The Reunion

by Gould, R J

  Zara had been transferred from east to north-west London almost a year ago and the contrast was dramatic. Back then she’d been involved in life-threatening operations at high rise blocks with their forever failing lifts, damp and blackened walls, and harsh concrete outside terrains. Here she was relieved to no longer have to break up feuding gangs or deal with associated knifings, shootings and brawls. Her current beat, she’d have to admit, was very easy by comparison. Drunken teenagers, minor drug offences, and dodgy insurance claims were the main demands on her time. And this family had scored for all three despite their comfortable home, delicious biscuits and the other outward signs of middle class propriety.

  “Why would I want to set fire to my own business premises before I’ve even got started?”

  “Why indeed, sir?”

  “I’ve already told you, I can’t be held responsible for my ex-wife’s actions. We separated months ago and I can’t for the life of me think why she’d want to burn down the café. In fact we get on fairly well now.”

  “Clearly not that well. May I?” Zara asked as she leaned across to take another biscuit.

  “Yes, help yourself.”

  “You say your ‘ex-wife’. We have no record of a divorce.”

  “Well we aren’t divorced yet.”

  “So she’s not your ex-wife then?”

  “Technically not, but to all intents and purposes she is.” David was being made to feel guilty when there was nothing to feel guilty about. “The financial settlement was completed a while back and we’re going through the final legal bit now.”

  “To what extent is she involved in your coffee bar plans?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Let me get this straight. You’ve sorted out the split of your finances so she has no interest in the success or otherwise of your business venture. She doesn’t stand to gain or lose any money. So can you think of any reason for her action?”

  They were going round in circles. David considered Jane’s jealousy regarding his mother’s death and the subsequent windfall inheritance. Then there was her distress at being dumped by Jim. “I have no idea,” he declared.

  At 12.15 am on the previous Sunday morning, two policemen in a duty vehicle had been making their way at no great speed along Muswell Hill Broadway to ensure that the behaviour outside the pubs and clubs was not intolerable. As they reached the quieter end of the road, the officer who wasn’t driving glanced down a side street and noticed a car parked on double yellow lines with warning indicators flashing. They stopped to observe. It had been an unusually calm Saturday night and these two young policemen had missed the buzz of confrontation.

  “I bet there’s a party on somewhere and that’s a poor parent who’s been ordered to collect their little darling, but instructed not to park too close to avoid embarrassment,” Robin surmised.

  William laughed. “No, it won’t be a party and I’ll tell you why not, it’s approaching exam season. All the sixth formers are busy revising.”

  “What about the younger kids?”

  “They’ve got exams too.”

  “Do you think they care enough to stay sober?”

  “This is Muswell Hill. Of course they do.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Let’s do a good deed and see what the problem is.”

  “I’m telling you, it’ll be a middle aged lady. Mind you, we could get her because she is on a double yellow line. God knows why she hasn’t parked a little further up the road.”

  “You know what, I can’t be bothered. Let’s leave her in peace.”

  “Agreed. Turn at the roundabout and head back to the station. If we drive slowly we’ll be pretty well off duty by the time we get there. I’m knackered anyway.”

  Robin drove to the roundabout, went all the way round, then headed back down the Broadway at a snail’s pace. This gave them plenty of time to observe as the woman got out of her car and looked around before staggering up to the last shop on the small parade, an empty plot. She peered through the letterbox.”

  William prided himself in recognising the potential for crime, although in this case it didn’t take a Sherlock Holmes to appreciate something was up. “Pull in for a minute will you, Robin. I want to see this.”

  Robin stopped barely a hundred yards from where the woman was standing. He switched off the car lights and then the engine. She was too preoccupied to notice company.

  Unsteadily the woman returned to her car, opened the boot and lifted out a yellow metal container. It must have been heavy, she struggled to carry it.

  “That’s a petrol can!” William exclaimed.

  They watched in awe as this smartly dressed middle aged lady stumbled back to the shop, pushed the stem of a large funnel through the letterbox, opened the can, and began to pour out the contents. She was finding it difficult to control the action and some of the liquid was spilling onto her clothes. She set the can down on the pavement and put her right hand in her jacket pocket.

  “Enough of that,” Robin declared. “Let’s go.”

  “Within seconds their siren was blaring, their lights were flashing, and the car was speeding the short distance towards the imminent arsonist.

  On hearing and seeing the advancing police car the woman raised her arms high in the air to indicate surrender. Her dramatic stance made William laugh out loud and he had to bite his lip to stifle it as he stepped out the car. He stopped smiling when he saw a lighted match in her right hand. She was in grave danger of setting fire to herself.

  “Don’t you move an inch,” he yelled as he sprinted towards her. “Not an inch!”

  When he reached her he grabbed hold of her wrist, brought it down close to his mouth, and blew out the match.

  “Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” Jane mumbled. The policemen’s attempt to get any sense out of her was pointless given her level of intoxication. A flustered, incoherent Jane was taken to the police station and locked up for the night with charges of attempted arson and drink driving imminent. On taking the breathalyser test she used the logic of an alcoholic to explain that the drinking had been essential to build up the courage to carry out the arson.

  She spent a miserable night in a cell and was full of remorse by the morning when she gave David’s contact details to WPC Zara Dixon. After a brief interview Zara decided to visit the address provided, well aware she had been there before. Twice.

  “If, as you say, you are separated, why would Jane give this as her home address?”

  David explained the situation. His soon to be ex-wife had been dumped by the man she had left him to live with. Although she was still living in Jim’s house this was only for a short while until she found a place of her own. She probably thought his address was the best bet.

  “Though finding somewhere to live clearly wasn’t the only thing on her mind last night, was it?”

  David decided to keep any further answers brief in an attempt to terminate the interview. “Apparently not.”

  The policewoman asked if David intended to press charges. He’d been expecting this question and replied with a monosyllabic ‘no’.

  “No?”

  “That’s right, no.”

  Zara was beginning to think the work in east London, although a lot tougher, was rather easier to comprehend. She waited for David to explain his decision. It was a long wait, but finally he continued.

  “She’s going through a difficult time. And she didn’t end up doing anything wrong, did she? The premises weren’t set fire to, no property or person was injured. I’m sure she would have realised it was wrong before taking the action.”

  “Sir, the officers were fortunately able to intervene just in time. There was a pool of petrol inside your door, she was covered in it, and she had already struck a match.”

  “I’m sure all sorts of things were going through her mind at that point to prevent her doing it.”

  “In her state I don’t think much could have been going through her mind. We have a recording of her intervie
w. She admits to getting drunk to give her the courage to commit arson.”

  “People can say things in the panic of the moment, things they don’t mean. The fact of the matter is that there was no fire and therefore no crime.”

  “Apart from driving when almost four times over the limit.”

  “I thought she was parked when you apprehended her. Did anyone see her drive in that state?”

  “Well that’s for us to act upon, it’s not relevant to this conversation. Are you sure you won’t press charges?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “OK, I’ll record that.”

  “Is that everything then?”

  “I suppose it is. Thank you for your time.” WPC Dixon stood and David led her to the front door.

  “There is one more thing, sir. Those biscuits, where do you get them from?”

  The Reunion – R J Gould

  Chapter 41

  “This is so cool, Bridget,” Rachel said. “Yes, a huge well done to you both,” Joe added. David had seen a lot of Rachel’s boyfriend in recent weeks and was rather fond of him, even though the knowledge that Joe was sleeping with his daughter wasn’t easy to come to terms with.

  Regardless of whether it was cool or not, the first night was as big a success as they could possibly have hoped for. The café was jam packed and everyone was in good spirits, laughing and chatting away. Jabulani’s band was well-received and customers were purchasing the full range of food and drink on offer.

  “Dad, please can I have a glass of red wine?” Rachel asked, technically for the first time but she’d already requested white wine and beer.

  “Stop it, Rachel. You’re not having any alcohol. I could lose my licence and get shut down on the first night.”

  “I look old enough. Anyway if an inspector came in I’d hand my drink over to someone else,” she said looking across at Joe who had turned eighteen.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Fun killer. Never mind, we’re off to a party now. Well done with this place, dad. I’ll see you later or maybe tomorrow morning, I’m not sure yet.” She kissed him and he could smell alcohol on her breath.

  “Text me if you’re staying out,” he called after her. He was unsure if she’d heard because at that point the song the band was performing, initially soft and melancholy, picked up pace and volume. For the first time in ages David could let all thoughts of what was needed to be done wither away as he listened to the music.

  There was a loud cheer as the song reached its climax. Jabulani spoke. “Thank you, thank you very much. It’s an honour to be here on the opening night of my friend’s café. I must say a few words about David – he’s been helpful and kind from the first day I met him at work. But hey, I’m not going to speak, we’re going to perform our new song called David and Bridget’s Dream.

  There were no instruments for this song, just voice. Wonderful harmonies across several octaves. The lyrics brought laughter even though most listeners were unaware of the significance of references to the local council, a lethal underground car park, Queensbury, tea at Harrods, and a tight-arsed boss called Mary.

  She wears ethnic chic

  Thinks our work is bleak

  Keen to criticise

  Especially all the guys

  It’s scary Mary

  Yes it’s scary Mary

  David roared with laughter until interrupted by a sharp poke in the ribs. He turned and faced his ex-tight-arsed boss. She was taking it in good spirits, all smiles as he would expect from the new Mary. The song ended with ‘my god, it’s scary…scary…scary…Mary’ and there was wild applause.

  Kanjani had finished their set and Jabulani’s brother was thanking the audience, informing them that their first album was about to be released. One of the reasons for such a crowded first night was the reputation that the band had acquired in the local area over recent months.

  “Luckily you’ve resigned, David, otherwise it would be instant dismissal on a charge of gross misconduct.”

  “It weren’t me, your honour, it were Jabulani,” he exclaimed in mock defence. “Thanks ever so much for coming along tonight.”

  She moved closer and kissed him on each cheek. “I wouldn’t dream of missing such an important event.”

  David noticed Bridget looking across at them. She was behind the bar serving drinks – they were taking it in turns to support their staff there. “Let me introduce you to Bridget.”

  “Sure.”

  As they headed across the room, Ross approached at considerable speed. He grabbed hold of David’s hand and shook it furiously. “Hello mate. You’ve done it, well done.” His attention turned to Mary. “I hope you’re going to introduce me to this beautiful lady?”

  The beautiful lady didn’t seem to be put off by the crass chat up line. “I think I’m able to introduce myself. I’m Mary,” her new voice said.

  “Well, hello Mary. I’m Ross, a close friend of this entrepreneurial wizard.” The entrepreneurial wizard needn’t have been present because Ross’s attention was fully on Mary. He took hold of her hand and kissed it. She didn’t mind, in fact she was beaming.

  Red alert. Keep away from him. David wanted to warn her, but he was already relegated to bit player, in fact completely ignored as Ross invited Mary to join him at the bar for a drink. He watched as they walked off, his gaze fixed on the tight fitting purple skirt that Mary was wearing.

  He caught Candy’s eye and she waved. She had come with a group of friends, students on her degree course. Presumably the relationship with Ross was over since she was sitting on the lap of a more appropriate male in terms of age. Ross would be on the lookout for a new woman and judging by what was going on by the bar, already he was making good progress with Mary. They were sitting close together on bar stools and his hand rested on her knee. David dismissed his gut reaction to intervene. Mary was tough enough to cope and who knows, it might end up as the perfect match. Bridget was serving them drinks – David hadn’t got as far as introducing the two women.

  And now another woman was on the scene. Jane approached him with a man by her side, he was rather formally dressed for the occasion in suit and tie.

  “Hi David.”

  “Hello Jane.”

  They’d had a heart to heart after the attempted arson attack, Jane full of remorse and grateful that he hadn’t pressed charges.

  “I thought I’d support your opening. I wish you lots of luck.” She looked across to Bridget, busy at the bar. “Both of you.”

  “That’s very kind, I appreciate you coming along.”

  “This is Rupert, he’s a friend from work.”

  Rupert extended his arm and they shook hands. What with the tension of the opening night, Mary turning up, Ross chasing Mary, Candy with a new man, Rachel heading off god knows where, and now Jane arriving, he was struggling to build up enthusiasm to speak to Rupert.

  “Go and get a drink. Now the band’s finished I need to put on some music then I’ll have to relieve Bridget at the bar.”

  David led Jane and Rupert towards Bridget, passing Ross and Mary who were laughing away. He felt a tinge of jealousy. He escaped into the small office and chose a Beach House album to play, appropriately gentle end of evening music. They had to close by 11.30 pm so how to get customers to leave on time was on his mind when Bridget joined him.

  “It’s beginning to quieten down,” she said. “I know we want masses of sales but I’m dead beat, I wouldn’t mind if everybody went home now.”

  They peeped out.

  Candy and her friends were still partying, the youngest of the mixed age profile of customers that they had so hoped for.

  “Wow, what a great night,” Bridget exclaimed.

  “Yes, I think we’re going to make it. In fact I know we are.”

  “I believe you could be right. When I first saw this idea on your list I thought it was a wild fantasy.”

  “No, you were my wild fantasy! I’ve been thinking, partner. Now we work together
perhaps we should live together.”

  “Let’s not run before we can walk, David.”

  “Yes, but do you think a run might be possible?”

  “We’ll see, David.”

  “Stop saying ‘David’ at the end of every statement! There’s no need.”

  “What are you talking about? Why are you laughing?”

  “A private joke, it reminded me of someone I used to know.”

  “Sometimes your humour is utterly incomprehensible. I’ve got no idea why I’m fond of you.”

  “It could be my money.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  They watched the band members pack up and left it to the more conscientious of their own staff to collect glasses from the near deserted tables. Jane and Rupert, engaged in earnest conversation in the shadows of the far corner, were holding hands. David was happy to see that.

  Candy and her gang were getting ready to leave. Drinks were being downed, coats put on, and the couples were having a farewell snog.

  Propping up the bar ever closer Mary, Ross looked across at Candy. When her kiss was over he laughed aloud to indicate that he was having the time of his life with a new woman. Candy didn’t notice or didn’t want Ross to see her notice. She waved at David and Bridget and blew them a kiss.

  Ross rested a hand on Mary’s shoulder and whispered something that made her giggle. “Who’s that woman with Ross?” Bridget enquired.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I saw you talking with her earlier. Who is she?”

  David reddened. “That’s Mary.”

  “Your ex-boss? God, she’s not at all what I thought she’d be like. She’s incredibly attractive. Don’t you think so?”

  “I suppose she is, I’ve never thought of her in that way. She was just my boss.”

  “Come on, I reckon it’s time we shut down,” Bridget said as she turned off the music. They stepped out the office and observed the arrival of the very late comer.

  David was flabbergasted that she’d popped in to support their opening night, presumably having just got off duty as she was still in uniform. He rushed over to greet her. “Hello, it’s great to see you. I’d better not contravene licencing laws or you’ll arrest me, but there is time to get you one drink before closing. What would you like?”