The Soulmate Agency

by Ivan B

  He steered her across the road towards a coffee shop. She giggled, “Are we going to have a celebration drink?”

  They toasted each other in coffee and ate a pair of toasted teacakes. Ben, after a moment of sheer extravagance when he ordered two more cups of coffee, gazed at her. “I meant what I said, the ceremony was awful, but I’m glad I married you.”

  She paused with her lipstick stained cup near her red lips, “We could go for a marriage blessing ASAP if you want to.”

  “No, I’m happy with what we agreed, Swiftie now and a marriage blessing back with my, sorry our, own congregation.”

  He gazed at her radiant face and wondered at the difference twelve hours could make. “Do you really want to change to Roberta?” He asked lazily.

  She stretched her legs out and kicked him in the process, “Yes. I’m starting a new life and so I want to be Mrs Roberta Williamson not Mrs Bobbie Williamson. I want to be an adult not a child.” She sipped her coffee, “So now what? Where do we go from here?”

  Ben studied the floral design on the hideous pink teacup and Roberta’s divine elegance in Willow’s seersucker skirt and Riona’s blouse before announcing, “Your needs first, so I guess it’s a trip to Kent.”

  She savoured the idea that anyone would put her needs first. All her life she’d been pushed around and forced to do what she didn’t want to, now he was saying her needs first, she dared to hope it would last. “Not Kent, they live in Kings Lynn. They were in Kent, but he needed to be nearer the Midlands, but couldn’t bring himself to have a Birmingham postcode.”

  Anxiety crossed her brow, “What if my parents are there?”

  He touched her hand, “Then I’m with you and you’re my wife, they have no hold over you now.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed, ‘They have no hold over you now,’ could this possible be true?

  They walked back to the car hand in hand and Ben began to fret about what would happen when night fell and they had to sleep together. Marrying this gorgeous redhead that had walked into his life was one thing, sex was quite something else. They arrived at the car and Roberta looked at it as if for the first time, “I can’t believe,” she announced, “that any man would buy a lilac car.”

  He shrugged, “With this model it adds a couple of hundred to the resale value.”

  She raised an eyebrow, “What is it?”

  They climbed in and she put the passenger chair right back as he answered. “It’s a Daihatsu Charade, does over sixty miles to the gallon and it suits me fine.”

  She reached over and placed a hand on his arm, she didn’t have far to reach as in reality the car was tiny even though the space inside was more than she’d expected. “I wasn’t criticizing, just curious; we’ve got a lot to learn about each other.”

  He momentarily placed his hand on hers before starting the engine.

  As they travelled on the road west from Norwich Roberta rifled through the glove box and inspected Ben’s collection of CDs. She muttered as she looked through, “Eric Clapton… Eric Clapton… Eric Clapton… Eric Clapton…Chris Rea… Eric Clapton…Ottilie Patterson and Chris Barber…Dire Straits…Vivaldi…Bessie Smith…Tom Rush…Robert Johnson…BB King.” She glanced at him, “Like the Blues do you?”

  His mouth twitched into a nervous smile, “Do you.”

  She stretched her legs, “Prefer Country and Western, the gloom and doom is far better.”

  He chuckled at the concept and they began to talk. He told her of his University life and his three probationary years as a social worker, she told him of the finishing school in Switzerland and how they had spent a whole term on the etiquette and entertaining guests of different nationalities. All too soon they swung off of the A road and then into a country lane. Her home turned out to be an eight bedded double fronted mansion set in a couple of acres of ornamental grounds with a swimming pool in the conservatory. As they pulled up she announced that her parents were away, he turned off the engine, “How do you know?”

  “Shutter on the bathroom vent is open and the window is closed. They’re creatures of order and habit; if you’re going out for the day you close the window, for more than that and you open the vent to prevent the build up of smells.”

  They climbed out and stared at the windows. “Got a key?” he asked.

  She gave a small smirk, “Of course; I kid you not when I say I nicked it when I was 21.”

  She opened the massive walnut covered front door and then sped down the ornate hall to turn off the bleeping burglar alarm. When it fell silent she sniggered, “Well at least they haven’t changed the code.”

  The house intrigued Ben; it was part designer mausoleum, part minimalist chic and part empty. She wandered back from the rear of the house. “Definitely gone away, the swimming pools drained.”

  Ben frowned, “Suppose you’d called them to say you wanted to come home?”

  She laughed, “I said gone away not out of touch, the phone and fax will be diverted and the post sent on by the cleaner.”

  He decided to get down to work, “Show me where this bureau is and I’ll get cracking.”

  She took him into what was obviously supposed to be a study, but there were few books and nothing of note except a large red mahogany roll-top bureau. They pulled it from the wall and she left him to go and get some clothes not wanting to spend any unnecessary time in the house. Ben inspected the rear of the bureau and went to the car for his tool kit. With the aid of a Stanley knife and a bit of brute force he’d slid the plywood at the back of the bureau down far enough to get his arm into the inside. He fished around for the top left hand drawer where Roberta had said her documents were stored. Within two minutes he had her passport, cheque book and bank-card, plus a couple of bank statements, a birth certificate and a baptism certificate, lying at his feet. He glanced at a bank statement and raised his eyebrows before picking it up and giving it a closer inspection. He gave a low whistle and returned to his allotted task. He struggled to slip the back into place and skinned his knuckles in the process. But he was triumphant.

  After pushing the bureau back into place by himself – no mean feat – he went upstairs to find Roberta’s room. When he did and walked in he stopped in amazement. In general it was a girl’s bedroom with pinky expensive looking wallpaper and matching curtains. The furniture looked both feminine and well made, however, what captured his view were the books. The room must have originally been the size of a giant double bedroom, but it had been reduced to that of a large single room by a huge pile of paperback books. They went from wall to wall and floor to ceiling and if the end window was meant to be in the centre of the wall then the pile was well over six feet deep. She glanced up from stuffing clothes into a black plastic bin-liner, “Told you I read crime novels.”

  He wondered about the floor loading before croaking, “How many?”

  She tossed her fiery hair, “No idea, suppose I’ve been reading a book a day for a couple of years, maybe more. I originally started to try and improve my concentration, took me three months before I could even read a couple of chapters without backtracking.”

  She saw the amazement on his face and sniggered, “Don’t worry I won’t bring any and I promise to be a good girl and give any old ones I read from now on to the church fête.”

  She tossed the overstuffed bin-liner at him. “There’s two more downstairs and I’ll bring the shoes separately.”

  He surveyed the overstuffed bin-liner. “I thought you said that you’d sold your clothes.”

  “Only the ones I could take away with me, mainly expensive topcoats, two of which were fur.”

  They crammed three overstuffed bin-liners, an empty jewellery box, twelve pairs of shoes and sandals, a vanity case, four handbags, two coats, one weatherproof and a pair of lightweight fleece jackets into the rear of the car. Ben muttered that he was glad she hadn’t bought everything and she playfully punched him on the arm. It hurt like hell. Once they’d closed the car doors she looked at the house, �
�One more thing before we go,” she said huskily. She picked up a copy of the marriage certificate and marched into the house, Ben followed. She strode into the dining room where there was an immaculate giant walnut veneered dining table surrounded by twelve chairs. The surface was so smooth and so polished it was almost like a mirror. She placed the certificate in the middle of the table, took of her sandal and hammered a thumbtack straight through the certificate into the table. Ben winced at the thought of the crushed veneer. She put a tack in each corner of the certificate, it was a statement; ‘I’m married, I’m gone, you have no more control, goodbye and good riddance.’

  They went back to the car, Roberta carefully locked up the house and they drove away. Ben noted the time. We’d better be getting back for Angela’s formal dinner, if that’s what you want. Or we could just opt for a hotel.”

  It was there again, that ‘what you want,’ she savoured it as before. ““We’ve paid our money, so why not go back, but can you stop in Kings Lynn first, I need to see a man about some jewellery.”

  She giggled, “Actually it’s a pawnbroker’s, it where I pawned my jewellery. I’ve done it before and he always keeps it as he knows that father usually redeems it sooner or later.”

  The pawnbroker was true to Roberta’s description. She went in clutching her bank card and emerged half an hour later with a polythene bag full of jewellery. She sat in the car and started to put ear-rings in. Ben marvelled at just how many rings she seemed to be using. He watched closely. One very large gold ring in each ear lobe with a smaller one behind. Then a series of rings going up the edge of the ear with each one smaller than the one before. He counted four rings above each lobe, a ring in the gristle near the left ear-hole and a final ring in the top of her right ear. The final touch was a small bobble ended stud that she pushed through the end of her right eyebrow; she noticed him watching and froze. She said hesitantly, “Mum says that all these rings make me look like a whore, do you want me to…”

  He reached over and stroked her eyebrow, he had assumed that the piercing had been a slight scar, “You wear a million rings if you want to, I’m not complaining.”

  She licked her lips, “I’ve had them so long I sort of feel undressed without them.”

  “Well I couldn’t have you walking about undressed could I?”

  She giggled and slipped a plain ring over her right thumb and a small signet ring on her right little finger. “There, she said, “I’m dressed.”

  She dropped the polythene bag, with whatever else it contained, into the jewellery box and leant back in the seat just before Ben drove off.

  They had gone about a quarter of a mile while driving through the town centre to get back onto a trunk road when she said softly, “Ben, will you park the car please?” He diverted into a dismal and expensive pay-and-display car park and found a vacant spot. He glanced at her as he turned the engine of and then shuffled round in his seat. She was looking apprehensively out of the window at a small family as they went shopping. She turned to face him, apprehension in her eyes. “I know we said last night that we’d take things step by step and not rush anything and consider our options and all of that,” she took a deep breath. “But I’d like to amalgamate our bank accounts sooner rather than later.”

  Ben reached over and held her hand. “Is this because you’re afraid of your father?”

  She chewed on her bottom lip, “Partially and it’s also about trust, isn’t that what we discussed yesterday morning? I want you to trust me and I want to trust you. I know that I’m asking for you to take a big step in trusting me with your money, especially with my track record, but it really would mean a lot to me.”

  Ben couldn’t help himself, he burst out laughing. He sobered up when he saw the hurt in her eyes. He held onto her for fear she would get out of the car and run away. “Sorry, it’s just when you said that you were asking a lot for me to trust you with my money. At close of play last night I had the princely sum of £1350 in my bank account, that’s been reduced somewhat in the last few hours. I fear that the trust would be on your side of the equation not mine.”

  She blinked and Ben watched her eyelid’s unequal progress. He tried for an explanation, “Look I’m just a poor vicar, this car is three months old and I didn’t expect to have to buy a car for a couple of years, but my old Ford dropped a set of valves and mangled the pistons. I was determined that I wouldn’t get into debt so I used my savings and…”

  She squeezed his hand and he stopped talking. They stared at each other until he stroked her hand, “You really are beautiful you know, I’m a lucky man just to have you and I don’t want you to…”

  She placed a finger on his lips and then leant across and kissed him. She whispered, “A bank, you get half my money and I get half of your car.”

  “Do you drive?”

  “Not since they took my licence away.”

  He was still reluctant, “But I’ve seen your bank account, you’re worth night on £25,000.”

  She giggled, “Used to drive mum mad all that money in a current account. That’s how come father locked away my bank card and chequebook, they were afraid I would drink it all away. It came from an inheritance from my gran and mum’s been determined that I should plough it into their company, but I’ve always managed to resist. She did try to get me drunk enough to sign once, but I passed out before she brought the pen.” She giggled again at the thought.

  She let go of him, opened the door and turned to look at him. “I really want to do this, it’s important to me.”

  He smiled at her, “Well if it’s important to you, it’s important to me.”

  As they walked to the bank she pondered his words, once again he’d been concerned about her and not cheating her and doing what was important to her. It was still a new experience.

  For once the ID Cards proved useful; a quick fingerprint scan and a check of the card confirmed who they were and that they were entitled to alter their respective bank accounts. The only slight hiccup was that Roberta wanted a virtual cash transfer, not an electronic transfer of funds. Ben realised that this was so her father could not track where the money was going and began to wonder if she was slightly paranoid on the matter. The bank clerk didn’t seem to mind and she closed Roberta’s current account as if she was taking out cash and them paid the ‘cash’ into Ben’s account, which she converted into a joint account. It was all easy and swift. Once completed the motherly looking bank clerk smiled at Roberta, “And what about your savings account? Do you want to leave it as it is or close that as well?”

  Roberta looked blank for a moment and then realised what she was talking about. “Oh that,” she exclaimed, “I haven’t used it for years.”

  The bank clerk’s brow furrowed and her eyes peered at the screen, “Says here that it has regular transactions, been money going into it every month for years.”

  Roberta looked bewildered and ran her hands through her hair, “Dad used to put my allowance in there when I was at finishing school.”

  She turned to Ben, “I told you they forced me to go; one of the incentives was a £1000 monthly allowance so that I could have a flat at the school and a bit of independence.”

  She turned back to the clerk, “You don’t mean it’s been paid in for the last seven years?”

  She nodded, looks like it, at the moment there is £82,623 in the account.” She frowned again, “And there’s a note in the electronic file saying that payments are being transferred from a high-interest account in the Maldives and that you have given permission for your father to access the account on your behalf and that bank statement should be sent to him.”

  Warning bells rang in Ben’s brain and he anxiously interrupted, “Excuse me, was there a similar note on Roberta’s old current account?”

  She tapped a few keys, “Yes, indeed there was. It says that either of her parents may operate the account on her behalf.” She looked up from the screen, “I must say that is most unusual and really is only a facili
ty that should be employed for the under sevens or those detained under the mental heath act.”

  Perhaps my wife deserves to be paranoid thought Ben. She bit her bottom lip and became agitated, “There’s no way he could get at our new joint account is there?”

  The clerk gave a reassuring shake of the head, “Absolutely impossible, though if you’re worried that they might try a bank transfer I can always attach a note saying that there are never ever to be any transfers to account bearing either of their names.”

  Roberta swallowed and Ben both noticed her throat muscles contract in and out, and the way her neck muscles were standing out. It dawned on him that she was under great stress and took hold of her hand while turning to the clerk. “Would you mind doing just that and I know it sounds paranoid, but can you change the account number on the savings account?”

  Roberta squeezed his hand adding, “That is before you change it to joint names.”

  The clerk pursed her ample lips and flexed them. “That would mean any future payments from the Maldives would be lost.”

  “So be it.”

  She was not to be so easily put off, “I could leave to old account open and bounce the money into your new account?”

  Roberta’s eyes widened, clearly she was terrified at the idea, “No, A clean break please and no electronic connection between the two accounts, I don’t want it tracked.”

  The clerk tried to give a reassuring smile, “Madam I can assure you that…”

  Roberta gave her the full azure blue eye stare and part implored and part croaked, “Please.”

  The clerk nodded and spent a few minutes pressing keys. Finally she looked up, “New bank-cards and cheque books will be sent to your home address in a few days. That is ‘The New Vicarage, Lower Level, Undercliff Road, Eastburgh, IP11 7ZP.’ Until then I could modify your ID Cards to give you access to the accounts via cash-machines, would that be helpful?”

  Ben thought that this might be a good idea, but before he could say so Roberta shook her head, “No thanks, I take it Ben’s card will still work and I wouldn’t want to lose my ID Card into a cash machine, or have it cloned.”