The Debt

by D A Latham

  "I don't know…" I began, but she cut me off.

  "I have proof." She took her iPhone off the desk and prodded it, before thrusting it in my face. I could clearly see myself seated behind her desk, the back of Rupert's head visible. I hadn't noticed her phone there. I heard myself answering his questions.

  I cringed.

  She prodded it to switch it off. "You are a lying, thieving, little troublemaker. You made all that up about not being paid."

  By that time, I was shaking uncontrollably, my entire body engulfed in mini-convulsions at the confrontation. "You should have paid what the law said," I found myself saying, albeit in a small voice. "I didn't go to them, they came to me."

  "You expect me to believe a word that comes out of your lying little mouth? He clearly says you're a friend of his brother. You know what this is? Conspiracy to blackmail, that's what. You might think you can extort money out of me, but you broke data protection telling your boyfriend about my private business. You could go to prison for that." She was yelling right into my face. Instinctively, I stepped backwards, only to find myself trapped by a filing cabinet. She looked as though she was going to slap me, her face contorted in fury. I lifted my arm across my face, thinking she was about to strike.

  "Oh, you're sorry now, you lying little toe-rag! Well, I won't give you any excuse to sue," she spat, backing off slightly, "but you can fuck right off out of my surgery. We have no use for liars, blackmailers, or thieves. Consider yourself sacked for gross misconduct."

  Her words had the desired effect. I'd flinched when she'd sworn at me and cowered as she'd dismissed me. I knew I should've shouted back, told her the truth: that she'd been the one to break the law, not me, but I was too shocked and traumatised. I let out a huge sob and fled, pushing past the receptionist on my way out.

  I sucked in lungfuls of bitterly cold air through my sobs, my body and emotions out of control. I was shaking from head to toe and unable to think straight. I sat down on someone's garden wall across the road and sobbed. It felt like my day in court all over again, only this time I still had the debt plus I'd lost the job that I loved. I fumbled for my phone. I needed Andy to save me. Again.

  My hands shook so much that I struggled to press the speed dial key. Eventually I managed to prod it and waited for it to ring. He answered straightaway, "Hi babe, what's up?" His gentle voice caused another wave of sobs to rack through me, and I could barely get the words out.

  "She… She sacked... me."

  "She did what?" He sounded horrified. "She can't do that. You were acting within the law."

  "Gross misconduct," I managed to say, "for talking to you... about my wages." Another wave of sobs hit, preventing me from hearing what he said. I think he was swearing. "I don't know what to do," I wailed. This had always been my worst fear. I could get through anything... except losing my job. I wished I had just kept quiet, either that or managed to get it right at Bromley Station. At least I'd have died a gainfully-employed veterinary nurse. As it was, I felt lost, a serial loser. In a tiny corner of my mind, I even blamed Andy for making me speak up, for causing it all.

  "Try and keep calm," he said. "I'm coming to get you. Can you tell me where you are?" I could hear panic in his voice. He was probably worried I'd go back to Bromley South.

  "I'm outside the surgery," I managed to say. I was hyperventilating a bit as uncontrollable sobs shook me, making it hard to breathe.

  "Stay there. I think Rupert's nearby. I'll call him to pick you up and take you home. I'll be as quick as I can."

  "Why are you bothering? I asked. "I'm just a lost cause." I wanted to be alone with my humiliation. I even regretted calling him, although it had been my first reaction.

  "Sally, let's not go there," he warned. He sounded exasperated, probably due to my never-ending calamities. "Just sit tight and wait for Rupert. I'll get off the train and come straight back."

  "There's no need," I said. "I can walk home."

  I don't think he heard me, as his phone went dead. I foraged around in my handbag for a tissue to stem the flow of tears and snot. The street seemed eerily quiet, especially for rush hour, but I saw Bessie's owner lead her in for her pre-op checks. I fought the urge to go and wish her luck. I prayed that Maria wouldn't get sacked as well. Bessie needed a good nurse looking after her.

  An Audi screeched around the corner, like it was being chased. The driver slammed on the brakes to bring it to a halt beside me. I peered in and saw Rupert, looking grim-faced. "You OK?" He said.

  I nodded and ran round to the passenger side. I hopped into the car and shut the door behind me. Rupert took one look at my tear-streaked face and said; "I'm sorry she did this to you."

  Cue more tears.

  I cried all the way back to my bedsit. I felt a bit sorry for Rupert, having to put up with me sobbing in his car. Eventually he spoke. "How did she know what you told me?"

  "She recorded us," I managed to say.

  "So did I," he said, "and you did nothing wrong. I bet Andy has a field day with this."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He's a lawyer, and a good one too. Loves a bit of litigation. He'll rip her apart."

  "For what?" I asked.

  "Oh, where do I start? Unfair dismissal, minimum wage violations, breach of contract, and they're only the ones I can think of, and I'm no lawyer. Andy's an aggressive little shit and bloody good at his job. That's why he's done so well."

  We pulled up outside my flat. I thought Rupert would just drop me off, but he jumped out of the car and followed me in. "I'm fine, I don't want to take up any more of your time," I said, sniffing. I desperately wanted to be on my own for a while and have a good howl.

  "It's OK. I can get to Ms Gadd anytime. Andy asked me to stay until he got here. Cheeky bastard told me to put the kettle on. Thinks I'm his tea boy." I sat down on my bed and watched as Rupert filled the kettle and switched it on. "What might be best is if I stay here, and you can tell us both what happened in there. Save you telling the story twice. I'll probably launch a full tax investigation as well as the current payroll one. That'll make her life a misery for a while, especially if Andy unleashes the hounds of Hell who work in his litigation department." He paused and looked at me with his clear, compassionate eyes, "We'll do worse to her than she's done to you."

  More tears rolled down my face. I swiped them away with my now-soggy tissue. Rupert disappeared into the bathroom, re-appearing with a large wedge of loo roll, which he handed to me before busying himself with the tea. I dried my eyes before watching him expertly move around the little kitchenette in the corner of my room. He resembled Andy, possibly not as good-looking, and his body was heavier set, more prone to run to fat in middle age. Andy was leaner and more muscular. He placed three teas on the coffee table and plonked himself down in the armchair.

  "He'll get fed up with all my fuck-ups," I blurted out. "Seems every time he sees me I've got a fresh crisis."

  "Oh, I don't know, I think he quite likes being a knight in shining armour for a change. It must beat being treated like a imbecilic puppy."

  "Charlotte?" I asked. He nodded and pulled a pained face.

  "‘The Horror Bitch,’ we used to call her, behind Andy's back of course. She was the bossiest, coldest, and most condescending woman I've ever met. God knows how Andy put up with her for as long as he did. Even our dad was scared of her."

  I smiled, albeit a wan one.

  "Mum breathed a sigh of relief when they broke up. I think she's hoping for a gang of nice daughters-in-law. She gets on brilliantly with Mel, Matt's missis, so it was a shame she couldn't warm to the Horror Bitch." He sipped his tea.

  "Does she like your girlfriend?"

  "I've not taken her home yet, not been with her long enough. Mum's pretty easy going; it was only Charlotte she struggled with. She adores Phil's girl, although I'm not sure that Phil always feels the same way."

  I wanted to ask how long was deemed “long enough” before meeting the family, but kept quiet,
not wanting to sound pushy. I took a swig of my tea, the hot liquid soothing my rather sore throat. "What happens now in regards to the wage investigation?" I asked him.

  "It carries on as normal. If she doesn't pay it, it will be passed to the industrial tribunal to add onto any damages. I'll also make sure she receives the maximum penalty fine possible."

  "She won't pay up," I said despondently. "I've seen her screw people over plenty of times." I'd actually seen her inflate bills, not pay final wages, and massively inflate pet insurance claims. I should've known it'd be my turn one day.

  "Andy can use the high court bailiffs. They'll get the money out of anyone, plus of course, she drives a nice, expensive car. It might take a while, but they'll get it."

  We were interrupted by the front door buzzer. I went down to let Andy in. Seeing his concerned face started me off again, and I sobbed as he gathered me into his strong arms and gently stroked my hair. "I'm sorry this happened to you," he murmured, before pulling me into a tight hug.

  After releasing me, he followed me upstairs. He sat in the armchair opposite Rupert and picked up his tea. "So tell me what happened in there. I need every detail. I'm gonna record it if that's OK?"

  I nodded my assent before telling them in minute detail the story of that morning's events. Both of them asked questions as we went, making sure they had every piece of information they could possibly need. Eventually, we finished and they both seemed satisfied that I'd relayed everything. Andy switched off the recording app on his phone. Rupert made another tea. Rather stupidly, I calculated how many tea bags I had left.

  "You look in another world," said Andy, "What are you thinking about?"

  "How to afford more tea bags," I blurted without thinking. "I paid my rent for the month yesterday, and the bills are up to date, but I've only got fifty pounds left until I get another job."

  "You'll have to go and sign on," he told me, "then your rent will be paid and you'll get job seeker’s allowance."

  I glanced over to see Rupert staring at him, his jaw dropped open in shock. "I don't know how to sign on. I'll just look for another job," I said quietly. I was sure I heard Rupert mutter something like “insensitive git.”

  "You can apply online," he said, oblivious to both my refusal and Rupert's look of horror at his suggestion.

  "How much is your rent?" Rupert asked.

  "Three-fifty a month, but it includes the heating and electric bills," I replied. Rupert threw Andy a look that I didn't understand before plonking his drink in front of him.

  "That's not a lot," Rupert commented.

  "It is when you haven't got it," I pointed out. "Anyway, I need to get a job, I can't live on fresh air. I'll get online and start applying straight away."

  "You'll still be paid at the end of this month though?" Andy said.

  I laughed, "I doubt it. She's never paid final pay to my knowledge. Fobs people off until they get fed up and go away."

  "She sounds like a total shyster," Andy said. "Isn't there vet registration that you can complain to, you know, like dentists have?" I shook my head. Miss Gadd had been a law unto herself and had gotten away with it for such a long time that she probably didn't even realise it was illegal.

  Rupert drained his cup, "Wish me luck, I'm going into battle..."

  "Let's hope you get out in one piece," I said. "And thank you, you know, for today."

  "No probs," he replied in his good-natured way. "I'll speak to you later," he told Andy, who nodded his goodbye, and with that, he went.

  "He's nice, kind," I said to Andy once we'd heard the door slam.

  "He's a bit of a prat at times, but his heart's in the right place," he agreed. "Listen, will you be OK on your own? Only I'd like to get into work and make a start on this. The sooner we can get papers served, the better."

  "Yeah, I'll be OK," I reassured him. I glanced at the clock; it was almost half-ten. I hoped he wouldn't get into trouble for being late.

  As soon as he'd gone, I buried my face in my pillow and howled out the disappointment and despair. Even with Andy in my life, I felt lost— hopeless even. He hadn't understood my poverty at all and been dismissive of my admittance that I had just fifty quid to my name. I was only a month away from being on the streets, which was a terrifying thought.

  With sore, puffy eyes, I logged onto the Social Security website and read up on how to apply for benefits. I dutifully filled out all the forms, which took over an hour and finally pressed “submit,” breathing a sigh of relief at actually having done something practical about my situation.

  Two seconds later, an email appeared in my inbox from the DSS to tell me how much I was entitled to. I opened it quickly and scanned through it, until I got to the bit where it said:

  “Your entitlement to out-of-work benefits is: £0”

  I felt sick. With shaking hands, I dialled the helpline number. After waiting half an hour to speak to someone, eventually I got an officious Scottish woman. I explained my situation, spent another half an hour going through all my details again, only to be told I didn't qualify. In her words, I hadn't paid enough in to the system.

  "But my hours were cut, and I was paid below minimum wage, which is being investigated," I wailed.

  "You should have taken another part time job then," was her reply.

  "Am I not entitled to anything at all? How am I supposed to eat? I was getting tax credits." I asked.

  "Your doctor can refer you to a food bank if needs be, but the computer says you're not entitled to any benefits at all. They've been subject to all the cuts you see. Hardly anyone qualifies, usually only people with dependant children under five, or asylum seekers. Out-of-work benefits are different from in-work ones."

  I could tell from her tone that she was scathing about the system she had to administer. "You can appeal this decision by writing to your local benefit office, but I can tell you that only one percent of appeals are successful and given that you were sacked, even if it's wrongful dismissal, they'll say no to you. Best try and get another job then," she said kindly.

  Mindful of running up a phone bill, I gave up. I texted Andy to tell him I'd tried to apply for benefits, but wasn't entitled due to being both underpaid and sacked. He didn't reply.

  Despondent, I Googled “veterinary nurse jobs, Bromley.” To my surprise, a few popped up. I read through them all and applied for two. One was at a large surgery in Bromley South. They needed someone ASAP with surgical experience. I'd only been qualified to assist with operations for a year, but I figured it might be enough to get me in the door.

  The second one I applied for was quite interesting. It was a private individual looking for a full-time caregiver for his or her two dogs, both of which were German Shepherds. I pondered for a while over the application form, which was long and complex. Some of the questions were a little strange, things like; “Why do you want to look after animals?”

  I'd replied that I not only loved animals, but I respected them too and was committed to making sure their lives were as happy and healthy as possible. I didn't know if that was the right thing to say, but it was the truth. I pressed “send” and went back to perusing other job ads.

  CHAPTER 7

  Andy arrived quite late that evening, bearing a takeaway and a bag of shopping, which thankfully included both tea bags and a bottle of wine, which he opened expertly. I told him about the call to the benefit office and how unfair the system was. He seemed preoccupied, lost in his thoughts.

  "Penny for them?" I asked when I caught him staring into space.

  He smiled, "Nothing much, just planning a strategy."

  "Are you getting sick of having to help me all the time?" I asked. It had been preying on my mind. I would've bet he regretted buying me that phone already.

  "Of course not. I feel sad for you, naturally, but all of it can be sorted out."

  "I meant to ask, how do I top my phone up? I must be nearly out of credit with that long call today." I needed the phone more than ever, what
with applying for jobs. There was no way I could let it run out. When we'd bought it, Andy hadn't let me see how much it was, sending me out of the shop while he dealt with it.

  "Oh, it's OK, I put it onto my contract. You don't have to pay for calls or texts." As soon as he said it, another bit of stress fell away. It was another problem I wouldn't have to deal with. "Just don't hammer it, OK?"

  "I wouldn't do that," I told him, annoyed at the suggestion. "You see how frugally I live, why would you think I'd change?" He just shrugged.

  "So what shall we do this evening?" He asked, changing the subject.

  "TV, film, or wild sex?" I offered. I was good at creating a distraction too. He smiled and shot me a look that could scorch the sheets. Without warning, he scooped me up off the chair and dropped me onto the bed, before leaning over me, pinning me with his arms and kissing me fiercely. He seemed as needy as I was, albeit for different reasons. He was my lifeline at that moment; I truly couldn’t afford to lose him.

  I showed my appreciation with a long, thorough blowjob, spending a long time alternately licking and sucking his wide, beautiful penis. He let out little moans occasionally, showing me the moves he liked the best. He seemed to love getting his balls licked with long, lush strokes of my tongue. I could feel his cock straining as I licked him, so heavily engorged I could barely move it from where it lay across his belly. It was leaking pre-cum, which I greedily sucked off the tip.

  “Sal, I’m coming! Oh God, I’m coming,” he called out. I didn’t miss a beat, taking every drop into my mouth, swallowing it all as it pumped out. I needed to become his everything, just as he was to me, and that meant showing him what I could do for him in exchange for everything he was doing for me. It may have been a little calculating, but I never meant it in a bad way. I just wanted to keep him, to make him my man.

  I crawled up his body as he lay recovering; pressing tiny kisses on his smooth skin as I went, until I’d reached his face where I softly placed my lips on his. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me on top of him. His tongue found mine and treated it to long, slow licks, before we came up for air. let out little moans occasionally, instinctively, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me on top of him. His tongue found mine, and treated it to long, slow, licks before we came up for air. “That was amazing,” he whispered, “I never wanted it to end.”