Judith Wants To Be Your Friend

by Annie Weir

  ‘What do you mean? It was your idea.’

  ‘What was?’

  ‘To focus on your larger clients and subcontract the small-fry like me to your assistant.’

  ‘Subcontract? Small-fry? What do you mean? The small businesses of Hexham have been my preferred market ever since I set up. I know what you’re about and how you work.’

  ‘Well, I thought it was strange but Helen said it was your idea, and that you’d still be there to help her if she needed your background knowledge and your expertise, of course.’

  Judith stared at him.

  Lennie’s wife Sue joined them. ‘What have you said to Judith?’ she asked him.

  ‘He has just explained a lot. Thanks Lennie. Come back to me any time. Helen won’t be working for me after tomorrow.’

  ‘It’s not often you get to wrong-foot Little Miss Perfect,’ he said to Sue as they watched Judith march purposefully towards the checkouts. ‘I wouldn’t want to be in Helen’s shoes tomorrow morning, that’s for sure. Quite like to be a fly on the wall though.’

  ‘Should we take the accounts back to Judith, do you think?’

  ‘Helen is so much cheaper. I feel mean, but let’s see how we get on with her for a while. Judith is obviously doing well. That flat she bought last year is stunning, and have you seen her new car? I don’t think she needs little old us.’

  Judith drove straight to her office and looked up the number of Sparkles Window Cleaners.

  ‘Mr. Sparks,’ she said, ‘I will get straight to the point, if you don’t mind.’ She knew him of old and knew that it may take a long time to get to the point.

  ‘How’s that new assistant coming along? I hear she’s going to be doing our books from now on.’

  ‘Not if I can help it. Do you mind me asking how she approached you?’

  The story more or less matched Lennie’s version.

  ‘It is good of you to reduce the prices by such a lot. I don’t think I could have afforded to keep paying you the old rate. Times are hard, you know. People have started washing their own windows again – or not. You should see the state of some of them. I feel like putting up a sign saying I’m not responsible in case anyone thinks I left them like that.’

  Here we go, thought Judith, and cut into his flow. ‘I know how you feel. Anyway, Helen won’t be working for me any more so please come back to me any time you wish. You know where I am.’

  ‘Times hard for you as well, eh?’

  She knew he wouldn’t understand what she was saying. Hints were lost on him. ‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘Got to go.’

  By eight-thirty Judith had phoned the six businesses that were marked with green and blue stickers. She knew several of them quite well, but still felt a little desperate asking whether Helen had contacted them with a view to taking them over. She had contacted three of them and two were very interested in the proposal to move to a second tier accountant for a reduced price. She collated all her information ready to confront Helen in the morning and suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired. She couldn’t go yet; she needed to go through the filing cabinet to see which files were missing. She was good at thorough and methodical work and soon identified two others by comparing paper files with computer records. Having completed her evidence she went home but couldn’t face cooking the steak she had bought hours earlier.

  Friday 9th January 2009

  Judith sat at the reception desk with her head in her hands. Deja-fucking-vu, she thought. Here we go again. She cursed herself for being taken in by Helen so readily and, on impulse, she rang one of the companies that Helen had given as a reference. The number was unobtainable so she Googled it. No matches. She didn’t bother with the second reference and put it down to experience.

  She called Phoenix Antiques. Louise answered.

  ‘Chloe’s out buying,’ she said, ‘and I’ve got a customer.’

  She called the local paper and asked them to run the same advertisement as last time. She called the temping agency and they said she would have to pay upfront for a temp for the next two weeks. She looked at the neat and tidy office and decided that she could cope with it herself this time without getting into such a muddle. She was up-to-date with all the work and even had time to spend the afternoon and weekend looking at her own accounts. That was the only area that she hadn’t allowed Helen to deal with and she sighed with relief at that one small mercy. At least she didn’t know anything about her private affairs.

  Sunday 11th January 2009

  Sunday afternoon found Judith sitting at the reception desk again with her head in her hands again. Really, for such a skilled accountant she had let herself become so over-stretched. Even with Henry Lloyd’s cheque to pay off her tax bill she was struggling. She knew she had overpaid but didn’t want the overpayment back although it would be handy, as she would need it for the next demand. The next one would be considerably less; that was one consolation. The problem was that the income from her business was not sufficient to cover all of her outgoings. Her mortgage was huge and the new car took nearly £300 a month on repayments. It was time for drastic measures. The car was too good to let go, but hardly anyone ever saw the flat. She considered selling it; it was in a beautiful building with stunning views across open countryside so it was unlikely to have lost value. If anything, she would make a bit of cash. She couldn’t wait for her mother’s house to be sold as all the legal stuff was taking forever. The estate agent would have to be her first call in the morning.

  Monday 12th January 2009

  Chloe felt very pleased with herself. She had sold a lot of her most recent stock and had arranged to go back to the dealer later in the afternoon to choose some more. She treated herself to lunch in Mrs. Peach’s Cafe. She loved going there; the smell of Indian incense as you walked through the shop to get to the cafe was intoxicating and hinted at being illegal. She bought some sticks to take home and browsed the silk scarves on her way to an aromatic concoction of beans and spices on couscous. She was feeling better after a Christmas break and sales still being brisk. A lot of the worries of setting up a shop were subsiding and she had started to feel part of the town again. She was looking at the glass mobile hanging from the window and catching the light when she saw Judith walking through the shop. Her hands tensed slightly on her glass of water and she took a sip. Judith walked straight into the cafe and left Chloe no choice.

  ‘Join me, Judith? What are you up to today?’

  ‘Thanks. Decided to sell my flat so I’ve been round to the estate agent.’

  ‘Selling? I thought you liked where you live.’

  ‘It’s lovely, but it’s too big for me, and old. I fancy one of the small ones down by the river, you know, being converted from the old warehouse.’

  ‘I’ve looked at the plans of those. They look gorgeous.’

  ‘Yes.’ A pause. ‘Are you thinking of moving into town, then?’

  Damn it, thought Chloe, I always give too much away. ‘Only thinking about it. I can’t resist looking at show homes, that’s really what it’s about.’

  ‘The show home’s open today. I’m going to pop down later.’

  ‘You could walk to work from there. That’s another good point.’

  Judith laughed. ‘Ah, now that’s a bad point for me. I’d have less need to drive my beautiful car.’

  Chloe joined in the laughter. Judith was alright when there were other people around, she thought, so why did she spook her out when she was alone with her? Strange. Anyway, better quit while she was winning. ‘Right I need to get off. More stock to buy before the day’s out.’

  Judith stayed in the cafe for another half hour. She didn’t notice the light catching the glass mobile. She was too preoccupied with her financial situation. Talking to Chloe had clarified one thing; she could easily justify wanting to sell her flat. Maybe it wouldn’t look so
desperate after all, especially if she could say that she had made a bit of money on it.

  Back in the office there was a message from Henry Lloyd’s solicitor. Judith called him straight back.

  ‘It’s in reference to the letter I sent you before Christmas,’ he said, ‘It was posted on the 19th actually.’

  ‘I haven’t seen a letter,’ she said, ‘but I know all about Henry’s accounts. What do you need to know? I sent everything over, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yes you did. It’s a strange one, actually. He made a payment to HMRC for no apparent reason. It doesn’t show up in the accounts anywhere.’

  Judith’s left hand started shaking and her heart and her mind racing.

  ‘Ms Dillon?’

  ‘Sorry, yes, trying to think. No, I don’t know anything about it. Sorry.’

  ‘He didn’t usually make any financial transactions without consulting you. Are you sure you don’t remember anything?’

  ‘I would have remembered if he owed any tax. He was meticulous about not owing any money to anyone.’

  ‘Indeed. Well, if you remember anything will you let me know? It will save a lot of time and expense for the family if we can get it sorted out.’

  She sat for a few minutes while her heart rate slowed to normal. The letter was sent on 19th so she would have been away when it arrived. Helen would have opened it. She knew what was in the filing cabinet, so started her search in the drawers of what had been Helen’s desk. It only took a few minutes to find, and it was with a letter from HMRC regarding her personal account. Bugger! Helen must have made some connection otherwise she wouldn’t have hidden them away together. Bugger!

  Wednesday 14th January 2009

  Most of Hexham closed on a Wednesday which usually meant that Judith’s practice was busy with people who could leave their businesses and come for appointments. It was strangely quiet so Judith called the estate agent to bring forward the time to value her flat. It was a crispy, bright afternoon so should make him feel inclined to up the price. Shaws Lane had several beautiful old properties that had been converted to luxury flats, and Judith’s building was thought to be the most prestigious, it having been a country house. It had extensive shared grounds, views over open countryside and even a tennis court. She loved the modern kitchen-dining room with white units and solid oak worktops, the central island with the gas hob, then Georgian sash windows keeping it classy and firmly of the period. She went home to tidy up a bit more; first impressions counted for a lot with these people.

  David Clements arrived; senior partner of the business. That was a good sign. He worked quickly and quietly, measuring and comparing and making verbal notes on his voice recorder.

  ‘You’ve maintained it really well since you bought it,’ he said eventually. ‘Even in this financial climate, I think we can ask £275,000.’

  She stared at him. He seemed to be pleased with that.

  ‘I paid £300,000 for it eighteen months ago. It can’t have gone down that much.’

  ‘I’m afraid it has. The good news is that anything else you look at will have been reduced accordingly. So, shall I put it on the market straight away?’

  ‘Can’t we try for £300,000 first, and accept an offer?’

  ‘I wouldn’t advise it. You’ll probably have to accept an offer anyway.’

  ‘Two-eighty then, please. I insist. Not lower.’

  After he had gone, Judith broke her own rule of not drinking before seven. A loss of £25,000 in eighteen months! That equated to nearly £1,500 a month in value, and she paid over £2,000 a month in mortgage. No wonder she didn’t have any money. The level in the wine bottle went down by another few inches as she came to terms with the concept of her being left with negative equity. Given that she sold it for £275,000, she would still owe £2,500, then there would be legal fees and commission to old Clements. She picked up the phone to call another estate agent and realised it was too late. Tomorrow she would get a more realistic valuation. She reached for her wine glass, missed it, and cursed as red wine dripped from the table onto the cream carpet. Bugger! And a carpet cleaning bill as well. She would have to get the balance of Henry’s money back from the tax man after all.

  Thursday 15th January 2009

  With two more appointments made for estate agents to view her flat, Judith left the office in need of sleep. She walked slowly down to the car park and bumped into Chloe walking down to the station.

  She tried again. ‘Do you want a lift home? I’m having an early finish.’

  ‘No thanks. I’ll get the train.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Judith, I hope you don’t mind if I say this, but I would like our relationship to remain professional and not personal. Please don’t offer me a lift any more. I don’t want a lift, really.’

  Judith’s head was pounding as she watched Chloe march off down the lane. She felt rejected and miserable as well as worried about money, her dwindling clientele, lack of secretary, ill mother, dodgy cheque payment, her obvious bad judgement of character, bad judgement in buying property and generally everything. She drove home and opened another bottle of red before her self-imposed watershed. She sat in her favourite spot in the house; a sort of alcove on the first floor with nothing in it but a small table and a deep, comfortable armchair facing a window that reached from floor to ceiling and looked out over fields to hills beyond. There was no view this evening, of course, as it was dark, but she knew what it looked like and she knew she would miss it.

  Friday 16th January 2009

  At lunch time Judith took two ham sandwiches into Phoenix Antiques. Chloe looked a bit surprised.

  ‘Point taken,’ said Judith, ‘let’s carry on as we were. My turn to bring lunch I think, and time I had a good look at your new stock.’

  She walked straight through to Chloe’s office and started to unwrap the sandwiches. The front door opened, but instead of someone coming in, Chloe went out.

  ‘I told her last night I wanted to keep everything professional and here she is bringing sandwiches. What do you think is going on?’ Chloe spoke quietly into her mobile phone.

  ‘No idea,’ said Louise, appearing from the direction of the town centre, ‘but I’m here now so go and chat about the shop and nothing else. Right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Everything OK?’ asked Judith when they came back in.

  ‘Yes, I just wanted to catch someone outside. Too late.’

  They ate and Judith chatted, then she asked to see all the new stock, then she studied all the paintings.

  ‘You’re going for these American artists, then? I’ve seen John Axton before.’

  Chloe glanced at her watch, looked over to Louise, and raised her eyes to the ceiling. How much longer was Judith going to stay? In some ways it was handy having someone in the shop browsing; it seemed to draw more people in. It was noticeable, though, that whereas others came in and bought and left, she simply browsed with no apparent intent to buy. ‘Yes, I bought a few at Newcastle, and more have come up since. It must be a trend.’

  Eventually Judith glanced at the carriage clock tastefully displayed in near the window. ‘My goodness, is that the time. Lovely stuff Chloe, I’ll come back and make my final choice in a couple of days.’

  ‘Great! See you then,’ said Chloe.

  ‘What do you think that was all about?’ asked Chloe as soon as the door closed behind Judith.

  ‘Not sure, but she looks like a woman under pressure. Did you hear that she sacked her latest assistant?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘Not sure, but it was sudden.’

  ‘Last I heard she was really pleased with her.’

  ‘I’ve told you; she’s a funny one. Keep it professional and everything will be just fine.’

  Saturday 17th January 2009

>   Judith’s two estate agents visited within two hours of each other and confirmed what Mr. Clements had said. One even suggested a lesser valuation. She took her shining car out of the garage and drove to the Northumbrian coast for a long walk along the sand

  Monday 19th January 2009

  Chloe considered going to the bakery for a sandwich. She would only need to close the shop for a couple of minutes. She hung the sign on the door and was about to leave when she saw Judith approaching with sandwiches.

  Chloe’s stomach lurched. She quickly turned the key to lock the door, switched off the main lights and hid in the store room. She could see out of the dark room through the keyhole and watched as Judith stood for a while peering in. She moved a few steps away then suddenly turned back and looked in again. She knows I’m here, thought Chloe. How long is she going to stand there? I’ll be trapped in here all day. She noticed that her hands were shaking.

  Her telephone rang and she listened as the answering machine cut in. Judith’s voice floated from the office to the store room, making Chloe jump.

  ‘Hi there. I called round with sandwiches but you seem to be out. See you in a few days’ time.’

  Chloe thought it was probably a trick, and that Judith was standing outside waiting to spring out and say Ah ha – I knew you were hiding! She stayed where she was for another twenty minutes. She could have done some sorting out while she was there, but didn’t. She needed to keep an eye on the door to make sure Judith didn’t come back. The door handle moved. Chloe felt paralysed as she peered through, and then nearly sobbed with relief when she saw the elderly couple who had returned to pick up an item they had paid for earlier.

  Tuesday 20th January 2009

  Chloe sat in her doctor’s consulting room. She was shaking again, and had been crying.

  ‘And I haven’t been sleeping well because of it all,’ she continued. ‘I felt stronger after a break at Christmas but it’s all come back worse than before.’