London

by Patricia Evans Jordan

  Jaq’s eyes shone as she stared into the firelight. “Have a better idea now?”

  Bronwyn took Jaq’s hand, still cold from the ice, and ran her tongue lightly across her palm before she pulled one of her fingers into the warmth of her mouth, circling and stroking it with her tongue.

  Jaq closed her eyes and let out a low growl. “Fucking hell,” she said. “I surrender.”

  “What was that?” Bronwyn held Jaq’s fingertips to her mouth as she spoke. “I didn’t hear you.”

  Jaq pulled her over onto her lap and paused, dropping her eyes to her mouth.

  “I want to kiss you more than I’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone,” Jaq said, tracing the outline of her bottom lip with her thumb. “But I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Jaq pressed her forehead against Bronwyn’s. “Because I want you, Bella.” She whispered, “Not just this.”

  It was hours before Bronwyn fell asleep that night. For the first time in a long time, she remembered what it was like to be in love. And exactly how it felt to hear her heart crack into jagged edges and break wide open when Jaq disappeared.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Bronwyn opened her eyes to see Jaq, already showered and dressed, sitting at the desk, taking the back off her phone with a tiny screwdriver.

  “Good morning,” Jaq said, without turning around. “I apologize for this. I should have asked, but I didn’t want to wake you.” She looked back at Bronwyn. “I’m trying to see if there is a tracking device on this or if there is just the one in your car.”

  She lifted the back off the phone and held it up to the light, turning it in every direction.

  “Don’t apologize,” Bronwyn said. “I must have a hundred calls from him since I left London. Before I went to bed last night, I saw he’d called incessantly while we were at the wedding.”

  “Do I have your permission to connect it to my laptop so I can scan it with my software?”

  Bronwyn nodded and stretched, climbing onto the top of the duvet, sweeping her hair up into a bun. She glanced over at Jaq. “Will you toss me that pencil on the desk?” She held one hand out and caught it, then stuck the pencil through the twist of hair at the nape of her neck to secure it.

  Jaq watched, the phone forgotten. “That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Bronwyn laughed and nodded towards the desk. “Wait, isn’t it a crime to distract a Detective Sergeant on the job?”

  “Too late.” Jaq smiled, turning back to the phone and screwing the pieces back together. “And the shirt isn’t helping.”

  ****

  An hour later, Bronwyn had showered and dressed in jeans and her gray suede boots she left unlaced at the top.

  “You do realize I’m taking this home with me, right?” She said, pulling Jaq’s green sweater over her silk camisole and rolling up the sleeves.

  Jaq smiled, clicking through screens on her computer, Bronwyn’s phone still hooked up by a cable on the side.

  “When do you have to be back to work, by the way?”

  Jaq paused. “Not till Wednesday. It’s a bank holiday, so we’re off tomorrow, then there’s a series of internal meetings I don’t have to attend on Tuesday.” She stopped scrolling and leaned into her computer screen.

  “I found it.”

  “Found what?”

  “The spyware app hidden in your phone. Whoever did it knew what they were doing; after it installed, any trace of the app or installation process was buried underneath mountains of code.”

  “I have no idea what that even means,” Bronwyn said, peering over her shoulder at her naked phone.

  “It’s the internal series of numbers that tells the computer in your phone what to do,” Jaq said, screwing the cover back onto her phone. “And in your case, there’s no way to completely remove what was put into it.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Get another phone,” Jaq said, handing it back to her. “It’s powered off now, but I suggest you leave it in a public trash in town before we head back.”

  “I’ve been thinking about getting a new one,” said Bronwyn. “I haven’t replaced my phone since the dark ages anyway.”

  She stood on tiptoe and slid her arms around Jaq’s neck. “Thank you for trying to keep me safe.”

  Jaq pulled her closer, breathing in the scent of her skin. “I’ve wanted to keep you safe

  since I left you in that parking lot.” Her hands slid down the curve of Bronwyn’s back.

  “Well,” Bronwyn said, “You’ve done an amazing job of it this weekend.”

  The air between them was heavy with the fact they were leaving in just a few minutes and heading back to London. Jaq finally let her go and packed up her bag, while Bronwyn blew her hair dry and touched up her eyes in the bathroom. After a last look around, Jaq left the key on the desk and pulled the door shut behind them in the hall.

  “I may starve before we get to your car,” Jaq said. “I meant to eat something this morning but forgot until it was too late.”

  “If I remember right, you love a proper fry-up,” Bronwyn said, “And I know exactly where to take you.”

  ****

  Twenty minutes later, they were tucked into a corner booth at McCleary’s, a tiny cafe hidden down a back cobblestone alley in the heart of the city. As they walked in, the older gentleman behind the grill raised his eyebrow, and Bronwyn held up two fingers. A precarious stack of brightly colored teapots occupied a corner with an odd collection of crocheted tea cozies dotting the wall behind it. Jaq chose the booth while Bronwyn filled one of the pots with boiling water and three teabags.

  “Did you choose the rose print pot just for me?”

  “No,” Bronwyn said, “I chose this dainty pink teacup and saucer for you. Look at the cute little rosebud in the very bottom!”

  “Fantastic,” Jaq said, dumping sugar into her cup and stirring it with the tiny silver spoon on the table. “I happen to love tiny pink teacups with gold handles.”

  Bronwyn laughed and poured tea into her cup, noticing the laugh lines at the corner of Jaq’s eyes. Jaq had always been sexy, but now as an adult, she had a smoldering edge to her.

  “So,” Jaq said, “You weren’t kidding about Ian calling you constantly. He called three times this morning before I shut down your phone.”

  “He’s not always that bad.” Bronwyn looked into her cup, trying to think of how to explain it. “He just likes to know where I am.” She picked up the spoon to stir her tea, then did nothing with it. “It does stress me out, though. I hate making him angry, but if I don’t answer or let him know what I’m doing, he gets annoyed pretty quickly.”

  Jaq looked at her, and waited until Bronwyn met her eyes to speak. “Are you scared of him?”

  “Not really,” Bronwyn said. “I just wish he’d let me have a bit more space sometimes.”

  The older gentleman they’d seen as they walked in set two plates in front of them, piled with beans, tomatoes, rashers, black pudding, eggs, and sausages.

  “Thanks,” Bronwyn said, as she stood to kiss his cheek. “Jaq, this is my uncle, Rothesay Charles, my dad’s older brother.”

  Jaq stood and extended her hand, and he shook it, looking her over before he turned back to Bronwyn.

  “Still marrying that Ian fellow, are you?” Rothesay did not look pleased as he waited for an answer.

  “I know you and Dad don’t like him, but I swear—”

  Roth guessed the rest of her answer and turned to Jaq before she finished. “See if you can talk some sense into our girl.” He lowered his voice slightly and looked Jaq in the eye. “Trust me, that Ian’s a right prick.”

  Bronwyn just dropped her face into her hands. There was no stopping him once he got an idea in his head. Luckily, someone rang the bell at the counter and he stepped away.

  “Sorry about that,” she said, picking her fork and knife back up. “They got off on the wrong foot. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

  Jaq
just looked at her, waiting.

  She picked up her toast, then set it back down on the edge of her plate. “We were here last year. Ian was upset about something and grabbed my wrist across the table. He didn’t know Rothesay was my uncle. Anyway, he saw it just at the wrong time. It looked like something it wasn’t, and of course now he hates Ian.”

  “Smart man,” Jaq said slowly, her eyes intense, leaning back in the booth. “Ian’s on my shit list now too.”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. It looked much worse than it was,” Bronwyn said, dropping her eyes to her plate and cutting into her fried tomato. “Ian was just trying to make a point, but Uncle Roth never forgot it.”

  “Did he tell your father?”

  “I’m sure he called him before we even left the table.”

  Jaq poured more tea into Bronwyn’s cup and spooned in two sugars. “Okay,” Jaq said, “I’m going to ask you something and I want you to answer me honestly.”

  Bronwyn hesitated.

  “Has he,” she said, making Bronwyn meet her eyes, “And it doesn’t matter what the reason is, ever left marks on you? Like bruises?”

  Bronwyn shoved a bite of bacon in her mouth to buy herself time; she’d completely lost her appetite at that point.

  “He had a huge issue at work about a year ago and almost lost his job,” Bronwyn said, finally. “I said the wrong thing and he got upset.”

  Jaq put her fork and knife down and waited for her to go on. She didn’t. After a while, Bronwyn realized Jaq wasn’t going to let her off the hook and she had to say something.

  “It’s not an issue anymore. He never did it again and he apologized for days.”

  Jaq held her eyes and let out a slow breath. “What did he do?”

  “Is it okay if we don’t talk about it? I don’t want to get upset.” Bronwyn looked over at her uncle, who was still taking an order at the counter.

  “Will you tell me when you’re ready?”

  Bronwyn nodded.

  “And by when you’re ready,” Jaq said, “I mean today.”

  That made her laugh and she swatted at Jaq with her toast.

  Jaq held her cup between them. “Hey, I don’t think it’s fair that you get to wield that toast and all I have to defend myself with is this dainty little teacup.”

  Bronwyn knew Jaq was trying to cheer her up and she appreciated it. Actually, she’d never told anyone about what happened, mostly because it made sense when he explained it later. He was right; she had been pressing his buttons. Either way though, she just wanted to pretend it never happened.

  They finished their breakfast and Bronwyn went to the restroom while Jaq tried to pay the bill. Bronwyn’s uncle was having none of it.

  “My brother spoke to me about you years ago,” he said, waving her wallet away. “We were both sorry that happened to you kids.” He cleared his throat, looking towards the restroom for Bronwyn. “Look after her for me, will you? I don’t trust that Ian.”

  Jaq nodded. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

  They shook hands just as Bronwyn was coming out of the hall towards the counter. She stepped behind it to give her uncle a kiss on the cheek.

  “Thanks for the breakfast, Uncle Roth.”

  “Lovely to see you, Petunia,” he said, handing her a couple of sandwiches wrapped in paper for the road and nodding in Jaq’s direction. “Bring this one back anytime.”

  The bell on the door clanged against the glass on the way out, and Jaq took her hand as they walked down the cobblestones toward the car.

  ****

  “Wait,” Jaq said a few hours later, holding up her phone, “I think we might have gotten off track. This says we’ve turned off toward Blackpool, not London.”

  Bronwyn looked over at her and took the next exit. “You probably don’t remember this, but my family went to Blackpool during school holidays one year.”

  “I do, I’d just turned seventeen the week before.”

  “Exactly. When I came back, I was trying to tell you about it but you said you’d never been on an ocean pier, like the one at Blackpool seaside, so you couldn’t picture it.”

  Jaq looked over at her. “I still haven’t.”

  “I figured; that’s why I asked you this morning where you’d been since you came back to England. I’ve booked us a place to stay there tonight, and I’m taking you for fish and chips on the pier for dinner.”

  Jaq stared out the window, then lowered it a few inches to let in the salt air.

  “But we don’t have to…” Bronwyn faltered, suddenly aware she may have something, or someone, else to return to London for. “I should have asked.”

  “I’ve wanted to come here since I was a kid, my first year at Stratford,” Jaq said, still looking out her window. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

  Bronwyn turned into town, taking a narrow road behind the Blackpool Tower to the right and up a winding hill.

  “Wait,” Jaq said, “How did you do it? We left your phone in the room.”

  “I didn’t,” she said, slowing and looking along the row of houses to her left. “While you weren’t looking, I had the owner of the pub do it for me and write down the details. I already knew where I wanted us to stay.”

  Bronwyn slowed to a stop in front of a church, half covered in verdant moss and wild vines, complete with church bells in the belfry towering above the roof. Bronwyn took an envelope off the door and looked around for Jaq, who had walked to the side and stopped, peering down at Blackpool below.

  “Look,” Jaq said, pointing, her eyes scanning the length of the beach. “You can see the ocean from here. And is that a Ferris wheel on the pier?”

  An enormous Ferris wheel sat in the center of Blackpool’s central pier, so tall it looked as if the low, misty clouds that obscured the view had sliced off the top. Blinking gold and blue lights lit up the ocean skyline and the pier seemed to go on endlessly, the waves crashing beneath it where it suddenly dropped off into the swirling gray sea.

  “I can’t believe you brought me here.”

  “You’re easily impressed, thank God.” Bronwyn smiled. “We can walk down there for dinner later. You haven’t had British fish and chips until you’ve eaten them at the seaside in a newspaper cone.”

  Bronwyn started to walk back up to the church entrance, but Jaq was still staring down into the lights of Blackpool.

  “Did you know there are three separate piers down there?”

  Bronwyn smiled. “I did.”

  She watched Jaq scanning the shoreline and taking it all in, as if it might suddenly disappear if she looked away. She walked back up to the car and hadn’t gotten to the door when Jaq called out to her, still looking out over the sea.

  “Don’t touch those bags, Bronwyn.”

  Jaq turned around then and ran back up the slope, picking Bronwyn up and wrapping her legs around her waist at the car. Her words were warm as she whispered them into her neck. “Thank you for this.”

  Jaq grabbed their bags out of the car and brought them to the gothic doorframe of the church, while Bronwyn opened the envelope and pulled out an old brass skeleton key. She tried to turn it in the lock but it wouldn’t budge. She took it out and reinserted it, turning it both ways. Jaq took it and knelt down at the keyhole to compare it with the key itself.

  “Well,” Jaq said, “I think they may have left you the wrong key. This one won’t even insert fully.”

  Bronwyn turned the key over in her hand, her brows furrowed with sudden worry. “I can try to contact the owner. I think I must have the paper they gave me somewhere.”

  She started to walk back to the car but Jaq touched her arm and pulled her back. She pulled a Swiss Army knife out of her pocket and crouched down so the keyhole was eye level. Three seconds later, there was a click and Jaq turned the door handle.

  “Bloody hell,” Bronwyn said. “How did you know how to do that?’

  “You don’t want to know,” Jaq said, opening the door and stepping aside. “Let’s just say
it’s a childhood skill that’s remained useful.”

  The inside of the church was bright and unexpectedly beautiful. Enormous stained glass windows circled the room, and the light shining through them fell in tinted beams onto the wide plank oak floors. A bed was placed on the platform where the pulpit once stood, piled with a fluffy white duvet and layers of navy and white pillows. A fireplace was set into the wall to the left, with a bright yellow overstuffed couch with a long coffee table crafted from an antique door. Another larger sitting area was to the right, with a small kitchen behind it.

  “Wow,” Jaq said, setting the bags down where she stood.

  She kicked off her shoes and ran towards the bed, taking an impressive leap and landing in the center of the enormous pile of pillows. Bronwyn watched for a second then did the same, Jaq ducking out of the way just in time.

  “This bed is amazing,” Bronwyn said, lying on her back and looking up into the belfry.

  Jaq settled beside her, folding a pillow under her head and looking up. “If things were different,” she said, her voice low and soft, “I’d never let you out of it. Even for fish and chips.”

  Bronwyn rolled over on her elbow, facing Jaq. “Do you ever wonder if it would be different after all these years?”

  “What?” Jaq said, her eyes dropping slowly to Bronwyn’s mouth. “Sleeping together?”

  Bronwyn nodded.

  Jaq laughed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t have to wonder, I know it would be.” She tucked a stray lock of hair back behind Bronwyn’s ear. “What about you?”

  “I’ve thought about it.” Bronwyn smiled, the diamond on her left hand catching the light. She resisted an urge to throw it across the room. “Why are you so sure it would be different?” She caught the hem of Jaq’s t-shirt and pulled it up just an inch, running her fingertips over the soft blonde hairs across her stomach.