The Debt

by D A Latham

  "Always thought he batted for the home team," Gerry grunted, before sloping off to peer into the oven at whatever it was he was cooking.

  "It was nothing like that. We were just keeping our heads down," I said. "Besides, I'm seeing someone." Gerry just nodded, as he was busy basting a chicken. It smelt delicious. My tummy rumbled appreciatively. Andy would be over at seven, probably bearing Chinese. I wished I could afford to just go shopping and cook something plain for us, rather than living on takeaways. I wondered how to broach the subject.

  Andy seemed quiet when he arrived, preoccupied by something. I dished up our food and switched the telly over to the news, which he liked to watch. "I heard back from Ms Gadd today," he said. "She's not backing down gracefully, so I applied to the court for a hearing date. I should hear back within a week or so."

  "I knew she wouldn't just roll over. I bet she gives Rupert the runaround too. I can't see me getting that back pay anytime soon." I wrestled with the idea of telling him how close to the wire I was, but chickened out.

  "I did something else... I need to talk to you about it." I glanced up. His lovely face was troubled, a frown perfectly pitched between his eyebrows. He picked up the remote and turned the sound down.

  "Go on," I said. Inside I was panicking in case he'd made me bankrupt. Instantly, the eight-year-old girl who had been terrified her leg would be amputated in her sleep reared her little head. I didn't want to be bankrupt, but I also didn't want to be in debt.

  "I checked out your accident."

  "Oh." I felt strangely deflated. I wondered if he thought I'd made it all up. "It did genuinely happen," I said.

  "Yes, I know," he said abruptly. "I never doubted for a moment that it happened. I checked out the insurance and court records."

  "And?"

  "Your uncle defrauded you." He stared at his food, embarrassed no doubt that he uncovered further evidence of my loser tendencies.

  "I did tell you I never got anything. He's probably spent it by now."

  Andy ignored me and continued. "There was an insurance payout of seventy thousand pounds, plus the proceeds of your parents’ house, which was fifty thousand after the mortgage was paid off. The money was placed in trust for you, with your uncle having full control till you were twenty-one."

  "This is where you tell me he spent it all at the bookies, isn't it?"

  He shook his head. "Not quite. He did take it all, cleared out the account, but used it for a deposit on a property. The money hasn't disappeared, he's living in it."

  "I see."

  "I have a complete paper trail. I can prove without doubt that he misappropriated your fund."

  I felt a little nauseous. "That means making him sell his home though."

  "Not necessarily, he could just remortgage. I've worked out what it would be worth had he not helped himself. A judge would even award you an equity share of the property if he was daft enough to let it go to court." He fiddled with his chopsticks; embarrassed no doubt that loserdom ran in my family.

  "I have one living relative, and he stole from me while I was laying in the hospital?" I wanted to cry at the injustice of it all.

  "It all happened after that, when you were in care.”

  “I suppose he figured I’d never find out about it. I mean, I never knew about the money in the first place, nobody ever told me.”

  “I think there were a lot of failings from the people who were meant to be caring for you,” he said softly. My eyes met his. I expected him to be judgemental, disapproving of the fact I’d not taken care of myself during my time in care, but he was full of compassion. “If you agree, then I can pursue this.”

  “What will it cost me?” I knew his expertise was expensive. If my uncle didn’t pay up, I really didn’t want to risk being in deeper debt.

  “Nothing. I’m not gonna charge you,” he sounded offended. “Why do you always think I’m gonna try and make money out of you?”

  I shrugged. I wanted to remind him he’d already added three thousand quid to my debt and had wanted it to be more. I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to upset him.

  “You’re gonna be quite well off by the time I’ve gotten all these people to pay up,” he said.

  I tensed. “That’s all well and good, but it won’t happen for God knows how long. I’m counting down the days till my first payday right now, so forgive me for not getting excited.” I knew I was being a brat, but he was so hopelessly unaware that I was constantly cold, had no decent winter footwear, and was down to my last thirty quid.

  “I thought your rent here was included?” he mumbled.

  “I’m not talking about that,” I huffed. “Do you think your coffee, milk, and wine is provided by the pixies? Don't you think I use toothpaste, deodorant, and tampons?”

  “I’ve never really thought about it,” he admitted. Anger and disappointment flooded through me.

  “I’m walking through the woods twice a day in leaky trainers and rotating the two pairs of warm socks that I possess because I don’t have winter boots,” I paused. “Are your only expenses your household bills?”

  “Well, no,” he admitted. “How come you don’t have boots?”

  I lost my temper, “BECAUSE I’VE BEEN POOR FOR FUCKING FOREVER!” I yelled. Tears dripped down my face. Andy blinked, shocked by my outburst. I’d well and truly lost control, and the now-familiar shame flooded through me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I just thought you understood.”

  "I'm trying to," he said, "but I can only help if you tell me when you're in trouble. We'll go get you some new boots on Saturday."

  "I don't want your charity," I snapped. I didn't know what I wanted. I hadn't meant to let out how desperate I was for fear of being accused of gold-digging, but on the other hand, I was tired of being cold and wet. What I really wanted was for the poor bloke to be psychic, I thought. I sighed, tired of being so damn pathetic all the time. "You just seem to think 'poor' is something that happens overnight, and goes away the moment you want it to. It's like those 'cook family meals for a fiver' shows. They assume people have a store cupboard of spices, herbs, and groceries. When you're poor for a long time, stuff wears out and can't be replaced just like the alleged 'store cupboard of food,' you use it up and it's gone forever."

  "I'm sorry. I guess I can be a little thoughtless," he admitted. "The offer's still open for Saturday though." He stared at his plate. "I can't bear the thought of you being cold or wet."

  "It's been a way of life for a long time now," I said. "Anyway, changing the subject, what do we do about my uncle?" I didn't want to ask why he cared about my cold, wet feet, but was too ashamed to take me home. I had an inkling that argument would be the end of us, and that wasn't what I wanted.

  I think he was relieved to pull out some documents he'd prepared and go through them with me. It was basically giving him consent to take recovery action against my uncle for the money he'd taken. Reading through it all, Andy had clearly done his homework, finding all the land registry stuff. Uncle Jim had bought a rather nice house in Downe using my hundred and twenty grand, plus a hundred thousand pound mortgage from the Halifax. Andy had found that a similar house had recently sold for six hundred thousand.

  "Now, I worked out that if the money had been left alone, the interest accrued would have taken it to around two hundred thousand. Given that it was 'invested' in property on your behalf, the amount we could go for comes to approximately three hundred and sixty thousand. I think we should hit him with that first, then if needs be, come down a bit. What do you think?"

  I just nodded, my mind reeling with the revelation that not only had I been forgotten and neglected, but stolen from too. I really was one of life's losers. I duly signed the papers he placed in front of me, giving him permission to sue on my behalf. "I'd like to look into the home too," he said quietly. "I think there was a failure there too. It may be more difficult and drawn out, but I think you need some answers as to why you didn't get the services you were entitled to." H
e placed more forms in front of me. I signed them without even reading them. It felt ungrateful, even though in some respects they'd failed me. I still owed them for putting a roof over my head.

  "It's my way of taking care of you," he said gruffly. "It's the only way I know how."

  "I know," I said softly. "It's just..." I trailed off, unsure how to phrase the next bit.

  "It's just what?" He snapped. "Will you just spit it out? You seem to think I'm some sort of mind reader, which I'm not. I'm just sick of making you cry all the time." I was taken aback by his outburst and decided not to say any more.

  "It's fine. Listen, I'm exhausted, so I think I need an early night, if you don't mind."

  "Have it your way," he barked, grabbing his coat. "I'll see you Friday night. Hopefully you'll be in a better mood by then."

  He slammed the door hard on his way out. I sank back in my chair to process all the information. I knew he was doing what he thought best for me, taking on my uncle and the home, but in place of all that, I'd have preferred his honesty about himself. I hadn't let on that I knew he'd bid for Lakeswood, or that Aaron had told me he was a wealthy man. His point-blank refusal to share anything about his life showed me he was ashamed of me. He'd clearly decided I wouldn't fit into his family or social circle, making me feel like he was only ever interested in sex.

  Sex and business, I thought wryly. His determination to have me suing everyone who ever did me wrong probably salved his conscience, plus it meant he wouldn't have to offer to pay my debt himself, knowing I'd have money in the pipeline.

  I decided to be clever; to put up a wall between my heart and his, but keep him onside until the debt was paid. I wouldn't allow myself to fantasise about happily-ever-afters, or choosing soft furnishings together. I'd keep him happy, but continue to believe that a man who would really love me was still out there, waiting to be found. If I repeated it over and over enough times, I'd come to believe it, and save myself the inevitable heartbreak that would come from loving Andy McCarthy.

  I wandered into the kitchen the next morning to find Shari presiding over a scene that could only be described as carnage. With Gerry away, it had obviously fallen to her to provide breakfast. The normally orderly kitchen stank of burnt eggs and was a mess of crumbs, spilled coffee grounds, and eggshells. The dogs were hiding in the utility room.

  "Morning," I said brightly.

  "Glad you're here. This kitchen needs clearing up. Stupid cooker burnt the first lot of eggs." She pointed to a blackened saucepan.

  "OK. I'll do it once I've fed the dogs," I said. She seemed a bit frazzled and cross, and I didn't want to make her worse by arguing that it wasn't my job. The cleaners would be in at half-nine, and would tackle it.

  "No, you'll do it now," she said, her flinty stare daring me to disobey. "The dogs can wait."

  I set about filling the sink with hot soapy water to try and soak off the burnt eggs while I wiped down the surfaces. Without another word, she picked up the tray she'd prepared and walked out. The dogs both peeped around the door, checking she'd gone before coming out to greet me. I quickly finished clearing up her mess, and then set about grating some carrot to go in with their breakfast steak, while the burnt pan was soaking. I'd just finished mixing up their food when she came back in with the tray. Glancing at the sink, she said; "I thought I told you to clean that before sorting the dogs?"

  "It's all burnt on, it needs some time in the water," I said sulkily, noting with strange satisfaction that most of the breakfast she'd prepared had been left on the tray.

  "When you're told to do something, then just fucking do it," she hissed, before stomping out, leaving the tray for me to clear up as well. I just shrugged and carried on dishing up Bruno and Roxy's breakfast before getting on with chiselling the saucepan.

  I heard voices in the hall, it sounded like Aaron and Marcus laughing about something. As I scrubbed away with the scourer, I heard Shari's shrill voice ring out, "I'll drop you at the station darling." The front door slammed.

  Marcus came in, no doubt missing his morning latte. He stopped when he saw me scrubbing the pan. "What on Earth are you doing?"

  "Shari instructed me to clear up her mess from this morning," I said. "Only she burnt this so much it's like tar at the bottom. I tried to tell her it needed soaking, but she insisted I scrub it out."

  "Take no notice," he said. "Wanna know a secret?" He leaned in conspiratorially.

  "Go on," I whispered.

  "Aaron just asked me to call his secretary and get her to pick him up some pastries. Shari's food was inedible." We both sniggered. "How on Earth can she ruin toast? The woman's as thick as two short ones. Not a redeeming feature to be found."

  "She had to have two goes at scrambled eggs," I pointed out. "Listen, shall I make us both a latte while you go and make that call?"

  Marcus smiled appreciatively. "You're a doll." I immediately abandoned my pot-scraping and set about making our drinks. He trotted off to call Aaron's PA. A few minutes later he was back. He perched at the island and blew the steam off his coffee.

  "I need to ask you something." I said. Marcus glanced up. "Andy asked me if I could give him the gate code to save me having to go meet him. I said I'd ask, but I understand if it's a no."

  He shook his head. "I know one hundred percent that Aaron wouldn't want him having free access. There's too much bad blood. Drew had to call me on the intercom last night to let him out."

  "That's OK, I understand. I expected a no, but I promised him I'd ask."

  "How's it going with you and him?" Marcus asked. I just shrugged. "So what does that mean?" He pressed.

  "It means I don't know. It's pretty casual."

  "But he stays over? So it can't be that casual. How come you don't stay over at his place?"

  "I don't really know. I don't even know where he lives, or much about him really." Marcus's eyes bored through me, "I've met his brother Rupert though, so it's not like I'm a secret or anything."

  "I see," he said, non-committal.

  "He's helping me get back the money owed by my old boss," I ventured.

  "Will it pay off that CCJ I found on your file by any chance?" He asked. I nodded. "So his firm will get paid twice. Hmm, leopards never change their spots do they?"

  "What do you mean?"

  Marcus sighed, as though he was talking to a child. "His firm bought the debt from MVDI for about ten percent of the face value. He'll also claim against your old boss, or her insurers, for costs when he wins. He gets paid for legal fees, plus gets full whammy off of you when you use your compensation to pay the debt. He's no fool is Drew, and he always was a greedy bastard."

  My head spun. The information Marcus had given me made complete sense. I felt sick at the thought of Andy exploiting me, seeing firsthand how much I was suffering and yet never letting on that I actually owed the money to him. I stood up, desperate for some time alone just to think and process all the information. "I need to take the dogs out," I announced, before pulling on my useless coat and leading the dogs outside.

  They knew I was preoccupied as we walked round. They stayed close, as dogs do when a person is upset, and gave my hands occasional licks as we wandered through the paths. It was one of those bright, crisp winter’s days, with blue skies overhead to give the illusion of a happy summer’s day. The wind was bitingly cold though, even in the relative shelter of the woods.

  I thought back to the start of my relationship with Andy, how lucky I'd felt, how he'd reassured me that he'd help me. In truth, I'd been played. He'd turned out no different than the last lowlife boyfriend who nicked a tenner out of my purse to buy weed. Andy was just playing on a bigger scale.

  I was glad I wasn't seeing him that evening, it would give me time to figure out what to do without the distraction of his beautiful face and tempting body. I wondered if I should have it out with him, tell him what I knew, but dismissed that idea, knowing he'd figure out I'd been talking to Marcus. There was enough animosity between them all
as it was.

  One of the cleaners was at the sink attacking the saucepan with a knife when I got back, muttering swear words under her breath. I smiled as I led the dogs into utility room for their teeth, claws, and ear check. They were becoming easier and more trusting of me by the day, although Bruno licked all the beef-flavoured toothpaste off the brush before I could get any on his teeth, necessitating another application. I was making good headway with the plaque deposits on their teeth, so was making it a regular routine. Roxy's were getting quite pearly.

  I made a list of items the dogs would require and went down to Marcus's office. He was talking to someone on the phone, immediately ending the call when i walked in. "Am I interrupting?" I asked.

  "Not at all. What's the problem?"

  I smiled, "No problem, I just did a list of the things that the dogs need. Do I give it to you?" I handed it to him.

  He read through it quickly. "Easy enough, I'll get these ordered straightaway. Is anything urgent?" I shook my head.

  There was a little convenience shop half a mile from the gates. I tried to avoid it as much as possible as it was expensive, but with the nearest supermarket a four-pound bus ride away, I'd had to suck it up. I stuck my card into the cashpoint, despondently noting that I was down to just fifteen pounds due to some reckless purchases earlier in the week. I'd spent five pounds just on one bottle of wine. It was still another ten days till I'd be paid. I ended up buying just the cheapest store-brand teabags, milk, and a bag of pasta, noting with sadness that even the dogs ate better than I did. As it was, another fiver was eaten up.

  CHAPTER 11

  I didn't answer the phone when Andy called that evening, not trusting myself to keep quiet about his behaviour. My plain pasta had been a miserable affair, the tasteless spirals reminding me of my poverty. I'd had a luxurious bath to cheer myself up, before slipping into the kind of pyjamas I'd never allow a man to see. I was about to get into bed to watch telly when the house phone started ringing. Its unfamiliar, shrill tone made me jump. I wondered what was wrong, as it never rang. I picked it up. "You need to get here immediately, Bruno's shit all over the hallway." My heart sank hearing Shari's whiny tone.