Chapter 5: Bill

It was gloomy, with black clouds looming. I didn't doubt a thunderstorm was threatening; we'd had a hot weekend. ' Three fine days and a thunderstorm' – typical English summer weather. Perhaps I should say 'stereotypical'. Lexie stood clinging to my hand like a drowning man to a life-raft and we half watched the ducks ignoring the bread thrown to them by enthusiastic children. Her harshly indrawn breath alerted me to their approach and we both got to our feet and walked round the pond toward them.

He was tall, distinguished-looking, exquisitely tailored, but almost gaunt. She, slim and elegant, her trouser suit perfect on her but her face, despite expert make-up, was haggard.

Lexie stared at them. Releasing my hand, she started toward them, speeding up until she was almost running when she reached her mother ... then they were embracing each other and I could see the tears pouring down her mother's face. I doubted not that Lexie was weeping too. Her father's cheeks were wet too. I was glad. Glad that my guess was correct, glad that they really were pleased and relieved to see her. I stayed back as Lexie moved to embrace her father. The all three of them were together, arms around each other, heads together.

It was some time ... perhaps five minutes, I wouldn't know, before Lexie turned and held out her hand to me. I walked to her, fishing in my pocket for a clean handkerchief; using it to dry her eyes and cheeks. I smiled inwardly as I noticed Peter Palmer-Harrison was performing the same service for his wife. He glanced at me and our eyes met. He smiled very slightly before returning his attention to his wife.

Having completed the tender little task, he turned to me and held out his hand.

"Mr. Williams. I'm Peter Palmer-Harrison, as you've no doubt guessed. I owe you a profound apology."

"I don't think so, sir," I said, "I don't blame you a bit for being suspicious."

"Humph. Well. May I introduce my wife, Alexandra?"

She held out her hand. When I took it, her clasp was firm, her hand warm.

"Mr. Williams, I thank you. We've missed our daughter terribly and you've restored her to us."

"Would you like to call me Bill?" I looked questioningly at them. "I haven't used my given name since ... well, since I can remember, except for official documents. It seems..."

"Certainly," the man replied, "and if you will, we are Peter and Alex. Now. Not wanting to rush things, the sky is looking threatening, I'm hungry, and there's a table waiting at the Arboretum. I hope you don't mind a pub meal; it's good food and a pleasant atmosphere."

"Not at all," I laughed, "I think the Arboretum is quite upscale by my standards these days, but it has a good reputation."

"Humph," he grunted again. "Yes. You won't be too offended if I tell you I made some enquiries about you?" We were walking in the direction of Charles Street.

"I'm neither surprised nor offended," I commented as Lexie recaptured my hand.

"Good, good. I play golf with David Richardson..."

I almost stopped walking with shock at the name of my former employer and father-in-law.

"I thought your name seemed somehow familiar. I thought I associated it with David somehow and I asked him. It's a couple of years since the divorce?"

I nodded. Lexie squeezed my hand and I looked at her, gave her a little smile and shook my head minutely.

"He was furious with his daughter and hasn't forgiven her yet. He was more furious at loosing you than the ignominy of his daughter's behaviour. He said you saved him thousands and if I could get you to work for me it would be well worth while."

"I'm not looking for full-time employment..."

"No. I know. I respect your choice. I suspect your approach is part of what has made my daughter so happy. To be sure our way of living hasn't. And I know you haven't kept up your professional licences and insurance..." he looked at me and I shrugged, "which you don't need for the charity audits you do more out of ... charity ... than to earn your beer money."

I smiled. 'Beer money' might not be entirely accurate, but to be sure, the money I earned was more in the way of 'pin-money' than a living.

The first drops of rain fell as we arrived at the restaurant; by the time we were seated it was a downpour, the thunder started as we were ordering. It was a pleasant enough meal; Lexie's parents worked hard to make it so though I couldn't say I was entirely comfortable. After, we stood to leave and Alexandra offered her cheeks for a 'family' kiss and Peter held out his hand.

"Thank you," he said simply, "for bringing our daughter back to us"

I glanced at Lexie who smiled and sidled closer to me. "I hope you'll visit us," I said. "It's a humble place, but it's home..."

"Oh, we will, I'm sure," he laughed, "but we'll call first." Then he was serious, "Just make my little girl happy."

Lexie was very quiet on the train back to Felixstowe. I kept looking at her, not that I needed a reason. I noticed that she had half an inch or so of brown roots to her hair. I hadn't noticed before. The station in Felixstowe is a hundred yards or so from the original, which has been redeveloped as a small - tiny – shopping mall called 'Great Eastern Square'. We stopped there by the circular bench in the centre.

"Bill," she said, "go, get a coffee, look through the books in the charity shops or something. I need an hour on my own."

I raised my eyebrows.

"You'll understand when you get back," she said, smiling, "it's nothing terrible, I promise."

So, I went for a walk. Hamilton Road, the main shopping street in Felixstowe, abounds in charity shops. Additionally there are a couple of second-hand bookshops, though not actually on Hamilton Road itself. I was quite happy. An hour? I could have spent half a day easily. As a result, I was a little late getting back ... it had been more like two hours than one. At Great Eastern Square, there was just one person in the ... whatever you call it – precinct? - A young woman was sitting on the circular bench, head down. It took several minutes for me to process the information my eyes were receiving and it was only when she looked up and our eyes met that I realised it was Lexie ... with brown hair, neatly trimmed. She looked anxious and hopeful at the same time.

When the realisation penetrated my consciousness I was just very happy it was her. I opened my arms and she came to me, her face lighting up with her lovely smile. How's that song go? I'd walk a hundred miles for one of your smiles? Something like that.

"Do you like it?" The anxiety was back in her voice.

"Yes, I do," I said sincerely. "But I told you, I don't mind what colour your hair is. That brown is lovely, but it was you than made me realise that it's what's inside that matters. I stopped looking at the colour of your hair shortly after we met. I looked into your eyes and saw your heart; and it's a beautiful heart. Which isn't to say," I added as she opened her mouth to speak, "that the outside isn't gorgeous. You are beautiful, and I love you ... whatever your hair colour. Just one thing, though..."

"What's that?"

"I've never been fond of bottle blondes." I said as seriously as I could manage.

"OH! You!" She hit my arm quite hard

"Ouch!" I rubbed my arm and winced theatrically.

"Oh, Bill! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, really." She embraced me and held me tight.