Ben

by Cody Young

  And the first thing he said before he even sat down was, “Layla, what have you done to your hair?”

  She touched her short hair, self-consciously, “Sorry, dad. I should have wrote and told you.”

  “What did you want to do that for? You had lovely hair.” He pulled out the red chair. He sat down, heavily, like the new hairdo was a real blow. Then he sighed and looked at Ben with deep suspicion. “And who the freak is this geezer?”

  Ben stuck out a hand. “Ben Stein. Pleased to meet you.”

  But Layla's father didn’t seem to be in the mood for shaking hands today. Didn’t tell Ben his name. Just looked at his daughter – with bright blue, quizzical eyes – demanding an explanation. “He drove me up here, Dad.”

  “Really? Why?”

  Ben looked at Layla too, wondering if he should leave it to her to explain the nature of their relationship.

  She took a deep breath. “Well, Dad. Ben and me… Me and Ben…”

  Layla’s father gave Ben a hostile look. “You’re seeing him? Him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Are you sleeping with him?”

  She looked up. “No! We only just met.”

  Layla glanced at Ben, who glanced back at her nervously. Things weren’t kicking off to a good start.

  Then her father asked, “Why does he look like a lawyer?”

  “He’s not. He’s a doctor.”

  “No he ain’t. No doctor ever goes out with a girl from the Rookeries. Unless he’s pushing dope.”

  “Dad!” Layla's grey eyes welled with tears. “He isn’t dealing. I swear.”

  Ben rescued her. “I’m sorry, Mr Gilbert. I can see we’ve caught you off guard. Perhaps I should have waited outside. I’ll go, if you want me to?”

  “You do what you like,” the man said, huffily, and folded his arms over his chest.

  “Thank you, Mr Gilbert, you’re very kind. Look, I’ve only known Layla for a short while, but she’s told me how important you are to her, and I thought I’d really like to meet you. And for you to meet me. That way, when Layla writes to you, you’ll know who she’s talking about… if she ever mentions me, that is.” Ben smiled – a harmless, goofy kind of smile. It seemed to help.

  “Eddy,” her father said. “Short for Edward.”

  “Ben,” said Ben. “Short for Benjamin.”

  Eddy unfolded his arms, and shook hands with Ben, a little reluctantly.

  “Jewish boy, are you?”

  “Sort of, yes,” Ben admitted.

  “Looks like it,” Eddy said. With a sniff. “Where d’you meet my Layla?”

  Oh, no, Ben thought, we should have prepared an answer for this question. He grasped at a shred of the truth and offered that in desperation. “We met at the pub on the corner. Not far from where Layla lives.”

  It might work. Eddy Gilbert had been inside so long he might not know the pub had been closed for the last eight months.

  "Is that right?" said Eddy. Looking carefully at his daughter's pretty face.

  She nodded. And glanced away. Ben had already sussed out that she didn’t find it easy to lie to her father.

  “As long as it wasn’t the Fizz Club,” said Eddy. “I don’t want you going in there.”

  So Layla leaned forward and touched her father’s arm. “He’s helping me, Dad. He won't let those bastards get me."

  Eddy looked at Ben suspiciously. "Is that so?"

  So Ben said, "Yes. I'd do anything to keep her out of there."

  "Would you now?" Eddy said. "And what are you hoping for, in return?"

  It was a blunt question. Eddy was direct just like his daughter.

  So Ben looked up and met the man's eye. He swallowed and then he spoke. "It’s early days, Eddy, but I'm hoping I'm in with a chance. I'm hoping Layla and I could have a future together.”

  And Layla blushed, rose pink, and glanced down. But when she looked up, Ben could see she was grateful.

  After that, the conversation moved onto easier topics. Prison food. Bradley’s progress at Dagenham Primary School, or lack of it. And that great British standby – the weather – which even Eddy Gilbert got to experience, to a limited extent.

  As arranged, at about half-time, Ben left them alone, and went to wait in his car.

  * * *

  Layla was left alone with her father. For a heart-to-heart.

  Eddy leaned forward. “Seriously? A doctor?”

  “Yes. He’s nice, when you get to know him.”

  “Are you sure he’s not another Mr. Birch – different accent – same deal?”

  “I’m sure. Come on, Dad. He’s different. He’s not like the people from the Rookeries.”

  “No. He’s probably worse.”

  She sighed. There weren’t any worse people than the people from the Rookeries, as far as she was concerned. “I’m just seeing how things go with him, that’s all.”

  “Not living with him, are you?”

  “No. Like he said, we only just met.”

  “I’d be happier if you’d only just met someone else.”

  “Dad. How can you say that? He’s alright. He’s got a good job. He’s got a nice car. He took me to the flower market the other day. No strings attached. And he’s driven me all the way here to see you. Never asked me for anything in return.”

  Eddy grimaced. “Soon will. They’re all the same. It’s human nature.”

  “I was hoping you’d like him. I like him.”

  “I’m sure you do. But Layla. What does he really want with a girl like you? You’re not his type. And he’s not yours. Or he shouldn’t be.”

  “He’s nice. He’s kind. And I like him. You always said I’d get a feeling, when I met the one for me.”

  “Layla, Layla, for goodness sake. Maybe he is genuinely nice. He certainly wanted me to think so. But if that’s the case, then what do you think the Birch Boys will do to him, if he hangs around the Rook’s Nest for too long? Nice people don’t last long in the Rookeries, do they Layla? Look what happened to me. They’ll chew him up. Unless he’s not as nice as he seems…”

  She stared at the table. Because lots of things her father said made perfect sense. They always did.

  Eddy touched her hand. “I don’t mean to upset you, love. But be careful, and don’t let him break your heart. Nothing but the best for my Layla. Nothing but the best, you understand?”

  She nodded. And then she tried to get up the courage to tell him about Ray Leach.

  When visiting time was over, she walked across the car park, glad to be out of that depressing place and into the fresh air again. It was cold and clear outside – a bright day, considering the time of year. She looked for Ben, trying to remember where he’d parked the car.

  He was standing by the black Audi, smoking a cigarette.

  He looked a little guilty when he saw that she’d seen him with the cigarette between his fingers. Did he imagine she hadn’t guessed? First time she’d met him she’d got the idea he was a smoker, and the time he came up to her flat she’d been sure. The scent of it had lingered on his clothing – like he’d been calming his nerves with a cigarette just before he knocked on her door.

  But he obviously thought he’d had it well hidden. He shrugged and raised his eyebrows apologetically. But then he raised the cigarette to his mouth again. He took a long pull, and gazed at her as the smoke escaped his lips, testing her reaction.

  “Don’t,” she said and took it away from him. “It’s very bad for you.”

  She dropped the cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out with her foot. There were several other butts on the ground by the car door. She looked at them and spoke reprovingly. “How many have you had? Six cigarettes in less than an hour? That’s chain-smoking, Ben.”

  “I know, I know,” he said. “It’s a nervous habit.”

  She looked up at him now. “It’s oral gratification. That’s all it is. And there are better ways of getting that, aren’t there, doctor? Healt
hier ways.”

  “Would one of them include kissing you, do you think?”

  “With you tasting like an ashtray? Not bloody likely.”

  “I could have a breath mint,” he said, hopefully.

  “Oh, irresistible.”

  So Ben changed the subject. “Did your father say anything, after I left?”

  She laughed. “No, we sat there in total silence.”

  “What?”

  “Of course he said things. I haven’t seen him for over a year. We talked a lot. But you mean did he say anything about you, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “He said it was good of you to bring me to see him.”

  “Did he?” Ben looked hopeful again, for a different reason. “So, do you think he liked me, then?”

  She sighed. “No Ben. I don’t think so. He doesn’t trust you. I had a feeling he wouldn’t. He told me I shouldn’t trust you, either. Thinks you’ve got ulterior motives.”

  “I have, yes. I’m going to seduce you and make you fall in love with me,” Ben said, with a hint of a smile. Then he put on a sort of tough-guy voice, “I’m ruthless, but I get what I want.”

  That almost made her smile, but it was difficult to let her guard down after seeing her father in the prison. It was distressing seeing him like that – so broken by what life had done to him. She had to be genuinely tough to survive it, it wasn't a matter of pretending. “He thinks you and Ray Leach are cut from the same cloth.”

  Ben looked offended. “I hope you set him straight. Oh, sorry. Not the right word.”

  “I tried to,” she said, wearily. “but he doesn’t find it easy to trust people. Not since he got put in there.”

  “My sister’s a lawyer. Do you want me to ask her to come and see him?”

  “No,” she said. “It’s bad enough that you saw him. But at least it was only you.”

  The whole idea of Ben’s rich family finding out about everything was…well…worrying. When they found out, it would be the end of it, no doubt. They’d persuade him to be sensible and find himself another lady doctor.

  “Only me?” he said, with an amused smile. “Does that mean my opinion doesn’t count, or that you’re starting to trust me – even if your father doesn’t?”

  She didn’t want to answer that. He was already getting way too cocky. “Can we drive back to London, now? I’m worried about the kids.”

  “Of course.”

  He ate several breath mints on the way home, she noticed. He didn’t need to try to impress her, surely he knew that? Every minute they spent together was precious to her. Stolen moments, secret moments. Moments she'd treasure for the rest of her life, even when he was gone.

  First Kiss

  Ben smiled as he drove along the motorway. He liked to think he was winning with Layla. The way she’d been about the cigarette – she was starting to trust him – to speak her mind with him. He liked that. If she asked him to give up the smokes, he truly believed he’d do it for her. He’d do just about anything, for Layla.

  All the way home he wondered if there'd be an opportunity soon, to kiss her. He had dreamed about it, schemed about it, plotted and planned it. Their first kiss.

  But it had to be perfect – that was the problem. He was confident about his level of skill and prior experience – that wasn’t the issue. It was more a question of how to lead her to the moment. How to melt her into it without it seeming too clunky. And where to take her to do the deed. He wished he could think of the perfect place. He didn’t want to do it in his car, or the back row in a cinema – those places weren’t special enough. Not for his first kiss with Layla. But London was always teeming with people and the only place he could guarantee they’d be alone was his flat. She wouldn’t go there. It was like she’d made some kind of vow, or something. He liked the idea of kissing her in Richmond Park, with autumn leaves falling around them and deer grazing in the fields nearby. And like the flower market, Richmond Park was a rare slice of the English countryside right there in the middle of the city. Glorious in the summer. They could go there with a picnic and a blanket. But it was mid-November now. The leaves were gone and it would be freezing in the park. He didn’t want the poor girl shivering in his arms and begging him to take her home. Unless it was back to his place…

  “What’s the matter?” she said.

  He didn’t realize, until she spoke, that he had sighed. They were almost back in London now – the traffic was thickening and it was getting dark. “Just thinking about where to take you next time.”

  She glanced down, shyly. “Tower Bridge, maybe.”

  “Tower Bridge?”

  “Yes, it’s got a walkway up at the top that looks out over the river. Sometimes it’s really quiet up there and you can stay for ages, if you’re not in a hurry.”

  He smiled. She was thinking the same way he was. “Sounds perfect.”

  He had to concentrate hard as they drove into London. Everyone seemed to be heading into the city at top speed, demonstrating high levels of driver impatience. Driving was a serious business when it was like this. Which is why it came as a shock when he heard her make a soft sound beside him. Glancing sideways, he saw she was crying.

  “Hey, Layla,” he said, searching his heart for any indication of what he might have done wrong this time. “Was it something I said?"

  “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me again after you met my father, and now you’re going to take me to Tower Bridge.”

  A sense of relief suffused his whole body. He took his hand off the gear stick to touch her hand, wanting to reassure her. “Of course I am. Don’t worry. Seeing your father didn’t change anything for me, I told you it wouldn’t.”

  “It changes things for me, though. I’ve let you see things I’ve never let anybody see. I’ve told you secrets I was supposed to be keeping.”

  He squeezed her hand. “That’s a good thing. We’re supposed to be getting to know each other. Gradually. Like any other couple.”

  Couple? He’d announced that they were a couple – after one trip to the flower market, a pancake and a prison visiting hour? He swallowed. Yes, he had fallen for her. From a great height. And they were a couple. A couple who had never even kissed. An odd couple. A very odd couple.

  “I don’t know anything about you,” she said with a laugh. But she dried her eyes, and seemed a bit happier.

  “When do you want to go to Tower Bridge?” he said. “Tuesday?”

  Tuesday was his day off.

  She thought for a moment, and then spoke shyly, like she was afraid to ask. “Could we go on Wednesday? Just this once?”

  He wanted Tuesday. Tuesday was sooner. Why would she want to wait another day?

  But then he remembered what was special about Wednesday. She was turning eighteen. Her birthday, and she wanted to spend it with him. “Okay. I’ll see if I can get Wednesday off this week.”

  “Sorry. Your job’s important. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “Layla. It’s okay. I’ll change my shift.”

  “Thank you.” She looked at him gratefully. And everything seemed good again. Except that as they got closer and closer to her part of London, she seemed to get very nervous.

  Finally, she said, “How about you drop me at Stratford Station?”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s only another two stops to Bethnal, and there’s less chance of anyone seeing us if I go home on the train.”

  Quite clearly she didn’t want their new ‘couple’ status announced in the paper any time soon, and Ben felt a little disappointed.

  “Okay,” he said.

  So he pulled in to Stratford Station car park and cruised round looking for somewhere to leave the car.

  As he slowed right down near the Station entrance, she put a hand on the lever that opened the car door. “You can drop me here if there’s nowhere to park.”

  “No. I’ll come in with you. I’ll keep you company while you wait for the train.”

&n
bsp; Eventually he parked in a space that wasn’t really a space – though it didn’t say ‘Keep Clear’ or anything. He flung his ‘Doctor on Call’ sign up onto the dashboard and hoped for the best.

  They both went into the station. She counted out some change for the fare, and he got a platform ticket.

  It was busy – there must have been a hundred people or more, waiting for the city train.

  She was cold, standing on the station platform. She shivered and pulled her old duffel coat more tightly around her. “It’s freezing up here.”

  “Have my scarf,” he said, touching the white alpaca scarf he wore tucked into the front of his coat.

  “No,” she said, shyly.

  But he ignored that and pulled the scarf out, releasing it and pulling it up over his head. Then he looped it over her, hoping that she’d like that it was still warm from the heat of his body, and their hands met as she reached up to tuck it in. He smiled and lingered there, hands touching hers. “Better?”

  She smiled. “I’ll give it back when the train comes.”

  “No. Keep it.”

  “I can’t.”

  “It’s only a scarf. Tell them you bought it when you went shopping. You have to come home with something.”

  “Maybe.” She touched the edge of the soft, white scarf. She seemed to quite like the idea.

  Then she surprised him. She slipped her arms up around his neck and looked at him like he was some kind of hero.

  He grinned. “It’s only a scarf.”

  She smiled and he took the chance to put his hands on her waist and enjoy this moment with her. This was nice. Layla, happy and smiling, in his arms where she belonged. He gazed down at her and was almost tempted to lower his head and taste her lips, when he heard something that made him look up. The train was coming. He smiled down at her again, feeling a deep sense of regret that they didn’t have more time. She must have heard the train too, but she ignored it, looked up like she only had eyes for him. He didn’t want to look away and break the moment, although soon he knew he would have to. The train was near, snaking along the line towards the platform. The people stirred and noise and commotion filled the air.

  So he took a risk. “Do you want me to wait for Tower Bridge?”