Fola was trying his best to get the lads to be as quiet as the boys on his team were, but in a matter of seconds he would have the full glare of the BND cameras on him as well. Cuffing someone round the ear, if that was his tactic, wasn’t really going to curry favour with the viewers.
‘Miss! Do you want see my penis?’
‘Miss! Miss! Are you going to make me famous, Miss?’
‘And now that we’re all safe in the knowledge that a couple of sexy cha-cha-chas will burn off that too-good-to-resist banoffee pie—’
Kev’s voice needled through her earpiece and constricted round her heart.
‘Miss! Are you giving away prizes? I’ve got no money, Miss. You look minted!’
‘… let’s join our Kath who’s gone out into the elements today to drum up some support for her cycle ride. Hello, darling. How is it out there amongst Britain’s finest?’
A particularly gritty looking pre-teen began marching in front of the assembled footballers throwing his arm out Hitler style whilst singing ‘God Save The Queen’.
Fola had him up and out of there in seconds (scruff of the neck), but not before the cameras had turned red and they were live on air.
The ease with which the story had been approved suddenly made sense.
This was Kev throwing her to the wolves. Watching her drown in her own sea of good intentions.
Kev: One
Kath: Nil
Right then, darling. Bring it on. The scoreboard was about to change.
Incident No: 120912
Time of Call: 11:42
Call Handler: SUNITA ‘RAVEN’ CHAKRABARTI
Call Handler: You’re through to the NHS 111 service, my name’s Raven and I’m a health advisor. Are you calling about yourself or someone else?
Caller: I’m calling for myself.
Call Handler: May I have your name please?
Caller: I’d prefer not to.
Call Handler: Umm, okay. It does make it a bit easier if I know your name.
Caller: It’s too bleeding embarrassing, alright? Can you handle that? That I feel embarrassed. That it took all my bloody courage to call you and tell you that I’ve effed up a perfectly gorgeous vagina?
Call Handler: I’m sorry, I – are you calling for yourself?
Caller: No, sorry. I just—[Muted swearing and female voice] I put popping candy up it.
Call Handler: Up …???
Caller: Up her vagina. We were having sex and I thought I’d, you know, spice things up, so I went down on her with a load of popping candy on my tongue and … what’s that, love? Sorry. She wants me to tell you it’s burning with volcanic heat and itching like the world’s worst yeast infection. She can’t think straight. Can you send a doctor out please? The GP’s not open and she says she can’t make it to A&E. She’s not in a good way.
Call Handler: Could I have her name please?
Caller: No.
Call Handler: I’m afraid I need her name, sir.
Caller: You didn’t need mine.
Call Handler: I was trying to get yours, but you started telling me what was wrong with your wife’s—
Caller: She’s not my bleeding wife, alright? That’s why we need the doctor here. Can you understand that? I don’t need the fuss of an ambulance. She’s refusing to let me take her to the A&E. She’s in massive pain, needs a doctor and wants it kept quiet, so could you please just make it happen so I can end this whole sordid— no, love. Not you. You’re not sordid. You’re— wait! Wait!!! Stephanie, love! I wasn’t saying you were sordid! [Call ends]
Chapter Thirty-Six
‘It’s not like it’ll go away if I don’t look.’ Sue sent Raven a pleading look, willing her to magic life back to the way it had once been. Predictable. Safe.
Raven tilted her head to the side, saying nothing and everything with the small gesture. You need to confront your reality.
Which was fair enough. They’d got themselves all psyched up to go bicycle shopping (Halfords, just to get an idea) when Sue remembered she didn’t have any money.
‘What if it’s all invoices?’ Raven said after taking a sip of tea. ‘Payments owing to you … and Gary,’ she added. ‘That box was pretty full.’
‘It could be all bills.’
‘There’s really only one way to find out.’ Raven pointed her finger up at the ceiling. ‘I’ll do it with you.’ She gave her phone a jiggle. ‘Easy as one-two-three to download a bookkeeping app.’
Raven was right. Whatever was in those boxes needed looking at. And in all honesty, it would be much, much easier with a friend.
Before she could change her mind, Sue put down her cup of tea and headed for the stairs.
Unpaid. Unpaid. Unpaid and … what was … hmmm … half an invoice with a note to find a receipt for a u-bend. All of it in Gary’s dodgy penmanship. Sue’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes lit on the bottom of yet another tea-mug stained invoice. There was a note to pick up some chicken balls with hot and sour sauce and a fried rice with a heart next to it. Sue felt her heart break as she went back in time to remember the day. They only had chicken balls and sweet and sour sauce when Sue wasn’t feeling well. Her ‘pick-me-up takeaway’, Gary called it.
She ran her finger along the edge of the paper. The date on the invoice was two years old. And just like that, it came to her. Mostly because she didn’t get sick that often, but also because of how Gary had made her laugh and laugh, so much so, some fried rice had come out of her nose.
She hadn’t been working at the call centre yet. She’d been at a handbag boutique in Bicester Village after her receptionist’s job at a dental office had been taken over by the dentist’s wife. Her Bicester boss had been a horrid woman. A bully really. Victoria Langham-Smoots. A woman who could not have stuffed more plums in her
