by D A Latham
CHAPTER 5
I strode into work at half-eight the next morning, ready to catch up on some tasks before my shift started at nine-thirty. The owner of the practice, our head vet, was already in, her presence announced by her gleaming new Mercedes in the car park. She was standing in reception talking to the Suit. "Morning," I said cheerily.
"Good morning Sally," said Ms Gadd. The Suit echoed her. I smiled brightly and set about signing in to the system. "Oh, you don't need to do that, the computer’s down," Ms Gadd announced. I frowned and clicked on Start. It sprang to life.
"It's fine now¸" I said, before clicking onto the little icon to clock myself in. I glanced up to see her glaring at me and making a throat slitting motion behind the Suit's back.
"Did you just clock in?" He enquired.
"Yes," I replied, puzzled.
"Do you clock in and out every day?"
I nodded. "Of course."
Ms Gadd chimed in, "she may be clocked in, but you don't actually start work for another hour, do you Sally?"
I thought of her gleaming Mercedes sitting outside. I owed her nothing. "Well, patients don't arrive till half-nine, but rooms have to be sorted and checked, our overnight patients fed and checked, and you asked me to do some stocktaking before I started work today, so strictly speaking, I either start work at nine thirty and none of those jobs get done, or I come in at half-eight, as you requested on Friday, and complete the tasks you asked me to do, which are part of my job description."
She glared at me, livid at my response, which, I suspected, rather dropped her in it. "Ms Gadd, I'll ask you again, do you have staff timekeeping records?" The Suit interrupted her. She nodded, her face pale and pinched with fury. I escaped into the stock room and left them to it. Later, when I was checking the treatment rooms, I could hear Ms Gadd's raised voice coming from the office.
The morning flew past; Mondays were always busy. As soon as morning surgery was finished, Ms Gadd came to find me. "Mr McCarthy has asked to speak to you. I'm not certain what he wants. Just don't tell him about any overtime, otherwise you'll end up with a huge tax bill." She leaned in closer and lowered her voice, "You should've been paying tax on that overtime. They'll crucify you if you mention it. You could end up going to prison for tax evasion."
"I haven't been paid any overtime," I pointed out.
"They'll think it was paid cash-in-hand," she said. I went cold. If they thought I'd been paid cash, I'd end up in even more trouble. It would be my word against hers.
I panicked. "I just need to go to the loo first," I said, grabbing my handbag. I called Andy from the toilet. Thankfully, he answered straight away.
"She's got me over a barrel," I said without preamble, "said they'd think I've been accepting cash-in-hand, and that I'd end up with a huge tax bill."
"Calm down," he replied. "If she wants to admit to paying you cash, then she's admitting fiddling cash out of her business. It'd be her in trouble, not you. A quick investigation would easily show that you haven't been living beyond what's been paid legitimately. Keep calm, don't let her rattle you and just tell Rupert the truth."
"I thought it might be your brother," I said, "you look alike. Listen, I gotta go."
"OK. Tell the truth."
I hurried out into the office. Rupert was seated behind Ms Gadd's desk, flicking through papers. "Hello, Sally isn't it? I'm Rupert McCarthy. I gather you're a friend of my brother’s?"
"I am," I replied, "I figured out that you were related. You look alike."
"He thinks he's the good-looking one, so thank you." He flashed me a smile. "Please take a seat. Now, I'm here to check out this allegation of your boss paying below minimum wage. Did you bring the documents he asked you to?"
I handed over my payslips, P60, and contract. Rupert pulled out a little camera and photographed them. "I've got a list of questions I need to ask. Some of them are intrusive and some are a little obvious, but I have to ask them and record your answers, is that OK?" He was business-like but kindly. I doubt if Ms Gadd shared my opinion of him. I nodded. He pressed a button on his little voice recorder.
"Are you Sally Higgs of 33 Freelands Road in Bromley, Kent?"
"Yes I am."
The questions were easy at first, mostly concerned with my length of service, job description, and qualifications. Eventually they became more difficult. "Do you work unpaid or paid overtime?"
"Unpaid."
"Are there records kept of your overtime?"
"I have to clock in and out, so yes."
"Is there time during your work hours where there is no work for you to do?"
"Never. We're understaffed, so always busy."
"Do you get breaks? Lunch hours?"
"No. The animals need feeding and their cages cleaned during the times there's no active surgery. Plus, of course any operations are scheduled for then, which only Maria and I are qualified to assist in."
"Are you paid cash, cheque, or bank transfer?"
"Bank transfer, monthly."
"Have you ever had your pay topped up with cash?"
I looked him in the eye, "No, never."
"Have you ever received gifts from your employer or benefits in lieu of wages?"
"No, never."
And so it went on. It was pretty damning. I hoped that the others would tell the truth as well. Ms Gadd didn't deserve anyone lying for her; she clearly wasn't going short herself, judging by her expensive car and frequent holidays.
"What will happen next is that we will work out what monies are owed to you under the minimum wage laws. Your employer will have 28 days to pay you. If they don't pay, we will prosecute them on your behalf."
My tummy flipped. "So I'd get it all?"
He nodded. "We work out the net amount for them to pay you, so there can be no arguments. She's in trouble, not you," he said, smiling kindly.
"Thank you," I said.
"Not a problem. It's my job to make sure businesses are acting within the law. When Andrew told me about you, it gave me an excuse to come back out into the field, as it were. I'm normally stuck behind a desk all day."
I wondered what else Andy had told him.
Maria was called into the office as I left. I knew she'd been angry about the cut in hours and pay. I just hoped that she too would tell the truth and not let Ms Gadd frighten her into silence. I grabbed my coat and prepared to clock out.
"Bye Sally," Ms Gadd called out behind me, all friendly for a change, probably hoping I'd covered up her wrongdoing.
I skipped into Bromley to change my library books, finding a copy of a book I'd been waiting for. I was in an even better mood when I found a cafetière in the Oxfam shop for fifty pence. It was a sort of sick-coloured yellow plastic, but it looked nearly new and had all the parts intact. Pleased with my purchase, I popped into the supermarket to get a packet of ground coffee. Sadly, when you're on a tight food budget, even the cheapest coffee puts a serious dent in it. I had to forgo my weekly bottle of wine in order to buy it.
“Hey sexy, what you up to tonight?”
I grinned stupidly at Andy's text. I found a bench, set my bags at my feet, and tapped out my reply. “Nothing much yet ;) Wanna come over? I bought a cafetière...”
“Well done. I'll bring a takeaway. See you about seven.”
Back home, I unpacked my purchases and carefully washed out my new coffee maker. I made sure my room was tidy before taking a long, thorough shower in my tiny bathroom. As the hot water poured over me, I mused at how happy I felt compared to that terrible day in court. The debt still weighed heavily on me, but at least I felt as though I had a future that didn't consist of beans on toast every night for the next ten years. Since meeting Andy, I'd been eating better than I had in years. He certainly didn't seem to stint on food.
Not for the first time, I wondered how much he earned. I knew lawyers were well-paid, but beyond that, I didn't have much clue. He didn't ever talk about work, so I didn't really know too much about it. I resolved to
Google it on my new laptop.
Andy arrived exactly on time, bearing a curry. He greeted me with a deep, lush kiss, before handing me the bag while he hung up his coat. I laid all the little foil trays on the coffee table in between us, so we could pick at the whole selection. "Can you cook?" I asked. I'd only ever seen him eat out.
He shook his head. "I'm not great. I can manage simple stuff. Rupert’s pretty good. He's quite into cooking, but the rest of us are useless. Mum always did everything, so I suppose we never really learnt." He paused, "I spoke to Rupes earlier, he said you have a solid case. The other nurse has been underpaid too. He'll be speaking to the others during the week to find out if their situation is similar."
"I only know about Maria and myself," I admitted. "What else have you told Rupert?"
A silence stretched between us. Eventually he spoke; "Everything."
"Why?" It was a question born more of curiosity than anger that he'd revealed my story.
"Because he's my brother. We don't keep secrets like that. I had to ask him to investigate your work. He doesn't normally do that sort of thing, but if he'd just put it into the system, it could've taken years to sort out."
"He knows how we met?" Andy nodded warily. "Does he know I tried to kill myself?" Another nod. "Oh great. Does he know we're sleeping together?"
"Not as such, but I'm sure he's got a good idea. Phil did mention I stayed out all night Saturday."
"So Rupert knows you're having a fling with a girl you shafted in court over a debt, who then tried to top herself and is too stupid to realise she's been taken the piss out of at work?" My voice rose with indignation. All daydreams about being accepted into Andy's big family flew out of the window. They'd think I was some sort of loser gold-digger.
"Nobody’s judging you," he said quietly. "I've told him the circumstances. Rupert's a nice guy deep down and just wants to help."
I wasn't sure quite what to say. On the one hand, I was angry that Andy had broadcast my mistakes, but on the other, I didn't want to fall out with him. I wrestled with the concept of whether or not that made me a gold-digger. "It's embarrassing," was all I said in the end.
"Don't be embarrassed. Rupes is family. I can tell you plenty of embarrassing things that he's done."
"Such as?" I asked, pleased to be changing the subject.
"Well, he wet the bed till he was ten."
"That's embarrassing. You shouldn't be telling people," I admonished. He just grinned.
"It doesn't matter though. I doubt if he does it now. Well, I wouldn't like him in my bed when he's drunk, just in case."
I laughed. The thought of a drunken taxman wetting the bed tickled me for some reason. "How come he became a taxman?"
"He wasn't academic enough for law. My profession is all about detail and memory. Matt, the eldest, he wanted to do it, but it wasn't for him. He went into dentistry instead. He's doing well, got his own practice. Rupes joined the civil service after uni; he had to switch his course from law to history, but even then, he only scraped a 2:1. Phil is the brightest out of all of us and works in the city. I'm the only one who followed in Dad's footsteps."
"Sounds like you've all done well. Your parents must be very proud of you."
"They have all the cheesy graduation photos on the mantelpiece, which is embarrassing. I was experimenting with growing a beard in mine, so it's particularly awful."
"What degree did you get?" I was being nosy.
"I got a first in law," he said quietly, as though he was shy about his achievement.
"So you're clever in every way," I declared, which made him smile.
"Not in everything. There's still a lot I need to learn about lots of things."
"Such as?" I asked.
"You." He paused. "I need to find out more about you. I know you've had a tough life, but it's made you wary and closed off."
"What do you want to know?"
"Let's start with why you don't have a boyfriend?"
I sat back in the chair and pulled up my legs. "I've had boyfriends in the past, losers mainly. Nobody long-term or longer than a few months. As soon as they started leeching off me, I dumped them. Not going out much does make it harder to meet people, and I guess I'm not good at friendships. I used to go out with a group of girls, but when I just couldn't afford it, I sort of drifted away from them." It was better than telling him that I'd always been the one driving them and had been ditched once I'd lost my licence. They'd all been glamorous, spending fortunes on new outfits and expensive hairdos. I'd been a bit mousey in comparison.
"How did you get into debt in the first place?"
It was a tricky question. I thought for a moment how best to word my answer. "I tried to start a side-line business, to top up my pay. My friends all used to go and get their nails done, so they encouraged me to learn how to do it. I thought I could start a mobile business, you know, evenings and weekends. I did a load of research and found what was apparently the 'best' company." I did air quotes with my fingers around the word “best.” "I paid nearly fifteen hundred quid for my course, then another fifteen hundred for the kit. Almost as soon as I started, my car went wrong, which cost a thousand. I then discovered that none of my friends thought they'd have to pay for their nails. They seemed to think I was doing it as a favour. The final straw came when my fancy-pants nail lamp blew up and the company wouldn't replace it. I ended up buying another new one about a week before I lost my licence. I flogged the lot on eBay in the end for two hundred quid. By that time, I was five grand in debt. The rest was late fees, interest and charges."
I could see the compassion and concern in his expression. "Did you think I'd splashed out on clothes and holidays?"
He shook his head. "I didn't really give it much thought to be honest. As the lawyer for the plaintiff, I'm only concerned with getting repayment. I suppose I never actually asked that question before." He fell silent for a moment.
"How did you lose your licence?"
"My drink was spiked. I was drinking Fanta, and some fella thought it'd be funny to slip some vodka in each one. Probably thought if he got me a bit pissed, he'd get lucky. Instead, I got stopped, breathalysed and found to be seriously over the limit. I got a two-year ban." It was a lie, but better than admitting I'd lost track of how many glasses of wine I'd had.
"Is your middle name lucky?"
I laughed, "It is a bit of a tale of woe. I'll admit I'm a bit of an unlucky person. You must think I'm a right Calamity Jane."
"Yeah, it does sound like you've had a run of it. You need someone to take care of you."
I stared at him, dumbstruck. He blushed slightly. A heavy silence hung between us for a moment, mine because he'd stated my secret desire. I wanted a capable man, someone I could rely on and look up to. I wanted to be cherished, loved even. It was something I'd never really had, and I knew it existed. I wondered if Andy needed to play the part of being the strong one, whether the emasculation he'd experienced with his super-successful ex had caused his impotence. If that were the case, then the two of us would fit together perfectly.
"Yes, I suppose I do," I replied. I busied myself clearing our plates and putting the leftovers in the fridge. Andy always seemed to buy enough to last me an extra day, whether by accident or design, I wasn't sure.
I felt him standing behind me as I rinsed our plates. His hot breath caressed my neck, sending tingles down my spine. Any sort of close proximity to him made my body respond. It was an unconscious reaction. As soon as his lips touched my nape, I softened into him, pressing up against his firm body, fitting mine to his and feeling his warmth.
His hands snaked around my waist, pulling me in tighter, as his lips worked their way around my jaw. He gently twisted me round to face him and pressed his lips to mine, in a kiss that began soft and chaste, before it deepened to an erotic devouring. My hands instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, feeling his strong body. He pulled away for a moment, "You are so beautiful; you know that don't you?" He murmured, befor
e resuming the kiss. I didn't answer. I was too caught up in the moment, in him and in the way he made me feel.
Our lovemaking that night was frenetic. Clothes were ripped off, adventurous positions tried out, and a bed leg broken. Andy had to stack my library books under the corner to hold it up, before we could resume. We even kept the light on, which for me, made it incredibly erotic. I could gaze into his beautiful blue eyes as my orgasm tore through me, expressing my gratitude at his prowess.
As I snuggled into his chest, the hairs tickling my face, I marvelled at my change of fortune and thanked whoever was in charge for sending him into my life.
CHAPTER 6
I skipped into work the next morning, after another passionate session and a shared shower. Andy even dropped me off on his way home, as he didn't have to be in till a little later than I. I frowned at the sight of Ms Gadd's car in the car park. She didn't normally get in till the start of surgery at half-nine. I had a long list of jobs to get done before the patients started arriving at eight for pre-operation checks.
She was standing behind the desk as I walked in. She was a tall, slightly forbidding woman. Her expensively highlighted hair was cut into a sleek bob, ironed into flat submission. She was also the most humourless person I'd ever come across. "I'd like to speak to you Sally," she barked as I walked to the desk.
"Morning Ms Gadd," I replied, rather sarcastic at her lack of greeting. People skills weren't her forte. She ignored me and strode into the office. I followed her rather meekly. She had that effect on me.
She glared at me for a moment. "So you're the traitor trying to bankrupt me?" She began. I went cold, a prickle of fear ran up my spine.
"I what?" Was all I could splutter. It felt like I was in big trouble.
"Mr McCarthy, the tax inspector, is a friend of yours, sent in by you?" She was livid; I could see it on her face. I tried to hang on to my self-control and not run screaming from the room. I could feel myself begin to shake.
