Seven Daze (27 page)

“I’m in a bit of money trouble.” He felt his face going redder. The chilli wasn’t to blame.

She closed her eyes for a second then the smile half reappeared. “You don’t have to tell me obviously, but you’re not your normal self, not that I really know you all that well. I mean ...”

She’d gone into rant mode. Jim wondered whether to interrupt or not, but decided against it. It gave him a few seconds to work on plan C.

“... it can be tricky, living on your own. I know that. And, at the end of the day, it’s only money.”

She paused. He reckoned she’d finished. Time for plan C. “I owe ten grand to someone. He’s, well, he’s not the sort of person you borrow money from.”

Her mouth opened, agape. Staring eyes bored into his. Maybe plan C was crap too.

“How? I mean, what?”

“Short story, I needed money. Urm, yeah, that’s it. Tomorrow’s payback day. I’ve got six grand, maybe seven and a half if I borrow from friends. But, well, you’re right. I am worried. Terrified.”

Her mouth was still open. Jim expected the words, “Get out and take that cheap wine with you,” to come from them any second.

“Fuck.”

He hadn’t heard her swear before. He felt his own mouth opening. She’d shocked him. She hadn’t learnt that word at finishing school. Maybe she had, but never used it. It rolled so nicely off her tongue as well. He half thought she’d fit in well in Coventry swearing like that.

She shook her head. “How?” was the word that came out.

This was where plan C failed if it hadn’t already. Why the hell would an ONS statistician need to borrow ten grand from a leg-breaking loan shark? Gambling debts? Extortion? Either way, it didn’t add to his charm as a potential boyfriend.

Charlotte could feel her blood pressure rising. The doctor said she was to avoid that at all costs. Unfortunately, the doctor hadn’t said what to do in this circumstance. Was Jim for real? She was having doubts. She regretted asking what the problem was, but she was also glad she knew. He couldn’t be lying now. Things had been going so well, too. Right up until ten minutes ago. Now they’d turned as shit as her cooking. She wanted to tell him to leave, but something inside made her say, “Why did you borrow ten grand?”

He looked lost and red-faced. Truly a pathetic creature. Was he worth it? She’d asked herself that a few times this week. Now though, with this included, he didn’t have much going for him.

“To lend to a friend.” He struggled to get his words out. “He needed money.” He looked at the picture on the wall. “His house was going to get repossessed. James, his name is, got a three-month-old kid, lost his job last year. James lost his job, not the kid.”

She nodded. She’d understood despite his poor wording.

“I thought I could get a loan from the bank, repay the shark and he could pay me back over time, but the bank wouldn’t lend to me. This last week I’ve been going mad trying to get money from everywhere.”

She sighed. What a mess. At least he’d borrowed for the right reason, to help out a friend. A friend in real need by the sound of it. “I take it James has already paid the money you lent him off his mortgage?”

He nodded back.

Filling a taco shell with a small amount of chilli and a lot of sour cream, she bit into it. Her initial rage had subsided. She could help him out, that wasn’t a problem. It’d be barely noticeable. The question was, should she? Was he worth it?

Jim thanked God for both plan C, and also that she hadn’t read the business section he’d just been reading. He’d only read the one story: a man out of work was about to lose his house after taking a loan from a loan shark. She seemed to have bought the story.

Okay, so he’d lied. He’d involved her. All the things he wasn’t going to do. He really was something different. An evil, manipulative bastard. The worst of the worst. Lowest of the low. She didn’t deserve this.

“Where does he live, your friend?”

“Newport.”

“Did you work with him then?”

“Yeah, he got laid off. Mortgage was too big. Can’t sell the house, you know.”

She looked puzzled. “Don’t the benefits people pay your mortgage if you’re unemployed?”

Maybe plan C was as bad as the rest. Perhaps he should come clean. Just walk out. This wasn’t her mess. She didn’t need this. “He’s been in trouble for a long time.” Jim nodded hard, hoping it would stop further questions.

“I suppose his wife or partner must have stopped working too.” She nodded. Apparently, she’d convinced herself it was believable.

“He’s married. It’s his wife.”

This didn’t fix anything. All that had happened was he had taken a romantic date and turned it into a begging match. Any moment now she’d show him the door. He wouldn’t blame her when she did.

“Just, erm.” Though this was mightily planned he tried hard to make it look otherwise. “The GDP figures. I’m thinking. All I have to sell is knowledge. Do you think anyone would pay to know what they’re going to be?”

He winced as he looked at her. Direct eye contact was becoming hard. Her eyes had darkened and were half closed. He wondered if she would start crying. That would finish him off.

She shook her head. “Are you serious?”

No, he thought of saying. Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, “It’s all I’ve got.”

“My God you are serious.” Her eyes opened, but she was looking at the wall behind him. “I know people who are always on the lookout for tip-offs. One in particular would pay that kind of amount if the figures are right. How sure are you they’re right?”

He noticed her change. She’d become what he could only describe as cold and professional. This was her day job. It was what she did. This was how she did it.

“Fairly sure.” He paused. “As I said though, they’re trying desperately to prove it’s wrong.”

She leaned back in her chair. The flop of hair flopped down.

“The problem is,” she said, “if the prediction is right, I stand to lose a great deal.”

Though pissed off, extremely pissed off, there was something about him. She still didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t his looks that was for sure. Nor his honesty. Perhaps she saw some of herself in him. Maybe just lust or hormones. Either way, she knew she was going to help him.

“Sorry,” he said.

She shook her head. There was no need to apologise. It wouldn’t help or change anything. As he took another mouthful of chilli, she was again surprised he found it edible. What was it he’d said? “We had it like this inside”. Inside where? The only inside she could think of was inside prison. He’d backtracked from that comment. Regional dialects are one thing, but using the word inside to mean home? No, he was holding back on something.

It came to her suddenly. Was this a scam? Was he after money? Was he some fleecing gigolo going from woman to woman, five grand here, ten there. His face made him more
piccolo
than gigolo. Some women would fall for it. She knew that from experience. He was charming in his own way.

She breathed deeply. This was crunch time. She was no fool. Whatever it was that had built up between them this last week could be destroyed by this, but bearing in mind the last half hour it’d probably already been ruined.

“What’s the real story? You can barely look me in the eye.” She sighed. “I know when someone’s lying. So, what really is going on here?”

Plan C had let him down. There were no more plans in the box. He’d blown everything, but she seemed to be giving him another chance. This was it, no more lies. The truth was the only saviour here.

“It’s me in trouble not a friend. I owe ten grand.” He fought to get the words out. Why hadn’t he just let whatever happen tonight happen. He could have died a happy man in the morning.

“Keep going.”

She was strong, much stronger than he thought.

“I don’t work for the ONS. I recently ...” He paused. He really didn’t want to say it but knew he had to. “I was in prison.” He saw her face fall. “I was wrongly convicted though. But now I’m out I’m tarred with that brush. I had the chance of this job, but I blew it. It went badly wrong. They want compensation from me for messing up. I’m halfway there, but they aren’t the sort to accept part payment. Sorry I’ve dragged you into this. None of it’s anything to do with you.”

She didn’t look as shocked as he’d thought. The tears hadn’t come either and she hadn’t yet checked if her purse was safe. She also hadn’t thrown anything.

“What did you go down for?”

“Selling and receiving stolen goods.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t know they were stolen. Wrong place wrong time.” This wasn’t entirely a lie. He’d got caught by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It didn’t make him innocent.

“What was this job you had to do?”

She really was taking this well. However, he couldn’t tell the truth about being a crap assassin. That was asking too much.

“Geoffrey. He owed a fortune to a drugs dealer. My job was to make sure Geoffrey learnt a lesson.” As he spoke the words, Jim only just realised the coincidence between Geoffrey’s predicament and his own. Life was cruel at times.

She folded her arms backing slightly away from the table. “You didn’t hurt him did you? The heart attack, that wasn’t your fault?”

“No, God no. I literally was about to scare the life out of him when he had it. It wasn’t my fault.”

“I wondered what you were doing behind those cardboard boxes.”

Jim felt his mouth open. She’d seen him hiding. Why hadn’t she mentioned this before? Did she see the gun too? She couldn’t have.

“You saw me?” This was bad.

She nodded. “I thought at first you were the police hiding, but then I sort of forgot. A few days ago I remembered. To be honest I’m still not sure if you are the police or not.”

This floored Jim. She looked less upset the more he revealed. She was almost smiling. What the fuck was going on?

Charlotte actually started to feel relaxed. She finally knew the truth. It must be the truth. He wouldn’t lie about being in prison. She took a deep breath. This was probably the hardest thing she’d had to do, but it needed doing. He was in pieces there. What must he have been through the past week? The stress, searching for money, and on top of all that, they’d got close. She wanted to walk over and hold him, but it was too soon. Things needed to be said.

She still had to have her say.

Jim was still wondering why she hadn’t kicked him out. What did it take to annoy her? Instead, she cleared her throat and started speaking. “As it’s Honest Injun night,” she said, “there’s something I need to say.” Her eyes found his. The sparkle had returned. He knew his mouth was open; virtually dragging on the floor. All he could do was nod. “You’re definitely not a policeman are you? Because if you are, this won’t be admissible.”

The nod turned to a sideways shake.

“Okay.” She licked her lips. “My name isn’t Charlotte, it’s Teresa. I went to prison four years ago for fraud. I was innocent too, if you know what I mean.” She winked. The butterflies returned. He felt physically sick. “The deal I’m working on is, er, you’re really not the police are you?”

“You were in prison?”

She nodded again. Was she winding him up, having a bit of fun before kicking him out?

“Holloway at first but they moved me to Askham Grange. Askham wasn’t too bad. It’s an open prison. White-collar crime, you see. Easier time.”

He tried to speak but only, “Bleugh,” came out.

“I met someone inside. Another inmate. She looked after me.”

Jim felt his eyes bulge and nearly pop out.

“Not in that way.” She was smiling now. “Like a mother. She looked after me. She used to work in the city; brokered deals from the Emirates. This was her idea. It’s her money.” She pointed to the walls and the flat. “I’m like, ticking her business over, so to speak.”

“Wha?”

“Is this too much to take in?”

“But?”

She stood up and walked round the table. Kneeling beside him, she placed an arm round his shoulder and muzzled her head next to his. Her earring scratched the side of his face as it passed.

“I knew something wasn’t right,” she said. “Normal people don’t stop when someone collapses in the street. This is fucking London, after all.”

Despite his chilli and wine breath, she could have stayed there all night with her arms round his head. Various grunts and other confused noises kept coming from his mouth, but overwhelmingly the silence was golden. There was so much to talk about. She had many questions. She felt she only knew half his story. But, she knew the rest would come. For now this was perfect.

“I’ll sort out the money. Don’t worry,” she said.

“Th-hanks,” he stuttered. His voice seemed to have returned. “I still don’t get it.”

Standing up, she walked to the kitchen and opened a cupboard. Pulling out two bottles, vodka and whisky, she nodded to the sofas. “Think this needs a proper drink.” He nodded and walked to the sofa, plonking himself on the edge of the furthest one away. She decided to sit on the same sofa, but kept a fair distance as she poured two very large neat drinks.

“My parents did really die when I was younger,” she started. “Thirteen. I went off the rails and ended up in care. We used to go out blagging. You know, just nicking chocolate and fags at first, but it escalated.” Picking up her glass, she knocked back the vodka. “Jesus. I got caught a few times, bound over to keep the peace, fines, that sort of thing. It kind of carried on until I was eighteen. That’s when I met this guy.”

She could see Jim was still shocked, almost comatose. Deciding quickly to carry on talking, she hoped he’d come out of his shell. “They call them grifters now, don’t they, like it’s some fucking romantic proper job. Reality is, as I’m sure you know, you’re constantly at poverty’s door. Always looking over your shoulder in case the last bloke you ripped off is coming after you. We cleaned up in Bristol. He took the divorced women for a ride, and I the young, shy, rich men. We moved to Plymouth, but got caught out. He fled with the money and left me alone and penniless.”