Blood Ties (11 page)

Although Erin never spoke of Ruby’s father, understandably, and he wasn’t keen to hear details, Robert had always assumed that the name Lucas came from her previous marriage. It hadn’t seemed important before and delving too deep into another person’s affairs, he knew from bitter experience, only ever resulted in trouble. Thus far, his relationship and marriage to Erin had encapsulated the thinnest of details, deliberately skimming the surface for fear of crushing something delicate and irreplaceable beneath. Robert chose to ignore the feelings of frustration this tactic of self-preservation had produced.

‘Superintendent Registrar’s office. Can I help you?’

Tanya opened her mouth to speak but Robert lunged for the telephone and picked up the handset. He didn’t trust the woman not to make a mess of things again. Time was running out.

‘Hi . . . yeah . . . I made an express application for a copy of my stepdaughter’s birth certificate about a week ago and got a letter back saying that you couldn’t find it. I was just wondering if you’d be able to check again for me. Obviously my daughter exists. I saw her just this morning.’ Robert tried to inject a little humour into the request, keen to keep the woman on his side, knowing how she could make things difficult.

‘Have you got a reference number on the letter?’

Robert read out the number carefully and waited, listening to the woman’s breathing as she tapped at the keyboard.

‘No, sorry. It says that no records were—’

‘Yes, I know that. I have the letter here. I just want to know
why
no records were found.’

Robert, perched on the corner of Tanya’s desk, recited details about Ruby – when she had been born, full name, how her mother had split from her father, but the woman interrupted, uninterested in what Robert had to say. There was a queue of callers racking up.

‘You’ve supplied appropriate details on your application form. The only explanation is that either the child’s name is wrong or, more likely, that the birth wasn’t registered at this particular office. Other than that, I can’t give specific details as to why we’re not coming up with anything. It might be worth checking with Mum again, too. Just to confirm you’ve remembered all the details correctly.’

‘I think I know my own stepdaughter’s correct name,’ he replied sourly. ‘Can’t someone run a search for all entries for that particular birth date?’

‘I’m sorry, sir. We simply don’t have the staff or the time to pursue such matters. If we had to—’

‘Thanks for your help.’ Robert replaced the handset abruptly, biting his lips in thought. He knew he wouldn’t get anything else out of the woman. He poured himself a coffee from the machine, almost forgetting to ask Tanya if she wanted one. She nodded when he held up a cup and for a while they drank in silence, each considering the outcome of the phone call.

It occurred to Robert, as he sipped the scalding coffee, that he must have made a mistake about Ruby’s birthday. He knew Erin would react, the way women do, when he confessed to getting Ruby’s year or even day of birth wrong – rather like forgetting an anniversary and cobbling together a hasty surprise, blaming it on the tardy jeweller or incompetent travel agent.

‘First of January, nineteen ninety-two,’ he pondered out loud. ‘Thirty-first of December, ninety-one.’ Definitely the first one, he thought. Definitely January. But maybe nineteen ninety-one?

His excuse to Erin would be that he was a father by default. It was Erin he’d loved first. Ruby came as part of the package, he accepted, but adopting a teenager was something he’d never bargained on. It was a hard task, a thankless one sometimes, but he was committed to them both forever. He dialled Erin’s number.

‘Fresh As A Daisy. Erin speaking.’

Robert felt himself unfurl inside when he heard his wife’s voice. It was natural, he told himself, for suspicion to reign, even dimly, after what he’d been through with Jenna. Louisa had been right, although he’d not wanted to admit it. He
had
moved too fast, although if he hadn’t made a move on Erin, if he hadn’t gone back for his umbrella . . .

‘Hi, babe. It’s me. Can you talk?’

‘Yes, the shop’s clear at the moment. What’s up?’

‘Just run by Ruby’s year and place of birth again. The birth certificate people are having trouble finding her entry and she needs a passport to go to Vienna.’ Robert opened Tanya’s desk drawer and took out a pen. He pressed the phone to his shoulder and waited to write. ‘Erin?’

‘Not that again, Rob. I thought we decided we weren’t going to bother with the school trip.’

Robert glanced at Tanya and smiled. He hadn’t meant to be so hard on her. She was a loyal employee and always willing to please. She returned his grin and began tapping away at her computer.

‘Bother?’ he replied in a low voice although he would have preferred to raise the volume. ‘How can you not want to bother with anything to do with your own daughter?’

‘Exactly,’ she said swiftly. ‘
My
daughter.’

Robert sighed. He wasn’t going into battle in front of Tanya. ‘Can you at least confirm that her birth was registered in the name of Lucas at Northampton Register Office? You said she was born there, right? School trip or not, she needs a passport. Unless you’re planning on not having a holiday ever again.’

‘Robert, I’ve got to go. There’s a customer. Bye.’ Erin gave a little kiss before the line went dead.

 

Jed Bowman didn’t return to Mason & Knight. Robert spent the time he had allotted to the case reading over the sordid file. It was dragging on. He should have had this all wrapped up by now. It was textbook stuff, albeit in reverse to the usual glut of custody cases.

Man wants sole residency rights of his two children. Wife is an alcoholic, a drug addict and clearly mistreats the children, who haven’t even been consulted about what they want. Man now has home of own and is in employment. End of story.

‘Yes, end of story, all right,’ Robert said to himself, leaning back. ‘If it wasn’t for bloody Jed Bowman.’ He felt stupid when he saw Tanya standing in the doorway.

‘There’s someone here to see you, Mr Knight. Mary Bowman.’

Robert slid swiftly from behind his desk and shut the door. ‘Mary Bowman, as in Jed’s soon-to-be ex?’

‘The very one.’ Tanya looked rather proud. She enjoyed a fuss.

‘Did she say what she wanted?’

‘Just that she had to see you. Shall I show her in?’

Robert hesitated. Den wasn’t back from his meeting yet and if Tanya wanted to keep her job then she knew to keep quiet. Robert was fully aware of the ethics involved, especially without Jed present. But off the record, as a compassionate human being who sensed that something was very amiss, where children and their future happiness were at stake, Robert was compelled to hear what Mary Bowman had to say. Fleetingly, he thought of Ruby.

‘Bring her in.’

Mary was small. Five foot three at most. She was wearing an old-fashioned beige and blue crimplene dress. Robert recalled his mother in something similar, which added about twenty years, Robert reckoned, to her three and a half decades.

Mary’s small face was mostly obscured by a pair of large black sunglasses, also outdated in style, and a frame of mousy, shoulder-length hair of no particular cut. She had obviously tried to dress up for the occasion but the overall effect was that of a woman who had little money, little self-esteem and no confidence. From first impressions, Robert was surprised that she’d even made it to the offices of Mason & Knight. Mary Bowman resembled a woman clinging to life with the tip of one finger.

Robert took the woman’s hand as she offered it, noticing the lack of rings, the lack of warmth, the slight tremor. He sent Tanya out of the room, sensing she would have gladly stayed. ‘Please, sit.’

Mary Bowman solemnly positioned herself in the leather client’s chair and only when Robert pulled out his chair from behind the desk and located himself right in front of her did she slowly lift her head and remove her sunglasses. Her movements were laboured as if her limbs were filled with wet concrete and her gaze was distant, her expression hollow. Her entire face conveyed to Robert everything he needed to know about Bowman versus Bowman. Mary’s nose was comprehensively broken – a swollen and split welt saddling the bridge – and her eyes were like two rotting plums set into tender flesh, badly concealed beneath the wrong-coloured foundation.

Robert breathed in, partly to stifle the exclamation he felt he was about to make and partly because he couldn’t help it. He’d practised family law since qualifying, represented some desperate cases in his time, but seeing Mary Bowman present herself to him as if she were a piece of evidence threw up serious personal doubts about representing Jed Bowman. And he knew it wasn’t just because Mason & Knight took legal aid cases either. Robert had untangled similarly nauseating cases where his clients drove eighty thousand pound cars and still pulped their wives. The strange thing was, it had never bothered him before.

‘How can I help?’ Robert realised how stupid he sounded. How could anyone help this woman?

‘I’ve come to tell you that I give up.’ Mary Bowman folded her hands neatly in her lap, as if to punctuate her statement. She picked at a nail. ‘I don’t want my children. I am an unfit mother.’ She gestured to her face, her hand accidentally bumping her lips and smudging a streak of pale pink lipstick across her already patterned cheek.

Robert was stunned. This was not what he had expected. True, it would make his life considerably easier and get the file off his desk, but he knew, after having seen Mary Bowman and her wrecked face, that that would be like sending Ruby back to her old school.

‘That’s something the court will decide,’ he said. ‘Your solicitor will present your case in the best possible way and the children’s welfare officer will do the same. The judge will determine, after all the facts have been weighed up, what’s best for your children. As your husband’s representative, I have a duty to . . .’ Robert hesitated. His obligation to Jed Bowman suddenly blurred as he was confronted by the plainest evidence of the case so far.

Faced with his client’s wife, the respondent, in his own personal space, his twelve-foot-square office for which he had chosen the slate-grey carpet, the mahogany desk, the watercolours hanging on the oak-panelled walls, immediately flooded the case with a third dimension. A human aspect that he didn’t think he’d now be able to ignore. Robert breathed in deeply, continuing, ‘. . . a duty to present your husband’s case to the court. And because there is evidence of the children’s neglect and your actions, adultery included—’

‘Now you have proof of Jed’s actions.’ Mary pulled back her hair and tilted her face to the window. The damage was comprehensive. ‘I give up because Jed has made it impossible for me to continue. Even if I do get the kids back, he’ll never leave me alone. Not any of your stupid orders will keep him away from me. Not now I’ve been with his brother. That got to him more than anything.’ She turned back to Robert. ‘That really messed with his brain.’ She took a packet of Royals from her purse and lit one without asking Robert if he minded. ‘My husband will always own me, whatever the judge decides. I hope you sleep well at night.’

‘Now wait up a minute.’ Battered wife or not, Robert refused to have his professionalism questioned, however hard the truth stuck in his heart. ‘Whatever history you and Jed have together is your business. If Jed chooses to knock you about every day for the rest of your life, that isn’t my concern.’ Robert felt his mouth turn sour. Old coffee, the cigarette smoke, guilt – whatever it was, swallowing didn’t make it go away. ‘What makes this my business is that your husband has instructed me to file for divorce on his behalf and the residency of your children is in dispute. Two helpless kids who, if given the choice, would rather not have their dad knock their mum about or learn that their mum’s been at it with their uncle. That’s not to mention the drugs and the alcohol and the kids rarely attending school . . .’ Robert stopped himself. He wasn’t in court now. Mary was damaged enough.

Mary snorted and blew out a plume of smoke. ‘Is that what he told you? That I’m an alcoholic and do drugs?’

Robert walked to the window and hoisted the sash open. The room suddenly filled with city street noise and the smell of car exhaust fumes riding on the warm updraught of humid air. He stared down at the steady stream of shoppers, women with prams, office workers, cars, taxis – all allowed to go about their own business without being intimidated or bullied. Ruby and Jenna, each hounded in their own way, flashed through his head until the guilt that welled in his gullet forced him to turn back to Mary.

Robert marched across the office and pulled his chair even closer to Mary’s. He sat, hitching up his tailored suit trousers, and took her hands in his. Sirens screamed in his head. He heard Den’s raised voice when he found out how stupid his partner had been. He saw himself packing up his belongings, vacating his office – the prestigious office suite that he and Den had sweated blood to be able to afford. Then he saw Ruby, miserable in her old school, relentlessly bullied by the young Jed Bowmans of the world. She had been a victim, like Mary, until he had taken control and sent her to a new school. Then there was Jenna, plagued by his own insecurities until something gave and the truth came out. That his suspicions had been correct was of no importance any more. Jenna had been sentenced to death before she had even been tried and it was entirely his fault. He had wrongly assumed the role of uninformed judge. Robert shook his head to rid himself of thoughts that had no place in his consciousness at a time like this.

‘Tell me everything, Mary. From the beginning.’

Mary bowed her head. Before she began, she asked for a glass of water.

Robert left the office early. His ability to concentrate on work had diminished since Mary Bowman had left several hours ago. Her presence in his office had stirred up silt at the bottom of his personal river that he was trying to forget.