CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Hank sighed heavily as Myra closed the apartment door, then slid his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

"I shoulda gone with ya," he said.

"You'd've hit him," said Myra. "Even if he didn't touch me." She pulled away slightly. "I'm gonna divorce him."

"Ya wanna use my lawyer?"

"Does he deal with divorces?" asked Myra, recalling having seen Hank's lawyer once when he visited the club. He looked like the type of lawyer who probably looked after the Mafia.

"His partner does," Hank said with a grin.

"Ok, then. Maybe ya could make an appointment for me?"

"Sure, I'll call on Monday."

Not only did Hank call on Monday, but managed to arrange for the lawyer to visit the apartment to meet with Myra the very next day. On Tuesday morning she awaited his arrival at ten o'clock somewhat nervously, wondering why Hank was grinning when he answered the buzzer and let the lawyer in. She was intimidated by the idea of being grilled by someone official and wiped her damp palms on a cloth as Hank opened the apartment door.

"Myra, this is Charlie Beauchamp," Hank said, stepping back to let the lawyer in. Myra couldn't stop her mouth falling open.

"Pleased to meet ya, Ms Beauchamp," she said, astonished. Charlie Beauchamp was a tiny woman in her forties, approximately the same height as Myra except that she was wearing four inch heeled boots. Her carrot-coloured hair surrounded her face in a mop of wild curls, freckles covered most of her cheeks and nose and bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief. She was dressed in jeans and a checkered shirt.

"Just call me Charlie," she said, beaming.

"I'll leave ya to it." Winking at Myra, Hank stepped outside and headed down to the club.

"Would ya like some coffee?" Myra offered Charlie.

"Sure, I'd love some." Charlie put a large briefcase down beside the sofa and wandered over towards Samantha where she sat on the floor playing with the huge stuffed Simba. "This must be Samantha; what a beautiful little girl," she said.

"Thank you," Myra called back from the kitchen, relaxing enormously.

"I got two girls," Charlie went on. "Twins. Just turned six last month."

"What are their names?"

"Maggie and Molly. Daft, huh? Both of them are diminutives of Margaret." She giggled loudly.

Myra returned with two mugs of coffee and handed one to Charlie. She already felt as if the woman was her friend.

"Will ya sit down?" she said.

"Thanks." Charlie put the mug onto the coffee table and threw herself into an armchair. "So, you're after a divorce," she began conversationally. "Take it the ex is responsible for your face."

"Yes." Myra launched into a description of her marriage to Horace and her astonishment that he had slapped her. "He seemed just as shocked as I was," she finished.

Charlie snorted. "Yeah, that's what they all say. Once a guy raises his hand to a woman, there's no going back. Gets to be a habit."

"Ya sound like you're speakin' from experience," Myra said.

"My girls' daddy. Nasty piece of work. Hung him out to dry in court. So let's fill in a few gaps. Where does Hank fit into all this?"

"He's Samantha's father," Myra admitted. "From before I got married."

"Uh huh?" Charlie said, eyebrows rising slightly. "Why'd you split?"

"Well, we….uh….weren't together," said Myra, reddening. "There's some stuff ya don't know."

"Well, why don't you tell me? Best if I have all the facts. Believe me, Myra, there's nothing you can say that'll shock me. My partner Bob has been Hank's lawyer a long time; I know all about his past."

"Ok." Myra took a deep breath and started from the beginning. Charlie sipped her coffee and nodded every so often as she listened. She didn't look particularly surprised by anything Myra said, until she briefly said that Hank had gone to prison for threatening her at her engagement party.

"He wasn't himself," she added. "He's over all that."

"I heard about it," Charlie said. "Even Bob couldn't keep him out of jail for that one. Well, that's not important here." She put her coffee mug down, pulled out a yellow legal tablet and began scribbling notes. "So we're gonna get rid of Horace on irreconcileable differences leading to failure to support his wife after the separation and domestic violence. Unfortunately we can't bring lack of child support into it because Samantha's not his, even though neither of you knew this at the time. Most guys will just sign the papers and get it over with. He may put up a fight, I suppose, considering his feelings about you and Hank. I can't see there's much he can fight about, although he might try to say you were unfaithful. I'll prepare the documents when I get back to the office, he'll get them before the weekend."

"I don't know how to thank you, " Myra said gratefully.

"No need, it's my job," Charlie said cheerfully. "Thank Hank, he's the one's gonna be getting my bill!"

"Oh dear," Myra sighed. "I owe him so much already."

"Sounds like you're about equal." Charlie grinned as she packed her things away into the briefcase. "I wouldn't worry about it, he doesn't seem to be."

Feeling much better about the whole situation, Myra saw Charlie out. Now she would just have to wait to see what happened after Horace received the divorce papers.

Horace didn't just roll over and sign the papers. He arrived at the club in a temper on Saturday afternoon, clutching the papers in one hand. Hank and Jake were in the bar unpacking crates of beer which had been delivered that morning when he charged in.

"Where's Myra?" Horace demanded.

"Hank…" Jake said warningly under his breath as his partner swung around to face Horace. Hank clenched his fists at his sides and scowled.

"She's upstairs studyin'," Jake said. "Whaddya want, Horace?"

"I wanna talk to her! She's still my wife!" Horace exclaimed.

"Not for much longer," growled Hank, taking a step forward. "What kinda man hits his wife, huh, Horace? Scared to pick on someone your own size?"

"Hank!" Jake stuck his hand out and gripped Hank's arm.

Suddenly the door swung open and Myra came in, stopping dead and raising her hand to her mouth with a gasp when she saw what was going on.

"Why don't ya take a swing at me, Hank?" Horace taunted. "Looks like you're dyin' to."

"Horace, what on earth are ya doin'?" cried Myra.

"Stay out of it," he snapped at her.

"I can't stay out of it, Horace, it's between you and me, not you and Hank."

Horace turned towards her, thrusting the divorce papers in his hand towards her. "Ya wanna explain this, Myra? It should be me doin' the divorcin'. What would your fancy lawyer think about ya cheatin' on your husband and havin' another guy's kid?"

"That ain't how it was, Horace, ya know it wasn't," Myra protested.

"So you say."

Hank charged forward then, unable to control himself any longer. Before Horace had even turned his head to look at him, Hank's fist shot out and slammed into the side of Horace's head, knocking him sideways where he fell against the bar, only staying on his feet by clutching at the counter with both hands.

"Hank! For God's sake!" exclaimed Jake and flung his arms around Hank from behind, pinning his arms to his sides before his other fist added a second punch to the first.

"Get the hell off me, Jake!" snarled Hank, trying to shake his friend off and failing, although he wrenched one arm free.

Horace straightened himself up and actually laughed. "You've done it now," he said. "You're goin' back to jail, Hank! You mark my words!"

"No, he ain't." Jake now let go of Hank and stepped in front of him. "It's your word against three of us. And them two are gonna say it was me who hit ya." Much to everyone's surprise, Jake now thumped Horace in the stomach and when he bent over, gasping, followed it up with another punch in the face. Jake then backed off, brushing his hands together as if to wipe something unpleasant off them. "There, see?"

"Hell, Jake, don't interfere," Hank groaned.

"Oh, ya wanna go back to jail, do ya?" Jake glanced at him, eyebrows raised and then turned back to Horace. "Why don't ya just sign the papers, Horace, and we'll all forget about this?"

Horace glanced from one man to the other, opening his mouth to reply and then thinking better of it. He turned to look at Myra standing just inside the door, her eyes wide with horror and both hands over her mouth.

"Aw, you're welcome to each other," he said eventually. He straightened his clothes, bent to pick up the papers from the floor and unfolded them. "One of ya got a pen?"

Jake plucked one out of his jacket pocket and passed it to Horace without a word. Horace scanned through the pages, signed his name on three of them and then folded them up again. He walked to the door without a word, holding the documents out towards Myra.

"Here."

"Thank you," Myra whispered.

"Goodbye, Myra." Horace shoved the door open and left without looking at her or the two men again.