by Tara Ford
Georgie’s mouth dropped.
“I don’t mean tell them everything. Just explain that Alvin took their money from you and threatened you.” Tiff peered at her newfound friend. “And promise to pay them back, as and when you can.”
Georgie eyed her quizzically. “Why do you want me to do that?”
“Because they are good people and you could make a difference to their lives.”
“They won’t forgive me…”
“They will, I’m sure. Especially if I go with you.”
Georgie nodded her head resignedly, wiped her nose again and mustered up a faint smile. “OK.”
“Can I ask you something else?”
Georgie nodded her blonde head like a young child.
“Again, it was by accident, but my craft room is at the back of the house and… I saw you and Alvin, sorry Jeremy, having an argument out the back. Well, it looked like you were arguing.”
“Yes, we were, he… he wants me to split you and Joe up.”
“Oh God, really?”
Georgie nodded her head slightly. “He said I had to start flirting with Joe. I said, no way.”
“Thank God for that. The man is sick. Can you see why we have to stop him?”
“Yes, I’m scared though.”
“Don’t be. He will be the scared one by the time I’ve finished with him. How dare he ask you to do something like that. I know that’s not as bad as what you’ve been through but… well, I’m taking this personally now.”
Chapter 33
Tiff was completely stunned by the discovery of her powerful aptitude for determination, courage and integrity. Never before had she felt so impassioned to help someone else to do the right thing. She was stunned by her sudden strength of character. Was this the new Tiffany Cuthbert?
They’d spent almost an hour, planning their veracious attack and Georgie had succumbed to the offer of coffee half way through as well.
“Right,” said Tiff, setting her empty mug on the table a little too forcefully, “are you ready for this?”
Georgie met her eye with a menacing stare. “Yes, I am.”
“Let’s go then.” Tiff swallowed hard as her nerves began to tingle with anticipation and her heart beat heavily in her chest. “Just remember that I am representing you and you don’t have to speak at all, if you don’t wish to.”
Nodding her head, Georgie stood up and tugged her t-shirt down. “I’m nervous.”
“Me too but this all ends, right here, right now… well, at Alvin-Jeremy’s house, as soon as he opens the door.” Tiff laughed nervously.
“I can’t ever thank you enough for helping me like this.”
“No need. I’m hardly doing anything, apart from opening my mouth to talk.”
Georgie gave a genuinely warm smile and it was at that moment that Tiff realised just what a vulnerable, misunderstood person her new friend really was. “Remember, if anyone on the close stops us, we’re popping round to Alvin’s to sort out an issue with something he borrowed from you.”
Georgie grimaced. “Oh, yes. Forgot that bit.”
“Just leave it to me – I’ll do all the talking.” Tiff peered up at the clock on her kitchen wall. She knew she had about three and a half hours before Joe arrived home. This had to be cleared up by then. She wanted to make a fresh new start this coming weekend and the only way that could happen would be if there were no more lies, no more obsessive, sneaky spying on the neighbours and no more thoughts of Georgie being the wanton witch who lived next door. “Ready?”
Georgie nodded and followed her out of the house.
The brilliant sunshine of the morning, had faded to a hazy wash of orange and yellow. In the distance, dark grey clouds were bubbling up into vast, looming threats of a thunderstorm. The air was thick and heavy, creating an eerie silence around the close.
“It’s going to rain,” whispered Georgie as they walked around the path, towards number nine.
“Looks like it.” Tiff eyed the gardens across the green, making sure that no one was around. She did not want to cause a scene at Alvin’s house and have all the neighbours watching. No, in fact, her tactic would be a highly professional, passive-aggressive approach. There would be no shouting, no screaming and definitely no violence. She desperately hoped so anyway. Her saving grace was that she knew, for sure, that Hayley and Wayne weren’t in. Hayley was on a long, late shift today and Wayne wouldn’t get home until around the same time as Joe. Thankfully, neither Tiff or Georgie would have to explain anything to them. So, as far as Tiff was concerned, she would say her little, poorly rehearsed speech, give Alvin-Jeremy an evil, we-mean-business-so-don’t-cross-us glare and casually walk away with her new friend, Georgie.
That was all there was to it – simple.
Except, after three rings of the grubby looking doorbell, several raps on the glass-fronted door and a casual peep through the bay window, both Tiff and Georgie resigned themselves to the fact that he wasn’t at home.
“Damn,” said Tiff, feeling the anticlimax of it all.
“He might be away – I never know when he’s at home or away on a mission for a few days.”
“Georgie,” whispered Tiff, quite exasperated by it all, “he doesn’t do missions – remember?”
“Oh – yes. I still can’t get it into my head.”
“The only mission he is ever likely to do is accept a customer’s return and give them their money back.”
Georgie let out a giggle and clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Well, there’s no point waiting around here any longer,” said Tiff, with a sigh. “Let’s go back to mine.”
“Oh, OK.” Georgie’s face dropped dramatically.
“Don’t worry,” Tiff added, “I have another plan.”
“Plan B?” asked Georgie, her face softening into a smile.
“Yes – exactly! Plan B.”
Dear…
Tiff stopped and put the end of the pen to her lips. She hated the idea of addressing Alvin-Jeremy with an endearing term like ‘dear’.
“What’s up?” asked Georgie, peering over her shoulder.
“Nothing – just thinking how to set it out.”
“I’m no good at writing stuff. I’m so thankful to you for doing it.”
“Don’t start all that again. I’m doing this for both our sakes.”
“Both?”
“Yes,” said Tiff, “I couldn’t live with myself, knowing what has been going on, if I didn’t do something about it, and how dare he threaten mine and Joe’s relationship.”
“Oh, OK.” Georgie pulled a chair up next to her and looked at the blank sheet of paper.
Dear Jeremy Greene…
“No – I can’t do it,” said Tiff, scribbling through the words on the page. She reached for another sheet of paper and started again.
To Jeremy Greene,
I am writing this letter to you on behalf of Georgie Ford. It has come to my attention that you have been mistreating this lady for quite some time now. It will stop as of today!
Georgie will NOT be paying you the rest of the money owed and should you have any concerns about this, you may take it up with myself or my fiancé, Joe.
Tiff hesitated. Should she involve Joe in this? Would Alvin-Jeremy approach him? Surely not, how could he have the nerve?
“Joe!” Georgie looked around at Tiff’s face, questioningly. “I thought…”
“You thought right – he doesn’t know. It sounds more serious though, don’t you think? I’m sure that Alvin-Jeremy wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of Joe – he’s a bit of a brute. I mean, Alvin couldn’t exactly complain to Joe about the letter could he?”
Georgie shook her head. “As long as Joe doesn’t find out.”
“God help me if he does.”
Alternatively, should you wish to do so, you can file a claim in a small claims court, however, I must warn you that this would lead to a counterclaim for sexual abuse or, at worst, countless rape charges.
“That’ll get him,” Tiff puffed her cheeks out and exhaled slowly as she read through the letter. Then she continued eagerly.
Georgie Ford is now well aware of your activity as a fraudulent, double-life sex-pest and will no longer be taking part in your illicit, degrading requests.
“What does that mean?” Georgie pointed to a word.
“Illicit? Means – unlawful or forbidden by law.”
“OK.” Georgie grinned. “You’re good at writing letters.”
“Thanks.”
Should you find this letter a little threatening, please be assured that it is, and is only a reflection of your own affairs regarding the aforementioned, Georgie Ford.
“What’s that?”
“Aforementioned? – talking about you before. Don’t worry about it. It’s just one of those big words that sounds official and helps to achieve the scare factor.”
“OK – I’ll say no more. You know what you’re doing.”
“I hope so.” Tiff tapped the end of the pen on her chin for a moment and then carried on.
For now, we have agreed to keep this episode confidential and also your true identity, however, should you wish to take things further, we cannot guarantee that the confidentiality will remain intact. Please be aware that things could get out of hand if the residents of Sycamore Close were to find out, firstly, who you really are, and secondly, what you have been doing. I am sure that you would not wish to have any of this information divulged to your neighbours.
Also, please be assured that, under no circumstances, will it be acceptable to contact Miss Ford from this day forward. Doing so, will be considered a breach of the terms of this letter and hence the start of formal proceedings to have you prosecuted for the violations you inflicted upon this vulnerable young woman.
We trust that this letter has been clear and informative. Should you have any questions, please speak to Tiffany Cuthbert at, 4 Sycamore Close. She, and her fiancé, will be more than happy to go over the points raised with you. Alternatively, you could take it to your line-manager at Sainsbury’s, as I am sure that he or she would be very interested in the content of this letter also, and may be able to offer you some helpful advice.
Before closing, I would like to take this opportunity to personally advise you of the repercussions, should you choose to continue your endeavor to ‘split’ myself and my fiancé’s relationship up. It won’t happen! It will never happen. Sadly, you are unable to comprehend what a true relationship is and the strength within it. Your feeble existence is no threat to a stable, loving connection between two people like myself and Joe. You are a failure. A sick individual who preys on the vulnerable, less fortunate people in this world. My greatest advice to you would be for you to leave Sycamore Close, forever.
Georgie laughed, heartily. “Can you image his face when he reads this?”
“I’d love to see it.”
“Me too.”
Yours sincere…
Tiff paused again, she didn’t want to be sincere.
From Tiffany Cuthbert, on behalf of Georgie Ford – united against perverted losers.
Tiff read through the letter and held the pen to her lips, thoughtfully. She then added a postscript.
PS. I have one further piece of advice that may help you in the future, with regard to your alter ego, Alvin Snodgrass. Could I recommend that you don’t use such a pathetic name in the future and also, try to go for a more believable profession (such as Customer Service Assistant). Lastly, please let me suggest a new name for your alter ego, should you chose to continue to use one. Both myself and Georgie think that the name Jogging-Jerk-Jeremy would be a far more suitable name.
Tiff put the pen down and giggled. “What do you think?”
“Amazing – I could never have done anything like that.” Georgie grinned. “And that bit is so funny.” She pointed to the postscript.
Tiff nodded and grinned. “Right, shall we post it? Perhaps we could call into Betty’s on the way back.”
“Oh no, I forgot about that bit.” Georgie’s smile turned down, into a grimace.
“Better to get it over and done with – then we can both move on and get on with our lives.”
“Yes, I suppose so…” Georgie replied, waveringly. “Are you sure it’ll be fine, not to pay Alvin the rest of his money?”
“I’m sure it will be just fine. When he reads the letter, he’ll realise what he’s been doing and I’m hoping he’ll know how wrong it has been. I’m confident that he’ll be so worried that he’s going to get into big trouble that he’ll… well, just vanish.”
“Hope so,” said Georgie, giving a little shrug of her shoulders.
“Come on, let’s go and post this. Then visit Betty and Cyril on the way back. Your new life is just about to start.”
Both Betty and Cyril were extraordinarily forgiving. Tiff got the distinct impression that it was like their one and only daughter had returned from a long absence. Betty, in particular, was elated to have Georgie back in her life and insisted that the momentous occasion should be celebrated with cake. On the downside, Betty and Cyril were shocked to hear of Alvin Snodgrass’ part in the whole affair.
“We don’t want you to pay back the money, Georgie.” Betty stated quite adamantly. “What’s done is done. It’s all forgotten about now. The fact that you have come round here, explained what really happened and apologised, is enough for us.”
“But…” spluttered Georgie.
“No buts,” Cyril interrupted. “We’ll forget about it now. It’s good to have you back as a friendly neighbour.”
“Yes,” said Betty, smiling and shaking her head. “You did the right thing by coming round to apologise and explain exactly what went on.”
“It’s water under the bridge,” added Cyril. “Water under the bridge.”
Georgie mouthed a ‘thank-you’ and smiled awkwardly.
Tiff smirked and wondered if Georgie knew what Cyril had meant by, ‘water under the bridge’. She wasn’t the brightest of people. But that didn’t matter. She was kind, thoughtful and caring and that was what really counted.
Leaving Betty’s with a tummy full of cake and a plate loaded with three extra slices for Joe, Tiff strolled along the pathway with Georgie. “I’d better get indoors,” she said, sluggishly. “Joe will be home soon.”
“Do you want to swap mobile numbers?” Georgie smiled, expectantly.
“Yes, of course. I was going to say that if you hear from Alvin… or Jeremy, you might want to let me know. Or, indeed, if I hear anything I’ll let you know.” Tiff peered across the green to number nine. “I wonder when he’ll be home.”
Georgie shrugged. “Don’t know. I’m a bit worried about what he’s going to say or do though.”
“He won’t say or do anything. I’ve confronted him before and he backed away from me like the pathetic, shameful bully that he is. Tiff put the plate of cake on the ground and pulled out her mobile. “Give me your number and I’ll ring you. Then you can contact me if you get worried about anything.”
“Thanks.”
As Georgie was adding Tiff’s number to her phone, Tiff looked across the green and spotted a tall, darkly clothed figure emerging from the corner of number nine. The man raised a hand and smiled. Then he began to walk up the pathway. Straight past his house. Alvin-Jeremy was approaching.
“Georgie,” Tiff muttered under her breath. “Say nothing.”
Georgie looked up from her phone, startled by Tiff’s words, and gasped.
“Evening Georgie,” called Alvin-Jeremy. “How are you?”
Georgie sidled up next to Tiff and looked down at her phone.
As Alvin-Jeremy drew closer, he eyed Tiff with contempt.
“Don’t come any closer Jeremy,” said Tiff, sternly.
“Still piping on about that Jeremy business are you?” Alvin-Jeremy tutted. “Has she told you about that?” He peered suspiciously at Georgie, who was still looking down at her phone. “Bloody ri
diculous.”
“You should go home Jeremy. You have a gravely important letter waiting for you.” Tiff picked the plate of cake up from the ground, grabbed Georgie by the arm and pulled her into her front garden. “Come on Georgie – come and have some tea with us tonight.”
Georgie didn’t lift her head at all, as she was dragged towards Tiff’s front door.
Alvin-Jeremy stared after them incredulously. “Georgie,” he said in a patronising voice, “you’re being rather rude.”
Tiff opened the front door and pulled her in.
“Sorry,” Georgie called out as she went inside the house.
“Why did you say sorry? He’s the one who should and will be sorry.”
“Sorry,” she said again.
“Don’t keep saying sorry.”
“Sorry – oops.”
Tiff tutted and peered out of the living room window. “He’s leaving and Joe’s on his way up the path too.”
“Oh no…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll say that we got chatting outside and… and then Betty came out… and then the truth came out about Alvin-Jeremy… and then I invited you in for a coffee. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Tiff continued to watch as Joe and Alvin-Jeremy got closer to each other. They crossed paths and it seemed like they didn’t say a word to each other. “Right, he’s nearly here. Get in the kitchen, I’ll make you a coffee.”
Georgie hurriedly followed Tiff to the kitchen and sat down at the table. “Argh!” she spluttered.
Turning around from the kettle, Tiff looked at the piece of paper in Georgie’s hand. The first piece. The one that had, Dear Jeremy Greene, scribbled out. “Give it to me,” said Tiff, panicking and thrusting herself forward as the front door opened. She snatched the piece of paper out of Georgie’s hand, scrunched it up and threw it in the bin as Joe walked into the dining room.
“Hello,” he said, with a quizzical stare.
“Hi there – Georgie’s popped in for a cuppa.”
“Hello again.” Georgie smiled sheepishly, avoiding Joe’s eye.
