The Grey Man

Common sense flew out of the window. 'I'll take it,' he whispered.

Kevin's next stop was Marco's. 'Hi, Mark. I just want to confirm you've still got my table for next Saturday at—'

Mark smiled and held up his hand. He didn't need to double-check his book. He had made the booking for Kevin last week when he had popped in, just as he had last year and all the years before that. Lovely couple. 'Anniversary time again, is it, Mr Dodds?'

'Yes.'

'You have a new hairstyle, I see.' Kevin waited to hear what Mark thought of it.

'We'll look forward to seeing you both on Saturday, Mr Dodds.'

'Me too.' Kevin turned to the door, then stopped. 'Maybe you could help me do something a little special this time, Mark…'

Almost home. Just one last stop — Blockbuster — and then he was done for the day. Like some people can lose track of time reading, gardening or playing football, Kevin could spend all day in Blockbuster. Films were his passion. He liked to scan the shelves for hidden treasure. Something he might not have seen before, maybe an old black-and-white, an Italian thriller, or a cops-and-robbers B movie.

Linda always went to bingo on a Saturday night to keep her mum company, and Kevin stayed in to watch DVDs. Apart from next week, of course, when Linda was going to bingo on Friday.

Kevin looked along the shelves for old favourites, like they were long-lost friends. His finger hovered over Blackhawk Down. He must have seen it twenty times, but it was worth watching another twenty. He had learned quite a lot about life from watching films. The way he dealt with Symington came from an old black-and-white prison film. The prisoner had just smiled and taken whatever the guard threw at him so that the older men got beaten less often.

He limited himself to one DVD a week, and choosing just one was part of the fun. You had to think about what mood you were in, what would satisfy you most on that particular night. Narrowing the choice gave the game an edge. Usually he plumped for an action film and today was no exception. His finger traced along the shelves. Maybe Pulp Fiction. Maybe The Bourne Identity. Or maybe Training Day. Or what about Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? Just the movie for when you were in the mood for a western, except he wasn't. No, let's save that. Hang on. Here was an old favourite. The Score, a bank-robbery film starring Robert de Niro.

As he unlocked the front door, Linda came out of the kitchen. Her hair was freshly washed after her gym class and she looked good in jeans and a black polo-neck.

'What's with the hair?'

'Er, I gelled it.'

'I can see that.'

'Like it?'

'Yeah, it's… well… it's fine.' They burst out laughing. 'Nah.' They shook their heads and laughed even more.

Kevin leaped up the stairs. 'I'll go and wash it.'

He laughed all the way to the bedroom, then pulled out a long black box from under his jacket. Before he hid it behind the wardrobe, he couldn't resist taking a peep.

The Augusta pearls gleamed up at him against the blue velvet lining. He snapped the box shut in case he gave it to her there and then. He buried the thought of next month's credit-card bill.

'Be down in a minute!' he called.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Monday, 6 February, 10.24 a.m.

Kevin gazed out of the bank's window at tall grey buildings with thick grey clouds pressing down on them. Not much going on out there. He looked back to the computer screen — also grey — and wondered how he would get through the next six hours.

Symington had given him the cleaning bill for his suit and stuck him on the counter as Margaret was sick, but he'd been there for an hour and so far only two customers had come in. It wasn't his job to cover now that he'd been promoted. Gary and Alice were supposed to do that, but Symington put Kevin back at the counter whenever he could. It was one of his ways of keeping Kevin in his place. As always, Kevin smiled and got on with the job.

Gary and Alice were behind him now, sitting at the main desk checking paperwork. They occasionally looked up from their print-outs to share a joke. Kevin tapped his pencil on the counter as if to magic a queue of people into the bank, but still no one came.

Kevin could see Symington by the fax machine. A piece of paper was jammed in it — his boss was hopping from one foot to the other, opening and closing the lid.

Now was Kevin's chance. He leaped up and dashed over. 'Something jammed, Mr Symington? Need a hand?'

'Stupid machine isn't working. Every time I press start, three red lights flash on but nothing happens.'

'Let's have a look.' Kevin lifted the lid and wiggled the piece of paper that was trapped inside. It came out easily. He reset the start button, inserted the fax and hit send. The machine started to dial.

'Glad to see you've got a talent for something.'

It was now or never. He'd promised Linda. 'Mr Symington, could I ask you something if you have a moment?'

'You've got until this fax goes through or until we have a customer.'

'I wondered if I could take this Friday off.' Symington's eyebrows rose an inch. 'You see, it's my wedding anniversary on Saturday and—'

Symington's hand went to his moustache and started to twirl. He enjoyed having Kevin on a hook. 'A bit late to ask for a day off, isn't it? I always demand five working days' notice if this bank is to function properly. You should have asked me before the weekend.'

'I know, but it's still four days' notice and it's been so quiet lately.'

'Ah, that's the nature of banking, Kevin. One moment it's quiet, and the next it's all hands on deck. You just never know what's going to happen.' He waved his arm across the silent room.

'Well, Margaret said she'd be back on Friday. I've checked with Gary and Alice and they're happy to cover for me, but I really don't think it will be that busy.'

As soon as he said it, he knew he'd made a mistake. 'You don't think it'll be busy. And who are you? The Mystic Meg of banking? You're not paid to think, Kevin. You're paid to do. I'll do the thinking around here, and I think it may be busy. Sorry, Kevin, but rules are rules. Give me five days' notice in future, and I'll see what I can do.'

'But—'

'No buts, Kevin. I'm sorry, we'll need you here on Friday.'

Kevin wanted to say more, but he couldn't think of anything. He couldn't ask for next Monday off as Linda was on a training day. Fed up, he plodded back to his stool and sat down. A wave of misery washed through him. Why couldn't he stand up to Symington for once in his life?

The next two and a half hours dragged. Three people came in. Two to make deposits and an old lady who thought she was in the Halifax next door. He filled in the time by double-checking the safe-deposit records on the computer. He stopped for a sandwich. Then there were another two and a half hours of boredom to get through. Dull. Dull. Dull.

CHAPTER NINE