Blind-Date Marriage

by Fiona Harper

‘Fine. But I’m guessing that your social worker doesn’t want to hear about this. I heard that you were on your last warning. But if you want me to call the police and report the incident of criminal damage that just happened here, I will be most obliged to do so.’

  Max said a word no fourteen-year-old should even know, and his feet shuffled to a halt. He looked as if he’d been sentenced to fifteen years hard labour, not a few days of floor-sweeping and coffee-making. He turned to face Jake and shoved his hands in his pockets. Jake pointed at the far corner of the room.

  ‘We need twenty chairs, in four rows of five, for the next class, and I think it’s about time you made the team a cup of tea. Put the kettle on, and you can do the chairs while it boils.’

  Max stomped off in the direction of the kitchen.

  ‘You know he’s going to spit in your coffee, don’t you?’ Serena said in a hushed voice.

  Jake laughed. ‘I’ll give him the one he offers me.’

  ‘You’re too smooth for your own good. Do you know that?’

  They smiled at each other. Serena forced herself to remember he was the enemy—the man who’d stolen her heart, decided he didn’t want it, yet still refused to give it back. She was giving him permission to shred it into tiny pieces by weakening.

  And still she couldn’t stop smiling at him. The number forty-seven bus trundled over London Bridge and Jake’s shoulders unknotted. For years the Thames had been a physical and psychological barrier to his past. The bus was getting more and more crowded, but he didn’t mind a bit. He could take anything now he was back on his side of the river.

  He jumped out of his seat to offer it to a silver-haired lady with a string shopping bag. Taking the bus had been a stroke of genius. Who knew how long his BMW would have remained unmolested in the car park on the estate?

  Oddly enough, he’d almost forgotten he’d left it at the office when he’d seen an almost identical model parked a short distance from the community centre. At first he’d thought that Max was wreaking revenge by breaking into his car. The boy’s spiky black head had been bowed close to the driver’s window. Only when he’d stepped away slightly had Jake seen that Max was talking to the driver through the open window, and he remembered he’d left his own car tucked up safe and snug in the underground car park.

  But he’d still felt uneasy—this time on Max’s behalf. He knew how much that car cost, almost down to the penny, and it wasn’t anything law-abiding residents of Ellwood Green could dream of owning. Max was skating on thin ice by associating himself with that kind of man.

  Then the BMW had pulled away. He’d listened to the tyres screeching round the corner as he and Max had eyed each other on opposite sides of the road. Max’s first instinct had been to cower slightly, but then he’d straightened and swaggered towards him. The kid had guts. As Max had closed the distance between them he’d puffed himself up even more, looking as if he was expecting a fight.

  But Jake had known that letting rip at him right then would only have done more damage. Max was much more scared than he’d let on. It was frightening how well he could read the boy. Not so long ago he’d been wired the same way. Max was angry at the world and didn’t know how to curb his frustration, but, properly channelled, that drive and energy could be his path to a better future.

  Jake’s thoughts drifted to the look of admiration on Serena’s face when he’d returned to the centre with Max. Her approval shouldn’t mean anything to him. He didn’t want it. He didn’t need it. And anyway, he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to think about her.

  He squeezed the red button with his thumb and heard the ding as the ‘Bus Stopping’ sign lit up. He nudged his way to the exit and angled himself through the double doors as they hissed open.

  His building was in sight. All he needed now was to change out of these casual clothes into his suit, and his armour would be back in place.

  A vagrant was huddled in the corner of the entrance, the collar on his coat turned up and his hat pulled down against the biting wind. Security would probably move the man on shortly. Jake rummaged in his pocket for a few coins and dropped them at the man’s feet.

  The heavy plate-glass door was already half-open when the blood in his veins ran like ice.

  ‘Three quid? You can do better than that for your old man. Can’t you, son?’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE door slammed closed and Jake turned to stare open-mouthed as the man pulled himself to his feet.

  It had been more than ten years since he’d last seen his father, and the revulsion hit him like a shockwave, hurtling him back in time.

  ‘I have nothing to say to you.’ He’d rather pull out his own fingernails than call that man Dad. He started to shove the door open again.

  ‘I’ve got a couple of words to say to you, though: Serendipity Dove.’

  Jake stilled, raw anger pounding in his head. He turned. ‘What about her?’

  The slimy smile his father gave made him remember why he’d always wanted to punch him. Last time the old toad had turned up he actually had. He wasn’t proud of himself, but it had been a drop in the ocean compared to his teenage years when he’d been on the receiving end. He stuffed his fists in his jacket pockets.

  ‘A little bird told me you were an item.’

  ‘Your little bird is out of date. It’s ancient history.’

  ‘Shame. There could have been a bit of mileage in that.’

  Jake invaded his ‘old man’s’ personal space so quickly his father took a step backwards. Soon he was backed up against the polished granite wall of the entrance, and the slimy smile started to waver.

  ‘Now, hang on, Charlie—’

  ‘Don’t call me that! It’s Jake or Charles, but never Charlie!’ Jake got his face close enough to smell the stale tobacco on his father’s breath. ‘Let’s get this straight. If you go anywhere near her, so help me, I’ll see to it you’re in no fit state to ever bother anyone again!’ His fists were getting restless in the confines of his pocket, so he dug them in deeper.

  ‘Okay, okay, it was only a thought!’ His father wriggled free and put some space between them. He raised his hands in an attitude of surrender.

  Jake shook his head. He knew all the guy’s tricks, even after a decade. Right now he was trying to defuse the situation by oozing charm, so he could attack it from another angle. In Jake’s opinion, the man oozed something entirely different.

  ‘Come on, Charlie. We’re two of a kind, you and me. I always had an eye for a pretty girl myself, you know.’

  ‘And if I remember rightly, being married to Mum didn’t slow you down at all, either.’

  ‘Your mother and I had an arrangement.’

  Jake barked out a hollow laugh. ‘What? You mean the one where she stayed home and cried while you went out and gambled all our money away?’

  ‘A man’s got a right to a beer and a flutter on the gee-gees every now and then.’

  Did he actually believe the rubbish he was spouting?

  ‘It was Mum’s money! Money she earned scrubbing other people’s floors because you were too useless to hold down a job. Mel and I almost got taken into care after you split with all our savings. Mum only just managed to make ends meet and keep us together!’

  His father looked up at the gold lettering painted on the doors to the plush foyer. ‘“Jacobs Associates”,’ he read. ‘Seems like you turned out all right to me.’

  ‘No thanks to you. Now, clear off!’

  ‘I’d be happy to. Only funds are a little short…’

  ‘What’s the matter? Have you managed to fleece every middle-aged divorcée on the Costa Blanca?’

  His father shrugged.

  ‘I’m not giving you a penny!’

  ‘Go on, son. Ten grand and I’ll be out of your hair for good, I promise. You’ll never have to see me again.’

  ‘Your promises are worth nothing! Don’t you think I know that? I meant what I said. I’m not giving you anything. Now, get lost!’ />
  The saccharine mask dropped from his father’s face, and suddenly Jake could see the real man he’d always known lurked beneath: mean, selfish and spineless.

  ‘Go away and prey on someone else.’

  ‘All right, I will. But don’t blame me when it all comes back to bite you on the backside.’

  Jake folded his arms, his back against the door as if guarding it, and watched in satisfaction as his father walked away.

  ‘I’m nothing like you!’ he shouted after him. His father didn’t turn round, and Jake waited until the tatty grey overcoat had disappeared into the crowds, just to make sure he was really gone.

  ‘Nothing like you,’ he muttered as he finally pushed the door open, more angry at himself than he was at his father at that moment. Angry because he knew he was lying.

  The snooker ball skittered around the rickety table, then dropped into a pocket.

  ‘Yesss!’ yelled Max, punching a fist in the air. Serena smiled as she sat perched on her usual stool at the coffee bar. What a difference from the surly boy who had sloped into the community centre at the beginning of the week!

  His next shot was not so lucky. The ball bounced off two cushions, then came to a halt two inches from the intended hole.

  Jake tutted, then lined up his shot. ‘You shouldn’t count your chickens, boy. Now, stand back and let me show you how it’s done.’

  Talk about excess testosterone! Why did the males of the species have to turn every little challenge into a fight to the death?

  Max grunted, but stared at his opponent with an obvious case of hero-worship. Jake had spent a lot of time with him this week. Serena had the feeling that nobody ever took time to be with Max. The positive attention was having a transforming effect on him. He was still a bit mouthy at times, but he’d arrived early the last two mornings to help set up for the day. And now he was hanging around after Jake’s workshop had finished just so he could grab a few more minutes in the presence of his idol.

  The really tragic thing was that Serena only knew Max had turned up early because she had done exactly the same thing. For exactly the same reason. Pathetic.

  ‘The heart wants what the heart wants,’ her mother had always said, and her heart wanted Jake, however much her head declared it folly.

  Jake manoeuvred round the snooker table to take his next shot and gave her an unparallelled view of his denim-clad rear-end. She dropped her head to the counter and covered it with her arms. Why was she torturing herself like this?

  Her perfect husband tick-list had been abandoned. Jake had both fulfilled and exceeded it. She’d been looking for safe and reliable when she’d met him, but she’d found so much more. He was passionate and imaginative and intuitive. All the things she’d thought were reserved for the ‘creative types’ she’d discounted from her search.

  She’d always assumed that ‘settling down’ by definition included a certain amount of…well, settling. It was a tradeoff. Passion and excitement versus companionship and security. Then, just when she’d been ready to make the sacrifice, she’d hit the jackpot.

  Oh, but life was never that easy. It gave with one hand and took away with the other. Mr Right was, in fact, Mr Wrong. As much as she wanted him, he didn’t want her back.

  She banged her head on the coffee bar a few times to scatter her thoughts.

  ‘Serena? You all right?’ It was Jake’s voice.

  Her own came out muffled from underneath her folded arms. ‘Yes, fine. Just…resting.’ Lame, lame, lame.

  The clacking of snooker balls continued. A triumphant shout confirmed that Jake had snatched victory from under Max’s nose for the umpteenth time. She lifted an elbow and peeked out. Max was collecting snooker balls and throwing them into a cardboard box with more force than necessary.

  ‘Loser makes the coffees—that’s the deal. Off you go, up-start!’

  Max turned to put the box away and she saw a smile he’d meant to hide from everyone else. ‘Get ’em yourself, Grandpa!’

  Hair fell across her face as she lifted her head, and she brushed it away with her hand. Max was stomping towards her with a couple of dirty mugs hooked on his fingers. She took them from him.

  ‘I’ll do the drinks, Max. You’ve worked really hard all week. Take a break.’

  Instead of looking pleased, Max’s face clouded over. ‘It’s the last day today.’

  ‘Not looking forward to school on Monday?’

  Max mimed slitting his own throat.

  ‘Eeewww!’

  He grinned, pleased with the reaction, then turned to look at Jake. ‘Do you think he’ll come on Friday nights?’

  ‘I don’t know. Jake says he doesn’t do long term.’

  They both lapsed into silence as they waited for the kettle to boil. Thankfully, her mobile phone rang.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘I feel like hell.’ It was Cassie. ‘Steve got me to take a theology course last year, so I know what I’m talking about. I won’t be coming in this morning. You’ve got enough adults to comply with all the regs, haven’t you?

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she lied. Steve and Mel had dashed off to some emergency, but she wasn’t going to tell Cassie that. ‘You take care of yourself, and I’ll drop by later.’

  Serena ended the call and stared at her phone. They needed to have two adults present at all times. It was fine to tell Cassie it was all sorted, but in reality there was only one candidate for the post, and he was supposed to be heading back to work in ten minutes.

  ‘Jake? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency, but could you hang on until Steve and Mel get back?’

  ‘How long?’

  She bit the corner of her lip. ‘One-ish. Can you spare the time?’

  He walked closer, too close, and looked her in the eyes. ‘Sure. I’ll make a call or two to smooth things over. But I have one condition.’

  ‘I’m not playing snooker with you again. It’s embarrassing.’

  ‘Not snooker. Dinner.’

  Her heels echoed on the floor as she took a step back. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

  ‘Why? Has nutrition suddenly gone out of fashion?’ He smiled a great, cheeky smile. She could feel herself weakening. Still, she set her face into a frown and answered him. ‘You know why.’

  ‘Lunch, then? It’ll be time to eat when Steve and Mel get here.’

  She shook her head, not trusting her mouth to comply.

  ‘Go on, we’ll get plastic-boxed sandwiches and eat them on a bench. They’ll taste nasty. You won’t enjoy yourself at all.’

  Her lips found a different way to betray her and curled themselves into an answering smile. ‘Rubbery cheese and hard white bread?’

  ‘Deal.’

  They were just going to eat sandwiches together. Friends did that sort of thing. The singing workshop was starting up. Rick, the choir leader from Steve’s church, was teaching a group of twenty or so to sing like a gospel choir. They were making good progress. The main group had the harmonies licked, but the soloist was having trouble.

  ‘Darren, you have to fit your part over the top of the choir, but still in rhythm with them,’ Rick instructed. ‘Let’s go back to the basic harmonies and we’ll add the main melody in later.’ He raised his arms to conduct, and the group stilled.

  Serena rested her bottom on the edge of the registration desk and enjoyed the sound as the group started the intro to ‘Oh, Happy Day’.

  She was just starting to hum the missing melody when, from behind her, another voice broke in. It was rich and sweet, easily able to reach both high and low notes. Serena swung her head round and stared. One by one the choir members stopped singing until that one voice filled the low-ceilinged room and reverberated off the walls.

  Her voice was hoarse with amazement when she finally managed to speak. ‘Max! Where on earth did you learn to sing like that?’

  Max went suddenly silent and his face reddened. He shrugged and returned to sweeping the biscuit crumbs off the floor.
She walked over to the coffee bar where Jake stood, just staring at his number-one fan.

  Make that his number-two fan.

  ‘Are you sure I can’t get you anything, Dad? A cup of tea? Coffee?’

  ‘No, I’m fine. I just want to sit out here and enjoy the fresh air for a bit.’

  Serena hovered behind the garden seat and stared at her father. He’d been back for two days and she was really worried. She was used to extremes from him. This wasn’t normal. He was too quiet, too steady.

  ‘Go on, petal. You’ve got things to do,’ he said, without turning to look at her.

  She shuffled her way back through the dew-soaked grass and into the house. After making her way up to the study, she turned on the computer and checked her e-mail, all the while resisting the desire to switch to her internet browser and click the link to the Jacobs Associates website. It ought to have been deleted from her ‘favourites’ folder ages ago.

  Only two weeks ago she’d shared a lunch of shrink-wrapped sandwiches with him in the playground at Ellwood Green. She hadn’t had cheese after all, but a ham sandwich and a can of lemonade. They’d sat and chatted while children shrieked and ran past them. Despite Jake’s dire prediction, she had enjoyed herself quite a lot.

  But he wasn’t returning to the community centre for the Friday night sessions now school had restarted, and she didn’t know when she would see him again. Which was her own fault; she’d told him not to call her. There was no point in all the flirting if it wasn’t heading anywhere—or at least not anywhere near an altar. But still, a perverse part of her was disappointed he’d respected her wishes.

  A ring on the doorbell saved her itchy mouse-finger from any further temptation. She made her way down the stairs barefooted, only to find that Maggie, the housekeeper, had got there first. She stood at the front door like a guard dog, her ample figure blocking Serena’s view of the visitor.

  As she reached the bottom step, Maggie turned. ‘There’s someone here to see you. He says his name is Charles Jacobs.’

  Serena’s heart flipped over like a pancake.

  She ran to the door and squeezed past Maggie, only to find her smile evaporating as she laid eyes on the man standing at the top of the steps. It wasn’t him—almost. It was as if Jake had been fast-forwarded twenty years. Creases appeared between her brows.