Love Interrupted Page 3

  Tia smiled. ‘Well, it’s a good thing you and Jakey aren’t going to have to, isn’t it? I’m not going anywhere.’

  If I could at least afford to pay her for looking after Jake, I wouldn’t feel so guilty. Abi had been forced back to work only a few weeks after Jake’s birth. Robyn had kicked them out of their home, with no thought to what they would live on or where they would go. Luckily, Abi had managed to find a small flat that she could just about afford. Thinking of money, Abi’s heart sank when she realised she still had four days until payday with only five pounds left to her name. After paying the rent, food bills, and all the stuff Jake needed, she was barely keeping her head above water. Abi refused to go on benefits. Why should she when she had a wife who should be contributing to their son’s upbringing?

  Against her better judgement, Abi found her mobile in her bedroom and sat down on the bed, squeezing it between her hands. She took a minute to gather her thoughts. The message had to be quick and to the point. She knew how Robyn hated time wasters. Abi turned the phone upwards and typed out a text message with great reluctance.

  Hi, Robyn. I was wondering if you can help Jakey and me with some money for food, please. Have not been able to make ends meet this week. Thanks in advance.

  When she pressed the send button, her fingers left behind a residue of vapour, her heart pounding from the unpleasant rush of having to engage with Robyn at all.

  Her heart stopped as her phone buzzed.

  ‘Please don’t make me regret texting you Robyn,’ she said, anxious inside.

  Her sweaty fingers opened the message. It was a simple reply, but it carried chapters of psychology within it.

  No, I won’t give you any money. Not now, not ever. That’s what you have a job for.

  Chapter Eight

  Still reeling from Robyn’s text message, Abi gave up trying to hide the fact that she was crying. By some sort of grace from God, she found herself walking to work in heavy rainfall. Like her tears, the water came unrelenting. Rapidly darting like phantoms, the people who passed her by shimmered in and out of her line of sight. A blast of wind blew back her hood as she hastened through the sheets of rain, wetting her hair and spoiling the meagre make-up she’d applied. She roughly pulled her hood back on top of her head. The more she thought of Robyn, the angrier she got—denying her money for food was the final straw. How can she be so cruel? So uncaring? All I ever did was love her, and this is how she repays me. By shitting on me from a great height. Up until now, Abi had played by the rules. But no more. She was going to have to stop feeling sorry for herself if she was going to pull her shit together.

  All great wars have begun with one foot, not a foot advancing towards the enemy, but a foot put down. For Abi, that war had just begun. That revitalizing thought made her raise her head. Across the street, under the turmoil of the darkening sky, she noticed a brown building. It was an old, weather-torn lump of bricks that had been beautifully restored. Am I going blind? How could I have not seen it before? I walk down this street every day?

  Yet there it was, larger than life in its quiet authority. She crossed the road and stood in front of the towering building. A small plaque in marble had black chiselled lettering on it that convinced Abi that all things did happen for a reason:

  Syner & Associates—Solicitors

  Did it have to rain for me to finally see what has been right in front of me all this time? Abi’s mum had always told her that ‘some solutions could only be seen through tears’. A faint smile played on her lips as she added her own thoughts. Just as some restored old buildings can only be seen through veils of rain. With little regard for the hour, Abi veered from her usual timed course to work and entered the building.

  Inside the lobby, the heavy glass door slammed behind her with a clamour. Abi flinched, waiting for the glass to shatter and then let out a sigh of relief when it remained intact. She eyed her immediate surroundings with interest. Two large curtain-less windows stretched from the high ceiling to the floor where huge potted plants obscured their bottom windowsills. Only black wrought iron bars adorned the windows as if the renovators wished it to be a prison. The polished wooden floor was covered by a large Persian rug.

  Above the only entrance to a wide corridor, Abi admired a painting that held a tinge of menace to it. Sharp and contrasted, the oils on the canvas depicted a stunning redheaded goddess, standing before two giant doors. Under her flowing red hair was a beautiful pale body and face, but her eyes were positively striking. Bright blue, narrowed eyes pierced Abi’s as if she were being watched by a depiction from centuries before.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked the painting inadvertently, and almost immediately she felt utterly stupid.

  ‘Her name is Syn.’ The words came from behind her, silky and smooth.

  ‘Oh my God.’ Abi slammed her hand on her chest and turned to face a woman just escaping the chaos of the rain. Despite the weather conditions, the woman’s sleek blonde hair remained perfectly unruffled.

  ‘I’m sorry. Did I scare you?’ The woman smiled as she closed the front door and wiped her feet on the mat carefully.

  ‘Um, uh ...’ Abi awkwardly shook her head. ‘Actually, no. I just feel silly for talking to a painting.’

  The newcomer shook her head. ‘Not at all. In churches, people speak to statues and pray to unseen spirits, so to speak. There is power in faith, no matter what the medium, I say.’ The woman’s grey-green eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘Harper Anderson.’

  Abi took an instant liking to her warm nature. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Abi.’ Abi smiled and briefly shook the woman’s elegant hand. ‘What did you say her name was?’ She pointed at the painting of the stern deity.

  ‘S-y-n, pronounced as “sign”. She’s the Norse goddess of ... well, a few things, one of which is justice. But there’s a special twist because this handmaiden presides over unfair cases—those where people have been wronged unjustly, and they need an advocate to vindicate them in a court of law,’ Harper explained to Abi in a dreamy voice while admiring the painting. It was clear that she was a fan of the goddess. She looked at Abi and, in a rather playful, almost adolescent voice, she said, ‘Cool, huh?’

  Abi laughed and looked up at Syn’s firm expression, and deep inside she felt a sense of belonging, a sort of protection settling over her that she could not pinpoint.

  ‘In that case,’ she looked at Harper, ‘I’ve come to the right place.’

  ‘Are you here to see Charles ... or Martha, perhaps?’ Harper asked.

  ‘Oh, no. No. Actually, I don’t really know who I came to see. I just ...’ Abi lowered her eyes to the ground and sought the right words. She could feel the unfairness scratch at her sense of justice again, a slithering demon of emotions causing her eyes to suddenly brim with tears.

  ‘Abi?’

  Harper’s voice floated in the air and, in Abi’s troubled mind, the image of Syn came together with that sweet sound of compassion that soothed her and made her feel safe from the hurt scratching at her composure.

  ‘I need help.’ Her voice was high pitched as she tried to cram the past year of her suffering into a few sentences. ‘I haven’t got enough money to live on … my baby will be the one to suffer … my wife doesn’t want to support him …I can’t go on like this anymore!’

  Abi finally buckled under the emotional stress of reality and her preordained doom that she was convinced nobody in Britain’s cruel judicial system would ever care to change. Here she was, pathetic and beaten, imploring a stranger just to listen, hoping that by some miracle it would seep through somewhere in karma’s conduits.

  ‘Abi. If I can help you with your problem, I will. Don’t fret, okay?’

  Immediately she felt stupid. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Abi said, fussing with her hair.

  ‘You have nothing to apologise for. You’re clearly under a lot of stress,’ Harper said. ‘Listen, I have half an hour free before my first client is due. If you’ve got the time, come to my office and tell
me what this is all about.’

  ‘But you don’t understand,’ she muttered. ‘I can’t afford to pay solicitors’ fees, and my soon-to-be ex-wife knows it.’ Abi sighed in defeat as she looked around the prestigious room, then at Harper dressed in an expensive grey suit. ‘I doubt I could even afford a minute of your time.’

  Harper looked at her quizzically and raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re in the middle of a divorce? Well, in that case, you really have come to the right place. And don’t worry, you won’t have to pay for my services.’ There was a strong determination in Harper’s voice as she led Abi towards her office. ‘Your wife will, out of the settlement you’re going to win.’

  Chapter Nine

  The cup of coffee warming Dylan’s hands provided the much-needed caffeine boost her body was craving. She glanced at the oversized clock on the wall. Robyn Massey was due for their first appointment any minute. Putting the cup on her desk, she quickly checked the documents she needed Robyn to sign were all in place.

  ‘Ms Blue,’ Cathy said, suddenly appearing in the doorway.

  ‘Christ, Cathy! You trying to give me a heart attack?’ she cried with a gasp.

  Cathy covered her mouth with her hand, but Dylan could see a glint of satisfaction in her eyes from making her jump. ‘Ms Massey called. She’s not coming. She wants you to meet her at her office, instead.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Dylan snapped, slipping her stylish black framed glasses a little down her nose to look at Cathy.

  ‘She said, I quote, “I don’t have time to drive all the way there for such a minor matter, it would be better for me if she met me at my office at five-thirty”.’ Cathy looked at her notepad where she had written down the address given by Robyn.

  Dylan sat, stunned. Her pen dropped to her lap while she kept her eyes fixed on Cathy.

  ‘You’re messing with me, aren’t you?’ So Robyn Massey was playing true to form, wanting everyone at her beck and call. She sounded exactly like the arsehole her prior solicitor said she was.

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Cathy shook her head contritely.

  ‘You’re telling me, not only is she late for her appointment, but she now wants me to go halfway across the city in the rush hour because she deems our meeting unimportant?’

  ‘Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. If you leave now, it should only take …’ Cathy looked at her wristwatch. ‘Around two hours,’ Cathy finished gleefully.

  ‘Jesus Christ! What a bitch!’ Dylan raved just loud enough to rant and just soft enough not to be heard by any of her colleagues in the hallway. She slammed the folder shut on her desk and gestured for Cathy to bring her the jotted address.

  ‘It’s times like this I wish I had a clone to deal with clients,’ she said as she perused the location.

  ‘Two of you? How would the world cope?’ Cathy said sarcastically.

  Dylan narrowed her eyes but ignored her comment. ‘God, I hate humans.’

  ‘I hope you don’t hate all of us, Dylan,’ Gregory said, poking his head around the door and shocking Dylan back to reality as Cathy returned to her desk, tittering.

  ‘No, of course not, just one at the moment,’ Dylan said reflexively, waving her hand demonstratively across Robyn Massey’s file. Just this pain in the arse.

  ‘You know most, if not all, of our clientele, are bona fide pricks.’

  ‘Do I ever.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Well-paying pricks at that.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And we have to accommodate their arrogance as far as humanly possible.’

  ‘It’s very unfortunate, though, isn’t it?’ she said, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

  ‘I totally agree with you.’ He smiled, tapping his lean, gold-adorned wedding finger against the doorway’s aluminium. ‘But then again, we chose this profession because no matter how cordial we are, we know that evil pays. We don’t condone it. We just make sure that those who do, make us rich in the process.’

  ‘With respect,’ Dylan smiled in obvious admiration, ‘you’re slicker than the Devil.’

  ‘That’s what you keep telling me.’ He grinned. ‘And I’m pleased to see you’re exactly like me.’

  Before Dylan could reply, he turned and walked off with a self-assured gait.

  ‘The Devil would be nothing without his sinners, would he?’ she said to herself as she gathered up her files, signed off from her laptop, and placed it in the black leather Samsonite sling bag she always carried with her. Robyn’s lucky this case is important to my dad otherwise I’d tell her to shove it where the sun don’t shine.

  When she walked past Cathy’s desk, she tossed a deposition in Cathy’s ‘In’ tray and said, ‘Needs Maynard’s signature after you re-draft it. Thanks.’

  Dylan rushed to the lift and disappeared behind the silver sliding doors. But not before she heard Cathy say, ‘Get knotted, Ms Blue.’

  ***

  Dylan arrived at the specified address as directed by her sat-nav. While driving like a maniac through traffic, she’d repeatedly tried to call Robyn on her mobile to tell her that she would be at least another twenty minutes, which was a miracle in itself considering the time of day. Not that Dylan really cared. It wasn’t her fault that Robyn had pissed her about—so if by being late she was inconvenienced, tough shit.

  As she turned the corner of the front facade of the building, where the ‘Reception’ sign was hidden behind a giant Yucca bush, she saw a tall, slender woman with short spiky hair unlocking her Lexus. Trusting her gut instinct that this was her new client, Dylan pulled up to the car and lowered her window.

  ‘Ms Massey?’

  The woman turned to face her, nodding her head irately. ‘Is this the service I’m paying for? You’re late, I was just about to leave,’ she barked, hands set on her waist.

  Dylan was taken aback by the aggressiveness of the woman. Though attractive, her features were stern and her grey eyes steely cold—vacant, even.

  Dylan smiled as she exited her car, taking her time to move to the rear door and gather her belongings. Only after locking her car did she finally speak.

  ‘May I remind you, Ms Massey that my services are paid for by your father. Therefore, I would appreciate you refraining from confusing me with the hired help. Also, I would kindly advise you to address me with respect.’ She smiled to lighten the obligatory blow she had to deliver to circumcise Robyn’s attitude. ‘This advice is free—remember it and we’re going to get on swimmingly.’

  She watched as Robyn swallowed her attitude quickly with a sheepish smile. ‘Sorry. I’m tired, it’s been a long day.’

  ‘Obviously. Shall we go inside to your office … unless you want to discuss your case out here?’

  ‘No, inside,’ Robyn said, gesturing to the door of the reception area. ‘I’m sure you could do with a drink after your long drive over.’

  If there was any malice behind Robyn’s words, Dylan missed it. All she saw was a woman who seemed in shock that someone hadn’t crumbled beneath her rudeness.

  ‘I just need to go through the basics with you and get your signature on a few things. I won’t keep you long.’

  ‘No worries, take as long as you want, Ms Blue. I’m the one who’s inconvenienced you, after all,’ Robyn said, leading the way along the narrow path to the building.

  ‘Yes, you did,’ Dylan said haughtily as she remembered her evening plans had been interrupted because of this ill-mannered woman. Dylan strode into the air conditioned building with purpose and mentally pushed any grievances to the back of her mind. Let the games commence.

  Chapter Ten

  Harper’s office smelt like the perfume counter at Boots. It was a well-known fact that Shay, her assistant, stopped by there daily before she bought her lunch from the sandwich shop next door. Although she hadn’t been in Harper’s office for a few hours, the fresh citrusy scent still remained. Harper stood by the window overlooking a busy main road. She liked to people watch and imagine the kind of lives they led,
who they went home to—or not. Now that the working day had officially come to an end, she had a decision to make. With her mounting workload, should she take on Abi’s case or pass it on to another colleague?

  Harper had many single parents come through her door for help, but for some reason none had left the kind of impression Abi had. In a way, she reminded Harper so much of herself. Abi was certainly not ready to admit defeat, no matter how much she’d tried to convince herself that she was weak or inept. Deep down she was a fighter. With the constant blows her wife had laid on her, Harper was surprised that Abi wasn’t on her knees already. She knew stronger women who wouldn’t have got as far as she had.

  A tap on the door broke into her thoughts. Shay, a petite woman with a slight limp and glasses, appeared in the doorway. Her glossy brick red hair fell on her shoulders with soft curls and her pale skin gave away her Irish origins. ‘Well, what’s it to be? Yay or nay?’

  Harper looked at her quizzically.

  Shay let out a frustrated sigh. ‘You know what I mean. Abi. The woman that came in earlier.’

  Harper made a snap decision there and then. ‘At the moment, it’s looking like a yay.’ Somehow, she would have to fit her in. Even if it meant working late. Abi’s lack of money wouldn’t be a problem. Harper’s firm allowed their solicitors to take on clients who couldn’t afford to pay but didn’t qualify for legal aid, at their discretion. But only if they thought they had a good chance of a settlement.

  Shay broke into a grin. ‘Fantastic! If a woman ever needed your help, it’s her. I don’t know how you do your job, listening to all of these people suffering. I heard Martha is thinking about leaving law and studying massage.’

  Harper laughed. ‘Martha, a masseuse? You’ve got to be kidding me.’