Sophie Weston - Midnight Wedding

Jack looked down at him as if he had forgotten where he was. He shook his head a little, as if to clear it. Then looked at the man in his grip.

‘Who are you?’

The man choked out something indecipherable. He put up his hands to ease the pressure on his throat. Jack relaxed his grip a little.

‘What makes you can think you can push women around?’ Jack rapped out.

The man’s chest heaved. He looked furious—and bewildered.

Beyond them, the girl straightened slowly. The black panic left her face but she still looked frighteningly young and vulnerable. A loose golden-brown plait fell forward over her shoulder.

She was panting. ‘He has no right. He’s nothing to do with me.’ Her voice was suddenly very young, too.

The man was conventionally handsome, with chiselled features and expensively styled hair. But when he turned his head to look at her, his expression was as ugly as a street-corner punk’s.

‘Oh, no? I’ve got a piece of paper that says I’m your guardian.’

She flinched. But she did not deny it.

‘Great,’ muttered Ramon. Aloud, he said soothingly, ‘Jack, these people don’t want us interfering in their private affairs…’

Jack ignored him. He looked at the girl. ‘Well?’

‘He’s married to—a relation of mine,’ she said in a hurried, uneven voice. ‘I don’t ask them for anything. I don’t want to have anything to do with them.’ Her voice rose. It was quiet enough but it had the intensity of a scream.

Ramon winced. He was not surprised that Jack did not let the man go.

The man let out a roar of frustration that at last attracted the attention of one of the security guards. He ignored Jack and Ramon. ‘You owe Donna,’ he said. ‘You know it. I know it.’

It sounded menacing, even to a stranger. The girl whitened. Her sudden pallor revealed a dusting of golden freckles across her nose.

The security guard began to stroll over. Jack was still holding the attacker in an arm lock. The girl looked past the man, straight at Jack, her hands twisting.

‘I don’t. I don’t owe anyone. I never asked…Please…’ Her voice was all over the place.

Jack said, ‘Your guardian?’

She looked at the man, though it was easy to see that she did not want to meet his eyes. ‘Brendan, please don’t do this.’ It was obviously a huge effort to speak with even an attempt at calm. ‘I don’t want anything from you. I never have. I just want to be free.’

Jack’s face was a mask.

Oh, Lord, that’s torn it, thought Ramon.

Jack said slowly, ‘How old are you?’

‘T-twenty-two.’

He looked at the big man in his grip. ‘No one has a guardian at twenty-two.’

‘You do if—’

But the girl was not waiting any longer. The security guard reached them. They all turned to him instinctively, the tight little circle round the girl widening for a moment. She saw her chance and took it. She dived between Ramon and Jack so fast that she knocked Ramon flying. In seconds, she was out through the revolving doors.

Jack’s captive swore. He would have taken off after her if Jack had not wrestled him up against the wall and held him there.

‘I think not,’ Jack said very softly.

‘But that girl is my ward.’

‘She doesn’t seem to think so.’

‘I tell you—’

‘And I tell you, ward or no ward, you will not manhandle her while I’m here to stop you.’

There was a steely note to Jack’s voice which brought the hairs up on the back of Ramon’s neck. Even the stranger seemed to recognise that this was not a man he could bully. Some of the bluster left him.

He took refuge in sarcasm. ‘Sweet little Holly done a number on you too, has she?’

Jack did not answer.

The man tried to push his restraining hand away and failed.

‘That’s a real good act she’s got,’ he sneered. ‘Can’t tell you the number of guys she took in back home in Lansing Mills. That was why she ran out—’

Jack stopped him with a gesture of disgust. ‘Enough, already.’

The security guard decided to intervene at last. He had checked Jack Armour into the committee many times and trusted him. The other man, however, was new to him. Mindful of the fat folder of guidelines under the reception desk, he asked some slow and careful questions. By the time Ramon had appointed himself interpreter and translated them from French, the girl was long gone.

Jack let go of his captive. After a brief struggle with frustration, the man came up with his answers readily enough.

‘My name is Brendan Sugrue.’ He produced a passport from his back pocket. ‘That girl is my sister-in-law. By adoption. My wife and I are her legal guardians. We are from Lansing Mills, Oklahoma. She ran away. I have been on her trail ever since.’

‘Why?’ said Jack. It was quiet enough but it had the force of a bullet.

The security guard looked up curiously from his perusal of the passport.

Brendan Sugrue blinked. ‘She’s young…’

‘Twenty-two-year-olds can take care of themselves.

‘Unstable…’

Jack’s eyes narrowed almost to slits. ‘In what way?’

‘Irresponsible. Wild. She doesn’t listen to advice…’

He saw Jack’s expression. His words dwindled into silence.

‘Doesn’t listen to advice, huh? Sounds like she doesn’t do what you want,’ said Jack softly.

‘Monsieur Armour,’ began the security guard, friendly but minatory.

Jack ignored him.

‘Isn’t that the truth of it?’

‘Monsieur Armour, this is clearly a personal matter.’ The guard returned the passport. ‘As the young lady has gone and no damage has been done, there is no more to be said. Goodbye, gentlemen.’

Brendan Sugrue shook himself. Then he straightened his tie and brushed out the creases in his elegant jacket.

‘Thank you,’ he said to the security guard. The look he sent Jack was less friendly. ‘I’d hoped to clear this up informally. Thanks to your meddling, I’ll probably have to go to the police now. Don’t get in my way again.’

He shouldered his way past Jack and Ramon. The force with which he slammed out of the building sent the revolving doors spinning.

The guard pulled a face. ‘Hope the young lady is a long way away by now,’ he said, all his French chivalry aroused.

‘Hope we don’t get involved,’ muttered Ramon, less chivalrous but infinitely more practical.

The pristine floor was scattered with litter. Jack scuffed some with his shoe and then looked down, arrested. To Ramon’s astonishment he fell to his knees and began picking up several dozen bright yellow sheets of coarse paper.

‘Now what?’

Jack held a sheet up to him.

“‘Club Thaïs”,’ read Ramon. “‘Cool jazz, hot beat”.’ He turned it over. On the back there was a menu. He cast a knowledgeable eye over the prices. ‘Just some cheap brasserie. What about it?’

Jack picked up the rest of the flyers. ‘She dropped them.’

Ramon’s heart sank. ‘So?’

‘So maybe she goes there. Works there, even.’

‘Or maybe she works for an agency which delivers flyers and she’s never been over the threshold,’ said Ramon discouragingly.

Jack stood up and retrieved his briefcase.

‘Nowhere this cheap employs agencies for anything,’ he said, stuffing the retrieved papers into his case.

‘OK. Maybe her boyfriend is a waiter there.’

Jack stopped.

‘Most twenty-two-year-old girls,’ pointed out Ramon, sensing an advantage, ‘have boyfriends.’ As Jack still said nothing he ploughed on. ‘Look, who knows the rights and wrongs of this? Maybe Sugrue is right and the girl is nuts. We really don’t need you playing St George again.’

Their eyes met for a long, comprehending moment. Ramon’s were the first to fall. Third time today, he thought. Well done, Ramon.