Chapter Thirty-Seven - Alex

Thursday 7^th December

Alexandra Collier's mood had swung like a pendulum; from fear, through bitter disappointment to pride, triumph and now, right back to fear. 

Leo Finn had her cornered, out of sight on the short cut round the back of the science block.

Alex had avoided Leo since Monday, after he caught up with her on the way home and delivered his ultimatum.  But he had gone too far, leaving left her in such a state, her mother couldn’t miss there was something massively wrong going on.  At first, Alex felt there was no-one she could turn to.  She didn’t want to tell her friends about borrowing the money, because that would be like admitting they were poor and on benefits.  She kept her phone switched off as she walked home, trying to work out an excuse for not being in touch for when she saw her gang in the morning.  She couldn’t tell Kirsty; Leo’s threat would freak her out completely.  She didn’t want to tell her mother.  She wouldn’t be able to do anything.  If she went to the school or to the police, it would make things worse for all of them.  She wanted her dad back, she wanted her dad to deal with Leo Finn and his father.  She wanted everything back to how it was before dad crashed his car and died, when they were all happy.

When mum told them over dinner that she was thinking of inviting Ralph to have Christmas dinner with them, Alex lost it, screaming at her mother that she couldn’t see someone else, that it was disrespectful to Dad to date a weed like Ralph and that it was too soon after he’d died to date anyone, that it wasn’t fair that she could spend money going out with her friends, but Alex wasn’t allowed to, that she was selfish and horrible, and she hated her.

And then she looked at her mother’s sad, shocked face, at Kirsty’s gloating approval of her anti-Ralph tirade, back at her mother, speaking to her gently, patiently, kindly, and she burst into tears, great wrenching sobs completely beyond her control which almost stopped her breathing.  Kirsty was asked to go to her room.  Bleating about not having finished her tea was cut short by an injunction to microwave it and take it up with her because this was serious.  Mum had led Alex away from the table, sat her down on the settee and let her cry and cry and, finally, start to explain.  Every time Alex admitted another lie, she expected her mum to go mental at her, only she didn’t. 

Then Mum explained that Leo Finn’s dad had been round, given her his business card and tried to lend her money.

‘You so mustn’t let that man into this house, ever again!’ Alex sobbed.  Then she told her mother what Leo’s threat had been.

‘That is not going to happen,’ said Mum.  ‘I’ll call the police right now, if you really think he meant it.’

Alex said no. 

‘In that case, I’ll speak to your Headteacher, first thing tomorrow.  This whole thing ends now.’

Alex felt weird.  She wasn’t used to her mum being this determined.  If she had woken up to find everything back to normal and mum being dithery and doormat-dull again, she wouldn’t have been surprised.  Instead, she found Mum in the kitchen, with her business suit on, wearing make-up and looking like a manager.

Overnight, trying to get to sleep, Alex had got used to the idea that her skiing holiday was not happening but decided that was nothing compared to getting Leo Finn back for being revolting.  How dare his dad go to their house?  Was it to really to try and lend Mum money or had he been planning something worse?  If only Dad was still alive; none of this would be happening.

  She didn't have to tell her closest friends about the holiday thing straight away as she missed French, talking to Ms Harrison about what had been going on with Leo Finn.  The Headteacher was obviously seriously angry, although she didn’t seem totally surprised.  Ms Harrison couldn’t say, but it seemed she’d suspected something was wrong about Leo and his dad for a while.  Alex guessed she’d heard that Leo lent money and threatened other kids.  She felt a little safer, not being the only one, and safer still when her Mum and the Headteacher got in touch with the hotline.  Alex imagined the team that tracked down loan sharks being like the FBI.

Her first lesson after the meeting, which ended embarrassingly with Mum kissing her and telling her she was brave and strong and should be proud, was geography.  There was no time to talk before the lesson as she was a few minutes late, although Mr Clark didn't seem to mind.  Usually, he got totally sarcastic with anyone who wasn’t on time.  Alex guessed Ms Harrison had texted him.  She took her usual seat between Katy and Chloe and tried to follow what Mr Clarke was saying about retreating glaciers.  At the end of the lesson, she finally got to tell her friends what was going on.

‘Oh my God!’ said Katy, although she said that about everything, from terrorism to getting chatted up by the drummer in that band at the weekend.

‘We are going to protect you!’ Chloe promised.  If she hadn’t been so much smaller than Alex herself, that might have been reassuring.

‘You can come to our room for break,’ Katy suggested.  Alex agreed.  Not only did it mean she had witnesses if Finn tried anything, it meant she didn’t have to see Caitlin and her usual gang until lunchtime, after English Lit.

Caitlin, Ellie, Sarah-Jane and Molly were unimpressed with her excuses for dropping out of the holiday.  They already knew Mum didn’t work in a real bank, having heard about that band’s appeal for the Solent Welfare Rights Project and tribute to its staff. 

‘I was so expecting this!’ Sarah-Jane sighed.

‘You were expecting Leo Finn to threaten me and my little sister?’ Alex asked. 

‘No.  I was expecting you to drop out.  You keep trying to pretend you’re not poor, but you are.  I don’t think your mum works at that Foodbank place at all.  I think she goes there for your food!’

Caitlin laughed at Sarah-Jane’s nasty joke.  To their credit, Molly and Ellie didn’t.

‘Fuck you,’ said Alex.  She kept to the busiest corridors as she made her way back to Katy and Chloe’s room, hoping she could go to lunch with them.  They were happy to see her.

‘That Caitlin Moore – she is such a bitch!’ Katy said supportively.

Alex hung around with Katy and Chloe for the rest of Tuesday, all day Wednesday and Thursday morning too.  Her former best friends snubbed her completely.  Although she should have been getting a free main meal, Alex didn't go to the dining hall.  She never had; she always bought snacks with her pocket money on the way to school, and ate those with her friends, out on the field or in one of the classrooms.

Jamie and Ryan were in Katy's class.  They usually came in from whatever they had been doing a few minutes before the lunch break ended.  Alex thought they were looking at her but she made sure she didn't make eye-contact.  Jamie was an idiot.  He had made a big deal of her not telling the truth about her mum's job when they had been at the gig and as for his friend Ryan - that loser had tried to get off with her little sister, which was gross. 

Alex had a route planned to her science class after lunch, taking the long-way round, which again kept her in busy corridors where there were plenty of other students and staff.  Caitlin and Ellie did science with her but, today, they didn't sit with her and she had to work with Olivia Smith, who nobody liked.

When the class ended, so did the school day.  Alex had to chose either the quick route back to her locker, which meant going round the back of the science block, or the long way through the main corridors again.  Mum was meeting her and a sulky Kirsty, as she had for the previous two afternoons.  Alex saw Caitlin and Ellie taking the short cut and followed them.  Leo Finn grabbed her and bundled her into a dark alcove where the old building and the new came awkwardly together.  Alex would have screamed, if he hadn't put his hand across her mouth to stop her.  She struggled, determinedly.  She was big enough to give skinny Finn a problem holding on to her.  He let go, although he still stood between her and escape.  Her first thoughts were still of getting away.  What if he had a knife?  What if he had friends?

Then she noticed he had been badly beaten.

'What happened to your face?' she asked.

'Nothing.'

'You look like you've been punched.'

'I told you, it's fucking nothing.'

'It fucking isn't.'  Alex said.  'Who did that to you?'

'If you don't want to end up the same, tell Ms Harrison you made up that stuff about me threatening you,' Finn answered.

Alex might have had every reason to fear whoever had battered Leo Finn, but she was feeling much less intimidated by Leo himself.  He looked scared and desperate and small.

'I didn't.  You did threaten me,' she answered.  'What was it? Oh yeah - you said your dad's mates would do my mum and my little sister if I didn't pay you back, but they would probably leave me alone because I was too ugly to fuck.  Well, you were right about that last bit, Leo Finn.  Your family are not going to fuck with me!’

'I never...'

'You screwed-up pervert!  You know you fucking did.' 

Alex studied the boy in front of her.  She hadn't seen him for a couple of days.  She realised because she had taken such elaborate precautions to avoid him, she had failed to notice wasn't actually at school at all. 

'He did this to you, didn't he?’ she said.  ‘You own dad beat you up, for getting him in trouble.'

'Just tell Ms Harrison, okay?'

'No.'

'You've fucking got to!'

'I fucking haven't, you dick.'

'He'll fucking kill me!'

'Your problem, Leo.'  Alex stepped forward, arms folded across her chest.

'He'll kill your mum.'

'Bullshit, Leo.  Total bullshit.'

Alex walked on.  Leo was exaggerating again.  This was what had messed it up for him before.  If his dad so much as stared hard as her mum, she would go to the police.  He must know that.  Leo Finn was an idiot.  His threats were empty.

'Tell your Aunty Ruby to look out too!' shouted Leo.  'We know where she lives!  Old people have heart attacks, don't they, if something frightens them?'

'Bastard!' shouted Alex.

Aunty Ruby was old and had smelly breath and wasn’t even a real aunty, but Leo Finn had no right to bring her into this.  Alex was scared again, a bit.  That sounded like a threat he might follow through on.

‘Say you made the threats up and Aunty Ruby will be okay,’ said Leo, seeming to notice her anxiety.

‘Fuck off, Leo Finn,’ said Alex.

There would be no more lies.  There would be no back-tracking.  Aunty Ruby would be okay, because Alex was going to tell her mother everything as soon as she saw her.  Mum would get the police to watch over Aunty Ruby and, if they were busy, Mum could always get Ralph to.  After all, if he really loved her, he would do it.

Chapter Thirty-Six - Ragged-skirted Philanthropists

Wednesday 6th December

 Paula glanced towards the door of the Community Café as the first regulars arrived for lunch.  One was her son, Shane.  He stood in line, talking unselfconsciously with a couple of the older homeless men and with Martin Connolly, who was grabbing an early meal ahead of afternoon tribunals.  Paula smiled at how dramatically Shane had changed from a bored kid with vague ambitions of first sporting, then musical greatness, to a committed and compassionate young citizen, keen to listen, learn and support others.  He no longer needed to hide behind a guitar and microphone to speak his mind or to set his thoughts to a tune.  She was far prouder of him than she could possibly tell him.

'Irish stew, chicken korma or veggie spag bol, Vinny?' Paula asked the first in the line.

‘Nothing foreign, thanks love.’

‘So, does Irish stew count as foreign?’

‘Of course not.’  Vinny pulled a creased meal token out of his coat pocket and, knowing the system well, put it in the box.  ‘I’ll have that.’

He shuffled off with a bowlful and the largest chunk of bread from the basket.

‘Funny how people don’t think of Ireland as another country, isn’t it?’ Paula remarked to Martin, as she served him a small helping of the pasta dish.

‘The north isn’t, is it?’ Shane argued from behind Vinny’s mate Jack.

‘It’s still a different country to England,’ Paula answered.  ‘And the south’s been a separate state for almost a hundred years.’

‘I suppose it’s because they speak English,’ Jack suggested.  ‘It’s not like their properly foreign.’

‘Ireland is an anomaly as far as Social Security law is concerned, too.’ Martin explained to Shane.  ‘Irish citizens have extra rights over other EEA nationals, due to the Irish Republic being part of the so-called Common Travel Area.  I’ll go through it with you one day as it can make a big difference to a claimant’s rights.’

‘Is that why they’re getting stuck on what to do with Brexit and the border?’ asked Jack.

Paula didn’t get to hear Martin’s answer, as he and Jack moved off, still talking.

‘What about you, Shazza?’

‘Veggie spag bol please, mum.’  He rummaged around in his pockets for his meal token, eventually tracking it down in a back pocket of his jeans.

‘You’re in early.’

‘Economics was cancelled.  Tutor’s got flu.’

‘Don’t let Martin spend too long explaining that Common Travel thing to you.  He’s got to go shortly.’

‘I wasn’t going to sit with them.  I was hoping to see someone else.’

‘Who?’

Shane looked around the café.

‘No-one.’  He wandered off with his lunch.

Paula guessed Shane had been hoping to catch up with Ashley over lunch.  If so, he was out of luck.  No sooner had he found a seat, apart from Martin and the homeless guys, than his grandmother came wheeling through the door from the advice area, assisted by Hilary, and parked herself alongside him.   

Hilary came over to check the menu for Lyn.

‘Have you had any more thoughts about my idea?’ she asked quietly.

‘Not really.  You know how things are with councils just now.’

‘I suppose so.’

Hilary returned to her table to take Lyn’s order.

Paula returned her attention to her next customer, one of two support workers who regularly dined at the café as part of their brief to help the town’s growing number of homeless people.  If Hilary was still determined to do her Lady Bountiful routine, she could do worse than have a few words with them, as their project was more likely to have the political will – and infrastructure – to support her initiative than the Council.  Paula had tried to dissuade Hilary from throwing her own savings at the problem of rehousing the homeless women who slept in the café’s winter shelter.  She could understand why Hilary wanted to do something but, realistically, there were plenty of potential philanthropists with greater assets than Hilary who chose to walk by on the other side.  She reminded Hilary that she had devoted her working life to improving the lot of vulnerable people.

‘You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about, Hils,’ Paula told her, when Hilary had cornered her over a coffee on Monday morning.  

‘It isn’t about feeling guilty,’ Hilary insisted.  ‘I happen to be in a position to help some of these women and others like them, but I need an independent body to audit what we do and, where possible, recover funds from landlords when our women move on from their tenancies, so we can recycle it.  My first thought was that your Housing Benefit team at the Council might assist.’ 

Paula couldn’t imagine anything less likely to happen, especially now that Richard Parker and Andy Burrows had moved on.  She told Hilary so.  As for the officers dealing with homelessness, Paula’s warning was that, in her opinion, they would swiftly tear through any gift of Hilary’s to improve their statistical performance, with no long-term plan for the fund, little thought for which of their clients were in greatest need and no capacity to chase deposit returns.

‘If we try to set something up here, from scratch, it’s extra admin for Father Cornelius and the other volunteers,’ Paula continued, heading off what she expected Hilary’s next suggestion might be.  ‘And, again, there’s no system for collecting any money back in.  It’s a lovely idea, Hilary, but it’s not practical, except as a few one-off gifts to people you can chose to help.’

If Hilary was feeling benevolent, she could make a generous donation to the night shelter and foodbank, of course.  Paula didn’t want to say that directly; she hoped Hilary would figure it out for herself.  That she had asked again whether the Council could assist at all was disappointing, even annoying.

Paula took a break at the end of lunch service.  Her mother-in-law was still sitting at the table she had shared with Shane, Hilary and, after poor Shane had gone through to help set up the IT clinic, Ashley the Goth Girl.  Paula joined them.

‘Hello luvvie,’ said Paula.  ‘I was just telling Ashley about Hilary’s idea.’

Paula was surprised Hilary had confided her scheme to Lyn.  ‘It’s not very practical, is it?’ she said.

‘What makes you say that?’ Ashley replied sharply.

‘Well, how would we get the money back from landlords, for a start?’

‘That’s the easy bit.  It’s not like it’s really their money and they can stash it in their banks.  Rent deposits have to go into a Government-run Tenancy Deposit Scheme these days.  As long as the tenant doesn’t run up arrears or trash the place, they – or we - should get it back with no trouble.’

‘A couple of big ifs there, I’d say.’

‘These women are poor, not irresponsible.’  Ashley replied.

‘Some of them are both, actually,’ Paula argued.  ‘We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t care, but we mustn’t be naïve about it.  If you put some of our women – and men – in decent rooms or flats, they’d struggle to cope.  If they end up losing their tenancies due to their conduct, the landlord keeps the cash and Hilary, or her proposed emergency fund, kisses it goodbye.’

‘Hilary says all she wants to do is something to break the cycle, to give a few homeless ladies a fresh start,’ Lyn explained.  ‘She knows the money will all go, eventually, and that she can’t help everyone.  I think it’s lovely of her; she always was kind.’

‘It’ll go faster, if she starts telling everyone about it,’ said Paula.  ‘When she first spoke to me, I thought the idea was for this to be a fund of last resort to help women who aren’t priority need to the Council but are at risk sleeping rough just because they’re women.  It is a nice idea, but I don’t see how we can’t run it from here without causing trouble.  Anyway, Hilary should look at her own situation.  She’s the one with an extra six years to work before retirement.  I thought her and Tom were cutting down, work wise.  She can’t go throwing cash around.  Can’t you talk her into a small, regular donation to this place, or to giving it to the night shelter?  We can help dozens of people that way, with no picking and choosing.’

‘Short-term fixes are no good.’  Ashley insisted.  ‘All this free food, beds on frosty nights; I’m not saying it’s not well-meant, but it’s a sticking plaster when you need surgery.  This thing Hilary wants to do is looking long-term.  She knows there are thousands of us out there, sofa-surfing, sleeping in doors, on friends’ floors, on strangers’ floors, in strangers’ beds and what keeps us there, time and again, is having no money for a deposit.  With a proper address, we can get work or at least we can get benefits.  With our own front door, we can decide who comes in and who stays out.  A bed here means a man or woman doesn’t get beaten up or pissed on tonight, but they might tomorrow, or the night after, or when we stop opening the doors.  They don’t freeze this winter but next, when everyone thinks we’ll have shut, they do.  Or they go back to someone’s sofa, someone’s floor, someone else’s bed they don’t want to share.  Hilary can help you keep that record spinning for another few months, or she can give a few women the chance to sing for themselves and pay back what we loaned them when they’re sorted.’

Before waiting for Paula’s response, Ashley stalked out to the back garden for a vape.

‘Someone got out of bed the wrong side!’ Paula muttered to her mother-in-law.

‘Weren’t you listening, luvvie?’ asked Lyn.

‘Of course, I was.  I’ve heard all this before.  Martin says the same, that we’re institutionalising charity, providing a substitute service and undermining the statutory ones in the process.  Only there isn’t a statutory service that does this, is there?’

‘Didn’t you notice that she was saying we not they?’

‘She was being dramatic.’

‘No she wasn’t, luvvie.  She’s having terrible trouble finding herself a flat up here, or even a flat-share.  She’s hanging around to view another one tonight but she says they’re either too much or really horrible, or she can’t see herself fitting in with the other people.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Paula answered.  ‘I bet she’s not that easy to live with.’

‘I don’t know, luvvie.  She’s always been nice to me and she’s got ever such a good sense of humour, though you might not think it to look at her.  I’m thinking of suggesting to Dad that she could stay with us.’

‘You’re what?’

‘She has a terrible journey, cycling in along all those main roads, and that chap she lives with, I don’t think he’s very nice to her.’

‘Don’t go falling for sob-stories, Mum.  You’re getting as bad as Hilary.’

‘That’s a terrible thing to say!’

Paula had to agree.  She wasn’t usually so cynical.  Perhaps it was the idea of having that strange girl living almost as part of the family that bothered her.  Shane had definitely taken a fancy to her but there was no way it was going anywhere.  He was too young, she was too – too weird.

‘I don’t see Dad being all that keen,’ Paula persisted, more gently but still decisively.  ‘She’s hardly likely to share his taste in music, or movies or much else, is she?  What if she plays her music too loud or has odd friends?  Anyway, who says she’ll accept even if you offer?  She might not fancy sharing with a couple of old fogeys!’

‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’

‘Don’t rush into anything, Mum.  Get one of the gang to check your rights if it all goes wrong.’

‘I’m not daft, you know!’

Paula was tempted to argue.  It seemed mean-spirited to do so, however.  Whatever had landed Hilary with her sudden desire to save the world seemed to have infected Lyn too.  She hoped it wasn’t catching.  Then she wished it was.

Chapter Thirty-Five - The Financial Advisor

Tuesday 5th November

Catherine took her coat off, hung it in the hall and walked in to her living room.  She set the business card down beside the house phone.  She had spent much of the morning so far trying to decide if she should call the number on it and, if so, what she should say.  She opted to give herself a little longer to think about it.

She had tried to speak to Colin, her Jobcentre work coach, first thing, after receiving an unexpectedly blunt text message the previous afternoon, informing her that she was in breach of her claimant commitment for failing to attend an appointment with him the previous Friday and that there were likely to be consequences.  This was the appointment which she had already explained clashed with work and which she had offered to reschedule.  Catherine replied as soon as she saw it, explaining that she had already advised him she could not make that date.  She let him know she was free all day on Tuesday - although she had made plans, they could be changed - and had expected a message with a new date and time, not what she actually received.  A separate, standardised message informed her that she would face a seven day sanction plus additional days until she complied with the requirement to arrange an appointment with her work coach.  This would wipe just over ten pounds per day from her Universal Credit.  Catherine quickly calculated that, unless Colin accepted she was back onside before her next payment was due, it would be at least one-hundred and seventy pounds short.  It could not be. She needed her full payment if she was going to pay her rent in full when Mr Stevens expected it.  She phoned the Jobcentre and was promised a call back.  She updated her journal to include the fact that she had called and the promise of contact.  She called again.  After several minutes of Vivaldi, she sent Colin another text. 

‘This must be what it’s like trying to contact a boyfriend who’s decided to dump you!’ she complained.

Later that same afternoon, she had been weighing up the pros and cons of asking for an advance on her wages, when the doorbell had sounded.

'Mrs Collier?'

The man standing on her path was a little younger than herself, dressed in a chic winter coat, undone to show off a well-cut suit.

'If you're selling double-glazing or similar, I'm not interested,' she said shortly.  'This is a rented property.'

He laughed good-naturedly. 

'It's nothing like that,' he said.  'Doorstep salesmen are a pest, aren't they?'

'And people peddling their faith,' Catherine answered shrewdly.

'It isn't that either,' he assured her.  'I'm Leo's father.'

'Leo?'

'Leo Finn.  He's in the same years as your daughter - Alex, isn't it?'

'Yes, I believe he is.'  The name suddenly dropped into place.  Catherine decided she had things to say to this man about his son’s conduct.  'Come in, Mr Finn.'

'Please, call me Nigel.'  

He had a salesman's firm, trustworthy handshake.  Catherine led him to the kitchen.  She didn't want him to make himself too comfortable.

'Tea or coffee, Nigel?' 

Catherine was quietly glad when he declined.

'I take it this is about Alex selling some of her things to Leo?' she said.

'I'm sorry?' he said, seeming genuinely surprised.

'Alex was trying to get some money together to pay the deposit for the school skiing trip, despite the fact I'd told her she couldn't go.  We lost my husband this time last year and...'

'My sincerest condolences, Mrs Collier.  Leo told me that.  He didn't mention that Alex had sold anything to him, simply that she really wanted to go and that he understood things were rather...' he paused.  'A little difficult for you.  Financially, that is.'

Catherine was not best pleased that Alex had been sharing their money troubles with her friends, although she might have guessed this Leo boy must be in the know. 

'It has been hard but I'm working again now.'

'So Alex will be able to go on the trip?'  Nigel Finn appeared delighted.  'Leo - and the rest of their friends - will be pleased.'

'I didn't say that.  In fact, I've made it quite clear to her that she can't think of going.  It's not just the cost of the holiday, it's the clothes, passport, luggage...'

'It doesn't pay for itself, I know.'  Nigel Finn gave her a sympathetic smile.  'It would mean such a lot to her, though.  They're a very close, cliquey group.  If Alex is the only one who misses out, she's likely to take it quite badly.  That's why Leo asked me to come to see you.  He was hoping we could help you.’

‘Help me?’

‘Help you financially, with the cost of the trip, so the friends could all go on holiday together, before they have to really knuckle down for their exams.’

‘Mr Finn…’

‘Nigel…’

‘Mr Finn, I’m sorry but there’s absolutely no way I could possibly…’

Nigel Finn put a hand to his forehead.

‘I knew I’d get it all wrong.  I’ve offended you now.  Absolutely the last thing I wanted to do.’

‘I’m sure you’re acting with the best of intentions, but I can’t possibly accept your money and I must ask you to have a word with your son, and stop him encouraging Alex to think she can win me round or that he can pay for her.  We all have to get used to things being rather different to how they used to be.  I have to be careful, economical and independent and, much as it’s terribly difficult for her, Alex needs to start learning these skills too.’

She didn’t want to offend Nigel Finn by suggesting that Leo’s motives might be other than altruistic.  Alex didn’t tend to attract the wrong sort of attention from boys, unlike her little sister, but there was something unsettling about this supposed keenness to include her in the skiing trip.  Catherine could remember the names of most of Alex’s closest friends and her daughter occasionally mentioned boys in her classes.  Catherine could not recall Alex, nor any of her friends, mentioning Leo Finn until the matter of trading electronic gadgets for the school trip deposit had come to light.  

‘You’re a wise woman, Mrs Collier,’ Finn agreed.  ‘I suppose we do indulge our kids, when we can, a little too much.  They’re young for so short a time, aren’t they?  Leo’s already worrying about tuition fees if he goes to Uni, whether he’ll be able to get a decent job, buy a house – all the things our generation took for granted.  I suppose that’s why I try to reward him, when he works hard and stays out of trouble.’

‘Alex gets her rewards too,’ Catherine protested. 

‘I don’t doubt it, Mrs Collier.’ 

Without being asked to leave, he moved towards the door.  Reaching into the breast pocket of his suit, he took out a business card, setting it down on the sill of the little window beside the front door. 

‘In case you change your mind,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’

She closed the door behind him a little more hastily than was entirely polite.

The smell of what was probably a very good cologne still lingered as she inspected his card.  That it was for a company called Lifebuoy Financial Services caught Catherine by surprise.  It seemed that Mr Finn was a financial advisor of some sort.  In an area like this, he might have a prestigious client group, although, as she turned it over in her hands, she felt it was odd that it didn’t have Nigel Finn’s name on it, nor a job title, nor an address, merely a mobile phone number and an exhortation not to drown in debt.  Catherine had never been a money adviser, but she had an idea that anyone giving financial advice should be licenced and that, if for no other reason than good practice, details of that licence should be on cards and correspondence. 

Minded to do some detective work, she had settled down at her computer, but been interrupted by a telephone call.  It was Ralph.  He had another odd day of annual leave booked for the following day.  He had done all the chores he needed to at his allotment and the weather forecast suggested too nice a day to waste it sat at home writing out Christmas cards.  He wondered if she would like to join him for a walk and a pub lunch.

‘That would be lovely, Ralph, but…’ 

She absolutely could not afford another meal out.

‘If you’re busy, we could make it just lunch?’

‘I can’t really…’

‘Or the walk and no lunch.’  He sounded sad.  ‘It’s a shame not to get out and about while the weather’s so bright.’

‘I’ll probably have to go to the Jobcentre,’ Catherine explained.  ‘I don’t know what time.’

‘Then let me give you a lift and either treat you to lunch before your appointment or after it, and we’ll have a walk too, if there’s time.  Riverside Park is nice, or the Itchen Navigation.’

‘Don’t be silly, Ralph.  You didn’t book a day off to spend it hanging around waiting for me outside the Jobcentre.  You have a nice day out in the New Forest or the Meon Valley, or up on the Portsdown Hills or…’

He was absolutely right not to want to waste the day.  Catherine could not afford to waste it either.  She needed to track down Colin and come up with a plan to pay her rent.

‘Let me know if you change your mind,’ Ralph said, trying to sound upbeat but not making a very convincing job of it.

‘I promise.’

Catherine knew she couldn’t borrow through most conventional resources.  William had seen to that.  She had no access to money of her own for the last seven years of her marriage so had no credit reference history.  She had no credit card and little chance of getting one at this address, due to Will’s history of problematic borrowing.  She could approach her bank.  She would do so, when she was next in town, although she doubted they would be willing to help with her income so low and precarious. 

‘Don’t Drown in Debt!’ she instructed herself, reading Nigel Finn's card again.

It was half-past ten on Tuesday morning when Colin from the Jobcentre called.

‘What’s all this about a sanction?’ Catherine asked him.  ‘I told you I couldn’t come in on Friday morning, because I was working.’

‘Sorry.  I forgot.’

‘Is that why you didn’t arrange another appointment?’

‘It is, yeah.  We can do that now, if you like.’

‘I’m free all day today.’

‘I’m not.  What about Wednesday morning?’

‘I’m working Wednesday, Thursday and Friday morning.  I told you.  I put that on my journal.’

‘You did, yeah.’  She guessed her was checking his diary.  ‘Next Monday?’

‘I can do any time next Monday.’

‘Nine o’clock?’

Later would be better but she could manage that, taking an early bus.  ‘That’s fine.’

‘I’ll put that on your journal.’

‘So will I.’  It made sense not to leave anything to chance.  ‘I take it that’s the end of the sanction issue?’

‘That’s up to the Decision Maker.’

‘You’ve just admitted it was your mistake!’

‘It’s gone to a Decision Maker, though.  I can tell them.  I expect it’ll be alright, although they’ll look at your work search too.’  She heard keys clicking.  ‘You haven’t put much on your journal.’

‘That's because I’ve actually been working, Colin.’

‘Yeah, of course.’

Catherine had a sinking feeling that there might still be a problem with her payment.

‘Colin, I need this payment to come through without a hitch.  I can’t upset my landlord.  Do you understand me?’

He insisted he did.

‘I’m going to put my working hours and the details of my rent due in my journal too, so the Decision-Maker can see it, okay?’

Colin agreed she should.  She sensed he had no idea whether it would help.

By the time she put the phone down, Catherine was almost ready to make her call to Nigel Finn.  She made one other first.

‘Thanks for coming round, Ralph,’ she said when her friend arrived.  ‘I thought I ought to have a witness and some moral support before I do this.’

She dialled the mobile number on the business card.  Finn answered.

‘Mrs Collier!  How nice to hear from you!’

‘You may change your opinion about that, Mr Finn,’ Catherine advised him.  ‘I’m calling to ask that you never contact me or my family ever again, or I will go to the police.  I have spoken to the Head at the school regarding both Alex’s false hopes of participating in the skiing trip and Leo’s utterly unacceptable attempt to exploit her dream.  I'm sure you will be hearing from the school in due course, but I wanted you to be in no doubt as to whom had raised this matter with them, and that they know the full details of the threats made against my daughters by your son.’

‘I’m shocked and disappointed, Mrs Collier.  Leo and I were genuinely trying our best to help…’

‘Arrant nonsense, Mr Finn.  You are no more genuinely trying to help than you are genuinely offering financial services.  Why is your name and address not on this card?  Where are the details of your FCA registration?’

‘I must have given you an old one by mistake.’

‘Your mistake, Mr Finn, was coming round here at all.  I trust you will not repeat it.’

Finn started swearing.  Catherine left the telephone on speakerphone until he hung up.

‘Good day to you too, Mr Finn!’ she said.

‘Gosh,’ said Ralph.  ‘He sounds rather a nasty piece of work.’

‘He doesn’t give that impression when you first meet him.  He’s all smiles and charm, when he thinks he might reel you in.’

‘Reel you in?’

‘He’s a loan shark.’

‘Good lord!’ Ralph’s brow furrowed.  ‘They can be jolly unpleasant, can't they?  Are you sure you did the right thing to call him?’

‘Someone has to take a stand, Ralph.’  Catherine replied.  ‘I wanted to make sure he knew not to try his scams with me.  He’s due a visit from the authorities following my visit to the school this morning already.’

‘On account of his son’s antics?’

‘And his own.  I showed the Head this business card.  She said it confirmed something that had troubled her about an incident involving another local family, but couldn’t say any more about that to me.  There’s a national hotline to report loan sharks, so we called it from her office and gave them all the information we both had about Finn.’

‘I say!' Ralph said.  'How terribly brave of you!’

Catherine didn’t feel brave at all, compared to her elder daughter.

‘Alex has been braver.  If she hadn’t opened up to me last night about what was happening at school, I might not have spotted Finn’s game.  In a way, although it sounds dreadful, it was almost lucky that Leo scared Alex so much she told me the truth and asked for help.’

‘What did he say?’

‘I’d rather not share that, Ralph.  It was rather distressing.  Alex has been fantastic, though.  As well as owning up to deceiving me, which took a lot of guts, she’s had to face down the jibes of her better-off friends and face up to missing out on her holiday.’

‘That must be grim.’

‘It was.  On the plus side, however, she’s got a better idea who her true friends are now and has earned their respect.  Most of them aren’t going on this dreadful skiing trip either, so they'll have a better time while the snobs are away, she can stop trying to be someone she isn’t and get on with being the lovely, bright kid she actually is.’

‘I’m sure that will make life easier for you both,' Ralph said.  'Now, after all that, would you still like to come out for lunch with me?’

‘I’ve had rather a hectic morning, Ralph, and I still have to…’  Catherine smiled.  ‘Actually, that would be lovely.  Nothing too fancy - and you must promise to let me treat you, when I can.’

‘You have my word on it,’ he replied.