MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE
March 14th
Todays the sort of day when the air in the office feels thick with some unspeakable pressure and here I am, wrestling with my own restlessness for the umpteenth time. The clock ticked towards five, but my mind buzzed with all sorts of worries. I sat at my desk, scribbling nothing in particular, when Charlotte’s golden head poked around my office door. Charlotte, ever the conspicuous oneusually loud and dramaticlooked uncharacteristically composed, almost courteous.
Mr. William, she said, her voice softer than usual, do you have a moment for a chat?
Annoyance flickered through me. I lifted my gaze from the computer and regarded Charlottemy stepdaughterwarily. What do you want? I said. I was in the midst of wrestling with spreadsheets for the firms taxes and didnt much care for interruptions, especially from her.
I have a rather important favour to ask, she replied, skipping any pleasantries and striding in. Without invitation, she closed the door behind her and plopped herself in the chair opposite me, a brash move typical of her.
If its about your pay, dont even start, I said sternly, almost as if I already knew. You know as well as I do that Im not giving you a raise. You’re hardly pulling your weight here! Always running late, deadlines missedthe whole team suffers for it. More than once Id had to speak to Charlotte about her lack of responsibilityher habit of quarrelling with colleagues, stirring up no end of trouble, spinning her own web of drama in the workplace. For months, the urge to fire her had nagged at me, but Id squashed it time and again. She was, after all, the daughter of my late wifemy beloved Sophie. I met Sophie fifteen years ago, we married, and lived contently together until, two years ago, cancer took her from me. Since then, Charlotte has been the only piece of Sophie left in the world, and she reminds me daily of my loss.
I understand about the money, Charlotte said, a dismissive snort in her voice. I’m here for something else.
I arched an eyebrow and leaned in. What is it, then?
You know how hard things have been since Mum died, she said, an abject look flickering across her usually brash features. She was the only person who ever truly loved me, always supported me, no matter what
I cut her off, my patience fraying. And you repaid her with constant worry. Sophie adored you, but she was always anxious on your account. Why are you running through all this with me? Dont try to play on my sympathy. Get to the point, Im busy.
Charlotte shifted in her seat. Would you be able to help me financially? Id like to try my hand at business, but I need money to pay for a course.
No, I said firmly. With your attitude to work, even extra training wouldnt make a difference. Ive told you again and againgrow up. Youre acting like a rebellious teenager even now.
I promise, if you help me set up, Ill change. Ive had enough floundering about. I want to be just like everyone elsehave a career, get married, maybe even have children
I paused, uncertain, my gaze softening. Do you have someone in your life? A boyfriend?
She rolled her eyes. If I did, I wouldnt be sat here begging. Lets be honest, lifes easier with someone by your side.
Theres truth in that, I said, drumming my fingers on the desk. I hesitated, torn between what I wanted to say and the risk of saying it. Actually, there is an idea Ive been mulling oversomething that might help you live comfortably.
She stared at me, bewildered. An idea?
Ill give you the money, I said quietly, but only on one condition. I leaned back in my chair, watching her reaction.
What condition? Her posture stiffened, anxiety flickering in her eyes. Surely she didnt realise what was coming.
Marry me, I said, the words sounding strange even to my own ears. In return, Ill see to it that every door you wish for opens to you.
Marry you? Charlotte burst out laughing, incredulous. Thats a joke, right? You cant be serious!
Why do you think Im joking? I said, annoyed. I held her gaze until the laughter died. Yes, theres a substantial age difference, but were both adults. We can make each other happy.
Happy? Youre old enough to be my father, she fired back, cheeks flushed. I was forty-fivelooked youthful enough, perhaps, but I understood her shock. There were any number of women in my circle who might have agreed to this arrangement. Why her?
I pressed on. Youve probably heard that I’m negotiating a deal with a sizeable company? My partners insist I must be marriedits their way of ensuring Im stable, respectable, the sort of man they want to do business with.
Why me, though?
Oneyou know me well, after all these years. TwoI know you wont spread our secret everywhere. Threeyou need the money, and I can give you a business to call your own, I said, turning the conversation almost business-like.
So you mean a sham marriage? No actual relationship? She calmed visibly, her own ambition stirring behind her eyes.
Just that. Nothing more. Do you agree? I asked.
Ill think about it.
Do that, I nodded, gesturing for her to go.
She closed the door behind her, and I sat, second-guessing myself. Charlotte was willful and impulsiveit would be just like her to accept only to run for the hills at the last moment. Yet, things had gone too far already.
Charlotte, for her part, had never thought of me as a father and certainly not as a man. Id never adopted her, nor had we shared that intimacy. Our interactions were few and distant. But after that conversation, something shifted. She looked at me differentlystruck, perhaps, by my seriousness, or maybe by the promise of what was on offer: comfort, independence, securityan easy ascent on the ladder of life.
In the end, Charlotte said yes. We agreedwedding certificates exchanged, but separate homes. As soon as the registry office processed us, I fulfilled every promise: handed her the keys to a new flat in West London, gave her funds for her business idea, paid university fees, even ensured she had a generous monthly allowance.
Charlotte didnt back out on her sideshe played devoted wife at meetings, charmed my business associates, and promoted our story of wedded bliss. The shift in her lifestyle was instant: the wild nights out were gone; she became composed, thoughtful, and began to see metruly see mefor the first time. I suppose I reminded her of her mothers love, too.
A year passed, and she never once regretted her choice.
After twelve months, my contract was signed and the act, it seemed, could be dropped. We mutually decided it was time for the divorceneither of us had ever lived together as a real couple, after all. But by this stage, the entire dynamic between us had shifted. I no longer saw her as the stormy girl I once tolerated out of love for Sophie; she had become someone I cherished in her own right.
Thank you, I said, as we stood together outside the registry office, ready to dissolve our paper marriage. Now you can soar on your own.
Are you sure this is what you want? Charlotte asked, surprising me with the soft sincerity in her voice.
Dont you? I returned, searching her face.
She hesitated. No, I dont want things to end.
Nor do I, I admitted, pulling her gently to me, serious as I had ever been. But if you stay, it must be as my wife, truly.
I want that, she whispered.
We never did go inside to finalise the divorce.
Funny how a carefully constructed lie can bring two people together for real.
