by Fox Brison
“She was unmarried because she was a lesbian, something that in the 1970s was thrown into her face time and time again, as if she was morally bankrupt for loving a person of the same sex. The women she lived with were students looking for cheap housing. And most heart wrenching of all the dirt they dug up was the charge of unprotected sex. She was in fact raped and the abortion was medically ordered because the pregnancy was ectopic.”
“I see. Flood and Williams manipulated everything to look bad, when in reality she was a very good person.”
“Precisely. When Heavenly Heirs completed their investigations it turned out she wasn’t a true heir anyway, but unfortunately for Jackie the damage to her reputation was catastrophic. So you can see why caution needs to be taken. I won’t see Flood and Williams do that to another person. Jane is close to establishing the familial connection and you obviously believe Rachel has the moral backbone to meet the conditions set out by Andrew Gideon. Why would you jeopardise all of that with an illegal search? Tell me, Devon, why the rush? Is there something I should know?”
“No…” yes. “Nothing.”
“This is the last time I am going to say this, Devon. We both know Flood and Williams will hire the best experts in the business if there is even a hint of impropriety. Hacking official websites to discover information smacks of illegitimacy. Actually, it smacks of stupidity. Could you imagine how your father and uncle would spin it?”
“They’d engineer it to look like we lied.” I hung my head. I really was an idiot.
“Exactly. I need you to step back from the personal investigation of Rachel McTavers and focus your efforts elsewhere. You have more than enough, what we need now is witness evidence to back up your initial findings.”
I was fuming. I was nowhere near getting what I really needed from Rachel and was being treated like a five year old. “Is that a request or an order?”
“Take it any way you like, just as long as you heed my words. You must have faith.”
I stood up. “And what if I don’t have faith, Celeste? I have enough money for Ruth, Rachel and myself. Neither of them would want for anything.” Faced with the thought of not being able to see Rachel, an instinctual reaction I don’t think I was expecting swarmed through my veins.
I loved her.
I really bloody loved her.
“This isn’t about you, Devon. It’s not even about the money. This is about Rachel and the greatness she can achieve, the lives she can change, the difference she can make.”
Celeste’s words hit me like a runaway train. If I truly loved Rachel could I really ruin this for her? Could I stop her from fulfilling her potential? I had listened to her story, knew what she would do with the cash. Was I once again allowing my selfish needs to muddy the moral waters?
I flopped back down onto the chair, my anger leaking out of me like a slow puncture.
Why wasn’t the path to true love as easy to traverse as the road paved with good intentions.
Chapter 21
Devon
Wednesday 14th – Friday 16th of December, 2016
I didn’t go near Rachel for the next few days. Celeste’s warning ringing in my ears made me cautious and scared witless of standing in the way of Rachel getting everything she’d ever dreamt of. Besides, the case had to be settled one way or another by Christmas Eve, which, to my utter horror, was only ten days away. After that I could do what I wanted without any recriminations, and what I wanted most in the world was to take Rachel into my arms, kiss her and tell her how I never wanted to spend another second apart from her.
I wondered if I sent Santa a letter whether he’d help, or would I still be on the naughty list?
Second on my Christmas wish list was the hope that when I did declare my love, Rachel would forgive all the half-truths (and at times downright deception) and allow me to be a part of her life. Wearing a pair of loose pyjama bottoms and a vest, I stared out into the night and sipped my hot chocolate. I was growing to love this view, the armada of boats protecting my home, the lights playing tag with the shadows and I was definitely in a better frame of mind now. Three weeks ago the hot chocolate would’ve been replaced by the single malt I used as a crutch. Although the hot chocolate was just as addictive and what with Jane and Rachel constantly feeding me, I had to watch I didn’t end up weighing the same as a baby whale.
I was already missing Rachel. It’s true at first I only wanted to get close to her so I could gather information, but that quickly changed and surely Rachel would see the difference? Surely Rachel would understand?
Wouldn’t she?
I readied myself for the next couple of days and nights. The weatherman forecasted minus five degrees centigrade in the city, and I wanted to refocus my energies (as Celeste put it) on finding enough evidence to sway even the hardest of hearts, even if that meant risking hypothermia to do so.
***
“Phewie.” Hannah waved her hand in front of her face. “Devon, you reek.” I ignored her wrinkled nose and gagging and pulled up a chair next to her. She produced a bottle of Gucci Rush from her bag and sprayed it in my direction, practically blinding me in the process.
“For goodness sakes, Hannah,” I scolded, “grow up would you? If you’d spent the last couple of nights on the streets sharing a bed with a wet dog, you’d not exactly smell of roses.” Hannah stood abruptly and went over to the machine to pour me a coffee. So maybe that was a bit caustic, but my temper wasn’t set for fair at the moment. My hands trembled as I took the hot mug from her. I thought I’d been prepared for the cold weather.
Reality taught me a harsh lesson.
“Why were you on the streets? Forget to pay the mortgage this month?” Hannah took a sip of her own drink and waited.
“I wanted to get the transients in the alley near where Rachel works, to talk. We need witness statements so I thought if I immersed myself in their world they might open up easier.” I also wanted the experience, to know for myself exactly what it was like, to know precisely what Rachel went through. I knew ultimately I could never grasp the brutality and hopelessness a lot of the homeless felt each day, after all I had a warm home waiting for me with a comfortable bed made up with fresh linens, but it would at least give me some idea.
It did, boy did it ever.
And it was heart breaking.
Rachel was right, there were many characters populating the night, a lot of them with a story to tell. Some shared, most didn’t, but you could see their past in their eyes, in the way they hid from the light, from the way that they would shy back whenever anyone got too close.
Rather like Hannah was doing now, slowly wheeling her chair a little further from mine with each passing second.
“Stop being so precious,” I growled, “I don’t smell that bad. Here,” I handed over a memory card, “let’s see what I got.” I honestly didn’t have a clue because half the time I forgot to hit the record button on the hidden camera. It’s amazing how quickly your mind starts to go when you’re cold, hungry and haven’t slept properly for thirty-six hours. I stopped talking when I saw the first worn down expression and vacant eyes staring at me from Hannah’s computer screen.
Then suddenly they came alive as they began extolling Rachel’s virtues.
“She brings us something to eat when she can,” Mags, a wonderful woman with a surprisingly engaging toothless grin began. I thought she might have been a bit like Rachel’s Henrietta. “Her and that kid of ‘ers. And smiles the whole time, not that, you know, smug smile some of ‘em gives ya, no, a real honest to gawd smile. Like she cares. Like she knows.” Soon everyone was huddled around Hannah’s desk watching and listening to the footage I’d taken.
“She does,” Jordan, a young man who was forced from his home near Birmingham by an abusive stepfather, interrupted in a soft brummie lilt. “She does care and she does know. And she’s making sure that little lass is brought up right too.”
“Yeah, not like her other family. Ted, you know the story don
’t ya?” May from Tottenham said.
Ted, Rachel’s tinkerman, the one she was so fond of and who I’d insulted that first day in the café, watched me closely when I first arrived in the alley. I don’t think he remembered me, thank goodness, or the tape would probably have stopped there and then. “I do, but Rachel might not like us discussing it with a stranger,” he said in perfect Queen’s English. Sitting in the dark next to a large wheelie bin, his voice echoed through the alley. “And definitely not with a reporter.”
“I’m not a reporter,” I heard my voice saying. “I’m doing research. Rachel’s in line for a community angel award.”
“Right. She deserves summin. Is there money with this award?” The whole office chuckled at Mag’s question and my answer of, a little, yes. “then tell ‘er Ted. Tell ‘er how that lad’s family didn’t want his little girl. Said she were a mongrel.”
“Mongrel!” Everyone in the office turned to look at me and then back at the screen. They heard the anger in my voice, it was palpable.
“Yes. Mongrel. How anyone could not want her I don’t know.” Ted said, shaking his head sadly. “It’s shocking, really, how they can sit in their grand Kensington Palace mansion, knowing they have a granddaughter less than ten miles away, yet they haven’t lifted a finger to help Rachel and Ruth, financially or otherwise, and they’re blood to that child, blood.” Ted was spitting mad by the end of his diatribe.
“Rachel gave up her dreams for Ruth, still does.”
“And us. Gawd knows how she does it. She got that skate park and play area built on the estate so the young uns would ‘ave somewhere to go to keep them out of trouble. Now theys help out too. They done a skate competition and gave the money to the soup kitchen and night hostel.”
“Why do you think she does all that?” I heard my voice ask almost disbelievingly. Was Rachel really such an angel? Or was I such a cynical bitch I could no longer see the good in anyone never mind everyone?
Ted fielded the question. “She told me it was because she and Ruth were given a second chance and now she had to do the same for others. No matter who you are or where you come from, everyone deserves a second chance.” There was a gasp in the office. “She said there but for the grace of God…” Ted’s voice caught a little. I knew I’d only spent a little while in his company, but I could tell his factory setting was stoic, yet when he talked about Ruth and Rachel he grew emotional. “there but for the grace of God herself and Ruth would have died in that flat with the rest of their family.”
“Poor mite,” Mags sniffed and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her coat. “If anyone deserves an award, it’s Rachel. She’s a true angel she is.”
Chapter 22
Rachel
Thursday 15th of December, 2016
It had been two days since I fed Devon stew. Two days where I woke up smiling. Two days where I had an ache that was more to do with happiness than pain. Two days where I watched the door open and close behind a myriad of customers.
After I looked at the clock for the seventh time on day two and written off Devon turning up, I was like a bear whose head had just been caught in a trap.
Go figure. I would never have predicted the speed at which I’d grown to rely on seeing her.
“Everything okay?” Eli asked after I’d managed to muck up three orders, two of which were for regulars who ate the same thing every afternoon for lunch.
“Yeah, sorry. you know, just… you know.” I didn’t say anything else because, honestly, the last thing I wanted to do was discuss my aborted love life with Eli, no matter how understanding and liberal he was.
There were just some things you did not share with a man who might as well be your father.
“I know. Maybe you should call her. Soonest said quickest mended and all that.”
Maybe he did know. “Nah. If she turns up, she turns up.” Besides, I felt a bit funny calling, or even texting.
Besides, she hadn’t answered my previous one.
“We don’t get much of ‘er sort round ‘ere. She’s high class, that’s for sure, prob’ly has some high powered job too, gets busy with paperwork.”
“Yeah I get it. It’s not that it’s just-” the bell rang and I quickly looked up and felt deflated when I saw it was just Ruth and Jessie… Wait, just Ruth and Jessie? God help me.
“It’s quiet, why don’t you take the little un to the park.” Eli nodded towards Jessie. “And take that one with you. She looks like she needs a bit of sunlight. Came home the same time as the milkman this morning.”
“Uncle Eli said I can leave early,” Ruth immediately brightened. I think she’d been hoping to see Devon at the café too, but the thought of an hour run around the park soon lifted her spirits. “Want to join us, Jess?”
“I’ve got to,” she began until she saw the upset in my eyes. “Sure. Let me tell Dad, and I’ll grab a couple of coffees. It’s freezing out there.”
Jessie was right, it was bloody cold. It was a crisp afternoon, the sort of afternoon that leaves you ruddy cheeked and breathless from the chill in the air. The sort of afternoon that is perfect for laughing with your daughter as she chases through the leaves.
The sort of afternoon when you realise you are falling for the unattainable like the red and gold leaves drifting to the damp grass.
Slow, languid, yet somehow completely inevitable.
And yet here I was with my best friend and daughter and the woman of my dreams was AWOL. “Want to sit a minute?” Jessie asked. She gave Ruth a bag of seed for the ducks and we watched from a bench on the bank. It afforded us the perfect view of the small pond, and as dusk was settling, so was a light mist.
“Have you ever noticed,” Jessie began, “how obsessed we are with love?”
“I’d say subtle segue but a brick in my face would have been less obvious.”
“No, I’m serious. There’s obviously a biological imperative to mate. Then there’s the social side. We spend years looking for the right woman, sometimes taking away bits of ourselves to make sure we fit.”
“That’s called compromise,” I chuckled.
“Yeah and I know compromise is necessary in any relationship, be it friends and lovers, father and daughter. It’s the nature of the beast.”
“Is there a point to this?” I wondered if Jessie was still drunk from the night before.
“Love will keep us together, love is a many splendored thing, all you need is love-”
“I get the drift, Jukebox Jessie,” I interrupted.
“When Lou and Tommy passed, you went into a shell. You hid from life using Ruth as an excuse. Devon pulled you out of it, much quicker than I thought she would if I’m honest. She yanked you from your safe place and made you hope and imagine for something else. Someone to love you and Ruth. And in that order too.”
Fuck veterinary college, she should go to shrink school. “When did you become so observant?”
“I was taught by the best, you and Lou loved people watching. You both cared about me and you both cared about each other. That kind of love is special. I’ve been worried about you and then suddenly I wasn’t because here was someone who could be special, someone who could take care of the carer. But today?” She waited for an explanation.
“Today is the third day since I fed her stew, told her about Lou and Tommy and then kissed her goodbye. I didn’t realise it was a forever kiss, or I might have made more of it.”
“Was she good?”
“You have no idea.” It had been perfect. “She wasn’t scared off by my life story, she wasn’t even scared off by Ruth. Why Jessie? What did I do wrong?” My breath caught in my throat as I swallowed back a sob. Until this moment I hadn’t truly realised how much I missed Devon and how much I knew it was over.
“You did nothing wrong, nothing!” Jessie exclaimed. “Have you tried calling?”
“A couple of texts. When she didn’t reply I stopped. It’s kinda humiliating chasing after someone who doesn’t want to be caught.”
/>
“Maybe she had a work thing, or a family emergency? It could be any number of things, Rachel. Why are you looking for the negative?”
Because that’s all I’ve known. “Jess, I can’t go running after her any more. The signs were there in the beginning, the tips, the condescension. Even though I grew to understand why, I saw the writing on the wall from day one. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to grow so close, shouldn’t have allowed Ruth to grow so close.”
Let’s add love hurts and what becomes of the broken hearted to the list of clichéd sayings, shall we?
Chapter 23
Hannah
Thursday 15th December, 2016
Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t interfere and maybe Celeste would have my hide, but quite frankly I didn’t care. The Devon I knew three years ago at Flood and Williams was back - cold hearted bitch with a side order of arrogance. I was growing to like and admire the other Devon, the Devon who got flustered when talking to a beautiful woman in a pub, the Devon who brought in coffee and pastries when we’d been working hard, the Devon who actually smiled and owned a heart.
There could be only one reason for this abrupt change and I hit private message on Facebook. Taking my life in my hands, I decided to poke my nose into Devon’s life.
Hey, Jessie.
Fuck of Polly Pocket.
Wasn’t expecting that degree of anger. Polly Pocket. I smiled at the nickname. I liked it. How’s Rachel doing?
What do you think? That bitch broke her heart and if she ever shows her face around here, she’ll be minus a couple of teeth.
Wow butch. Protective. I liked that too. Devon is dying inside too. She didn’t want to completely check out of their lives but something came up, she had to work you know?
Oh and work’s more important than Rachel and Ruth? What? Did she need a new Rolex?