Hidden Kiss (Love Is The Law 2)

by Isabella Brooke

  "I'm all right. How are you?" He spoke lightly, the typical Manc twang thick in his voice. Emily hadn't heard him for years but he was almost as familiar to her as Turner was.

  "I'm doing fine," Polly said. "Hey, have you met our new office manager and general dogsbody? Emily?"

  Emily picked up the mug and half-turned to face him, wanting more than anything to just run away. She didn't take her eyes away from Joel and she could see recognition finally spread across his face.

  He looked healthier than she'd last seen him. The treatment for TB must have been working; she knew it took months, even years, to be clear of one of homelessness's biggest killers. He was dressed in clean, old clothing and his face showed he was getting regular meals at last. He was still slender, but he no longer looked ill.

  "Emily."

  Polly finally picked up on the strange atmosphere between them. She said, breezily, "So, you guys know each other! How cool is that?"

  Emily forced herself to smile as warmly as she could. She knew her face would look stiff and unnatural but she tried to make her eyes crinkle at the corners. That was the sign of a genuine smile, wasn't it? "Joel, how are things? It's good to see you."

  He didn't smile back. He was still looking shocked. "Good to see me? After… well, okay than. Thank you. Things are better than they were."

  "I'm glad to hear it. Really, I am."

  "Sure." He shrugged, clearly disbelieving everything.

  "Well, fancy that. How did you two meet?" Polly blustered on. She must have picked up on the awkwardness now, but it was in her nature to plough through with humour and chirpiness.

  Emily and Joel blinked at each other, waiting for the explanation to come for the other person. Finally Emily took the lead in the awkward silence.

  "When I was starting out, fresh out of media studies at college, I… met Joel as part of research for an article I was writing."

  Joel raised one eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate, but she came to a helpless stop and thrust her hands into her pockets. She twitched her shoulders upwards, a slight shrug to signal that was all there was to it.

  "So, anyway," she continued, swerving and changing the subject, "Anyway. I had best be getting back to my desk. Uh, you take care, Joel, see you later. Thanks for the tea, Polly."

  She squirmed past Joel who steadfastly did not move out of the way, and walked as fast as she dared. She didn't want to look as if she was running, even though she felt like it. It was a relief to throw herself back behind the desk in the reception area, and bury herself back in work again. Thank heavens for hundreds of pointlessly urgent emails. Little red flags of self-importance listed down her screen. Hooray.

  She didn't even know why Joel was here. Working? Volunteering? She should have asked. She should have said more. A thousand perfect-hindsight recriminations nibbled at the edges of her consciousness but she gritted her teeth, ignored the emails, and instead she masochistically ploughed through a stack of ancient invoices.

  It worked. Unintelligible notes from the previous office manager soon pushed the frets and worries of Joel out of her mind, and she was absorbed into her work until it was time to go home.

  * * * *

  "My round, lads." Turner rose to his feet and pointed his finger in turn at each of the men sitting around the pitted pub table. "Lager, lager, cider, lemonade?"

  "We ought to get you this," one of the lanky young ones protested, but he was quickly shushed by his friends. Turner laughed at them all, and went to the bar to order five more drinks. The barmaid was reluctant to be dragged away from whatever she was doing on her smartphone but he told her to get herself a drink too, and suddenly she was all pouty smiles and fluttery fake eyelashes.

  The pub was a city-centre one, and had a smattering of drinkers intent on ignoring the real world of work and life. It didn't do food, so it didn't attract the lunchtime crowd. The weak sunlight caught motes of ancient dust dancing between gloom and mirrors. It was exactly the kind of run down and ignored place that was ideal for casual business meetings for people like Turner.

  He had left his laptop open and was pleased to see that they all gathered round to have another look at his proposed website design. It was a win-win situation, really. He needed a way of showcasing what he was capable of, and they needed a slick new site for their indie band, while on a budget. They'd all negotiated a fair fee together and things were going well.

  Turner carried the tray of drinks carefully through the quiet pub and slid it onto an adjoining table, out of the way.

  One of the lads, a bassist, said, "Oh man. It looks so much better than my efforts."

  The others laughed and started to rib him. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Jerry. I mean, your site was fine. For, like, a teenage girl's fan site thing or something. In the nineties."

  "Give over."

  Turner settled on the frayed red bench and relaxed. He'd had a great weekend with Emily and now his career was starting to move in the right direction, too. All he needed was a few starter commissions like this, then he could bump up his prices a bit, and start to make a decent living. And keep on learning, too. He'd already looked up the local colleges' night classes on advanced coding and programming.

  One of the band members considered himself pretty hot on technological matters. "What about SEO?" he asked, a serious look on his face.

  The others hooted with laughter and the bassist shoved his elbow in the questioner's ribs, but Turner waved their derision down. "It's a fair question," he said. "And there are things that I'll do to improve your chances of rising in the search engines but it's not instant and it's not a magic bullet. You guys need to concentrate on your music and producing regular, quality content." To be fair to the guy asking the question, Turner leaned forward and toggled some buttons on his laptop. "Look here," he said, and began to explain the code and the theory. The others tuned out, but the man who'd asked tried to follow the explanation with nods and grunts.

  The afternoon passed well, and by the time four o'clock rolled around, they'd come to a full agreement about the job.

  "I'm looking forward to getting cracking on this," Turner said as they finished off their third round of drinks. He'd gone for a coke rather than another pint of lager, as he was planning on getting started as soon as he got home. The laptop was already snugly back in its bag by his feet.

  "Anything rather than letting Jerry loose on it again."

  "You can't be good at everything. Just stick with the music."

  "Aye, we will. Is that you?"

  A mobile phone was going off, and everyone started patting their pockets - even people on the next table. Turner dragged his out. "Me. Sorry…"

  He stood up and moved a discreet distance away to take the call.

  "Elaine. Hey ther,e sis. You all right?"

  She sounded defensive. "Why wouldn't I be?"

  "Steady on. Only asking." Turner rolled his eyes.

  "What are you up to, tonight, then?"

  "Not a lot. Whassup?"

  "Not seeing Emily?"

  "Nope, not tonight. I've got a commission for a website, so I was planning on a bit of work, if you must know."

  "Hey, well done you! You can bring it over."

  "Wait, what?"

  "Sorry," Elaine said with no apology in the tone of her voice whatsoever. "I meant to say, can you come and babysit the boys tonight? I've got a night class to learn about ear candling, and Andy is working."

  Turner felt the skin on his face tighten at the mention of Riggers. It was odd to hear him called Andy, even if it was his real name. He was always going to be Riggers to him. He tried to keep the disbelief out of his voice as he asked, "Working? Is that so."

  "It is so."

  "Where? What? I mean, legitimately working?"

  "Fuck off Turner."

  "It's a genuine question. Where's he working?"

  "He's in a warehouse. I know it might not sound like much but you know how it is. I'm dead proud of him, you know. He's
really trying. He's been sprung a sudden nightshift and cos he's new he can't say no, can he?"

  Turner was rolling his eyes again. "Okay, okay. I can do it. What time do you need me there?"

  "Six."

  "Okay. See you later."

  He shoved his phone back into his pocket and rejoined the band. "Hey. Any of you fellas know what the fuck ear candling is?"

  * * * *

  The shower water was hot and Turner lingered under it. The luxury of a hot shower in the privacy of your own home. It was bliss. He moved around in a slow circle, almost like he was basting himself, letting the steam fill the bathroom and cloud his lungs. He could spend all day in here. It wouldn't take him long to get to his sister's house. Well, Riggers' house. He hadn't been there yet, and he was both curious and reluctant to go.

  He didn't want to think about Riggers. Instead, he thought about Emily. The last four weeks of his sentence had been agony for him. He'd driven himself half mad with worry, knowing that Riggers was out and Turner was not. When they had both been sentenced, Riggers had been furious, and put half the blame onto Emily.

  He'd shouted threats across the courtroom as they took him away, and that was the last time Turner had seen him. The memory of the half-drugged-up street vermin of a man, flailing his skinny wrists and hurling abuse at everyone, stuck in Turner's mind with more clarity than the memory of his own bedroom.

  Damn. I'm thinking about Riggers again.

  He stepped out and towelled off vigorously, as if he could scrub away the bad memories of the past. And I need to get down the gym, otherwise all that hard work in prison will be wasted too. These abs won't last with all that sitting in pubs and drinking lager.

  He loved having plans and things to look forward to. Emily, his work, gym; a whole life stretching out before him. Emily was a huge part of that. He'd once said that she was a woman worth going straight for, and he stuck by it. Did she know how much influence she had over him?

  Probably not.

  She was a baffling woman, though. He thought he'd got to know her, through their letters and phone calls, but now he was out, he was often wrong-footed by her. He wanted to dig deeper into her mind, and work out what she was thinking. Unlike other women he'd known, she seemed to keep things to herself until she had made her mind up - and then her decisions surprised him.

  Taking some agency work in a charity's offices, for a start. What was that about? She loved journalism and he knew that writing about films and galleries had always been her dream. He had been so proud of her for having the courage to break away from her niche in social justice, and pursue her original aims.

  So why was she seemingly abandoning it all?

  He shook his head. Maybe that was why he was still falling for her, again and again, each time they met. She was alive with energy and unexpected movements. He wanted to pin her down and capture her and make a nest for her - but he also knew, quite clearly, that doing so would turn her into someone else. He didn't want to clip her wings.

  I'll give it time. She's infuriating and delightful and I am sure she's not quite happy about something, and I want to solve that and make everything perfect. I want to build a perfect future for her, and for me.

  The way things are going, I reckon I can, too.

  * * * *

  Oh, fuck.

  Riggers was the last person that Turner wanted to see. But there he was, in green combat trousers and a high-visibility vest, getting ready to go to work.

  Elaine led Turner into the tiny living room. Riggers' house was a new build semi-detached and it seemed to have been made of paper and cardboard. Everything was painted magnolia and the three-piece suite filled the whole room. Kyle and Liam were engrossed in a game on the console and barely looked up. Through the open door to the kitchen, Turner could see Riggers stuffing a sandwich down his face. Turner looked away.

  "Ahh. Nice place. Settling in?" Turner dropped his laptop bag onto a chair and addressed his sister.

  "Yes, thanks." She scanned around the room and found her bag half-under a cushion. She was just starting to sort through her purse and bits and pieces when Riggers called in a muffled voice from the kitchen.

  "Elaine? Got my food ready for tonight?"

  "Hang on." She glanced up from her bag. "Where's my phone? Can you ring my phone so I can find it, Turner?"

  "I am about to go." Riggers spoke with a flat note of expectation in his voice, and Elaine shrugged helplessly at Turner. She dropped her bag to the chair again.

  "Give me a minute. He's off soon," she said, apologetically.

  She went through to the kitchen and began to open doors and clatter things across the worktop. Turner half-turned as if he was watching what the boys were playing, but he kept Riggers and Elaine in his peripheral vision.

  She seemed to scurry around him like some kind of fucking housemaid. Elaine was always a cocky kind of girl. She'd grown up in the harsh city streets and she was nobody's fool. She could hold her own against anyone. Yet Turner thought that she seemed smaller, somehow, when she was around Riggers. Her shoulders sloped.

  Turner decided to prod the hornet's nest, and he stepped to the doorway, leaning on the side of the frame with a casual air. "Don't you make your own sandwiches, Riggers?" He tried to sound jocular and unthreatening.

  "Well, no," Riggers answered, packing his rucksack. "What's a woman for?"

  Turner glanced at Elaine who merely smiled. Turner shook his head and kept his tone light. "Ha ha."

  But Riggers didn't seem to be joking. He didn't smile back. He zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, and said, "One of the problems with today's society is that people don't accept that men and women are different. So everyone tries to do everything, and then there's problems, you see? It's basic biology. Now you and me, Turner, I reckon we can agree on one thing."

  Turner doubted it very much, but he took the bait. "What's that, then?"

  "Children are the most important thing, right?"

  Elaine was nodding vigorously and Turner couldn't disagree.

  "Yeah. Of course."

  "There you go, then. And who has kids? It's the mum. It's a discussion for another time, mate, I've got to dash."

  Riggers nodded at Turner, without a trace of gloating. He stepped across to Elaine, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and said, "Your taxi will be here soon. Have a good time." Then, to Turner, he said, "Thanks for the help tonight. Catch you later, mate."

  He breezed out of the kitchen and Turner scratched his head, staring at Elaine. "I don't get it."

  "Get what?"

  "Any of it. What falls out of his mouth. Got any beer?"

  "Check the fridge. Help yourself. I've got to get ready. Where's my bloody phone?"

  She dashed off upstairs and Turner rummaged around for a lager. The fridge was well-stocked, which pleased him. He took the can back through to the tiny living room, where the twins were still engrossed in the game on the television.

  Elaine came back down, in her coat and scarf, finally clutching her phone, and started through a list of instructions to him - what time Kyle and Liam had to be in bed, what they could eat, drink, watch and do. Turner absorbed it all carefully. Done with her list, Elaine hovered by the front window, peeping out between the curtains.

  "I've got to ask," Turner said eventually. "What's with the taxi thing? Seems a daft expense to me. Does he not trust you?"

  She shot him an unfriendly look. "He cares for me, actually, and that's how he shows it. By looking after me. Protecting me."

  "Hmm. Okay."

  Elaine's thin hand parted the curtain again and she peeked out as car headlights flashed past. "I don't expect you to understand, Turner. You're too laid back. You go along with things too much."

  Turner nearly dropped his can of lager in surprise. He sat forward on the couch, fascinated to hear how other people perceived him. "You really think that?" He knew that he wanted nothing more than to split Riggers and Elaine up, and send Riggers packing. He didn't
want to go along with anything and he certainly didn't feel laid back. He wanted to control his life and his future - that's what drove him. Did Elaine really not see that?

  "With relationships, yeah," Elaine said. "You're seeing Emily, right? Well, what do you plan on doing?"

  "Doing?"

  "In the future."

  Making an excellent future, that was what. But he knew Elaine was getting at other things. Marriage. That sort of thing. "Oh come on, it's all a bit early for that!"

  Elaine turned her head and her eyes were fierce. "You're just going to roll along with her in a comfortable way, just keeping things the same. You think you're all dynamic but you're like everyone else. You're all sheep. You talk about new things and change but you'll plod along just as you are. Sheep - people. Sheeple."

  Riggers hadn't sounded like Riggers and now Elaine didn't sound like Elaine. Turner said, "that's a funny phrase. Where's all this come from?"

  Elaine shrugged, her attention caught by the street again. "The taxi's here. Okay, I won't be late back. Love you, boys."

  Kyle and Liam barely glanced her way, but they did shout, "Bye mum!" in unison as she disappeared.

  Turner sat back again and took a long swig of his lager. There was a familiar ring to some of Riggers' and Elaine's new attitudes, and he was forming some suspicions.

  * * * *

  Emily still felt awkward taking any time away from her desk, but it was realising that it was necessary for her sanity. When Turner phoned to suggest they meet for lunch the following day, she was inclined to refuse, but Polly was perched on the edge of her desk and making pointed movements of her hand. It looked like she was waving away wasps, but Emily knew she was being urged to go out. Working with Polly was like being steamrollered by a plush cuddly toy.

  "I can only stay half an hour," she said to him as soon as she got near to where he was sitting in the coffee shop. "Sorry, I should say hello and how are you first… I'm sorry. Been rushing around, and it's kinda manic."

  "Sure, I understand. I've got you a coffee already. More importantly…" Turner stood up, unfolding himself and wrapping his arms around her. She fell into his kiss and let her eyes close, for a moment temporarily eased of her worries and troubles. She could spend her life safe in his embrace.