The Debt

by D A Latham

  "What decisions that?" I asked.

  "I was toying with the idea of giving up the collection work, our contract’s up for renewal shortly, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to carry on, mainly after seeing what it did to you."

  "Are you mad?" I barked. "I was in that debt whether you collected or someone else."

  "That's very true, only it made me feel like the lowest human being who ever walked the Earth, preying on the poor and desperate, but knowing you don't see me that way, well, it made me think again."

  I stayed silent.

  "Knowing you don't bear a grudge over it," he said eventually. "You think I'm still worth loving, even after seeing the worst of it."

  "Of course you're worth loving, I'm sorry I don't tell you often enough. This is all very new to me too. I've never fallen in love before and, well, you know my track record with fuck-uppery..." I trailed off. He laughed down the phone.

  "You don't say? I'll bear it in mind. Listen, would you mind if we went out tonight? Phil and Iris have invited us to dinner. I think they all want to get to know you better, find out about the woman who's made me go daft."

  I smiled at the thought. "Sure, I don't mind at all. I was only going to cook that chicken you bought, but I can do it another time. I have got one question though."

  "Go on."

  "What am I supposed to do all day? I feel a bit useless here. Janet's doing the housework, and I don't need to cook..." I trailed off.

  "Well, my mum gets her hair done, beauty treatments, she goes shopping, sees friends, goes up to town to galleries and stuff. You can do any of those things, or just watch telly, read a book. I know you like reading."

  It was a revelation. I'd be able to browse the library to my heart's content and curl up in front of the fire with a good book, without the ever-pervading money worries clouding my mind. I glanced at the clock. It was still early. I could nip into Bromley and get half a dozen. "I'm gonna do that this afternoon. Do you know where the bus stop into town is?" I asked.

  "No idea. For safety's sake, get a taxi. The number’s on the hall table. There's some cash in the drawer in my study, just take what you need." I didn't need telling twice.

  Epilogue

  It didn't take long to get into the swing of things. I seemed to fit into Andy's life without too much more drama, joining him on Sundays at his mum's big lunches and getting to grips with the whole not-working thing, although I was volunteering at a local animal rescue centre a couple of days a week, which I adored. The simple act of caring for the most neglected and disadvantaged animals was an antidote to any guilt I felt over my good fortune.

  My uncle had paid up meekly, the whole three hundred and sixty thousand he owed me. I can only speculate on what Andy had said to make him do it. To me, Andy was a gentle, thoughtful man, with a strong sense of right and wrong. I'll take everyone else's word for it that he's hyper-competitive, aggressive, and a master arm-twister, I don't see any of that. I only see the kind, generous man who tenderly kisses my scars and still sends me a soppy song every day. I can't imagine my life without him now. As it is, he's accompanying me to court to support me as I give evidence against Aaron. The authorities decided to prosecute for the hit-and-run incident separately from the financial crimes. At least in prison, he wouldn't be able to thwart their attempts to unravel his labyrinthine financial affairs.

  I shook as I was called to the stand and sworn in. I tried not to look at Aaron, seated in the dock, but my eyes were inexplicably drawn to the man who allegedly tried to kill me. I still had nightmares about that night, usually involving me being eight years old again and begging the doctors not to cut me up. Several times I'd been gently woken by Andy, worried by my calling out and thrashing around. The doctor said it was post-traumatic stress, possibly laying latent from my childhood accident, unleashed by Aaron's actions. I prayed that seeing him sent to prison would lay those particular demons to rest.

  Aaron had lost his cocky swagger, appearing sullen and stroppy as I answered the myriad questions posed by the barristers for both the prosecution and the defence. It took the entire morning. After lunch, the judge would begin his summing up, and then it would be a wait for the verdict.

  We decided to eschew the cafeteria in the court and headed outside to Hays Galleria, a pretty shopping courtyard on the river, where we could enjoy a glass of wine and some great food while I got myself together again. "I think the barrister for the defence went easy on you," Andy said after we'd ordered. "He could've tried to twist you in knots to attempt to discredit your testimony. I think he knew he was on a hiding to nothing."

  "What if he gets away with it?" I asked. It was my biggest fear, that Aaron would somehow be acquitted and chase me down, angry I'd testified against him.

  "He won't. Besides, he'd be the number one suspect if anything happened to you. He might be an angry cokehead, but he's not stupid. Just hold your nerve."

  His words soothed me. I knew it wasn't anywhere near over, as Andy planned to launch a private prosecution for his attempt to put me in the frame, with a view to getting me some compensation. It meant I'd be giving evidence again at some point in the future. The first step was Aaron being convicted in Crown Court.

  As we sat through the judge's summing up, I couldn't help but imagine how I'd have been feeling if the truth hadn't been told, or I hadn't been believed. I knew I'd have been shaking from head to toe, terrified and despairing. Aaron, on the other hand, just appeared bored by the whole thing. I saw him smile at his mum, who I spotted in the front row of the public gallery. He completely ignored me. Eventually, the judge finished, and the jury were discharged to consider their verdict.

  "I could kill for a coffee," said Andy, taking my hand as we all stood to leave. "It'll probably be hours. Verdicts are rarely quick." We wandered down to the public area, where I found us seats and Andy went to the coffee concession to get drinks. I smiled as he arrived back bearing a tray of cookies and cakes as well as bucket-sized lattes.

  "Are you trying to get me fat before our holiday?" I asked, perusing the various baked goods, before settling on some millionaire’s shortbread.

  He beamed his film-star smile. "I gather Iris is panicking about standing next to you in a bikini, Phil said she's been on lettuce leaves all week."

  I laughed. We were off to the McCarthy family villa in Puerto Banus after Andy finished work on Friday, which would be my first time flying and my first-ever holiday. I was beyond excited. The preparations had succeeded in taking my mind off the trial, especially after Monica provided lists of what I'd need to take, and what I'd need to have done at the beauty salon in preparation. She'd even insisted I should wear bikinis and shorts for the first time in my life, dismissing my concerns about showing my scar as “It's only family.” I'd bitten the bullet and purchased several bikinis and pairs of shorts in addition to several full-length maxi dresses for evenings out. All of us were going, including Rupert's girlfriend and Iris, so it would be a blast.

  We'd barely finished our coffees when the announcement came through that the jury was about to deliver their verdict. My stomach turned as we walked hand-in-hand back to the gallery.

  The lead juror was a middle-aged lady with a kindly face. She reminded me a little of Maggie as she stood to address the judge. I could feel my heart pounding as he read out the first of the charges to her.

  Guilty.

  I stole a glance at Aaron. They may as well have been discussing the weather for all the reaction he gave. As the judge read out the list of charges, the juror replied “Guilty” to all of them. People in the front row of the gallery cheered. I figured they must have been the family of the poor man who'd been killed, delighted to have garnered some justice for him. I hoped that they too had the sense to sue him for compensation.

  He got five years. Andy whispered into my ear, "he'll serve two and a half. Let's hope they put him in a cell with Brooksy." Marcus had already been sentenced to seven years for supplying class A drugs.

  It
didn't seem much for taking a life and attempting to take mine too. I could only hope that the fraud squad could build a compelling case while he was in prison and prosecute him for that too. As we stood to leave, I caught sight of Maggie crying, her only son taken from her. Andy saw me looking. "She can visit him. Just keep your eyes on that poor lady down there who only has a grave to visit." He nodded towards the woman who'd cheered the sentence, supported by a sad, grey-haired man and a young woman. He was right, of course; only a death is final.

  Two days later, I took my seat next to him on my first-ever trip in an aeroplane, fizzing with excitement at the prospect of leaving the UK for the very first time. I'd been antsy all day, worried he wouldn't be home from work on time, or that we'd somehow miss our flight. As it was, he'd only made it back with ten minutes to change out of his suit before our taxi to the airport arrived.

  Gatwick was much bigger than I'd expected, rammed full of people making their weekend getaways. I'd been fascinated by the departures boards, announcing flights to exotic places such as Casablanca and Vienna. I'd dutifully followed Andy through check-in and the myriad security sections until we reached an enormous shopping mall. With half an hour to spare until our flight was called, we perused duty-free, purchasing aftershave and perfume, as well as a new pair of sunglasses each. It was enormous fun.

  Nerves began to kick in when the engines on the plane fired up and the doors were closed. I grasped his hand tightly, much to his amusement, as the plane taxied to the runway. I felt the sweat drip down my back as that stupid song went around in my head on a loop. Bloody Alanis Morrisette.

  "He waited his whole damn life just to take that flight, and as the plane crashed down, thought 'well isn't this nice?' Well isn't it ironic, don't you think?"

  "Are you alright?" He whispered, probably alarmed at the beads of sweat gathering on my nose. His voice interrupted the earworm of a song playing on repeat in my brain.

  "Talk to me," I pleaded as the plane began to speed up.

  "OK. You know that Rupert wears speedos? Did Mum not warn you? We laugh at him every year, telling him he looks like a fat German, but he insists they're more comfortable for swimming."

  I turned to face him, forgetting about hurtling along the runway for a moment. "Monica never mentioned it. What's the etiquette? I mean, where do I look? It'd be creepy if I kept staring at his crotch by mistake."

  Andy began to laugh. "I'm having you on. It's hilarious that you believed me though. I'm gonna tell Rupes when we get there. Knowing him, he'll go and buy a pair, just to see where you put your eyes."

  "Don't you dare!" I began… until I realised we were airborne.

  By the time we'd landed, got our bags, and found a taxi, it was getting late. I trailed along, marvelling at Andy's competence at travelling. He seemed to know exactly where to go. "Have you been here many times before?" I asked.

  He looked at me a little strangely. "Of course I have. Mum and Dad have had the villa over twenty-five years. We spent whole summers here when I was a kid. Mum still insists we all come out for at least one week together every year, but everyone uses it other times too. I think Matt and Mel are planning to come out for at least four weeks of the school holidays."

  Eventually our taxi pulled up outside the gates to a rather magnificent villa, situated right on the beach. As much as I liked to think I'd got used to the extreme wealth of the McCarthys, it still caused a sharp intake of breath. The villa was enormous, painted a soft cream, with white embellishments. Andy hopped out of the taxi and tapped a number into the keypad to open the gates.

  We drove past a central fountain in a circular drive, surrounded by lush gardens. Waiting at the front door were Monica and Bill, dressed in shorts and t-shirts, looking tanned and remarkably relaxed, considering they'd only arrived the day before. "Hi Mum, Dad," Andy said as we got out of the cab. He kissed his mum on the cheek as the driver pulled our bags out of the boot.

  "Sally, I'm so delighted you're here. Isn't it great news about the trial? I did tell you the truth always comes out." Monica kissed both of my cheeks. "Come, let's show you round the villa. Everyone's already here."

  She led me down a frankly magnificent hallway, through an elegant lounge and out onto a large terrace, where the entire McCarthy clan, plus girlfriends, were lounging on massive outdoor sofas drinking bottles of beer. The large, rectangular pool glittered under the outdoor lights. It looked extraordinarily inviting given how sweaty I was after the flight and subsequent taxi trip.

  After saying hello to everyone, and having an icy cold beer pressed into my hand by a slightly tipsy Phil, Andy took me upstairs to show me our room and unpack our stuff. Our room was delightful, with a large picture window and a gorgeous, marble ensuite. "I chose this room when I was six," Andy told me. "Just wait until daylight, the view is astonishing."

  "How many bedrooms does the villa have?" I asked, taking it all in.

  "Eight altogether, so we all fit in quite easily. When we've all got families of our own, it might be more of a squeeze, but it meant we could always fit in lots of friends and visitors when we stayed out here for long stretches in the summer."

  Back downstairs, Monica had prepared some supper for everyone, passing round plates of ribs and barbecued chicken, as well as providing a large bowl of salad, coleslaw, and some bread. I wondered how on Earth she did it, catering for such an enormous family, while making it look so easy, as well as always being immaculately-groomed and neatly turned out.

  We sat up until two in the morning, chatting, laughing and drinking beer. I lounged on the sofa, nestled between Andy's legs, his arm slung casually around my neck. "I think it's an imposter," slurred Rupert, who clearly couldn't handle his beer as well as the others.

  "Who's an imposter?" Asked Michelle, his girlfriend.

  "That bloke there," he pointed at Andy. "You know I've never actually seen him cuddle a lady before." He turned to Andy, "Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?" Everyone laughed.

  I woke up with a banging head the next morning. Rolling over, I saw Andy scrubbing at his face, trying to wake up. "Morning," I said.

  "I feel rough," he replied. "My mouth's full of cotton wool. Is there any water on your side of the bed?" I gently rolled back and grabbed the bottle from my bedside table.

  "It's a bit warm," I warned him.

  "Don't care." He took it and glugged it down, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Hopefully Mum's got the coffee on." He swung his legs out of bed and stood up gingerly. Satisfied he could stay upright, he pulled on a pair of shorts and slid his feet into his flip-flops. "Come on, I'm ready," he said. Huffing slightly at having to actually lift my head from the pillow, I got up and started ferreting through my wardrobe. "Just bung on a bikini and a pair of shorts," he said, impatient at my having to fix my fringe, which had scrunched up in the night.

  I did as I was told, cringing slightly at my scars being on show. I reminded myself I was with family and followed him down to the kitchen. Monica was cooking up a storm, flipping eggs while grilling bacon and making toast, clearly extremely well-practiced at catering for a large group of hungry men. Mel was making a pot of tea and pouring coffees from a cafetiere, while Iris was setting the table out on the veranda. "Anything I can help with?" I asked, praying that she'd say no.

  "Can you slice those peaches and strawberries please?" She asked, pointing at some punnets on the surface. I set to it, arranging them neatly on a plate. It wasn't too onerous. "The children often prefer fruit to a big fry-up, she explained. I took the plates outside and placed them on the table. Andy had poured me a strong coffee, which I sipped gratefully as I watched Matt and Mel's two kids play in the pool with various inflatables. They were having a whale of a time.

  Breakfast was heavenly, sitting in the sunshine, listening to everyone chatting, laughing and joking around. The banter between the four brothers fascinated me as they ribbed each other mercilessly, Rupert getting the brunt of it. It was the family life
I'd dreamed of, actually, it was better than my meagre imagination could have ever dreamed up during my darker, lonelier days.

  After a large breakfast and copious amounts of coffee, we all made our way to the sun loungers for some serious lazing about. Following the other girl's leads, I slipped off my shorts and lay back, soaking up the Mediterranean sunshine. I felt incredibly happy.

  "What's wrong with your leg?" Little Josh couldn't have shouted it much louder. I opened my eyes to find both him and his sister staring at my thigh. I glanced at Andy who was shifting on his lounger, looking extremely uncomfortable.

  "It's a scar," I told him. He leaned forward to examine it more closely.

  "How did you get it?" Asked Amelie, his little sister, who was staring at it. A sudden tension in the air was almost palpable. Even Monica froze.

  These people were family, I told myself.

  "I got it fighting a dragon," I told them. "It was a really fierce one, nearly chewed my leg off."

  "Wow," said Josh, his eyes big and round. "That's so cool."

  "Yeah, better than Uncle Rupe’s one," Amelie chimed in. "Did you kill it?"

  I nodded solemnly.

  Satisfied, they ran off to play with an orange inflatable dragon in the pool. I caught Andy's eye. Smiling, he blew me a kiss.

  The end

  Also by D A Latham

  A Very Corporate Affair Book 1

  A Very Corporate Affair Book 2

  A Very Corporate Affair Book 3

  The Taming of the Oligarch (Corporate Affair Book 4)

  Salon Affair