Chapter Twenty-Eight - Paying the Rent

Tuesday 28^th November

Catherine had a list of essential tasks to work through on her last day before she ‘started work’.  Although she wasn’t going to be employed until 1^st December, she had volunteered to work Wednesday, Thursday and Friday this week, to help herself settle into the routine.  Having heard her offer, Martin had booked annual leave for Thursday.  Like most of the team he was owed more than he could find the time to take; the prospect of an extra day at home with Parveen before her return to work was not to be missed.

Top of Catherine’s list was to pay December’s rent, in full.  She had the money; her Widowed Parent’s Allowance had cleared the previous day, along with a week’s Child Benefit, and she had enough UC left to make up the difference and a little spare to see them through to their next UC payday.  Money could be horribly tight by then, still more than two weeks away, but she had stocked up the freezer in readiness.

There were also some tinned standbys for use during that time, thanks to Father Cornelius.  He and Terry Walker, who had popped in at lunchtime, had been working through the foodbank storeroom in readiness for a promised pre-Christmas delivery from one of the supermarkets and were unloading items perilously close to their use-by date.  When he dropped into the advice office early on Monday afternoon, just as she was leaving, Catherine waited to see how her colleagues would react to the offer.  When Hilary joined Martin and Deepak in going to take a look, she felt comfortable following.

‘No-one knows it’s foodbank supplies,’ Deepak explained.  ‘Rather than doing that thing where they mark the dates on in marker pen, it’s all organised using Terry’s clever crating system.’

‘Something I picked up from the storeman at the works,’ Terry said.  ‘It works well enough but there are some things get donated that people don’t seem to fancy, like all these funny mixed beans and poncy soups.  I used to think you’d eat anything if you were that hungry, but I suppose if you hate something that much, or don’t know what to do with it, you’d rather go without.’

Catherine had helpfully taken away a few of tins of each, along with a couple of packets of wholemeal pasta and some other unlikely offerings, careful not to help herself to more than her colleagues.  She didn’t know how much they guessed about her circumstances.  Toby had been very discreet when he’d returned the letter about her DHP refusal that had fallen out of her bag and she had no reason to think he’d said anything about it to his colleagues.  The possibility that she had been offered paid work out of charity rather than on ability was mortifying, although there was nothing in the way Hilary had suggested it to make her think she was doing anything other than helping the Project out in a crisis.

She had checked how her wages might impact her benefits too.  She could keep almost two hundred pounds per month with no affect on her Universal Credit, as a working parent with housing costs.  The remainder would diminish her payment by sixty-three pence for every pound she earned.  She was due to work sixteen days in December, six hours per day at eleven pounds fifty per hour.  That would give her around nine-hundred pounds above her disregard, of which she would keep less than three-hundred and forty.  Looked at like that, she was working fifty hours for nothing.  Taking the glass-half-full approach, however, she would be about five-hundred pounds a month better off.  She could take the girls out in the sales and get them the new clothes, shoes and other treats they had done without most of the year, and still stay ahead of the rent demands.

What she couldn’t do was to rest on her laurels.  She had been promised work for this coming month only.  Although she might be lucky and keep these hours or take on some of Hilary’s in the New Year, she needed to keep her eyes open for other options.  She would have a better chance of something skilled, interesting and well-paid then, moving on from a paid and more varied post than her temporary role with the Council.  She was sure she would get a better and more personal reference from the team at the Solent Welfare Right Project than she had from the agency.

Colin the work coach still had other ideas about how she could go forward.  Despite her sharing the good news about her job and her proposed working hours, he continued to forward details of care assistant and retail jobs to her.  Her also proposed a meeting to review progress on Friday morning.  More mindful than ever of the consequences of failing to continue applying for jobs, Catherine dutifully sent off Universal Jobsmatch CVs and made sure all actions were carefully logged in her UC journal.  Before setting off for the lettings agency with her cheque, she emailed him a reminder that she would be working on Friday and could not come in that morning, advising him that she could come in during the afternoon or on an earlier afternoon if it was more convenient for him.

We need to review your Claimant Commitment he replied.

That’s fine by me.  I’m free after two o’clock any day this week. 

Catherine was reluctant to forego another Community Café lunch.  Her free hot meals had enabled her to scrimp at home and only cook for her daughters during the week.  Since most packaged food worked better for two or four than three, this was a great help in stretching the food budget.  She had missed out yesterday, of course, after giving Heidi Sparrow her lunch ticket, but the poor woman had been at her wits’ end and giving her the chance to stay in the warm and enjoy a hot meal had seemed the least Catherine could do when she couldn’t budge her from her refusal to appeal her sanction.  In all fairness, there probably wasn’t a good cause argument for it to be considered late, but Catherine had so wanted to be allowed to try.

It was cold outside, though bright and still enough to make the walk a pleasure.  Catherine had almost been tempted to put her gardening coat on and drop in at the allotment on her way back, but worried that scruffy attire would give the wrong impression to her landlord.  Instead, she had dressed as if for work and put on make-up, keen to look professional.

‘Good morning, Fiona!’

Mr Stevens’ receptionist looked up from her typing.

‘Mrs Collier!’  She smiled.  ‘I wasn’t expecting you for a couple of days.  How are you keeping?’

‘Well, thank you.  I’m working again, so I’ve come in to pay this coming month’s rent money.’

‘That is good news – for both of us!’  Fiona quipped.  ‘Cash or card?’

‘Card.  I don’t like carrying large amounts of cash.’

‘It’s hardly a large amount.  Your rent is very reasonable.’

Her landlord had come in through the door from the street.

‘These things are relative, Mr Stevens.  To me, it’s a very large amount.’

‘Not to me.’  Stevens grumbled.  ‘I’ve got tenants who owe me ten times that much that I can’t get out yet.’  He threw a set of shiny house keys down on the desk.  ‘There’s one less this morning, thankfully.’

‘You met the bailiff alright then?’ asked Fiona.

‘Yeah.  No sign of Hamilton herself, though.  She can’t have these to get her stuff out until I say so, right?  I’m going to get something back for all the trouble that bitch has caused me.’  He went through to the back office and slammed the door behind him.

‘He’ll be lucky,’ said Fiona.

‘Who’s Hamilton?’

‘I can’t tell you, really, but she owes other people money too, not just Mr Stevens.  He’ll be lucky to get anything for the rent.  She and her kids are probably miles away.’

‘Kids?  He’s evicted a family?’

‘What’s he supposed to do if they don’t pay him?  He’s not a charity.’  Fiona sighed.  ‘Card, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s right.’  Catherine got out her purse.

‘You’ve done well to get a job.  He’s serious about getting rid of his Universal Credit tenants.  They’re too much trouble by half.’

‘This lady he’s just evicted…?’

‘Hardly a lady but yes, she was on it.’

He did agree to let us stay at least until next summer, after Alex’s exams.’

‘As long as you pay your rent in time for the next couple of months.  That shouldn’t be a problem now, should it?’

‘Not at all.’

There was a moment’s suspense while they waited for the payment to show up as authorised.  Catherine knew there was enough in the account, she had checked that morning; it was still a relief when the machine beeped and spewed out a receipt.

‘We’re closed between Christmas and New Year, so your next payment will be due on the twenty-second,’ said Fiona.

‘That’s almost a week early.’  Catherine felt her stomach drop.  That was before her next Widowed Parent’s Allowance was due, although that should come in early due to the Bank Holidays.  ‘I’m not sure I’ll have been paid my wages by then.  I don’t suppose I could pay on the first working day of the New Year?’

‘You could ask him.  I wouldn’t recommend doing it today.’

‘Probably not.’  Catherine managed a smile.  ‘Thank you.’

‘Good luck with the job.  Where is it?’

‘In a bank.’  Catherine decided not to say it was for an advice centre.  She couldn’t see Mr Stevens approving of such a place.

Catherine made up her mind to ask if it might be possible for at least some of her wages to be paid early, to be sure of settling the rent on time.  If she had been in any doubt at all, it was quite clear now that, even if he abided by the letter of the law, Mr Stevens didn’t take prisoners.  If he gave her notice after Christmas, she would have two months to move or he would start proceedings to get her out.  Even if that took so long that Alex could finish her exams before they had to move, the threat of eviction looming over the poor girl’s head would hardly help her study.  Catherine needed to stay on the right side of her landlord, whatever else she did.

She thought about going home to catch up on her household chores and do the laundry but, as it was still bright, decided she would walk on up to the allotment site and get some fresh greens to go with the evening meal.  There was no sign of Ralph, of course, but Lionel was there again, and Bernie too, busy on their respective plots and pointedly ignoring each other. 

‘Hello Cathy!’ said Bernie.  ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you today.’

‘I’ve only popped in to get some chard,’ she told him.  ‘I can’t stop.  I’ve got a lot to do before I start work tomorrow.’

‘Good luck, love!’ he replied.

‘While I think of it…’ she got her purse out and took out a ten-pound note.

‘What’s that for, then?’

‘The bags of manure your friend brought for me.’

‘Don’t worry about that now, Cathy.’

‘I’d rather clear my debts in good time, if you don’t mind.’

Bernie pursed his lips.  ‘If you insist, but I don’t need that much.  It’s only a fiver.’

‘You did say it was a pound a bag.  I have ten.’

‘I got it wrong.  They were half the price I thought, so I thought I’d get you enough to do the lot.’

Catherine wasn’t entirely sure that she believed him but put the note away and counted him out five pound coins instead.

‘I’ll spread it for you if you like,’ Bernie offered.

‘That’s kind, but I don’t mind.  I’ll be sitting down all day at work so some exercise at the weekend will do me good.’

‘You’re healthy enough.  You certainly don’t have to worry about middle-aged spread!’

She stooped to pick the greens she had come for.  Lionel caught her eye and grimaced.  She shook her head.

‘There was someone asking after you earlier,’ Bernie said.

‘Really?’  Catherine wondered if Ralph had dropped in on his way to work.

‘Some bloke in a suit,’ Bernie continued.  ‘Fairly tall, fair hair, about your age, I’d say.  Never seen him before.’

‘Oh.’  That wasn’t what she had expected to hear.

‘Not someone you know?’

‘I don’t think so, no.  What did he say?’

‘He just asked if either of us had seen you.  I said no.’

‘I said “who?”,’ Lionel added pointedly.

Catherine was genuinely confused.

‘I’m afraid I can’t explain…’

Lionel looked anxious, but there really was no more she could tell him.

‘Right you are,’ said Bernie.  ‘See you then.’   

Catherine set off briskly for her home.  She had no idea who the mystery man was; she couldn’t help worrying that his appearance presaged bad news.