Gino's Arranged Bride

‘That was Mummy,’ Nikki said, speaking, in the manner of children, as though her mother’s earlier self was somebody else, now deceased.

‘You mean it is Mummy,’ Gino suggested.

‘No, she doesn’t look like that. But she did then. That was before I knew her.’

‘Before time began,’ Gino said through twitching lips.

He studied the girl again. She was young; heart-breakingly so to anyone who knew how life had treated her later. She’d been perhaps seventeen, and she’d had no idea. She’d just known that life would go exactly as she wanted, the way you always knew that at seventeen.

The next set of pictures came from her dancing career. There she was in leotards, concentrating intensely on the steps she was practising. Then she was dressed up to perform in glittering costumes.

They turned her into almost another person, beautiful, sophisticated, at home in the spotlight. She had Wow! legs he noticed with interest, long and elegant as a dancer’s should be. Her waist and hips were also Wow!

Then there were the wedding pictures. She’d been a joyous bride, gazing at her new husband with radiant eyes as they joined hands on the cake.

He hadn’t been looking at her, Gino noted. He was facing the camera with a brilliant grin, as if inviting onlookers to admire his undoubted good looks.

‘Full of himself,’ Gino thought. Then honesty made him add, ‘A bit like I was.’

The recognition didn’t make him feel any kinder towards the man. That lovely, fresh, life-enhancing girl deserved better.

The pictures went on. There was Laura, sitting up in bed, holding baby Nikki, while her husband sat with his arm around both of them, bursting with pride.

‘That’s my daddy,’ Nikki said proudly.

She turned more pages and Gino saw her as a toddler, learning to walk, her hands held by her father. Picture after picture showed them together, and now he could see how she was growing to resemble him. She had his dark hair, his brown eyes, his wide mouth.

One picture showed them looking straight at each other, eyes meeting, sharing smiles of delight as though they recognised their shared looks and rejoiced in them.

After that there was just one more picture, and it said everything. Nikki was about four and now Gino could see the first sign that all was not well. Her forehead had grown, just a little, but an ominous portent of what was to come.

Now it was Laura who sat with her, while her husband kept in the background. His smile had gone, and his face bore a stunned look.

After that he didn’t appear in any more pictures.

Gino remembered Laura saying, ‘She adored him and he seemed to adore her—then he just upped and left.’

How could any man just switch off his love for a little girl? Unless his ‘love’ had been little more than vanity?

Gino tried to get into the mind of a man who could simply abandon a child like an unwanted puppy, at the very moment when she needed him most. But he couldn’t do it. All he could feel was helpless rage which he concealed behind a smile.

It was the child who turned the pages back to the last picture where the man could be seen.

‘That was Daddy,’ she said softly, touching the face.

‘Yes,’ Gino said, floundering for something to say. ‘He looks—he looks—quite a fellow.’

‘He taught me to swim. He said he’d teach me to draw one day, when I was older. Only he died.’

‘Died?’ Gino couldn’t keep the astonishment out of his voice.

‘Yes, he’s dead,’ Nikki said calmly. ‘My daddy’s dead.’

Gino drew a long breath, sensing that he was walking across eggshells.

‘He’d have been proud of that drawing you showed me,’ he said. ‘You’re very talented.’

She beamed. ‘Daddy was good at drawing. I want to be as good as Daddy.’

‘I’m sure you will be,’ he said lamely. It was the best he could manage while his mind was whirling. Nikki seemed satisfied.

But she had another bombshell for him. As she closed the album she whispered, ‘Don’t tell Mum what we talked about. She doesn’t know that I know, and I don’t want to worry her.’

He nodded, bereft of speech. He was aghast.

When Nikki had gone to bed he took a walk through the quiet streets. The last of the summer night was fading, and by the time he was ready to turn back it was completely dark.

Just ahead of him was a pub, with a sign proclaiming The Running Sheep, and he felt in need of a beer after this evening. Inside, it was a small, attractive place with a pleasant, old-fashioned atmosphere. The barman sold him a pint of bitter, and he went to sit at a table in the corner.

He was tired. What he’d heard tonight had disturbed him, but his walk had left him no clearer how to deal with it. It was pleasant to sit there, sipping and thinking about nothing very much.

He closed his eyes, and might have dozed off for a moment. When he opened them the barman had gone. In his place was a young woman with fair curly hair and a sweet smile. It took Gino a moment to realise that he was looking at Laura.

He was so used to regarding her as a landlady and Nikki’s mother that he’d unconsciously been perceiving her through those filters, and they had gotten in the way of the real woman. Now he realised that the dancer he had seen in the photographs was still alive somewhere. It was like seeing her for the first time.

She was talking to a customer, almost seeming to flirt with him, shaking her head so that the curls danced about her face. It was a young face, much younger than Gino had realised, and charming, especially when she smiled.

It had a lot in common with the girl in the pictures, except that her blazing belief in life had gone for ever. This woman was more cautious, hurt and vulnerable, but also more interesting than before.

The customer was elderly, and clearly delighted by the attention. He paid for his drink and would have lingered if the barman hadn’t returned, looking at his watch.

‘Last orders, ladies and gentlemen,’ he announced.

The company was thin tonight, and she was soon finished. Gino waved to catch her attention, and they slipped out into the street together.

‘So this is where you sneak away in the evenings,’ he said, grinning. ‘No wonder you don’t want to be at home when you can be surrounded by suitors here.’

‘Oh, stop that. Sam’s a dear old boy and nobody’s flirted with him for years. It’s part of the job, and mostly innocent.’

‘Mostly?’ he asked, glancing sideways.

‘Nothing I can’t handle. I’ve got a mean left hook. Want me to demonstrate?’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ he said hastily. ‘Let’s go home.’

It was pleasant walking home under the stars, and Gino was reluctant to spoil their peace, but he had no choice.

‘There’s something you need to know,’ he said heavily. ‘Nikki told me tonight that her father is dead.’

Laura stopped and faced him, horrified.

‘She said what?’

‘She was showing me some family pictures, and when he disappeared from them she said, “My daddy’s dead”.’

‘Oh, no,’ she breathed. ‘He didn’t die. He walked out.’

‘Do you ever hear from him?’

‘Not since the divorce. He doesn’t stay in touch.’

‘Christmas? Birthdays?’

‘Not a word, not a card. I suppose it’s easier for her to think of him as dead than neglectful.’

‘Any chance she actually believes it?’

‘No, if he was dead, I’d have told her. She must know that.’

‘So it’s her way of comforting herself.’ Gino sighed. ‘I’m not supposed to have told you this. She said you didn’t know that she knew, and she didn’t want to worry you.’

‘Oh, God, she’s so sweet and generous.’

‘Yes, she is, but I’ve betrayed her confidence. I had to. I couldn’t have kept a thing like that to myself—’

‘Of course you did the right thing. But I’ve been so stupid. Why didn’t I see it coming? How could I have left her exposed to this?’

‘Hey, hey, don’t blame yourself,’ he said urgently. ‘You didn’t expose her to this. He did.’

‘But I should have thought. Oh, heavens!’

Her voice was husky with tears and she buried her face in her hands. Gino put his arms about her, holding her tightly while she wept.

‘It isn’t your fault,’ he said again. ‘You’re her mother, but you can only do so much. There are things you can’t make right for her, however hard you try. You can see them coming, but you can’t get out of the way.’

‘But I could help her through them. I’ve got to get home quickly, and talk to her.’

‘No, don’t.’ In his agitation he took her arms and drew her around to face him. ‘Stop and think. What are you going to tell her, that I betrayed her confidence?’

‘Confidence? She’s an eight-year-old child—’

‘Even a child likes to be treated with respect. Right now, she feels she can talk to me.’

‘But why not me?’

‘Because you’re her mother. I’m not involved so it’s easier for her to talk to me. As long as she trusts me, maybe I can be of some use to her, and to you. Laura please, don’t do anything to make her stop trusting me.’

He felt some of the tension go out of her, and she sighed, nodding.

‘You’re right,’ she said in despair. ‘I should have thought of that.’

‘You’ve got to stop blaming yourself for everything. You keep saying you should have done this and you should have done that, but you can’t do it all. No one can. Let someone else share the load.’

She gave a wry laugh.

‘There’s never been anyone to share it with.’

‘You’ve got me now,’ he reminded her gently.

She gave a shaky laugh. ‘Yes, I have, haven’t I?’ She put her arms about him and kissed him on the cheek. ‘How did I ever manage before you arrived? The best kid brother I never had.’

‘What do you mean, kid?’

‘I’m three years older than you. That makes you my kid brother. And, like most kid brothers, you can sometimes be a pain in the butt, and at other times be pretty marvellous.’

‘Yes, I finished the shelves,’ he said at once.

‘I didn’t mean—oh, you!’

He hugged her. ‘Come on, let’s go home. Your baby brother is starving.’

He made spaghetti and tomato sauce, which they ate together at the kitchen table.

Laura got out the photo album and he went through it again.

‘You were a real looker, weren’t you?’ he observed.

‘Yes, I was—the dim and distant past.’

‘That’s not what I—’

‘Oh, shut up!’ She thumped him amiably and he just managed not to drop tomato sauce on the album.

‘You can tell so much from old photos,’ he mused. ‘People’s past selves, sometimes even they’ve forgotten what they were like—and there they are.’

‘What about you? Don’t you have any record of your past self?’

She felt him tense.

‘Not here with me.’

‘Not one little picture of the younger Gino?’

After a moment he said quietly, ‘All right.’

He went up to his room and returned a moment later with a picture that he put into her hand.

It showed Gino, with flowers in his disarranged hair, looking mildly tipsy, his arm about the loveliest young woman Laura had ever seen. She was blonde and elegant, with the kind of supreme assurance that roused Laura’s envy. She and Gino were laughing at each other against a background of coloured lights and revelry.

Laura studied her, wondering if this was the answer to Gino’s habit of seeming to live life at arm’s length. He was always good-natured and kind, but she knew now that he kept the world at a distance, never quite involving himself in the moment.

‘I’ve never seen you look like that,’ she said, her eyes on the brilliant young face. ‘Not just happy, but throwing yourself into everything and hang the consequences. You learned caution after this.’

He nodded.

‘Was it very long ago?’ she asked.

‘Last year. A thousand years. Another universe.’

She sighed. ‘I know what you mean. You never know what’s waiting for you just around the corner, do you?’

‘I guess not.’

‘Thank you for showing me.’ She handed him back the picture and he took it without a word.

After that they went on talking about nothing much until it was time to go to bed. It was cosy, unexciting, the kind of evening Gino would once have despised. But, bit by bit, he found he was losing the appetite for anything livelier. He could not have said why.

The next evening Laura had another stint in The Running Sheep.

The first hour was busy and she was run off her feet, but at last the crowd thinned out and she was able to turn her attention to a man who had been waiting patiently at the far end of the bar.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said.

‘Don’t worry, I can see how it is.’ He gave her a pleasant grin.

He was about forty, with a reassuring solidity, but he was also handsome in a slightly cinematic way. His hair was thick and fair, his eyes deep blue, his features regular, only just beginning to blur.

She served him a whisky and he took it with the same charming grin, raising the glass in salute.

‘Have one with me,’ he said.

‘Thanks, I’ll have an orange juice.’

After that, if she had a free moment she returned to him. His name was Steve Deyton, and he was making frequent visits to the neighbourhood, with a view to setting up a factory making stationery products.

‘I don’t know anyone in this area,’ he said, ‘and there’s very little to do in the evenings. I’ve been here several times, hoping you’d notice me, but you never did.’

She laughed. It was a familiar gambit, and one to which she had a standard repertoire of answers. In fact she had noticed him, but she wasn’t prepared to say so. Not yet. She gave him a light-hearted reply, and went away to serve someone else.

At the end of the evening he asked if he could give her a lift home.

‘Thank you, that would be—’ Laura stopped, her attention caught by something she saw in the corner. ‘No, I don’t think so. Thank you anyway.’

He followed her gaze. ‘I see. A boyfriend?’

‘No,’ she laughed. ‘My brother. Goodnight.’

Laura put on her coat and headed for the corner.

‘Hey,’ she said, shaking Gino’s shoulder. ‘Wake up.’

‘Hm? Oh, hello.’

‘It’s time to go.’

He looked at the half full glass of beer.

‘It’s flat,’ he mourned. ‘How long since I dozed off?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t know you were here.’

‘No, your boss served me. All right, I’m coming.’

He hauled himself sleepily out of his seat and followed her out into the street, dropping a casual hand on her shoulder.

‘You may have to support me home,’ he said.

‘How many did you have before you fell asleep?’

‘No idea. That’s the idea of falling asleep. It wipes the slate clean.’

‘Does it?’ she asked severely.

‘Oh, hush, you sound like a grandmother.’

‘You make me feel like a grandmother,’ she said. ‘Or an aunt. You need looking after.’

‘Wash your hands of me,’ he said gloomily. ‘I’m a hopeless case.’

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