Undertaking Love

Chapter Thirty-Seven




Gabe ditched his motorbike outside the glass front of The Herald’s offices half an hour later and strode straight through reception, much to the annoyance of the middle-aged brunette who’d been surreptitiously reading her Hello magazine behind the welcome desk.

Every head in the huge open-plan office turned to look at the leather-clad figure as he pulled off his helmet. Some of them probably recognised him as the man they’d attempted to ruin a couple of weeks back for the sake of selling a few copies, and others were just struck dumb by the sight of a dark angel in their midst.

He turned to the girl nearest, who according to her name badge was trainee reporter called Esther.

‘Where will I find Rupert Dean?’

She swallowed and waved a vague arm towards the glass offices that ran across the length of the back of the room.

Gabe nodded curtly and headed through the desks at a pace, not bothering to knock as he flung Rupert’s office door open.

Rupert automatically minimised the lazy lunchtime pornography on his screen before he glanced up, and then turned pale as he realised exactly who had just barged into his office.

Gabe slammed his helmet down and braced his hands flat on Rupert’s desk.

‘I can tolerate you printing a crock of bullshit about me in your piss poor excuse for a newspaper.’

The entire staff of the newsroom strained to hear every last word. They downed tools and watched agog as Rupert turned puce and fiddled with the knot of his old boys’ tie.

‘And I couldn’t give a flying f*ck about you following me around at night with a camera.’

Rupert licked his lips and glanced nervously out at his audience as Gabe advanced around the desk and towered over him.

‘Stand up.’

‘What for?’

‘Because I’m going to hit you.’

A gasp of excitement rippled through the staff.

‘Get out of my office right now!’ Rupert blustered. ‘Security!’

Gabe hauled Rupert roughly onto his feet and backed him against the wall of his office.

‘Get your dirty hands off me! Help!’ Rupert yelled, but no one moved a muscle.

‘But the one thing I really can’t stand is men who hurt women. This is for Marla.’

And with that, Gabe smacked his fist straight into Rupert’s jaw.

Rupert howled and wiped his mouth with his arm. ‘F*ck off, Ryan! The little bitch deserved it!’

‘I doubt it, but you deserve this.’

Gabe hit him again, harder this time causing blood to spring from Rupert’s nose and splatter down the front of his pristine candy stripe shirt.

‘You bastard! That’s only just healed after that Freddie f*cking Mercury wannabe broke it!’

Gabe made a mental note to shake Jonny’s hand the next time he saw him.

Rupert spat out blood and breathed hard, a crazed glint in his eye.

‘You really think you stand a chance with her now I’m not in the picture?’ He sneered at Gabe. ‘Good old Gabriel, patron saint of dead dogs.’

Gabe watched him, trying to decide where to hit him next.

‘You’re so dumb, Irish. Always trying to do the right thing. You didn’t even realise that I was shagging both of them right under your nose, did you?’

‘Both of them?’

Rupert laughed, enjoying his big revelation. ‘You want to watch that receptionist of yours, Gabriel.’ Rupert pointed his finger in Gabe’s face. ‘You’ve got yourself a right little viper in the nest, there. Right little viper in the sack too, actually.’

Melanie?

Gabe shook his head and backed away. ‘You disgust me. Just stay the f*ck away from Marla.’

He picked up his helmet, and the staff parted like the crowds of Galilee, clearing a path for him.



Jonny kicked open the funeral parlour door and eyed Melanie with distaste. ‘Get Gabriel.’

Fake regret dripped from Melanie’s every pore as she shook her head.

‘Sorry. He’s unavailable.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

Melanie looked momentarily disconcerted by Jonny’s bald confrontational manner, before she recovered herself and lifted a nonchalant shoulder.

‘Sorry. Do you want to leave a message?’

‘With you?’ Jonny laughed. ‘Err, hello? I don’t think so, honey. You have a nasty little habit of not passing messages on, don’t you?’

Melanie stared at him with a bland expression, but Jonny noticed the agitated way she fidgeted with her pencil. ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

‘Really?’ Jonny spat back and shot her daggers across the desk. ‘Only I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.’ He didn’t hear the door open behind him.

‘If I said fireworks, July Fourth and dead dogs, would that jog your memory, I wonder? And what about a certain wedding-funeral clash that Dora definitely mentioned to you?’ He wagged his finger at her and gave her his Oprah-inspired neck wiggle. ‘I’m onto you, lady.’

A hand landed on Jonny’s shoulder, and he whipped around to find himself face to face with Gabe.

‘What’s going on here?’ Gabe asked quietly.

‘Nothing,’ Melanie said with a smooth smile. ‘Jonny was just leaving.’

‘No, I wasn’t.’ Jonny turned to Gabe. ‘Marla asked me to do a last run through with you, make sure everything is clockwork for tomorrow.’

Gabe nodded. ‘Sure. Come on through.’

‘I can do it, Gabe,’ Melanie jumped in. ‘Really.’ She picked up a grey folder and tapped it. ‘I have all of the info right here …’

‘Thank you.’ Gabe took the file from her fingers. ‘But I’d rather do this myself.’

‘But …’

Gabe dismissed her protests with a curt shake of his head and waved for Jonny to follow him through. ‘Come up to the office.’

Jonny couldn’t resist a victory wink at Melanie, and she met his eyes with a look of malice that would have rattled a mass murderer.



Gabe sat alone in his office for some time after Jonny left.

The preparations for Dora’s funeral were watertight; it was the knowledge of Melanie’s duplicity that held him despondent in his seat. The smokescreen she’d cloaked herself in had blown away on the winds of truth, and the additional information Jonny had just revealed about the note from the fireworks had been the final nail in the coffin.

It came at great cost to Gabe. He’d been determined to think the best of her, and it unnerved him that he could have got her so wrong.

When had his judgment become so skewed?

He dropped his head into his hands and pushed his palms into his eye sockets.

He was starting to wish he’d never set foot in this place.

This thing with Marla was going nowhere, and he missed Dora’s unique brand of acerbic humour around the place more than he’d care to admit. The realisation that Melanie had played him for a fool felt like one blow too many, and for the first time he questioned the wisdom of doggedly sticking it out when everyone was against him.

He’d had just about a gut-full of Beckleberry.

What was the point?

He shoved his chair back and headed downstairs.



Melanie buttoned her winter coat as Gabe walked into reception, and she met his eyes with the startled gaze of a fox staring down the double barrel of the farmer’s shot gun.

He crossed to block the closed door.

‘I trusted you,’ he said softly.

‘You can still trust me,’ she whispered as she stepped towards him.

‘No.’ Gabe laughed bitterly and shook his head. ‘No, I can’t. You slept with Rupert. You took the note from the fireworks and gave it to him.’

He drew no pleasure from the way she flinched at each new accusation.

‘But worst of all, you deliberately let a defenceless old woman take the blame for something that you did.’

‘I can explain, Gabe. Please, just listen …’

‘I don’t think so.’

He handed her a brown envelope. ‘Just leave, and don’t come back.’

He swung the door wide and stepped aside to let her pass.



A little later, Gabe nudged the door to the Chapel of Rest open with one foot and carried two mugs of tea into the quiet room. He sat down next to Dora’s lifeless form and picked at the seal on a packet of jammy dodgers.

He knew perfectly well that it made no sense to bring tea and biscuits for a dead person, but he felt that Dora would appreciate the gesture, nonetheless.

‘Cheers, Dora.’

He clinked his mug gently against her full one and dunked a biscuit.

‘It’s been a bit of a day, to be honest, Dora. I’ve smacked Rupert, sacked Melanie, and Marla still can’t stand the bloody sight of me. Two out of three ain’t bad, huh?’

He smiled, certain that Dora would have had plenty to say about the day’s events. He sat in companionable silence with her until he’d finished his tea.

‘I’ll take special care of you tomorrow. Only the best, I promise.’

He touched her cool fingers, adorned only with a single band of gold.

The symbol of Ivan’s eternal love.

Gabe picked up both mugs, one full and one almost empty, and left the room with a heavy heart. Tomorrow was going to be a long day in more ways than one, not least because the funeral parlour and the chapel needed to work seamlessly together. Marla had conducted all of her negotiations through either Jonny or Emily thus far, but the luxury of avoidance wouldn’t be available to her in the morning. They’d have to work shoulder to shoulder if they were to give Dora the send off that she deserved, and by hook or by crook, Gabe intended to make Marla understand that he wasn’t that man from the newspaper article.