by J C Williams
“Emma, what a lovely, unexpected surprise. So nice to see you. You must excuse my attire, I’ve been rather tardy this morning.”
“Aww, thanks, Derek. Please don’t think I’m crazy calling, but I always worry if one of my regulars doesn’t show up.”
“However did you find me?”
“It wasn’t hard, Derek. I knew you lived around here so I knocked on a couple of doors and said I was looking for a lovely gentleman called Derek who used to be in the navy. Everyone I spoke to smiled when I mentioned your name. You must have a lot of friends around here! Anyway, I wanted to check on you and make sure you were well and to tell you about our new social club. It is for anyone who wants to come along and make new friends, but probably more directed to the—”
“Old codgers,” teased Derek.
“Mature crowd is what I’d have gone for,” laughed Emma. “Anyway, here is a little brochure with the times. We’d love to see you there and will I see you at the usual time tomorrow?”
“Yes, yes, of course, Emma. I’m sorry if I worried you, and the club sounds like a wonderful idea.”
The paper chaos was difficult to ignore, and Emma took a step forward, her tone becoming concerned. “Derek, I don’t mean to pry… but, are you okay?”
He paused for a moment and lowered his head, taking several deep breaths as his head rocked slowly. He raised a visibly shaking hand and wiped a solitary tear from his cheek. “They just won’t leave me alone, Emma. They mean well, but they just don’t give me a moment.”
Emma moved closer and took his hand in hers. “Who, Derek?”
His shoulders convulsed as the tears now began to flow freely. “Derek, whatever is the matter? Let’s get you inside.”
She put her hands around his shoulders and escorted him in. She was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of unopened post; it had all but consumed the flat. Derek had become accustomed to it, but to an outsider it was clear something wasn’t right. Emma pulled a chair close to where he was sat and again took his hands. “Derek, do you mind me asking what’s going on? This amount of post is not normal.”
“I told you, they won’t leave me alone, Emma.”
Almost as if on cue, the phone rang once again, and rang until intercepted by the answering machine.
“Who is they?” asked Emma, who was interrupted by the phone ringing again.
“People looking for money. They just won’t stop.”
Emma was confused and took a pile of the unopened post, sat near to the fire hearth. “Do you mind if I take a look, Derek?”
She opened an envelope and it contained an innocuous brochure from a children’s charity. She looked at Derek for a moment and opened another and another. It was a further request from the same charity but each one contained a further harrowing story designed to pull at the heartstrings. Each pile contained an emotional plea from another charity, but it was unrelenting, each one bordering on begging.
“Derek, you poor thing, how long has this been going on?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, eighteen months, perhaps two years? It started when I gave a donation over the phone. I received more phone calls and I tried to help. I tried to help them all. Then the letters started arriving. Just a few at first and again, I helped where I could. Soon there were too many and I couldn’t help them all. The phone calls continued but I told them I couldn’t help anymore, but they didn’t stop. They made me feel cheap and that I should really be trying harder. I tried, Emma, I really tried to help but I ran out of money. They just won’t leave me alone.”
Emma put her hand over her face. “Derek, you’re not cheap. You’re a wonderfully generous person who has been bullied into helping, by people who are paid to pester for donations.”
She dropped to her knees and moved closer. “Derek, how much have you given them?”
He was bewildered. “I don’t know? Everything, I think.”
The phone rang again, the third time since she’d arrived, but this time she picked up the handset. She listened intently for a moment before firmly interrupting. “No, he doesn’t live here, and please stop calling immediately or I’ll report you!”
“You can get help, Derek. We can make all of this go away. Can I speak with your family for you and explain what’s happened?”
“They don’t live here anymore. My daughter moved to Italy with her husband and the two children three years ago.”
“Does she come to see you?” asked Emma.
“No. She’s busy in her job and I’d just be a hindrance. She does phone me, sometimes.”
“I can help if you’d like me to? I just need to speak with the post office and the phone company. We’ll also need to take you to the bank, Derek, make sure they stop the payments and stop any others from going out. Do you think I should phone your daughter? Would that be okay with you?”
“I’d like that very much, Emma. Thank you!”
“Seeing as how you missed your cup of tea this morning, what say I go and put that kettle on for you?”
She smiled and moved towards the kitchen, where she was once again staggered by the post. As the kettle boiled, she began to create piles to take out to the bin. It was difficult to ignore the hand-written note that had been left on the kitchen table, and she froze as she read the shaky writing: “To whoever finds this letter, I’m truly sorry.”
She brought the cup of tea through. “Here you go, Derek. I couldn’t help but notice this letter in the kitchen. Do I need to be worried about leaving you, Derek? Should I phone social services for you?”
He looked a little embarrassed as he took the letter. He shook his head as he ripped the letter into several pieces. “No, Emma, I promise I’ll be fine. You’ve done more than enough, and besides, I’m looking forward to coming to your social club!”
“Okay, I’ll help you sort all of this, Derek, I promise. We’re also going to be doing a speed dating night, which will be good fun.”
“I’ll need to find my good teeth!” he joked.
“Where have you been?” barked Jack. “It’s been heaving in here this morning!”
The dishwasher said otherwise, as did the contents of the till which confirmed that Emma hadn’t really been missed. “I’ve been with Derek, I told you I was going to look in on him.”
“Which one is Derek?”
“Bloody hell, Jack, he’s been coming in for months. Older gentleman? Comes in at eight-twenty every morning, yes? Anyway, what’s with all these flowers? It’s like bloody Kew Gardens in here.”
There were flowers on every table and more located on the shelves above the counter.
“Can I not spruce the place up a bit? It needs a bit of cheer and the customers like them.”
“Oh, right. So an attractive florist moves in next door and all of a sudden you’re Monty Don?”
“Yeah, it is a bit obvious. I’m running out of excuses to go next door, I’ve already brought her two coffees in.”
“She’ll be taking a restraining order out on you soon, saying that, if you keep buying her stock and giving her free coffee. You can take one of these brochures over for her — did she not say that her grandmother would like to go?”
Jack snatched the brochure, ruffled his hair and vanished, leaving Emma to contend with the morning rush, which currently consisted of two people.
Emma reflected on her morning as she cleared away the dishes. What if she hadn’t called on Derek when she did? The thought filled her with a sense of dread, and she wondered how many other people were out there, just like him. She looked at the brochure for the social club and her visit with Derek affirmed her desire to help and that there were lonely people out there.
Postman Pete had obviously been, judging by the pile of post which sat, unloved, next to the till. One letter stood out from the rest as it had been opened. A bright red shone out as a contrast to the white paper, and on first glance it looked like a child’s drawing. Among her numerous other roles, she had adopted the role of filing
clerk so felt no guilt in prying open the letter and digesting the content. She was visibly shocked as Jack skipped back in.
“Her grandmother will be there Emma, and the good news is that Hayley wants to come as well. You’re a genius!”
Emma held the letter above her head. “We might not have anywhere to host our new club, judging by the content of the letter. Jack, I think the landlady might be reaching the end of her tether with us?”
“Ah, Jasmine will be fine. As long as I throw a few crumbs her way each week, she’ll be fine.”
“Jack! Let me read this to you. Jack, if you do not pay what you owe, I’ll smash your face in and throw your stuff into the street.”
“She’ll be fine, she doesn’t mean it!” said Jack, with an air of confidence.
“Jack, it’s written in blood!”
“I know, it’s quite impressive. I thought it was my lovely ex, Helen, at first. Anyway, it’s lipstick, isn’t it?”
“Whatever! She has still gone out of her way to make it look like blood. I think we’ve stretched her patience. How much rent do we owe at the moment?”
Jack shrugged his shoulders as he rolled his eyes skyward, his mouth moving as he worked the figures out in his head. “About four thousand. It’s not the end of the world. Anyway, we owe the VAT man more than that and you don’t see him sending me letters written in blood!”
Emma placed her head on the counter and feigned a sobbing sound. “Jack, we’re screwed. Do you have any savings?”
“I did,” he replied. “But the lovely Helen cleared me out of that as well.”
“Look,” said Emma. “I’ve got about eighteen hundred, maybe two thousand pounds saved. I was going to use it to go to Mexico, but we can give it to Jasmine to keep her off our backs for a bit.”
“Okay,” said Jack, without hesitation.
“Do you want to think about it first?” asked Emma sarcastically. “Bloody hell, you were nearly snatching the money out of my purse.”
“There’s no time for chivalry, Emma. Anyway, things will turn around. I’ll get the front looking nice, we’ll get the coffin-dodgers in, and the cash will be rolling in.”
Emma did not look convinced as Jack waved goodbye to the two remaining customers.
“Emma, I’ve been meaning to mention this for a while,” began Jack. “You’re more than just a friend or employee, and—”
“You can stop there, Jack,” she interrupted. “If you’re about to ask me out on a date, the Irish Sea is that way.”
“The Irish Sea…?”
“Yes, for jumping into,” Emma clarified.
“Ah. Well, firstly, Emma, I wasn’t about to ask you out on a date, but it’s good to know where I’d stand if I did. No, I was going to say that you’re more than an employee, and I’d like to give you a share of the business. Ten percent!”
“Forty percent!” demanded Emma.
“Forty bloody percent? You’re only putting two thousand pounds in! You’ve been watching too much of that Dragons’ Den programme!” He paused for a few moments. “Oh, go on, then. It’s forty percent of nothing at the end of the day anyway. But if you’re a major shareholder, you can deal with that bloodsucker Jasmine!”
Emma scrunched the letter into a ball and threw it at Jack. “Sure thing, partner! This time next year, we’ll be millionaires!”
.
Chapter Four
I ’m Andy,” said the slim but muscularly-built man with an air of confidence. His grey suit was immaculate, with just the slightest hint of a purple pinstripe that was easily overlooked. He ran his fingers through his styled brown hair and held a glass of red wine in his other hand. He was good-looking, and the approach would have raised a warmer reception had it not been nearly 9 p.m. As he smiled it was evident from the staining on his teeth that he’d been on the ‘vino’ since work. He casually leaned on the chest-height table like a horse peering out of a stable, and the odour of stale alcohol caused Emma to gag. “Can I buy you a drink?” he continued.
“Andy, it’s nice to meet you, but I’m waiting for someone, so, you know…” she replied, politely, but with no doubt in her tone.
“Come on, let me buy you a drink. A good-looking girl like you shouldn’t be sat on her own. I’m Andy.”
“Yes… Andy, I got the name the first time. That’s very kind, but really, I’m just waiting for someone.”
“I sold three houses this week,” he announced, in an irritating manner clearly meant to impress. “Over a million quid in sales, all… down… to… yours truly,” he said, extending both thumbs and pointing towards himself.
“That’s great, Andy. If I need to sell a house, I’ll know exactly where to go,” said Emma, with an increasing impatience that was lost on her inebriated suitor.
“You’re selling your house?” asked Andy, as he moved his ear closer to Emma.
“No, I said…” Emma replied, shaking her head and pushing her chair further back. “Look, it doesn’t matter, Andy. My friend will be here in a moment, so really, if you don’t mind…”
Andy stood looking gormless and judging by the sound of heckling his progress was being scrutinised by three other ‘half-cut’ men stood by the bar. Undeterred, he extended his left arm so that the arm of his jacket moved to reveal a polished steel watch. “Rolex,” he said, looking over the rim of his designer black glasses. He was met with a blank stare, and as he looked at his watch he raised his eyebrows quickly in succession.
“Listen, Andy, I think you’re the third one of your ‘gang’ that’s come over to me in the last ten minutes. I was polite and cordial to all of you and told you that I’m here to meet someone. I presume that bunch of imbeciles over there are your mates? Anyway, you’ve obviously spent a great deal of money on that gaudy-looking trinket on your wrist, so you’ll know what time it is. Andy, it’s time for you to get lost.”
Andy nodded as if the culmination of the conversation was his choice, and as he turned back towards his friends, he mouthed the word lesbian.
It was the first time she’d been into town on a Friday for months and the location was not of her choosing. The wine bar was right in the middle of the financial district and it always attracted the obnoxious office workers that were so polite in the coffee shop during the day, but rude and often aggressive when fuelled by expensive wine. She hadn’t intended to stay out late which increased her frustration as she looked at her watch. She was underdressed in a white t-shirt tucked into black jeans, but her pretty face was captivating and male attention was not uncommon.
Jayne approached like a whirlwind, throwing her oversized handbag and black coat over the chair opposite Emma. “I know I’m useless, sorry Emma, I was late getting home, I couldn’t get a taxi… anyway, how are you? God, you look beautiful, are you wearing makeup? You’re not even wearing makeup, are you? It’s not fair, I spend hours to look like this and you don’t make an effort and you look like that,” she said, at pace.
“Breathe,” said Emma, slowly.
“I know, it’s just been manic and I’m in dire need of a large gin. White wine?”
Jayne disappeared to the bar as quickly as she’d arrived. Emma smiled; her life always felt a little more in control in the company of Jayne, who was always wired. She worked in sales for a large manufacturer and her temperament was perfect for that environment.
“One large glass of wine for you, cheers!”
Emma raised an eyebrow of disapproval as the contents of the wine glass were almost spilling over the rim. “This doesn’t look like a small glass! I’ve got work tomorrow.”
“It’s Saturday tomorrow!”
“People still drink coffee on a Saturday.”
“Eyes right,” said Jayne, flicking her hair seductively. “Three suits looking directly over at us.”
Emma shook her head. “Trust me on this, Jayne. A bunch of drunken arseholes. I’ve already had the pleasure of their finest banter.”
“Oh, well. It’s a bit busy in here, Emma. Why d
id you choose here?”
“Me?” laughed Emma. “This was all your idea.”
The contents of the gin were soon drained and quickly replaced, as Emma nursed her goblet of wine. The remnants of the office crowd had moved on, replaced by the evening crowd.
“So?” asked Emma.
Jayne looked deliberately vague. “What?”
“You bloody well know what, Jayne. I don’t come out into town if I can help it. Even my oldest friend telling me she had life-changing news still made me think twice. Are you pregnant?”
“Predictable, Emma, too predictable. Just because a woman has exciting news doesn’t mean they’re pregnant. Anyway, if I was pregnant, I’d be suing Ann Summers for paternity.”
“Okay, so not pregnant. Moving house?”
“Ooh, warm, of sorts,” said Jayne, as she took a drink. She placed the glass carefully on the table and theatrically extended her arms. “I am leaving this fair Island and moving to Singapore.”
Emma frowned as she processed the information. “You’re not… you can’t. When?”
“Six weeks. Work has asked me to go out there for two years to head up their regional sales office. But that’s not the good bit.”
“I didn’t think that was good,” said Emma.
Jayne ignored her and returned her hands to the table. She moved her head closer to Emma. “You’re coming with me,” she said, as she rapidly clapped the tips of her fingers together.
“How much gin have you drank?” asked Emma.
“I’m serious. Work assumes that most people who relocate are married or have a significant other so factor in flights and accommodation for two. I’m not married so I asked if you could be my significant other. They said yes!”
“I can’t go. What about work?”
“You’re working in a coffee shop? Emma, you’ve got a degree in economics!”
Emma nodded. “All that degree did was give me four years to realise how much I hated economics!”