‘Craig, hello,’ she says, turning to face him.
He wanders over as she puts her purse into her bag and takes out her glasses, accidently dropping them on the floor. She starts to bend down but Craig retrieves them for her.
‘I’d just come to pay some money in. I saw you,’ he says in a hushed voice.
‘Sorry I haven’t replied to your messages.’
‘That’s OK.’
‘No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have ignored you. I was angry and
everything
came as such a shock.’
‘You know I didn’t say anything to Christian don’t you? He told me to stay away from you. I wasn’t showing off. I’d never do anything to embarrass you like that.’
‘I know you wouldn’t.’
‘You look… really smart. Have you got another job?’
‘No,’ Hannah says, checking her watch. ‘I’m back at the office. I got my job back.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’m not staying there though.’
‘What did Christian say?’
‘Christian’s been sacked.’
‘Really? How?’
‘He didn’t come in on Tuesday and the Fulham branch manager told us he’d been fired and that he’d be managing both branches for the time being. There had been a lot of complaints apparently, and money going missing. Someone said he’d been arrested although I don’t know if that’s true. There’s been a rumour about the whole branch being shut down.’
‘Do you think that’s true?’
‘I don’t know. There have been meetings going on with senior
managers
for the last couple of days. I’ve started looking for a new job.’ Hannah
fiddles with her glasses. ‘Have you been OK?’
‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,’ Craig says, sounding more upbeat. ‘Just been trying to sort everything out. It’s been weird not having much to do.’
‘Have you been out enjoying yourself?’
‘No, not really. I’ve barely left the flat. I’m just relieved to be away from Cinq to be honest. I wish I’d left there twelve months ago. It was only seeing you that kept making me go back.’
Hannah smiles. ‘I’m sure you don’t mean that.’
‘I do mean it, Han. I certainly wasn’t doing it for the money.’
They walk out into the autumn sunshine and stop to face each other on the pavement.
‘Craig, I should get back to the office.’
‘OK, I don’t want to hold you up. Han, I just want to say… I didn’t want to make such a mess of things, and I didn’t want us to say goodbye on bad terms.’
‘You haven’t made a mess of things. And who said anything about saying goodbye. You told me you were only going home for a few weeks.’
‘Yes, I am.’
Hannah reaches out for his hands. ‘We can see each other when you come down then. You’re better off away from there and at least you’ve got a job with your dad to go back to, even if it is a long way away. I could be unemployed next week.’
‘Even if the office does shut, you won’t be unemployed for long.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Yes I do, because you’re clever and beautiful. You could walk into any office in London and they’d offer you a job.’
Hannah smiles. ‘I wish.’ She looks at her watch again. ‘Craig, you’re making me late.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s OK.’ She pauses. ‘Are you doing anything the weekend after next?’
‘Umm, I’m not sure, why?’
‘Are you going to be in London?’
‘I don’t know. I can be. Why’s that?’
‘I’ve got two tickets for
Jersey Boys
and I’ve got nobody to go with so I thought you might like to come, if you’re down here. I was meant to go with Marcus but obviously…’
‘Of course I’ll come.’
‘Definitely? You don’t have to if-’
‘Yes. Definitely.’
‘Text me and let me know how everything’s going, you promise me.’
‘Yes, I promise.’
‘You better not stand me up.’
‘I won’t. Of course I won’t.’
‘Good.’
They hug and Hannah hurries off along Lavender Hill. Craig waits for the lights to change at the crossing and when he looks back up the road she has gone.
T
he bus stops at Clapham Common tube station and Craig steps off onto the leaf-splattered pavement. It’s late Sunday evening. He stands under a streetlight to loosen the shoulder straps on his rucksack and weaves his way across the road through two queues of buses and cars. He buys himself a bottle of water and a Mars bar from a convenience store and eats the chocolate as he walks along the south side of the common. A lone teenager on a bike and a man in tight jeans walking a poodle pass Craig in the opposite direction. He looks across the road into the blackness of the trees and then at the building site to his left which is supposedly Lambeth College.
The only person at the tables outside The Whore on the Common is a man in a thick coat, having a cigarette. Inside, the pub is quiet and there’s nobody at the bar. A middle-aged man and a woman in a rugby shirt are drinking red wine at a table by the fireplace, and there is a thin, bearded pensioner in a tatty sports jacket sitting on his own reading
The Independent.
Craig orders a pint of orange and lemonade and calls Mark, but it goes straight to voicemail. He takes his drink and has a look around the corner in the restaurant.
Mark is the only person in there, sitting side-on to Craig at a table on the far left with his back against the wall. He’s wearing a navy polo shirt with a long-sleeved white t-shirt underneath, and he’s got thick stubble. He’s clutching a full pint of cider to his chest and there are two Bulmers’ bottles, an empty pint glass and the
News of the World
on the table. He doesn’t notice Craig approaching.
‘Mark,’ Craig says, resting his rucksack against a leg of the table.
Mark gives Craig a troubled, distant look and asks him if he wants a drink. He sounds tired.
‘How long have you been here?’ Craig asks, taking a seat on the opposite corner.
‘Since lunchtime.’
‘Have you been here on your own?’
‘No, no. Amy was here. But she had to go. What’s the time?’ he asks trying to sit up.
‘It’s nine fifty-four,’ Craig says, checking his phone. ‘How much have you had to drink?’
‘I’m not sure. Not that much. Just a few ciders, and some wine with lunch.’
‘Are you drunk?’
‘I’ve been trying to get drunk, but it’s not worked.’
‘What time did Amy go?’
‘About three.’
‘Three? Mate you’ve been sitting here for almost seven hours on your own?’
‘It doesn’t seem that long. I’ve had a lot of thinking to do. Anyway, that’s why I phoned you. I hoped you’d keep me company. Where have you been?’
‘Just back at the flat. I was sorting my stuff out.’ Craig glances down at his bag. ‘Mate, I’m going home for a few days, to Norwich.’
‘When?’
‘Tonight.’
‘Tonight? But it’s late. Have a beer. Go back in the morning.’
‘I can’t. I’m getting the last train. I won’t get in until one thirty.’
‘When will you be back?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘What do you mean you’re not sure?’
‘I’m not sure how long I’m going back for.’
‘I thought we could go out and watch the Champions League games somewhere on Wednesday. Will you be back for that?’
‘No… I won’t, I don’t think.’
‘Will you be back at the weekend?’
‘Probably. I’ll need to pick some more of my things up.’
Mark sits motionless, staring at the table. ‘You’re moving out?’ he says, barely moving his lips.
‘No. I don’t know,’ Craig corrects himself. He scratches his ear lobe. ‘I’m going to work for my dad, hopefully. Just for a few weeks, to earn some money in the short-term.’
Mark doesn’t say anything.
‘Sorry. I was going to tell you,’ Craig says.
‘What about job hunting? How are you going to do that when you’re up there?’
‘I can do it online. I’m only a train ride away if anything comes up.’
‘But why don’t you just stay down here? I don’t understand.’
‘I haven’t got any money, mate. Literally none. In fact, a lot less than none. I don’t want to go back, but I have to. My dad’s paid off most of my overdraft and loans and I’ve got to start paying him back.’
Mark puts his glass down. ‘Are you sure you have to? There must be some other way. I thought you liked it down here.’
‘I don’t have a choice.’
Mark doesn’t react and starts reading the cider bottle.
‘Mark, I need to earn some money, quickly.’
‘But you can get a new job.’
‘I’ve been trying. Estate agents are closing down, not taking people on.’
‘Do something else.’
‘Like what?’
‘Can’t you get your old job back?’
‘No. I hated it. That was the reason I was getting further and further into debt. I’ve got less money now than I had at uni. I just can’t afford to live here at the moment.’ He pinches his bottom lip. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Can’t you get your parents to give you a loan? I don’t see how
moving
back is going to help.’
‘My dad’s already given me a massive loan. He’s paid off all my cards. I’ve got to work to pay it off, that’s what I’m trying to say. They’re not going to pay for me to stay down here when I owe them thousands and I’m unemployed.’
‘But can’t you say you’re job hunting and just stay down here with me. You’ll get another job won’t you?’
‘I don’t know where. The recruitment people I’ve met have all been useless. One of the agencies I was with shut down last Friday.’ Craig taps the rim of his glass with his finger. ‘And the job market’s going to get worse apparently.’
‘You can’t believe the newspapers.’
‘I read the other day that this is the worst crash in something like a
hundred years. Getting another job could take months.’
‘They’re just scare-mongering, to frighten people.’
‘Mate, everything you read is about the credit crunch and recession and places closing. I don’t feel like I’ve got a chance down here at the moment to be honest.’ Craig takes three small sips of his drink.
‘But you can’t just run off.’
‘I’m not running off. I’m going back to sort everything out.’ Craig watches as Mark makes small tears in a beer mat. ‘What are you going to do?’ he asks tentatively.
‘About what?’
‘About work.’
‘Work’s fine,’ Mark says. He swishes the cider around in his glass.
‘Mark.
I know
.’
‘Know what?’
‘About MenDax.’
‘I don’t work for MenDax any more.’
‘I know. Nobody does.’
Mark slumps forward, rests his chin on his hand, and gazes down into his pint. There is a long pause. ‘I was going to tell you.’
‘It must have been a shock.’
‘Yeah,’ Mark says. He sighs and looks everywhere apart from at Craig. ‘Sorry I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t hiding it from you. I was just a bit, I don’t know, embarrassed I suppose. I didn’t want-’
‘It’s OK. I understand.’
Mark closes his eyes for a couple of seconds and puffs out his cheeks. ‘How did you find out?’
‘It was something Amy said at the party. And someone had written on her Facebook wall saying that they were sorry about her job, so I googled it.’
‘Was there much on it?’
‘A few reports. I was going to ask you about it, but, but I’ve not really seen you. And I didn’t think you’d want to talk about it.’
‘No.’
‘I thought I’d see you one day but you’d always gone by the time I was up. What have you been doing? Going to recruitment places?’
‘I was going to, but I’ve just been killing time most days. Trying to clear my head and decide what I’m going to do. I’ve been everywhere
just to avoid sitting at home: museums, London Zoo. I even went on an open top bus.’
‘What was that like?’
‘Shit - it rained,’ he says with weary laughter. ‘I passed my driving test though.’
‘Well done,’ Craig says. ‘I thought I hadn’t seen your car.’
‘That’s because I’ve sent it back. It was only leased. Such a waste of money. Do you want another drink?’
‘Mate, I really should go in a minute.’
‘Come on, just one drink before you go. You’ve just told me you’re leaving me. You can at least stay for a beer.’
Mark gives Craig some change and asks him to go to the bar because the Aussie barman has refused to serve him. Craig orders a pint of
Fosters
and a cider and brings them back over to the table. Mark sends him back to get some crisps.
‘What are you going to do then, mate?’ Craig asks, dropping down two bags of McCoy’s.
Mark throws his hands in the air. ‘To be honest, I don’t know.’
‘Have you told your parents?’
‘I’ve spoken to my mum, but my dad’s not talking to me because I’ve been spending my inheritance money.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be all right when he’s calmed down. There must be other jobs doing what you were doing aren’t there?’
‘I don’t know. Hopefully.’
‘What have the other people in your department done?’
‘Justin took Ian and Julia with him to his new place. Amy got another job last week.’
‘I thought you got on well with Justin? Couldn’t he help you?’
‘No. He could have helped me, but he didn’t. I wouldn’t work for him anyway.’
‘I didn’t like him. He said all estate agents were wankers. How did Amy get her new job?’
‘Through an agency.’
‘Why don’t you register with some agencies this week? You never know, there might be something perfect, well not perfect, but something you’d be good at.’
‘I doubt it somehow. Amy’s given me the numbers of some people to
contact, but I’m not sure they’d be able to help.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t feel like they would. I’ve got pretty simple
requirements
. All I want is a job that pays loads where I have no responsibility and can choose my own hours.’
‘I can give your CV to my dad if you want.’
‘Will I have to move to Norwich?’
‘You can commute. It’s two hours on the train.’
‘What’s he like as a boss?’
‘He won’t ever take you to a strip club, put it that way.’
‘I’m not interested then,’ Mark says, managing a sad smile. ‘You know I was thinking about starting my own company.’
‘Doing what, finance?’
‘No, ice cream.’
‘What do you know about ice cream, apart from how to eat it?’
‘Nothing. But I had a good idea. I was going to start a designer ice cream brand. Guess what it was called?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Licked Out.’
Craig starts choking on his beer and apologises. ‘How far have you got with this?’
‘I went to a bank and asked them for some money to start up.’
‘What did they say?’
‘The guy I met didn’t think it was a very good idea.’
‘How much money did you ask for?’
‘Seven hundred grand.’
‘Is that all? You should have asked for more,’ he says dryly. ‘No
wonder
he didn’t like it. I can’t really imagine you as a Mr Whippy.’
‘It wasn’t going to be like that. It was going to be like a posh
Star-bucks
, but for ice cream.’
‘But people only eat ice cream in the summer.’
‘Yes, I was going to serve it warm in the winter.’
‘That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.’
‘Mate, when there’s a Licked Out on every street in Britain and I’m a billionaire, you’ll eat your words. If you’re lucky I might hire you to wash the dishes.’
‘Cheers,’ Craig says helping himself to the crisps Mark has been
hogging. ‘I’ve got a choice between working for my dad or working for you washing dishes.’
‘Or being an estate agent.’
‘Yes, or being an estate agent. I think I’d prefer a long prison
sentence
to working somewhere like Cinq again.’
Mark takes a large handful of crisps. ‘If you want a long prison
sentence
you could kill Justin for me. I’d pay you. Not that I can afford much at the moment. Perhaps we could start a business as hitmen? I could do the planning and you could do the hits.’
‘Why would I have to do the hits?’
‘I don’t like blood.’
‘Nor do I.’
‘I
really
hate it. I wouldn’t want there to be loads of blood anyway. That’s how amateurs do it. I’d be a poisoner or strangler.’ Mark burps and opens the other crisps. ‘I wouldn’t attack anyone with a hammer or anything like that, far too messy.’
‘Are you sure you’re not pissed?’
‘No,’ Mark says taking another gulp. ‘When we’ve killed Justin we could take some photos and use that on all of our marketing.’
‘Marketing?’
‘Every company needs marketing. We’d have to advertise. Make sure we’re getting the best jobs. We’d have a website and take out double-page spreads in the Sunday newspapers.’
Craig laughs. ‘You’ve lost the plot. Are you going to take this idea to the bank?’
‘I might do.’
‘I’d love to hear what they say.’
‘I’ll start writing a business plan. How much do guns and stuff cost?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘And we’d need some balaclavas.’
They both chuckle. Mark takes his iPhone out of his pocket and taps away. ‘It’s Amy. She’s checking I’m not still here.’ Mark is struggling to focus on the screen. ‘I’m telling her I’m with you.’
‘What’s going on between you two?’
‘Nothing. We’re just… friends, I suppose,’ he replies, still trying to compose a message.
‘Friends who sleep together?’
‘She told me that was a mistake.’ He puts the phone down in front of him. ‘The thing is, I think Amy… I don’t know. I think she feels sorry for me. She’s being so kind and so helpful, she makes me feel like a stupid little kid sometimes.’
‘She’s trying to help you because she likes you.’
‘I’m like a challenge for her though. I think that’s what she gets out of it. She’s very positive and determined, and honest with me. There’s no need to pretend I’m something I’m not because she sees straight through me. I feel different around her.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t know, just different. She’s always giving me loads of
encouragement
and tells me I can do whatever I want with my life, but somehow that just makes me feel worse because I don’t know what I want to do. I’d rather not think about it.’