude, too.

  His teachers at school had also seen a change. His erratic behaviour and non-existent concentration gave them cause for concern, which they shared with us.

  It came to a head on a visit to the museum in Greenwich. He went missing for over four hours. I trembled at the thought that Nick had arranged for someone to abduct him again.

  I tracked him down to the comic section of a bookshop in the town. I forcibly frog-marched him back to the car, where Lynne was beside herself, fretful and anxious.

  Lynne yelled at him, “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

  Before Georgie could reply, I shouted at him too, pushing him into the back seat of my car. “Don’t you ever do that again! See how upset your mother is?”

  Georgie, his face contorted and eyes glaring defiantly into my rear view mirror, yelled back at me, “Who are you to tell me what to bloody do? I’ll do what I want. You’re not my father!”

  Lynne turned to him, almost getting out of her seat and shrieked, “How dare you speak to James like that? And don’t let me hear you swear again. Apologise at once!”

  “Why should I? No one cares about me, anyway.” Georgie glared at both of us, daring us to respond.

  Still facing him, she shouted, “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course we care!”

  Emily, strapped in the car-cot next to Georgie, started wailing.

  I said, “Look, this is hardly the time or the place to keep shouting at each other. C’mon, let’s discuss this at home.”

  The car, heavy with silence on the short journey back to Lynne’s apartment, felt leaden, as if in sympathy with the occupants’ moods. Locking it whilst she and Georgie, his face flushed with an insolent expression, went inside, I followed, still seething.

  Georgie ran straight upstairs to his room. After Lynne had settled Emily in her cot, she went to the kitchen to make tea.

  I followed her and said, “What the hell was that all about?”

  She sighed and shook her head. “God, you must wonder what you’re taking on with this family.” I put my arms around her.

  “Of course I don’t. It’s just that he’s acting so out of character. I thought he’d been abducted again.”

  She closed her eyes tightly and said, “Oh, please. Don’t remind me.”

  *

  Usually, I felt I could handle anything life threw at me, but this was fresh territory. I didn’t have a clue. Then I had the bright idea of asking Pat for advice. She’d brought up two boys. She’d know what to do.

  “So you’re surprised Georgie’s reacted the way he has, are you? I’d be more worried if he hadn’t.”

  She sounded exasperated. “Think about it, James. He’s had to cope with a lot over the last few years. His parents split up when he was just a little boy, didn’t they? What age? Five? Six?”

  “Six, I think.”

  “He only sees his father, who he idolises, every two weeks and then his mother has an affair with a complete stranger. Then he learns she’s having your baby.”

  “Yes, but –”

  “Hang on! I haven’t started yet. He’s abducted to Florida, wondering whether he’ll ever see his mother again. Have you thought about how traumatic that must have been for him?”

  “I know, Pat –”

  She carried on as if I’d said nothing. “His father’s arrested at the airport, convicted of abduction and drug dealing, and then he has to choose whether or not to visit him in jail, either upsetting his mum or facing not seeing his dad for years.”

  I’d never seen her so passionate before.

  “Yes but –” this time I managed to get a word in. “What kind of father could he be? Someone involved in drug dealing and child abduction?”

  She slapped me down. “Yes, but Georgie doesn’t see any of that. All he knows is that his dad’s in jail, he’s got a part-time ‘uncle’” – she made quote signs with her hands – “who may or may not be a long-term fixture and now he’s ignored by most of the adults in his life, at the expense of Emily.”

  “Yes… I see that, now.”

  “And I expect when they were in Florida, Georgie’s father stirred things up by telling Georgie that his mother abandoned him in favour or you. Nice.”

  Softening her tone, she continued. “You must remember that Georgie, until three months ago, was the sole focus of attention. His mother obviously doted on him. You were trying hard to win him over and even his grandmother, from what you’ve told me, spoilt him rotten. Now that energy is focussed on Emily. I’m surprised the poor lad’s not gone mental.”

  Suddenly it made sense. Pat had made the case succinctly. I told her she should have been a barrister. How could I have been so blinkered? Why didn’t I see this coming?

  “What can we do?”

  “Well, it’s not going to be easy. The first thing that needs to happen is for the adults in his life to be aware of what’s going on. Give him some TLC. It’ll take time, but it’s the only way.”

  “So?”

  “I’ve learned what kid’s value most above everything else is stability. They need to know that both their mum and dad are there for them, no matter what.”

  We chatted on, Pat telling me about the problems she’d had with her two. She could laugh about it now, she said, but at the time, it wasn’t funny.

  I told her I still loved Lynne and wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, Georgie and Emily.

  “Well, that’s the most important thing, isn’t it?”

  *

  I thought deeply about Pat’s comments and decided to do something about it.

  I arranged dinner at Lynne’s favourite restaurant near Tower Bridge. Pouring the last dregs of a bottle of Multipulciano, I came right out with it.

  “Lynne, come on, let’s get married. I think now would be a good time. What’s stopping us?”

  “I don’t want to take advantage of you, James. Not with this business with Georgie going on.”

  “But that’s my point. I think he’ll respond well. He’ll know we’re serious about each other – give him stability. I think we’re ready to become a family. We can sell our flats and buy a house with a garden. It’ll be a fresh start.”

  She laughed. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Well, that’s me, isn’t it? Mr Persistent. Come on. Please say yes.”

  “Are you really sure?”

  “Of course I am. I’ve wanted this for months.”

  After a few moments, she said, “Yes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, yes, yes!” For the first time for ages, her eyes twinkled and I got that vivacious smile that always made my heart fly. I proposed a toast.

  “Happy Families,” I said, grinning, as we enthusiastically clinked our gl
asses together.

  *

  We married at Tower Hamlets Register Office in Bow Road on 5th March 1997, eighteen months after we’d met. It felt like a lifetime given everything that had happened.

  I’d never been happier. We still had problems to overcome, of course, but they only served to strengthen our relationship.

  Over the following months, Alisha, Margaret, Lynne and I worked hard to ensure Georgie wasn’t ignored. His school reports and teachers’ comments greatly improved too. Pat had been right. Marrying Lynne provided the impetus for him to believe we were in it for the long term.

  We sold our flats quickly in a buoyant market and found a delightful double-fronted five-bedroom period house in need of improvement in the leafier and smarter part of Blackheath, close to the conservation area of Westcombe Park. I liked the idea of putting our own mark on the house and it gave us a chance to get back to something approaching a normal life.

  We spared no expense on the improvements we made. We had great fun re-designing and decorating every room. Lynne had a real flair for it and I loved seeing her so happy, tackling the project with enthusiasm. Emily’s bedroom gave the impression of a fairy grotto: pink, fluffy and twinkly.

  We found a great new school nearby for Georgie and he settled in quickly. I think he enjoyed the idea of a fresh start as much as we did. We allowed him to choose how he wanted his room decorated. Cars and football were his passions. He wanted plain walls adorned with huge pictures of classic cars and, to my delight, he wanted photos of the Arsenal soccer team.

  “Arsenal?” I said. “That’s my team. I thought you supported your dad’s team, QPR?”

  “No. They’re rubbish! I want to support a Premiership team.”

  I never discovered whether this change in his allegiance represented a vote for me or a sub-conscious effort to forget Nick.

  Lynne acquired an unquenchable zest for life. She made a huge number of friends in our new neighbourhood and invited many of them to our house for either drinks or dinner. She loved playing host. It appeared as if a load had been lifted from her shoulders.

  She got Georgie more involved in helping her bring up Emily. Despite his early resentment, he grew into the role of big brother. I told him, his job would always be to protect her as she grew older. He liked that.