by Andy McNab
When the man from Head Office came in, Kevin had lied. He said the computer was down. He had saved Symington's arse again and maybe all of their jobs too. Since then, Kevin had pieced together which deposit box belonged to whom and finally put everyone's name on the computer. Symington had never thanked him. Just like he wouldn't on Monday when Kevin sent off the monthly report as if Symington had done it himself.
Kevin made his boss a cup of coffee. He'd ask for next Friday off now. He couldn't wait to see the smile on Linda's face when he told her he'd swung a long weekend for their wedding anniversary.
He headed for Symington's office, careful not to spill the brew on the carpet. He felt himself tense up. He knew it was stupid to be nervous of the old git, but he couldn't help it. 'Come on, Kevin,' he muttered. 'Think tough. Think mean. Think killer shark. You can do it.' He started to hum the Jaws tune. He felt tough. He felt mean. He was that killer shark.
'Mr Symington, I wonder if—'
The coffee leaped out of Kevin's hands and splashed over Symington's neat pin-striped suit. Symington jumped out of his chair and pulled at his shirt to keep the hot liquid off his skin. 'Can't you even walk past a wastepaper basket?' he roared
'So sorry, Mr Symington. I didn't see—'
'You clumsy oaf. You'll get the dry-cleaning bill on Monday.'
'I'm sorry, I didn't see the bin and I—'
'What is it you want anyway?'
Now Kevin felt less like a killer shark and more like a beached whale. 'Nothing,' he muttered. 'Can't remember.' He stumbled out of Symington's office. At least it was the end of the week and he wouldn't have to see the man until Monday. Maybe he would have calmed down by then and Kevin could have another shot at asking him for next Friday off.
CHAPTER FOUR
KEVIN SAT ON THE top deck of the bus, with his briefcase on his lap. He normally sat downstairs because he hadn't far to go. Today he had helped an old lady and she wouldn't stop thanking him so he had come upstairs to escape. He could see the whole of the high street through the rain-stripped windows. Lots of men with briefcases and umbrellas struggled up the hill to the car park. Office girls huddled in the doorway of Boots, smoking.
A woman with a pram tucked a new mop under one arm as she pushed with the other hand. Then she lost her grip on the pram, which started to roll down the hill. She dropped the mop and grabbed the pram. The baby was safe. For a moment, Kevin saw himself as Superman, in red cape and blue tights, smashing the bus window to fly after the runaway pram.
The bus drew away from the stop. He pulled out his phone and texted Linda that he was on his way. This was the best part of the day, going home.
As usual, Symington had been too idle to put in the CCTV videos that recorded the bank overnight. He knew it was a sacking offence but he didn't understand the machines. The bank wasn't insured if the security devices weren't working, but Symington thought he was above the rules. Every night Kevin put new tapes into the machines before the bank closed and replaced them in the morning.
He could hear two women laughing as they climbed up to the top deck. He recognized one of their voices, and turned, slipping his mobile back into his coat pocket.
He hadn't seen Debbie Robinson since he had left school, almost fifteen years ago, but she had hardly changed. She still looked great and he felt shy, like he always had at school with her. She wore a black mini-skirt, biker boots and jacket. Her hair was jet black and punky, and she had the biggest blue eyes he had ever seen. She was chatting with her mate as they walked past him and took the seat in front. She didn't notice him. Just like at school, really.
Her mate's phone rang and she was soon talking about what pub to go to that night. Debs checked her hair in a compact mirror and caught Kevin looking at her in its reflection. She swung round. 'What the fuck d'ya— Hang on, I know you. You're Kevin . . . Kevin something or other. I remember you from school. You had one of those pogo-stick things, didn't you?'
That was Kevin Logan. I'm Kevin Dodds.'
'Yeah, right.' She thought hard. 'Got it. The podgy one, basin haircut, always in the back row.'
Kevin was sort of pleased she knew who he was, but he was still a little nervous talking to her. 'So, what are you up to, Debs? Married with kids and a poodle?'
'Married with one kid. No poodle. You remember Dave, don't you? Captain of the football team? But you didn't play football at school, did you?'
Kevin shook his head. 'Er, no. But I knew him.'
Everyone at school had known Dave. He played almost every sport for the school. That made him hated by the boys as much as he was loved by the girls. Worse, he was good-looking, always had money and never got spots.
Debs's mate closed down her phone and listened to the conversation while she shoved salt and vinegar crisps into her mouth. Her crunching was nearly as loud as Debs's voice.
'Well, he's got his own carpet business in Leadenbridge now. Got lots of staff. Doing really well,' Debs went on.
Debs's friend wasn't impressed. She pulled a face. 'Yeah, Dave's doing really well and still just as popular. That's why he's never at home, eh, Debs?'
Debs shot her a look that told her to shut it. She shoved some more crisps into her mouth.
Kevin had played football at school but only with the other kids who never got picked for the team. It wasn't that he was bad at it. He just never looked right. He was a bit plump, as he was now, but it was more than that. All the other kids had the right Adidas shorts, and the right trainers. Kevin's mum always bought him cheap ones from the market. Even at ten, kids could pick out a loser.
Debs was still going on about Dave. 'Anyway, I married him, and we've just moved into the new Bovis estate. We got the show-home up there. It's gorgeous. Three bathrooms. I'm a hairdresser at Cuts To Go in town. What about you?'
'Remember Linda Perry? We've been married seven years now. No kids, and definitely no poodle. I'm the deputy manager at The Bank, the one on Middle Street.'
'Linda? Wasn't she the zitty one with greasy hair and Mr Magoo glasses?'
Debs's friend was giggling now. Debs nudged her. Kevin did what he normally did at times like this. He just smiled. He didn't want to make a scene. 'Dunno . . . Anyway, she doesn't have spots or glasses or greasy hair now.'
'I remember Linda.' Debs turned to her mate who was now munching a Mars bar. 'They were the school geeks, yeah? Ah. That's love for you.'
Her mate swallowed and let out a high-pitched giggle.
Debs liked that and carried on taking the piss. 'Hey, Kev. You should do something about your hair. That side-parting just isn't on. Come and see me and I'll bring you into the nineteen nineties at least.' They stood up for their stop. The Mars bar wrapper and crisps packet were stuffed down the back of the seat. 'See ya, Kev. Listen, maybe don't bother with the cut. I'm sure the lovely Linda likes you just as you are, but what about some gel?'
Kevin heard more giggles as they disappeared down the stairs. No doubt Debs had made another joke about him. He should have said something back to her. But he hadn't been able to think of anything smart or witty. He was thirty this year, but it had been just like school. Some things never changed.
CHAPTER FIVE
TESCO WAS ROUND THE corner from Specsavers where Linda worked. She liked to meet him off the bus each night but as it was so cold and wet, Kevin had called her at lunchtime and said they would meet in the supermarket. They did their weekly shop on Friday nights.
Linda took the car to work as Specsavers had free staff parking round the back. Since Kevin finished work an hour earlier than she did, he took the bus to her so they could drive home together. He could have taken the bus all the way, but their ten-year-old Fiesta was on its last legs. Sometimes he had to get under the bonnet before it would start. Anyway, he liked to chat to Linda as they drove home together or went round the supermarket.
The next stop was his. As he got up, he spotted Linda in the doorway of the dry cleaner's. She looked lovely in her black coat, with her shoulde
r-length dark brown hair blowing across her face. So what if they had been geeks at school? They weren't now. Or, at least, Linda wasn't. He loved her, and always had, even at school. But he had been twenty before he had plucked up the courage to ask her out.
Linda looked up and saw him. She waved and smiled, her cheeks pink with cold. Kevin felt so lucky to have her. He ran down the stairs, jumped off the bus and was in the doorway with her. They kissed and Linda opened her umbrella. The wind turned it inside out. Kevin helped her to put it right.
'Why didn't you wait in Tesco's? Look at you, you're all wet.'
They walked off arm in arm towards the supermarket.
'I wanted to make sure you didn't get too wet. I thought I'd come to the rescue with what's left of my umbrella,' Linda told him. Like Kevin, she always made every effort to spend a few extra minutes with her other half. Kevin felt a surge of love for her. Neither of them had ever been out with anyone else. So what if other people thought they were geeks? So long as they had each other, it didn't matter. Occasionally, Kevin would lie in bed in the middle of the night and worry about what life would be like if she wasn't there. What if she left him? Or got ill and died? 'Come on. Let's get the shopping done and go home,' he said.
As they walked up to Tesco, Kevin said, 'I just met Debs on the bus. From school, remember?'
Of course Linda remembered. Debs had been the really pretty punk that all the boys fancied and all the girls had wanted to look like. 'You fancied her, didn't you?'
'Nah, not really. Well, OK. Everyone did. Not that she would have looked at me.'
'How is she? I never liked her.'
Kevin kept it brief. He didn't say Debs had been taking the piss out of his haircut. And his wife. 'She seemed OK, I suppose. Now, what shall we get for tea?'
CHAPTER SIX
THE RAIN BOUNCED OFF the windows of Kevin and Linda's house. It was a two-up, two-down Victorian terrace, nicely decorated in B&Q paints and nicely furnished by Ikea. They liked their home. It was warm and safe.
Kevin knew more about celebrity diets, liposuction and Oscar-night outfits than the average man should. Linda read gossip magazines. She always felt the need to share what she learned, so Kevin always knew what was hot and what was not. They finished off their microwave chicken dinner for two and cuddled up on the settee. Linda flicked through her latest magazine and Kevin picked up a holiday brochure. How could he tell her he still hadn't asked for the day off?
'What do you think of this, Kev?' Linda flapped the page under his nose.
'It's a woman in a long green dress.'
'It's Halle Berry. I'd love to look like her. Isn't her dress beautiful?'
'It's fine.'
'It's a bit better than that, Kev.'
'It's lovely, then.'
'You'll never make a fashion reporter.'
'And you'll never make a TV holiday presenter if you don't pick one out.' He bopped her on the head gently with the brochure. 'I'm wondering if we should look at your mum's caravan again. I know we really want Greece, but Southwold would be much cheaper. What do you think?'
Linda turned a few pages of blue skies and sea. 'Greece looks fantastic. Do you really fancy the caravan?'
'Not really. But there's the mortgage to pay, and that new car we keep talking about. Maybe we're pushing it this year.'
'OK. I'll ask her on Friday.' She put down the brochure. 'Hey, you know what, Kev? Maybe you should rob a bank instead of working in one.'
Kevin gave her a look that said, 'We never do bank-robbery jokes.'
'I know, I know! Only joking. But I was thinking about old George Rowland and all that cash he's got tucked away.'
'Don't you dare tell anyone I told you!' Kevin cut in. 'I'd lose my job!'
'But if your bank got robbed and all those safe-deposit boxes were opened, he wouldn't be able to tell anyone he'd had all that cash stolen, would he? Serve him right.'
She giggled.
'Just think if we had his money, Kev. We could pay off the mortgage, buy the car and a place in the sun, pay for my mum's treatment. I could even buy Halle Berry's green dress.'
'Yeah, yeah. Green dresses and tropical islands all round, eh?'
'Can't really see you in a green dress, Kev, but, yep, you get the idea.'
Kevin made a grab for her and started to tickle. She shrieked and tried to wriggle away. It turned into a hug.
'Hey, Kev, you get Friday off?'
'Not yet.'
Linda sat up and looked disappointed.
'I just didn't get the chance to ask him. I'll do it on Monday, first thing. Promise.'
Linda sighed. She'd been through this one before. 'Kev, please talk to him. It would be great to have a long weekend. It is our anniversary, darling. You've got to stand up for yourself a bit. You're practically running that bank. The least Symington can do is give you a day off. Besides, you're entitled to it. You haven't had any holiday yet.'
'I'll do it on Monday. I'm just not good at this sort of thing. He always reacts badly when people take single days off.'
'I know. But that's his problem, not yours. Please, Kevin.'
A silence followed and Kevin picked up the TV remote control. 'Come on,' he said. 'Give us a cuddle.'
Linda curled up beside him and rested her head on his shoulder as Look East, the BBC local news sparked up on the screen. A perky TV presenter announced that the actress Jessica Drake had arrived in Ipswich today. She was in town for a week to play a cameo role in Oscar Wilde's Lady Windermere's Fan.
Kevin and Linda watched Jessica step out of her car as two men held umbrellas over her. The theatre was just down the road from the bank. He must have missed all the fuss this afternoon, he thought. She was very tall, very blonde, and very beautiful. She towered above the theatre director as they posed for photographers. Her necklace glittered in the camera's flash.
Kevin had never heard of Jessica Drake, but Linda had. 'Look! Isn't she stunning? And her necklace is amazing. You know all about the Augusta necklace, right?'
Clearly, he had missed a few pages of gossip. He shook his head, and waited to be filled in.
As Linda spoke her eyes never left the screen. 'The Augusta necklace is that string of pearls, with a sapphire and diamond clasp. See?' She pointed at the TV. 'You wear the clasp at the front. It's worth two million. I'd love to look like her.'
'You wanted to look like Halle Berry a minute ago. Make your mind up.' But Kevin could see that Jessica was indeed stunning. Shoulder-length hair, blue eyes, bee-stung lips.
'She's always so elegant. Imagine being able to wear a necklace like that. It was a present from her husband, Greg Drake, the film director.'
Kevin had never heard of Greg Drake either, but Linda was now in full flow. 'They only found out the necklace was worth a fortune when they were getting divorced.' She paused for breath, and the TV report took over the story.
Greg Drake had paid a thousand dollars for the necklace when he bought it from a jeweller in India. But during the messy divorce, it was valued at over two million pounds. Greg had wanted it back. He said it was an old family piece. But Jessica proved that he had given it to her when she turned thirty, and won.
Linda couldn't take her eyes off the TV. 'You'd feel like a princess in it.'
Kevin could see that the blue of the sapphire matched Jessica's eyes. Now, that's the kind of woman I should star with in my action movies, he thought. Pulp Fiction starring Jessica Drake and Kevin Dodds. He repeated it a couple of times in his head, but it didn't seem right. His name only worked with Linda's. Pulp Fiction starring Linda and Kevin Dodds. That was better.
