The Dream Life I Never Had

by Terri Douglas

16

  An hour and a half later Martin returned. Evidently Lenny hadn’t been paid either and neither had any of the others Martin had been working with on site, or so they’d told him when he’d phoned.

  ‘I’m sure it’s just some silly misunderstanding’ I said mentally crossing my fingers and hoping I was right.

  ‘Like what?’ Martin said anxiously.

  ‘Like you’ll all be paid on Monday you know the first working day after month end, or maybe there’s a glitch in the system like when the banks computers went down and no-one could access their money for two days.’

  ‘Maybe’ Martin said uncertainly.

  ‘Let’s just wait until tomorrow’ I said more confidently than I felt.

  The trip to the carvery had to be cancelled of course but we went to McDonald’s instead which seemed to be mostly full of dad’s with their kids; I guess this being a Sunday it was single dad’s visiting day and the venue of choice was McD’s. The rest of the day was agonisingly long with Martin fretting for most of it, but somehow we got through it.

  On Monday morning it was quite like old times with Martin getting up early like he used to when he was at Shepherd’s, only this morning he was up early to go and check the bank and when he didn’t come back straight away I knew it was bad news.

  I dropped Ben and Kate off at school and went home to wait. It was a quarter to ten before Martin got home and all he said as he collapsed onto his chair at the kitchen table was ‘I don’t understand it’.

  ‘Phone them’ I said. ‘It’s Monday morning there’s bound to be someone there who can tell you what’s going on and when you’re going to be paid.’

  ‘I haven’t got a number’ he said.

  ‘Well it must be on the paperwork let’s have a look.’

  ‘I haven’t got any paperwork’ Martin said with his head in his hands and not looking up.

  ‘You mean you’ve lost it, well Lenny will have his won’t he?’

  ‘I mean I didn’t get any paperwork’ Martin said still not looking at me.

  ‘You didn’t . . . what do you mean you didn’t get any paperwork?’

  ‘They were supposed to give us a contract but . . .’ Martin mumbled.

  ‘But?’ I said.

  ‘But they never did, there was always some reason why the contracts hadn’t come through yet and . . .’

  ‘Are you telling me you’ve been working in Spain all this time with no paperwork of any kind, and that you haven’t got any contact numbers and can’t remember where they said their offices were?’ I said very slowly and carefully. ‘And now you haven’t been paid?’ I added a little more forcefully.

  ‘Yes but . . .’ Martin started to say but I was in full flow now and couldn’t be stopped.

  ‘Of all the brainless idiot schemes you and bloody Lenny have come up with . . . you met some guy in a pub for goodness sake, and I told you at the time it sounded dodgy and you said of course I’m going to get something in writing and I won’t be going anywhere if it’s not legit you said. And how many times did I ask you are you sure about this, and how many times did you tut at me as if I was paranoid and getting myself in a state about nothing?

  ‘I know, I should have listened I should have insisted on something in writing before I went, but it was a chance and I had to go when I did or I’d have missed it’ Martin whined.

  ‘And not only have you done a month’s work for nothing but you paid them three hundred and fifty euro’s for the privilege. Of all the stupid . . .’

  ‘I know okay’ Martin snapped at me. ‘I’ll have it out with Marco as soon as I get back.’

  ‘Back! As soon as you get back?’ I said veering into ultrasonic.

  ‘Well I have to go back and find out what’s going on don’t I? For a start there’s at least another two month’s work and if I don’t complete the contract I won’t get paid . . . Martin said trailing off as he realised the irony of what he was saying.

  ‘What’s the name of this cowboy outfit?’ I said.

  ‘Um . . . it’s erm . . .’ Martin mumbled trying desperately to connect his remaining brain cell.

  ‘Don’t tell me you don’t even know their name?’

  ‘Of course I do, it’s . . . Homes Abroad, that’s it Homes Abroad’ he said triumphantly.

  ‘Okay let’s see if we can track them down’ I said getting my phone out.

  Twenty minutes worth of googling later we’d found what we thought must be the right company. They had a web site but it was one of those homemade looking jobs that didn’t work properly when you tried to click on any of the pages. There was stuff about different projects they’d completed and a bit about two sites they were currently finalising but neither of them was the one Martin was working on. There was no proper address only ‘the south of England’ which was no use at all, but there was a phone number and an e-mail address.

  I made some coffee while Martin tried phoning them, and then tried at least another ten times after that but all to no avail. The first time it had rung and rung but then every time afterwards it was engaged.

  ‘Well they must be pretty busy if the phone is permanently engaged’ Martin said optimistically.

  ‘Or they’re just not answering’ I said more realistically.

  ‘It’ll be fine, I’m sure there’s some reasonable explanation. Marco will know what’s going on.’

  ‘Marco, he’s some Spanish guy is he?’

  ‘Yeah the project manager.’

  ‘Have you got his number?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about the Mission Impossible guy?’

  ‘Jim? Yeah maybe Lenny’s still got his number’ Martin said sounding hopeful.

  ‘What are we going to do Martin, the mortgage is due next week?’ I said near to tears.

  ‘I’ll go and see Lenny, see if he’s got Jim Phelps’s number, although he might not be able to do anything I don’t think he actually works for Homes Abroad he was just on site for a bit like us. Me and Lenny will get on the first flight back and see what’s going on and I’ll phone the other blokes to see what they think.’

  ‘Do you have to go back?’

  ‘I don’t see what else I can do.’

  ‘Maybe you should just leave it’ I said.

  ‘Leave it?’

  ‘Yeah just chalk it up to experience.’

  ‘I can’t leave it; it’s a month’s money.’

  ‘But Martin . . . I started.

  ‘Look I don’t know what’s going on but it’ll be alright. Okay I’m going to Lenny’s now and we’ll sort out a flight. Try not to worry, I’ll see you later’ Martin said. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and a minute later was gone.

  I continued to sit at the kitchen table morose and about as deflated as a person could get. I don’t know how long I sat there but this was one Monday that I didn’t spend catching up on anything. All I was capable of was going over and over in my mind all the things that had already gone wrong and all the things that might still go wrong because of all the things that had already gone wrong. How were we going to pay the bills, how were we going to get any shopping? My money would tide us over a bit but I didn’t earn enough to cover mortgage payments and if we didn’t pay the mortgage . . . I didn’t want to think about what would happen if we didn’t pay the mortgage.

  I picked Ben and Kate up from school and nursery and tried my best to be cheerful, but cheerful was the last thing I felt and Kate was quick to pick up on it. She couldn’t possibly have known or understood what was going on but she knew enough to know that whatever it was it was serious, and without my prompting or any of their usual bickering she took Ben into the front room to watch the telly.

  Martin came back at around half five with the news that still no-one had been paid and no-one could get hold of anyone at Homes Abroad on the number we’d found, evidently it was permanently engaged. He and Lenny had booked a ten thirty flight back to Spain and the other guys from site would get there as soon as possible. Th
en it was more mayhem as we rushed to get Martins bag packed again so that he and Lenny could leave in time to get to the airport by the nine o’clock check-in time.

  ‘Promise me you’ll phone the minute you know anything’ I said.

  ‘Of course’ Martin said as he lugged his heavy bag to the front door.

  ‘In fact phone me even if you don’t know anything.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Yeah you said that before’ I said opening the front door so we could wait for Lenny on the doorstep.

  ‘I’ll phone okay’ he said getting slightly irritated.

  ‘I mean it Martin, if you leave me sitting here in limbo again I swear to God I’ll . . .’

  ‘I promise I’ll phone. First thing tomorrow morning or as soon as we’ve spoken to Marco and found out what’s going on’ Martin said trying to be patient and not quite succeeding.

  He put his arm round me and said ‘try not to worry Soph it’ll be alright, me and Lenny will sort it out’.

  ‘But what if you can’t, what if you can’t sort it out and you don’t get paid?’ I said near to tears again.

  ‘We will, and when the other guys get there there’ll be six of us so they’ll have to do something won’t they. Right here’s Lenny I have to go’ Martin said giving me a proper hug. Then he grabbed his bag, threw it in the back of Lenny’s car and with a quick wave was gone again.

  How I got through Tuesday morning I’ll never know, more on autopilot I guess than by any conscious decision making. But get through it I did, somehow.

  Julie and Dianne were sympathetic and supportive in that order and even Greg was grudgingly concerned and let me take some of the easier customers who only wanted a straight forward blow dry.

  I had my phone in my tabard pocket and at twelve o’clock I got the call. ‘It’s not looking good’ Martin said.

  ‘What does that mean, what happened what did they say?’ I said as I walked toward the back room for some privacy.

  ‘Well when we got there it was quite late and the lodging house wouldn’t let us in at first and the landlady just kept shouting at us in Spanish which we couldn’t understand, but then her son came out who could speak some English and told us that she hadn’t been paid and that’s why she was so angry and had refused to let us in. When we explained that we hadn’t been paid either, after a lot of translation between us and the son, she took pity on us and said we could stay for the night. Then when we got to site this morning it was all closed up.’

  ‘How d’you mean closed up?’

  ‘I mean shut down. No-one was working and we couldn’t even get past the gate’ Martin said.

  ‘How can it be shut down, it’s a building site there must have been someone there?’

  ‘No there was no-one except the security guy on the gate but he didn’t know anything.’

  ‘What about this Marco?’ I said.

  ‘No he wasn’t there either. Lenny and I didn’t know what to do so we hung around hoping someone would turn up and after a while some of the other guys showed up and some of the Spanish builders all wanting to know what was going on because none of us had been paid.’

  ‘And?’ I said getting frustrated at Martins drawn-out version of events.

  ‘And it all started getting a bit nasty then, but the security guy kept insisting he didn’t know anything and was employed by the land owner rather than the building contractor. One of the Spanish blokes had Marco’s number and one of the others had his address which wasn’t that far away so we all went to see Marco at his house.’

  ‘And?’ I queried even more forcefully than the last time.

  ‘Marco said he hadn’t been paid either and that all he knew was the site was already locked up on Saturday morning when he got there and no-one was allowed in.’

  ‘Surely he must have had some contact details, didn’t you say he was the project manager?’

  ‘Yeah he had a couple of names and numbers but like the other number no-one was answering their phone. Marco thought that as it was an English company we’d have a better chance at finding out what was going on, but when we explained that we didn’t have any more of a clue than he did he started getting angry and blaming anyone who was English for the whole mess.’

  ‘So what happens now?’ I said.

  ‘Don’t know. Lenny’s all for staying, he says sooner or later someone will turn up and when they do he’ll beat the crap out of them and get the money he’s owed.’

  ‘I think you should come home. I don’t see what good it’s going to do to stay, and the last thing we need is you getting arrested for GBH or something and stuck in a Spanish prison.’

  ‘I won’t get arrested’ Martin scoffed.

  ‘Well you will if you start beating people up, even if they do deserve it.’

  ‘I’m not beating anyone up; it’s just Lenny sounding off.’

  ‘Just come home Martin’ I pleaded.

  ‘I’m going to stay until Friday. If nothing’s happened and no-one’s turned up on site I’ll come home.’

  ‘But what good will it do?’

  ‘Probably no good at all but I have to try’ he said.

  ‘Martin I really think . . .’ I started.

  ‘Look I gotta go a lorry’s just turned up with a delivery and they might know something or have a different contact name or an address or something. Bye Soph I’ll speak to you soon and try not to worry’ Martin said all in a rush, and without waiting for me to reply he hung up and I was left holding my phone and literally talking to thin air.

  Sometimes Martin could be such an idiot; actually it was more than sometimes it was most of the time. So while he was going to stage some sort of sit-in protest waiting around at a closed building site I once again was left to deal with the gritty realities of everyday living.

  Of course in the dream life Martin’s little waiting it out campaign would pay off, he’d get to talk to the owner of Homes Abroad and shame him into paying everyone. Martin would come home with a big fat paycheque and we’d pay off all our debts including the loan from his father, and then he’d get a proper job that wasn’t abroad and we’d all live happily ever-after.

  Meanwhile back in the real world that was a million miles away from la-la land our mortgage was due and we didn’t have the money to pay it.

  I debated with myself whether to ask my mum and dad for the money or whether to talk to the building society that was also our bank. I was really loath to ask mum and dad although I knew sooner or later if things didn’t get any better I might have to, and decided to give the bank a try. Maybe they’d be understanding, maybe they’d say take all the time you need and pay us when you can . . . or maybe that was the la-la land bank.

  17

  I’d had to make an appointment to see the bank manager so didn’t actually get to talk to him until Thursday morning, the same day the mortgage payment was due. It could have been worse; in fact it could have been a lot worse. I’d explained in some detail to the manager what had happened and hearing myself talk about it I had even cried a bit; I swear on a stack of bibles that crying wasn’t part of the plan and the tears were genuine, but looking back I think that was probably what swayed him. As we’d never missed a payment in the five years we’d had the mortgage, and until recently Martin had worked for the same employer in all that time, we were considered a good risk and he arranged for us to have a mortgage break for three months that would be added on to the end of our twenty five year term.

  I was over the moon, this was the first bit of good news I’d had in what felt like an eternity and it was all my own doing, well some of it was down to the luck of having an understanding bank manager, but mostly my doing. But while I patted myself on the back Martin when I excitedly told him that night glossed it over as if it was nothing much at all. He said ‘that’s good’ and ‘what a relief’, but he was so caught up in his own ongoing saga of staking out the building site in Spain that for him anyway judging by his dismissive tone my achievement was har
dly comparable and paled into insignificance.

  Why do so many men do that? If they manage even the smallest of accomplishments like getting home at the time they said or washing up without being asked, they expect nothing short of a ticker tape parade and your eternal gratitude. But if their partners find a cure for cancer or the secret to world peace it’s nothing much to get excited about and all in a day’s work on a par with getting dressed in the morning.

  ‘I assume you’ve had no luck getting hold of anyone then?’ I said.

  ‘No. There were a couple of trucks yesterday trying to make deliveries but evidently the guy on the gate’s been told not to let them in or accept anything.’

  ‘Well you tried you can’t do any more than that. So are you catching a flight home in the morning?’

  I could hear Martin taking a deep breath before answering and knew he was going to say something I wouldn’t like.

  ‘Okay now promise me you’re not going to flip out . . . Lenny thinks the Homes Abroad lot have been tipped off and know we’ve been staking out the site waiting for them, and he thinks someone will turn up on the weekend when it’s safe. His idea is that we lay low as if we’ve gone home and catch them when they do turn up’ Martin said trying to sound braver than I knew he was actually feeling.

  ‘Does he?’ I said keeping a temporary lid on what I was thinking.

  ‘Yes’ Martin said carefully.

  ‘And what do you think?’ I asked innocently.

  ‘I think he might have a point’ Martin said still very cautious.

  ‘And what about the others, what do they think about it?’

  ‘Others?’

  ‘Yes all the other blokes that haven’t been paid?’ I said needing to get the whole picture before I went completely ballistic.

  ‘Oh . . . well actually they all went home on Tuesday . . . some stayed till Wednesday but . . .’

  ‘So it’s just you and Lenny then?’ I said still playing the innocent game.

  ‘Yes’

  ‘And what will you and Lenny do if someone from Homes Abroad does turn up?’

  ‘Well we’ll . . . ask them what’s going on we’ll . . . you know confront them’ Martin gabbled.