My Daughter, Audrey [ON HOLD]

The Arrival

Peter and Jennie sat patiently at their table, twiddling their thumbs and eyeing the clock.  Their guests were awfully late, and the anticipation of them bombing through was unbearable.   Jennie got up several times to check on the tea water and the small cakes puffing in the oven.  She smoothed out her bright blue shirt dress and adjusted her pearls evenly around her neck.   Peter fiddled with his tie and nudged and pulled his bangs to one side until they were all one length.   His foot tapped to a nervous beat and his eyes couldn’t help but stare at the door.  

               “When do you think they’ll come?”  Jennie asked before a loud knock shot them from their seats.  In a fluster, both Peter and Jennie crossed paths to get the final touch of the house ready.  Peter checked the water and pulled the cakes out of the own—almost burning himself in the process.  Jennie dashed to the crooked painting on the wall and then straightened out the silverware and table cloth.   She shaped her hair with her hands, brightened her lipstick and stood in front of the door, her hand hovering over the door knob.

               Peter came out of the kitchen and joined her.  “’Ere, love, I’ll open it.”  Peter webbed his neck, tugged at his collar, and did a final sweep with his hand over his hair.  He looked at Jennie and exhaled deeply.   His hand shot out for the doorknob and he opened the door.   Peter and Jennie were both taken away by Helen’s striking beauty.   Peter was surprised at how mature and attractive she had been made out to be—sure he had seen her face in the newspaper, but she was far more beautiful in person.   Jennie felt inadequate around the fashion model, so she pulled her shirt collar together and slowly dropped her eyes to the floor.  She felt tears fighting to show themselves when she saw that Peter hadn’t taken his eyes off her.   Jennie squeezed Peter’s hand with her nails, quickly bringing his attention.

               “Hello, Mr. Holmes and Mrs. Holmes.  Been a long time,” Helen said, strutting in.  Without asking, she took her seat and looked at the two with a ruling expression.   Helen crossed her legs in growing triumph and lifted her chin up at Peter, as if telling him that things are have already been lost for him.

               “Ms. Helen Trapp has made the agreement to have a private conversation between Peter, her lawyer, and herself,” Helen’s assistant stated, marching in with his briefcase.  He stood beside Helen in a tall, handsome manner.

               Peter began shutting the door before another prosecutor rushed in.   The man sat down in Peter’s chair and began laying out all these documents.   He was the first to speak.   “Mr. Holmes, we have researched your capabilities as a father and we see that you’re very unsuitable.”

               Peter snorted through his nose, closing the door.  He plunged his hands in his pocket and meandered over to the table.  He leaned over the lawyer’s shoulder, examining the documents.   “’Ow would ya come to a thing like that?”

               “Would anyone like anything to drink?”  Jennie offered shyly, wringing her paling hands together.

               “Just coffee, darling,” Helen ordered stiffly.  When she saw that Jennie wasn’t abiding her, she snapped at her louder.  “I said coffee!  Or gin, whatever you have.  Anything but tea!”

               “I’ll see if I have any cold beverages,” Jennie muttered, escaping to the basement.

               “You may want to hear this!”  Helen called out as the lawyer pulled out a stack of yellow-paged documents.  “You may read them out.  Harry here is an ex-detective.  He instead wanted to study law, but that didn’t work out for him.  But he’s still reliable all the same and documents don’t lie.”

               The detective cleared his throat and read out in a pinched voice, “At the age of sixteen, Peter Holmes was arrested for illegal smuggling of drugs between the British Isles.   He was released because he was a minor.   Still at the age of sixteen, Peter Holmes is arrested again for being in involved with the Liverpool gangs and participating in thieving and vandalism.”

               Peter took his hands out of his pockets and tucked one hand under each arm, he hung his head.  He couldn’t look at Jennie.  He didn’t want to, for it would break his heart to see her disappointed in him.

               “Age seventeen, Peter Holmes is charged for wounding five adolescents, including a girl, in the lighting of fireworks in a closed room.   Age eighteen, Peter Holmes is charged for critically wounding a boy in a knife fight, as well as suffering a fatal wound himself.  And lastly, which brings us to a case not yet looked into; Peter Holmes raped Helen Trapp at the age of nineteen at noon at her parents’ house.”

               At this, Helen threw herself onto the desk and broke into sobs.   “You terrible beast!”  Helen shouted, pointing a finger at Peter.  “I hope you know that memory haunts me every time I look into your disgusting face!  You filth!”

               The first man who had come up beside Helen patted her shoulder and penetrated Peter with a harsh, judgmental glare.

               Peter felt a chill burst up his spine.  He turned to Jennie, his lips dry and tears dripping from his eyes.  “Jennie, do you believe her?  We did have a history, but I never ‘armed her.”

               Jennie stared into Peter’s eyes, and for a moment, it felt like she was distant from him.  But she only smiled and went over to take his hand.  “I don’t trust her, Peter.  I know you were reared by the streets, but I trust you.”