Ben

by Cody Young

  Jacob was the one who had challenged Birch, after twenty years of doing exactly what he was told to do. And all because he’d lost his oldest son. And Layla knew that if Jacob hadn’t done what he’d done – she’d be dead. Her life would have been over just eighteen years after it had begun. The police would have found her lying in a pool of blood on Mr Birch’s floor.

  She didn’t want to be stuck at the police station. She wanted to be at the hospital with Ben. But they insisted she stay for a lengthy debrief about what went down at the Fizz. She sighed. There had already been a million questions before she did the sting. And lots of paperwork. Agreeing to be a confidential informant. Birch had been right – she was a snitch. They’d told her they’d look much more leniently on anything she and Ben had done if she could offer the police ‘substantial help’. So she’d almost died trying to do as they asked.

  She supposed that even if she had died like that, the police would still have been celebrating. They’d have had lots of good stuff on Jacob’s wire, and a body with a bullet in it from Birch’s own gun. She felt a whole range of emotions – a numb sense of disbelief, mixed with confusion and guilt, because no one would tell her what was really going on. They all seemed so happy. Jubilant, even. She wandered up to the water fountain feeling like she was some kind of ghost. But then, under it all there was another feeling – a strange, exhausted sense of relief that she was still alive. That she could walk around, unharmed, and never wonder what Mr Birch would do to her ever again.

  There seemed to be a million more questions after the event. And more paperwork and statements to sign. The questions were so hard. There were so many things she couldn’t remember – not with any degree of accuracy at all. After the shots were fired and the police came in, everything was a bit of a blur. Uniforms, vests, holsters. Lots of shouting. And sirens. Sirens screaming blue bloody murder. Fragmented images of the most frightening day of her life.

  “Can anyone tell me what’s happened to Jacob?” she said.

  But nobody seemed to know.

  Eventually they told her she could go home, and she had to explain that she virtually lived at the Royal London, where her boyfriend was in a coma. And she had no money, because everything they’d given her was on the floor at the Fizz club covered in blood. And she felt very shaky. So if they didn’t mind, she’d need a lift to hospital. In a squad car. Thanks very much.

  * * *

  Two days later. She pushed Ben in a wheelchair along the corridor towards the ICU. He was weak but he was determined to go.

  The nurse on the desk knew Ben from his student days – and wanted the full, X-rated version of how he’d ended up there with a bullet-hole in his shoulder.

  He shook his head, politely. “Can’t talk, Emily, sorry. Police orders.”

  Layla smiled. She wheeled on past, and murmured, “Ben. That was a lie.”

  “Yes. I’m getting better at that, aren’t I?” he said.

  “You were always good. You fooled Ray, the day we met.”

  “The end justifies the means, Layla. Machiavelli – one of my heroes, after Hippocrates.”

  They went into the room, where a man lay in a hospital bed, connected to a lot of machines.

  “Hello, Dr Stein…” said a voice – not quite as resonant as usual – but Layla’s heart leapt to hear it again.

  “Jacob,” Ben said, warmly. “How can I ever thank you?”

  The ebony face broke into a weak smile. “One good turn deserves another.”

  Layla came near to speak to him. “You almost had me, Jacob. I thought you were dead.”

  “I was for about three minutes. That’s what the surgeon said.”

  Ben touched Jacob’s hand. “We owe you everything. Layla’s life. Our future. Thank you, for what you did. You had the most incredible courage.”

  “No…I thought I had nothing left to lose.”

  “But that’s not true. Is it?”

  “No,” he said wearily. “My wife says that Declan’s getting better. Off the cocaine now, and doing very well.”

  “That’s good,” Ben said. “That’s good.”

  The nurse wouldn’t let them stay long. Everybody needed rest, she said. Rest was the best medicine in the world.

  No – it isn’t, thought Ben, and touched Layla’s hand. It’s love.

  Epilogue

  Ben knew he was lucky. He was out on pre-charge bail – organized by his sister – while the police decided what he could be charged with. Ruth had contacted the best criminal lawyer she knew and he’d promised to handle the case in the New Year. The killing would be ruled self-defence, Ruth was adamant about that. She was even optimistic that his licence to practise medicine would be given back to him once the facts were examined and the dust had settled. Ben wasn’t so sure, he’d done so many things a doctor should never do, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be forgiven.

  “It’ll be okay, Benjy. But I think you should get out of London. Find a nice village to live in and be a GP there. Hay fever and insect bites would be a breath of fresh air after what you’ve been dealing with, wouldn’t they?”

  He smiled. Only time and the lumbering British legal system would tell. In the meantime, he was taking time off. And he was spending it with Layla.

  Ruth and her husband took them directly from the courthouse and drove them to North Fenland. In time for Hanukkah, with the promise that they’d stay for Christmas. Robbie drove the car, and Ruth sat beside him. Ben sat in the back next to Layla, and they held hands.

  The feeling was gradually coming back into his right arm. He could flex his fingers now, although not very strongly. But feelings were feelings, and Ben was grateful for the ones he could still enjoy. Oh, and he was going to enjoy Layla. Every night he could. He gazed at her now and wished that Ruth and Robbie weren’t in the car. If he was driving the car, he’d pull over and enjoy her now.

  He squeezed Layla’s hand – her left hand – the one that would wear his ring before this visit was over, if she said yes. She gave him a smile, and for a long moment, he wondered if she already knew.

  Tower Bridge, he thought. We could hire one of the galleries, and have our engagement party there.

  They arrived at his parents’ place, and Robbie drove his silver Rover through the ivy clad gates that said ‘Chanson D’Amour’. It felt like years since they’d been here, even though it had only been a few weeks. So much had happened. So many radical changes. Ben got out of the car – gingerly – still weak from his time in hospital. He wore his new jacket slung loose around his shoulders. It was too much of an effort to put his arms in the sleeves. Robbie popped the boot and got their luggage out for them, and Layla carried the bags up the front steps that led to the house.

  A kid’s bike – new and shiny – lay casually abandoned on the step that said ‘1937’.

  Layla said, “They’re spoiling them rotten, you know. He didn’t even have until have to wait until Christmas Day for that.”

  Ben looked at the bike and shrugged – and then winced. It was painful to shrug, and he was always forgetting. Layla pushed the bell and heard the Big Ben chime inside the house, followed by footsteps that sounded like a herd of caribou. The door opened and Ben’s mother appeared in her pinny, holding Layla’s little brother Jayden in her arms. He was eating pretzels and getting crumbs on her shoulder. “Benjy! Layla! Ruth! Robbie!” Her voice went up in pitch each time she said a name, until she was squeaking like a tin whistle. Morrie was there too, smiling over the top of his specs and saying ‘let the dog see the rabbit’. Layla’s other brother, Bradley, ducked out from between them and bounced around on the porch telling anyone who’d listen that he’d got a brand new bike.

  “Yes, I know,” said Layla. “Lucky beggar, aren’t you?”

  “Come in, come in!” Sylvia said, although it was nearly impossible. Ruth and Robbie swapped glances on the doorstep.

  When they did get over the threshold, they stopped to admire the massive Christmas tree in the entrance
hall – stretching up into the upper storey and lit with a zillion brightly-coloured lights. Sylvia gave them a blow-by-blow account of how the children had been helping her decorate it. “And do you know, little Jaydee loves Mr Sminky!”

  And there in the confusion of the Steins’ hallway – full of people and luggage and festivity – Ben finally felt he could let go some of the tension of the last few weeks. Layla was safe. The children were happy. Ray was dead, and Mr. Birch was gone forever.

  “Now, about the sleeping arrangements,” said Sylvia. “They’re a bit complicated as we’ve got a full house. Now Ben, dear, I hope you don’t mind but we’ve put Bradley in your old room, so you can’t use that any more. I’ve thrown out all those horrible ashtrays. And Ruth and Robbie will be staying in her old room, like they always do. And Jaydee’s got the box room – oh, you have to see it – we put a little cot in there for him and lots of teddies and a mobile that twirls around over him at night – Paddington Bear in eighteen different poses! So that only left me with… wait a minute, I suppose we could put them in our room?”

  She turned to Morrie and looked at him for an answer, but he shook his head. Vehemently. “No, dear, you and I are sleeping in there.”

  She turned back to Ben. “Yes. Well. There’s a double mattress on the floor of the sun lounge for you and Layla, and you can pull the blinds right down over those big windows if you want to get up to anything. Tell me I’m right in thinking you won’t be wanting separate beds?”

  Layla flushed a pretty pink colour.

  Ben grinned. “Not this time, mother.”

  “That’s such a relief,” said Sylvia.

  “I’ve got the best room,” said Bradley, importantly. “It’s like stylish – and I’ve got my own sound system.”

  Layla glanced gratefully at Morrie and Sylvia. “You’re too good to him. To all of us, really.”

  Sylvia ruffled the boy’s hair. “Oh, but he’s doing well and making us proud. It’s only been a few weeks and he’s riding his bike and making friends at the village school and impressing his teachers and everything.”

  “Yeah,” said Bradley. “I ain’t thick anymore, Layla. Morrie helps me after tea and maths is my best subject.”

  Layla gave him a hug. “I’ll bet. And you’re going to be Albert Einstein when you grow up, are you?”

  “No way,” said Bradley, and gave Ben a sly look. “I want to be a doctor.”

  The End

  Read more by Cody Young

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  Coming in 2015, the Floodwater series, make sure you are on the mailing list to get the release dates.

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  then read Johnny and the Vampires of Versailles (Book Two)

  and then Johnny’s Bride (Book Three) (coming soon)

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  Read Katie and Michael’s story in Katie’s Hero – a world war two romance.

  Read Emma and Tyler’s story in American Smile – a contemporary romance with a world war two story running through it.

  If you like Victorian historical novellas, try Scandal at the Farmhouse for Ned and Clara’s story.