DON’T GO BREAKING MY HEART

By
Ron Shillingford

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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Don’t go breaking my heart
Copyright © 2011 by Ron Shillingford

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Dennis signed off the accounts, kissed the document, jumped up from his desk and did his characteristic celebration jig around the office.
Another completed audit and edging closer to his personal savings reaching that magic million mark. He did a sort of limbo dance, almost over balancing in the process. A woman walking past his open office door laughed at Dennis Illingworth’s antics, someone not known for spontaneous displays of joy.
Since childhood he dreamed of a bulging bank account of a million pounds and after years of toil in his accountancy business that dream would be realised within a year. With the interest it was accruing, Dennis knew the seven-figure mark in his HSBC savings account would soon be his anyway, but earning it was more appealing than just waiting for it to creep there.
Already more than comfortable from investments in stocks and shares, gold, property and antique watches, the million pounds in the bank would be the ultimate benchmark of his success. Motivated to prove doubters from school wrong, one teacher in particular stood out in his memory, Rick Lane, the chemistry teacher, who repeatedly told Dennis he would never amount to anything, mainly because science was not an interest of his. Maths and economics were though.
Lane’s taunts played on his mind almost daily. Wish Rick had taught us how to make incendiary devices, then I could have put one under the seat of his scooter. 
Still a bachelor at 43, Dennis’s devotion to his elderly parents Bob and Lucy, and building up the accountancy business meant that marriage had been on the back burner for a while. Twice engaged in his thirties, the domineering Lucy had seen his fiancées off as “airhead gold diggers looking for a pampered life off the sweat from your back, son”.
Lucy was a typical Yorkshire matriarch with connections all over the county.
Political correctness was not a big issue for her generation, where “you call a spade a spade” she always said despite the racist connotations. Her era of Yorkshire folk insisted that all non-white people in Britain were foreigners, irrespective of where they were born and raised. As parts of Yorkshire have huge swathes of immigrants and their successive generations, she could never reconcile herself to calling them fellow Tykes.
Her heart was in the right place in protecting Dennis, but he allowed her to intrude in his private life too much. Bob tolerated Lucy’s behaviour simply for a stress-free existence. For someone barely five feet tall, Lucy really punched above her weight.
“Mum, let me get on with my own love life. Please. I’m not 16 anymore.”
“No, but you act like it sometimes. Some of those floosies were just after your money; it was as obvious as a darkie’s lips and nose. You couldn’t see it but we could. There was that Natasha What’s-her-name. What a tart! She just couldn’t wait to get hitched fast enough. Even tried to organise it behind your back so that we couldn’t intervene. In a registry office too! Absolutely no class.
“Then there was the one who claimed she was a personal trainer who saw clients only at night. Turned out she was a stripper in Manchester.”
“Okay, they were unsuitable, but there have been nice ones too. What was wrong with Beverly Carter?”
“Beverly Farter, more like. That girl smelt something rotten.”
“You made her so nervous mum that she started sweating buckets, that was all. There was no personal hygiene problem.”
“Doesn’t matter Dennis. Anyway, she came from Chapeltown and you know what they’re like down there, don’t you?”
“It may be a working class area but good people come from there too. For Christ sakes, she is a botanist.”
“Maybe that’s why she smelt like a compost heap. You can take the girl out of the ghetto but you can’t take the ghetto out of the girl, dear.”
“She was one of the most polite and well-mannered girls I’ve ever met.”
“Airs and graces, more like. Proper Lady Muck. Acted like her poo didn’t smell. We saved you from her clutches. Trust me, I only want the best for you.”
Weary of their interference, Dennis changed tactics. What Bob and Lucy didn’t know was that for months he had secretly been seeing a Yorkshire lass of his own choosing. They met in his office in Leeds when she presented her father’s business accounts at Illingworth Group UK. Maida’s father, who ran a busy truck hauling business, lived in Shadwell, one of the most affluent suburbs of Leeds.
Maida worked as a human resource manager in a computer firm. At 34 and with a masters degree in psychology she was already well ahead of her peers career-wise. Super smart, no kids, great prospects and affluent family, Maida was perfect marrying material. But Dennis knew his parents well enough though not to tempt fate.
Maida, after all, was a Muslim.
Irrespective of coming from top Moroccan stock, as far as Lucy was concerned “they’re all scrounging Pakis” no matter what part of the globe a brown-skinned person came from. “We don’t want no suicide bombers in this family,” Lucy would say. “If she comes round bacon sandwiches for dinner with pork scratchings as dessert!”
There was a gentleness coupled with a great sense of humour, which attracted Dennis to Maida, whose name in Islam meant ‘beautiful’. She certainly was that too, a head turner everywhere she went. Tall, petite, with jet-black hair cascading down her back, Maida’s mix of cultures blended well. She prayed five times a day, observed Ramadan, did not drink or smoke, yet wore Western clothes and enjoyed karaoke nights out, X Factor and cups of tea with digestive biscuits.
Dennis lived in fine style by himself in Headingley, a few minutes drive from the terraced house in Hyde Park he grew up in; where his parents resolutely stayed, despite Dennis offering to buy them a new one. Old fashioned to their roots, Bob and Lucy thought and behaved like a couple from a bygone era.
When Dennis was invited round for what Lucy called “tea and chat” he knew what to expect. He would turn up early evening and soon after a single, young woman would arrive “by coincidence” for tea and chat too. Lucy trawled the shopping malls around Yorkshire for a suitable wife for Dennis, carrying photos of him to show prospective partners. The fact that she made a point of mentioning he was a successful chartered accountant always got a positive response. Single daughters and even granddaughters of their friends were vetted for suitability too.
His parents knew that he was saving up to reach a million pounds and very proud of that fact, but they never let anyone know.
Bob was a steeplejack throughout his working life. All three Illingworth children had done well; Sonia was a store manager and Brian a joiner. Both happily married with kids. Bob was thankful that his work ethic passed on to his kids. Lucy wanted Dennis to settle down “to a nice Yorkshire lass who’ll give you clever, beautiful children”.
Too timid to object to his mum’s clumsy attempts at matchmaking, Dennis, the youngest sibling, just went along with the occasional tea and chat sessions to appease Lucy. Bob did not have a say in these matters. He was content to read the Yorkshire Post and watch TV. Bob’s favourite viewing were travel programmes to exotic, tropical places. Fed up of Yorkshire’s cold and rain he craved at least two weeks a year somewhere hot and sunny. 
Their only trip abroad was to Spain, and a disaster as Lucy found fault at every opportunity. Paranoid of eating “that oily Spanish muck”, she lost so much weight in the six days she managed to stay before catching an early flight home that the family dubbed it the ‘Lucy Diet’ – go to Malaga to lose 10 pounds rapidly.
Foreign holidays, like German cars, Japanese TVs and Australian beer, were banned in their household. As far as she was concerned Yorkshire was the centre of the universe, and some parts of England - like London, for instance - were only acceptable for short visits. But only occasionally. The rest of the earth’s surface was akin to the place opposite to heaven.
 “There’s nowt wrong with Scarborough for a good break, love,” she insisted. “You won’t get any of that spicy dog meat that they serve in Spain.”
Dennis continued to see Maida, learning about her Muslim culture with genuine interest.
 “I’m glad you don’t see us all as potential terrorists, Dennis. We abhor terrorism by our own people just as much as Westerners, possibly more so, because it gives us such a bad image.”
“Yep, I agree, but just trying tell that to me mam. She’s old school in every sense. Calls sikhs wrap heads.”
“It’s a pity she’s so prejudiced because I would really like to take our relationship further, even though it would also be hard for my family to accept me dating a Christian with a view to marrying him.”
Dennis loved the relationship he had with Maida, but because of the cultural differences he was torn. For appearance sakes he was also seeing Patsy Clayton, a family friend who he had always been attracted to but circumstances worked against them. Neither girlfriend knew of the other’s existence.
Patsy lived with her nine-year-old daughter in Castleford in an extended bungalow left by her first husband. Her life had a tragic edge having been twice widowed. Her first husband, who was much older, died of a heart attack. The second was murdered by a knifeman in an attempted robbery in Naples, witnesses said. He was never caught. Patsy was sleeping in her hotel room at the time and was so distraught she attempted suicide soon after by overdosing on dozens of prescribed pills washed down with gin. Thankfully, her sister, who had a key to the house, popped round just in time to raise the alarm.
The local community really supported Patsy during her bereavement and they rallied round again after the suicide attempt. She became a local celebrity after all that trauma.
Linking up with Dennis helped her cope with the depression. He visited her in hospital. She soon bounced back. Vivacious and fun, Dennis enjoyed Patsy’s company immensely in a different way to the dynamics he had with Maida. A financial adviser, Patsy liked to get away from being a hard working mum through salsa dancing and horse riding on the Yorkshire Moors. A fluent Spanish speaker, she had travelled around Central and South America extensively.
Lucy took to Patsy from the off, and the fact that she was a young widowed mother trying to get over two tragedies and a suicide attempt made her more acceptable.
“Patsy will never break your heart, Dennis, she knows what the pain of losing a partner feels like.”
“I like her but she’s not really my type, mam. She’s great to be with but she tries too hard. There’s an insecurity about her that puts me off. It’s not money she’s after, just affection and a sense of self-worth.”
“Well, she’s certainly not after your money, dear. Both her husbands left plenty of that for her and that lovely little girl, plus she makes a great living in the financial world.”
Patsy met Lucy’s exacting standards, but Dennis’s heart was really with Maida. However she still had to be kept on the down low for the time being. Maida couldn’t be open either. All the secrecy was excruciating for both.
As time went on, Dennis warmed more to Patsy who proved to be a devoted girlfriend and caring mother to her daughter Tina.
Dennis gradually got into salsa dancing with Patsy. They even managed to win a novices competition. Horse riding was of no interest but at least he made the time to attend equestrian events with Patsy and Tina. 
Things were going so well as he juggled the two relationships. Dennis became really adept at hiding each woman from the other. Or so he thought.
“Dennis, it’s all over,” sobbed Maida. “You thought I didn’t know but I’ve been aware of Patsy almost since you’ve been seeing her. Leeds may be a city but it’s a relatively small place to hide good gossip. You’re a very, very eligible bachelor and she’s a glamorous young widow, so news about you two was bound to get out. People have remarked on what a lovely couple you make even without knowing we were an item. Our cultural differences mean it would probably not work anyway.”
Stunned, Dennis could barely say a word. He was caught out bang to rights.
“But it’s you I really love, Maida. I do like Patsy, I must admit, but you’re the girl I really want to share my life with.”
“Well it’s been two years on and off and we’re nowhere nearer going public. My parents are just like yours and want to see me settle down with my own kind. And quite frankly, I’m fed up of this situation even though I really, really love you with all my heart.”
He pleaded but she wasn’t prepared to change her mind. They saw each other a couple more times but when Maida deliberately moved to Manchester to a new job, that was the end. Maida emailed a while later to say she missed him and couldn’t settle in Manchester. She was moving to Rabat in Morocco, for a top corporate job her father had organised for her through family contacts.
Now he knew there was no chance of reconciliation.
Resigned to never seeing her again, Dennis threw himself into his relationship with Patsy who was perfect in every sense, even if there wasn’t that deep, unswerving love he felt for Maida. Nevertheless, Patsy ticked more boxes than all the other women available.
“Will you marry me, please, my love?”
Patsy’s face lit up in front of the kneeling Dennis holding a sparkling diamond ring in front of her.
“Oh yes! Yes! Yes, Dennis! I never thought this day would come.”
Spontaneous applause broke out in the restaurant. A complimentary bottle of champagne soon arrived for two of their best customers.
Lucy and Bob were ecstatic. 
“A lass from the best Yorkshire stock, you can’t go wrong there, son.”
“Thanks, mum. I think I’ve made the right choice. But…
“Just a nagging feeling in my mind, mam. Can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it’s just pre-wedding nerves after all this time alone.”
“She’s a Tyke through and through. That’s good enough for me.”
“As long as she’s not a female version of Peter Sutcliffe, the Yorkshire Ripper, she’s good enough for me too,” smiled Bob.
After a stylish church wedding followed by a huge party at the Leeds Hilton, Dennis, Patsy and Tina settled into his house and rented out her bungalow.
Dennis was enjoying his new role as a step-dad and husband, even helping with homework and school runs when time allowed.
One of Tina’s teachers gave her a note to give to Dennis. It read: “Well done Dennis, I never doubted you would make it in life. All the best in the future. Hope you remember me. Rick Lane (your old science teacher).”
Dennis smiled. He told Tina to thank Mr Lane and if he’s still riding his scooter he could help him blaze a trail in it. Tina wasn’t sure what he meant but promised to pass on the message.
Content and supremely happy, Dennis answered his mobile one afternoon at his office and his mood was instantly changed. He was alarmed to hear his mother bawling. She tried to explain but couldn’t make herself coherent.
“It’s, it’s…it’s your dad… He’s, he’s…”
“What dead?”
“No, he’s alive and fine. He’s, he’s….”
“Sick, stroke, car crash? What mam?”
Lucy couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“If he’s not dead, seriously sick or banged up in a crash that’s okay. Calm down mum, I’ll be right round.”
Dennis jumped in his Jaguar XF, texting Patsy asking her to pick Tina up from school because something had come up. Patsy texted back: “Okay. Hope nothing serious.”
Dennis could hear Lucy’s wails as he let himself into the house. She was alone in the kitchen, sobbing over a cold cup of tea. Her tears had filled the saucer, which was brimming over. 
“Mam, what’s wrong?”
“Your father. He’s gone. Packed his suitcase and just disappeared.”
“What?”
“He left this note, saying he was fed up and wanted some sun, sea and fun before he passed away and I was too bossy, miserable and judgmental.”
“Where’s he gone?”
“Dunno. Left his phone here so we can’t contact him. Call the police, love, they’ll find him.” 
“We can’t do that.”
“Why not? He’s a missing person.”
“But he’s gone of his own accord. Nobody’s kidnapped him or anything.”
Lucy burst into a fresh round of crying.
“What do we do now Dennis?”
“Wait mam. Just wait. Give him time, I’m sure he’ll come round after a few days. Or at least contact us.”
Dennis stayed with Lucy for a while. He phoned his siblings and they came round to comfort her. Dennis had to attend a business function with Patsy that night and was running late.
When he got home the house was eerily silent. No familiar salsa music on the stereo or sound of a children’s programme from the TV room. 
“Patsy? Tina? Patsy?”
There was no sign of them. 
Dennis panicked and started ringing round. He quickly located Tina. She was round her auntie Joan’s. Patsy texted Joan after Dennis had texted her and asked Joan to pick Tina up because she was in an important business meeting.
With a horrific knot in his stomach Dennis went to check his HSBC account online.
The account was empty.
He rang the police. Over the next few weeks, Patsy’s real character was revealed in her absence as a professional con-woman and possible husband killer. It transpired that Patsy had caught an afternoon flight to Paris, then hired a private jet to South America, probably Colombia and totally disappeared.
The sister of Patsy’s first husband said that she thought she had caught Patsy tampering with his medication but thought nothing of it at the time. In light of what’s happened since, she now thinks Patsy deliberately changed it to raise his blood pressure and eventually induce a heart attack.
Her second husband’s brother said that he never believed Patsy’s story even though Italian and British police did not find enough evidence to seriously doubt her version. Naples is one of the poorest cities in Italy and an easy place to hire a hit man cheaply. The brother believed Patsy hired someone to kill him so that she would inherit his estate.
Bob was quickly found. Embarrassed and apologetic, he confessed that Patsy had seduced him and eventually got enough information to hack Dennis’s account.
In return Bob received £100,000. He flew to Athens then to avoid detection hired a yacht to Crete. Within a few days guilt and homesickness consumed Bob. Weirdly, he missed Lucy’s nagging and his regular pint of bitter, black pudding and PG Tips tea bags.  
Lucy forgave Bob, putting his behaviour down to “old man’s insecurities”. He returned the money but there was still nearly a million pounds missing.
Tina went to stay with her auntie Joan and Dennis kept in touch although Patsy was still on the run and did not attempt to make contact with her little girl.
“Callous bitch, I knew there was something not quite right with that lass,” Lucy fumed.
“Funny, you seemed to welcome her with open arms just because she was a local girl, mam.”
“I did have my doubts, Dennis, but you seemed so happy with her and at your age I thought it was the right time to settle. Glad you took my advice and got her to sign a pre-nup.”
“Makes no difference after running off with my money.”
Dennis managed to track Maida down and emailed her hoping to rekindle the romance with a definite view to going public and marrying her eventually.
Her response was swift and totally unexpected.
The email read: “Sorry Dennis, you’re too late.”
Maida explained she was madly in love and engaged to a Moroccan pharmacist who everyone approved of. It was a whirlwind romance heading for blissful marriage and an army of children.
Devastated, Dennis threw himself into his work and trying to build up his money again. To de-stress he continued to salsa dance. It was at one of the classes he met an attractive new squeeze, Judy.
They started dating and quickly Dennis felt the old familiar tingling in his heart. Judy worked as a marketing analyst, volunteered at the Humane Society and was a former school chess champion.
Dennis stood in the entrance of the lounge of his parents’ house with Judy in the hallway waiting to be introduced.
“Mam, I’m going to introduce you to Judy. Born and bred in Yorkshire, dad was a professional rugby league player with Castleford and she makes the best Yorkshire pudding I’ve ever tasted.”
Lucy frowned at the Yorkshire pudding comment.
“Apart from yours, of course.”
“That’s okay then, son. Glad she’s one of ours.”
“Sure is. Come in Judy.”
Judy walked in smiling nervously.
Lucy’s broad smile disappeared.
Bob suppressed a laugh.
Lucy forced herself to step forward to shake Judy’s hand.
“Hello love. Nice to meet you.”
She turned to Dennis. 
“I thought you said she’s a Yorkshire lass, Dennis.”
“Yes, she’s mixed race, but her mam is from Harrogate. Her dad is Kenyan and he’s a career diplomat now. And if you can’t accept that then you’ll never see or hear from me again.”
Lucy hugged Judy warmly.
“Welcome into the family love. At 78 years old, my son has taught me that we should all accept each other for who we are, not the colour of our skins.”
At that moment a text arrived on Dennis’s phone.
It was from Maida.
“I’ve broken up with my fiancé. Can we talk?”
Dennis responded immediately.
“Sorry Maida, you’re too late.”