‘God, Lawrence!’ She shielded her eyes from view, wanting to hide just for a second and envying him his earlier moments of solitude and escape.
‘Yep. Domino threw up all over the inside.’ His nose wrinkled. ‘It’s a mess. He said nothing else happened; he was shady, defensive. I told him how old she was and he went pale. I could have hurt him, Jules, but I didn’t. I believe him that nothing happened, but I don’t doubt it would have done.’ He visibly shuddered. ‘He was far more concerned about his car. He’s not a liar. He’s absolute scum, but he’s not a liar.’
‘Scum you now owe even more money to,’ she concluded, beginning to understand that her husband might be incapable of sorting their dire situation, of making the necessary changes.Maybe it was down to her to take the reins, maybe it wasalldown to her to figure it out, find a way forward.
‘That’s about the size of it.’ He again looked close to tears, and she felt a flash of pity for the man who had gone to sort things but only succeeded in making them worse. ‘Micky can get in the queue, wait like everyone else, and the funny thing is, Jules, if my new investors don’t come up with the goods, then everyone who’s already invested, Micky included, will be waiting for a slice of a pie that doesn’t exist. There is no money! So, what can I do?’
‘I don’t know, Lawrence.’ Her gut gripped with anxiety. ‘What can you do? Because we need to do something.’ She ran her fingers over the marble countertop, wondering how long before she would be closing the front door for good. Feeling a ridiculous flash of concern for food in the freezer that needed using up – a couple of quiches she’d made, tubs of ice cream and an apple crumble. It was odd that this low-value worry took precedence in her thoughts when there were so many bigger things to worry about. A diversion, if you like, from the daunting task ahead – that of fixing her family and digging their way out of the hole they found themselves in.
‘Yes, we need to do something,’ he echoed. ‘I am trying to get my thoughts straight, driving helped. I parked up, calmed down.’
‘Where did you park?’
‘By the river, opposite those flats they built a little while back. Some had their lights on and in one a young couple were sat on the balcony having a drink, looking out over the water. They looked really happy, and I was trying to figure out how you had a life like that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘A life where you live in one of those flats, which are nice enough and probably don’t have too many outgoings. They’re not flash, but they seemed happy enough. And I want to know, Jules,how do you get to live a life like that where the middle of the road is enough?’
He looked at her quizzically, and her heart soared, wondering if, finally, he was coming around to her way of thinking: that to live a simpler life, a less expensive life, would give them the freedom and security she so craved. It was, considering the most terrible night they’d spent, entirely hopeful. This in turn the perfect segue into the conversation they needed to have.
‘I guess by not overstretching yourself financially, by being content with less. That’s how I grew up. I can recommend it.’ She looked at her handbag, still on the chair but soon to be emptied, packed up and shipped off to its new owner for a fraction of its real worth. ‘I went to buy the chocolates for your mum earlier ...’
‘Yes, I know. Thank you for doing that, I—’
‘No,’ she cut him off. ‘I don’t want thanks. I want to tell you that I tried to pay with our bank card, which got refused. My credit card too.’
‘Shit!’ He reached for the mug of hot tea and held it in both palms, his gaze downcast.
‘And it makes me feel awkward, uncomfortable having to say it, having to mention it, but it shouldn’t. It really shouldn’t.’ She paused. ‘And this sums up how hard I find it to talk to you about money and the debt.’ It was true, it was a topic that he avoided and made awkward, and it coloured the whole issue for all of them. But no more. She was putting herself in the driving seat, she was going to take control.
Enough was enough, she never again wanted to feel as she had in that store, staring into her empty purse as if she could magic some cash into her hand.
‘It’s ludicrous because it affects all our lives. Debt and dishonesty are the worst bedfellows, and they operate like a tag team, elbowing me in the ribs to stop me sleeping, stop me from thinkingstraight – they don’t give me a moment’s peace! And I’m so tired of it, Loz! I’m so tired of it all. And I know you must be too.’ She tucked her long hair behind her ears and sipped her tea, hoping it might give her the energy to continue the conversation, as exhaustion lapped at her heels. ‘I think ... I think we need to come clean about it all. We need to be able to talk about it, be open about it and try to plan what comes next. For our sake and the kids’ sake too. We need to be honest. To face it.’ This she knew would give them the best shot of going forward, of seeking help and turning things around.
He gave a single nod but said nothing, kind of confirming her point about the awkwardness. It felt a little easier to continue now that the topic had been broached.
‘I kept some cash in a small purse inside my handbag, a few notes that I’ve managed to squirrel away over the weeks. It gave me comfort knowing that, no matter what, I had that tiny amount to buy food or whatever we might need in an emergency, and I know it wasn’t enough to make a huge difference, but it was just enough to make a difference to me, for me to feel a little happier – a little safer, if you like.’ As she spoke, she could feel anger bookending her words, recalling exactly what he had done and how it had impacted her.
‘I know what you’re going to say.’ He held her eyes and took a deep, slow breath as his shoulders slumped.
‘Yes.’ She held her breath, waiting for him to tell her why he’d felt justified in taking the last of her cash, the last of their cash.
‘Everyone around the table was calling me MrMoneybags, joking about me picking up the tab, as if they expected me to and then, if I didn’t, I was going to look tight or broke—’
‘You are broke.’ Her tone was steady.
‘Thank you, yes.’ And just like that any suggested contrition was diluted, leaving her feeling hollow inside. ‘Dad gave his speech,and I looked up and Daisy was stood by the bar just watching, staring, waiting.’
‘Daisy?’
‘Yes, the waitress!’
‘Jake’s sister? I thought her name was Darcy, anyway, carry on.’ She failed to see how him taking the money and the odd girl staring at them were connected, and she needed him to get to the point so she could go to bed, because right now she felt about ready to collapse.
‘I knew you had some cash, saw you pop it in your purse a few days ago, and so I borrowed it for tonight, in case anything came up.’
‘Youborrowedit?’ She couldn’t help her disbelieving tone, knowing it was most unlikely he would have taken the money with the intention of returning it to her. And recognising that this was how he could justify most things: with an elaborate reason or plan as to how the situation was a) reasonable, b) going to get resolved. His excuses, like her tolerance, were wearing thin, causing her harm and they sat like a woodpecker beak inside her thoughts, tap, tapping away until she couldn’t stand it anymore.
