The Reunion (31 page)

David lifted the plate from the tray on the table and offered
her a biscuit which she took. Almond and pistachio slices were embedded on a
light shortbread base and it was delicious.

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 interview. 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?”

“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.