Carla glanced at the time in the corner of her laptop screen; another fifteen minutes and it would be time for her to walk home to pick up Olivia. She sighed deeply; the thought of introducing her daughter to her paternal uncle, the brother of the man who had caused such chaos and destruction in her life, made her nervous.
"Pat is not Tony, Pat is not Tony," she repeatedly muttered under her breath, "Pat is not Tony."
"You know what they say about talking to yourself."
Carla's eyes flew up to see the figure of the very former brother-in-law she had been contemplating standing in her office doorway.
"They wouldn't be far off," was Carla's cryptic reply. "I thought we were meeting at the restaurant?"
"I wanted to speak to you first," Pat explained, pressing his lips together as he stared at Carla with a hint of coldness in his eyes that confused her, "without Olivia here."
"Not a friendly catch up then?" Carla correctly surmised.
"Is that what you expected?" Pat asked. "Me to act like nothing happened?"
"What happened?" Carla asked, genuinely confused. "I told you you had a niece. That's a good thing."
"You really have no idea, do you?"
"I wish you'd spell it out for me."
"Everything that happened all those years ago – everything – it all could've been avoided if you'd simply told the truth."
"I don't–"
"Do you honestly believe that Tony would've done everything he did if he'd known he was a father?"
"Don't you dare use that as an excuse. You know that he'd already killed Liam before I knew I was pregnant."
"Because you were playing away."
"I don't have to listen to this."
"Maria," Pat continued on, regardless of Carla's protestations, "wouldn't of happened. That man, Roy, that wouldn't of happened. The prison break out, the factory siege, right here in this spot, that all sure as hell wouldn't of happened."
"Of course it would've happened," Carla struck back, "it all would've happened. And you know why it would've happened? Because Tony – your precious brother, Tony – was a psychopath."
"He would've had something to live for. Knowing he had a child, a daughter, that would've changed everything for him."
"Why are you defending him?" Carla questioned him. "He was a killer."
"He was my brother. And he's dead because he had no hope for any kind of future. You took that from him. More than that, you took his good name from him. You know what people back home think of when they hear his name? They think killer, they think psycho, they think good riddance. That's what they think when they hear his name; my family name."
"You can't blame me for what Tony did."
"Can't I?"
Silence descended heavily over the room; Pat had said his piece and waited for the fallout.
"I think," Carla finally spoke, her voice low but brimming with the full measure of her iron will, "this meeting today…not a good idea."
"You might've kept my brother from his daughter, but you won't keep me from my niece."
"Actually, that's exactly what I'm gonna do."
"You can't."
"Do you think I'm going to let you see her with you like this, spitting your venom, twisting the facts to suit your own narrative."
"My narrative?"
"Yes, your biased narrative."
"Oh, right, sorry, it's not true then that a good man–"
Carla scoffed derisively.
"A good man," Pat repeated, "a man who had committed no crimes beforehand, became a killer after meeting you, after getting tangled up in your poisonous web."
"I think it's time you saw yourself out."
"You're right," he agreed, "you need some time to calm down before I meet my niece."
"I told you, the meeting's off; cancelled, wasted journey."
"She was the one who wanted to meet me, remember?"
"I don't care."
"You're not serious," Pat shook his head in disbelief but, on seeing the look on Carla's face, knew that she meant business. "You are serious. And you're being petty."
"I'm protecting my daughter."
"If you really wanted to protect your daughter – my niece – you would've turned her away when she showed up on your doorstep. Because I know one thing for sure, anyone who gets close to you regrets it in the end."
With nothing left to say, Pat spun around and stormed out of the office, the fury at both Carla's attitude and his own angry reaction distracting him from his physical reality until he threw open the front door of the factory and nearly knocked over the girl who was about to enter.
"Oh!" he cried. "I'm so sorry, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," the girl waved off his concern, "don't worry 'bout it."
The distinctive American twang in her voice made Pat look at the girl twice as she walked past him.
"Excuse me," Pat was suddenly nervous, his heartbeat racing at his suspicion, "Miss?"
"Yes?" the girl looked back at him quizzically, her hand resting on the handle of the factory door.
"Are you, by any chance, your name," he took a deep breath in an effort to regain his composure, "are you Olivia?"
"Why do you wanna know my name?" Olivia asked, her eyes narrow with suspicion; she had been well trained to view strangers, especially strange adult men, with caution.
"Don't worry," Pat hastened to reassure her, "I'm not a weirdo or… what I mean is, I'm not… I'm Patrick. Pat. Pat Gordon."
"Are you my Uncle Pat?"
"Yeah," he smiled at her. "I'm your Uncle Pat."
"Liv!" Carla called out for her daughter as she entered their flat. "Olivia!" Met with silence, Carla strode towards Olivia's bedroom. "Look, I know we're meant to go meet Pat, but –"
Opening Olivia's bedroom door, Carla was surprised to find the room empty.
"Liv?" she called out again as she quickly searched the flat before satisfying herself that Olivia was not there. "What a time to go awol," she muttered as she took out her phone and dialled her daughter's number. "Come on," she chided the phone impatiently, "answer."
But answer was the one thing that Olivia did not do, despite Carla trying another two times to get through to her; the best she could do was leave a message on her voicemail.
"Hi sweetheart," Carla said after plastering a fake smile on her face and forcing her voice to sound upbeat, "give me a call, yeah, we need to talk."
Olivia stared in wonder at her newfound uncle across the table; she was so enraptured by the thought of another family member to get to know that she completely ignored the Speed Dahl delicacies that were crowded on the table between them.
"Wow," she enthused, her eyes shining with excitement, "you really go to work in a helicopter?"
"Sure do," Pat nodded. "And sometimes, if the weather is bad and the choppers can't fly, we get stuck on the rig for days, weeks sometimes. Some of those waves…"
"Were you ever scared?"
"Me scared? Nah…" Pat smiled at her. "Actually, if I'm completely honest, there have been a couple of times when I got a teensy bit… hmm… concerned."
"Really?"
"When the waves get so big they break over the top deck, and the whole structure, it sways from side-to-side. I tell you, it ain't a job for someone with a delicate stomach."
"I don't think I could do it," Olivia confessed.
"Hey," Pat gently chided her, "you can do anything you put your mind to, okay?"
"Okay," Olivia smiled briefly before her face dropped, "oh no," she muttered.
"What's up?"
"It's mum," she nodded towards the restaurant door through which Carla had just entered and was scanning the room. "It's Carla."
"We're just having lunch," Pat reassured her, watching as Carla locked eyes with his and began to walk towards their table "nothing wrong with that."
"I told you the meeting was off," Carla spoke to Pat before turning to Olivia: "Seems I need to talk to you about stranger danger."
"He's not a stranger," Olivia said, "he's my uncle."
"He could've been anyone."
"I made him show me his driver's license."
"She did," Pat corroborated Olivia's story.
"I'm not talking to you," Carla hissed. "Come on," she ordered Olivia, "we're going home."
"No," Olivia point blank refused.
"Now!"
"Let her stay," Pat asked gently, "at least let her finish her lunch."
Ignoring Pat, Carla grabbed hold of Olivia's arm and dragged her to her feet.
"Ow!" the girl cried, wriggling in discomfort at her mother's tight grip on her arm. "You're hurting me!"
"Carla, please," Pat begged her.
"Move it!" Carla barked.
"Let me go!"
But no matter how much Olivia protested and fought against Carla's hold on her, she was dragged, inch by inch, towards the restaurant exit and ultimately to their home.
"I know you're angry with me right now," Carla began as she closed the front door of their flat.
"You got that right," Olivia sneered, rubbing her now freed arm where it had been gripped so tightly. "You're so embarrassing."
"What was I meant to do, hmm? You refused to come with me."
"Because I was having lunch with my uncle. Which you organised by the way."
"Well, I changed my mind."
"Why?"
"I…" Carla shook her head, trying and failing to come up with a good excuse. "You have to trust me, it was the right decision."
"For you."
"And you."
"No," Olivia disagreed, "I spoke to him and he's really nice. A lot nicer than you!"
"Olivia."
But Olivia ignored her mother and made a beeline for her bedroom, slamming the door behind her, making sure Carla clearly understood her current feelings.
Flopping down onto the bed, she immediately pulled out her phone and typed and sent a text message.
Sorry about Carla
She waited anxiously for a reply; although it felt an eternity for her, it was less than a minute in reality before she received a reply.
Don't be, not your fault
Followed almost immediately by:
I really enjoyed meeting you. I hope I can see you again before I go back to Scotland?
Smiling to herself, Olivia quickly typed out her reply:
Love to