Gino's Arranged Bride

Gino went rapidly through three small chests of drawers, to be put in bedrooms, to the infinite gratitude of the occupants, one wardrobe and two bookshelves.

The bookshelves went in the living room where the ‘family’ congregated to watch television. Nikki was there, going through a photo album, but she looked up to admire.

‘You’ve got the shelves all the same space apart,’ she said, awed by this mark of genius.

‘It’s not that difficult.’

‘Well, Mummy can’t do it.’

Gino grinned. ‘I’d gathered that.’

He got to his feet, brushed himself down and came to look at what she was doing.

‘Hey, who’s that?’ he asked suddenly.

He was pointing at a picture of a young girl in jeans and shirt, with flowing fair hair swirling around her as she did a dance that was clearly energetic. She looked a bit wild, and bit mad, and totally happy.

‘Is that who I think it is?’ he asked incredulously.

‘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.