Sue watched as Raven tucked a blue carbon sheet under the next invoice and re-totted up yet another set of Gary’s mismatched numbers before putting the real figures into the app. (The dyslexia diagnosis was seeming more and more likely if Sue was being honest.)
She caught herself smiling at the book. Then frowning. The duplicate invoice booklet was one of a dozen or so that had a) clearly lived in the footwell of Gary’s work van and b) been bought back when Reg ran the business.
Sue remembered Reg crowing about bulk buying them when the stationer on the high street went out of business some … gosh … was it ten years back? Reg had always loved a bargain. When they’d lost him three years ago it had been a blow and a release. A blow because he’d truly been loved. A release because, though he’d never put words to it, her Gary had never felt a proper man with his father ‘running the show’ and Reg was not the type to retire. Gary’d never been grumbly about it, but Sue knew he had been chomping at the bit to make his own mark in the world. Prove her parents wrong. Get them to finally treat him with the same respect as they did ‘our Katie.’
Had Gary taken his life because the man he’d hoped to be and the man he’d turned out to be hadn’t matched? It surely, surely couldn’t have been over a bit of ketchup.
Sue shoved the thought straight back into the increasingly full cupboard of questions she lacked the fortitude to ask and gave her shoulders a little shake. Today was about facts and figures. Not speculation.
Raven readjusted her reading specs, pushed her lips forward in a dark lippy moue and stuffed a pencil in her messy topknot. She was looking very official. More steampunk than the goth look she tended to favour. Perhaps it was the absence of eyeshadow. She’d gone for simple eyeliner with flicks at the corners today. The look leant her an added maturity. It was that or the businesslike manner with which she’d approached their task. Wise beyond her nineteen years. Her parents must be so very proud of her.
She held her phone over the recalculated invoice, waited until it had been scanned then raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s over twenty-grand he’s owed so far.’
The breath left Sue’s body.
‘And how much do we owe the vendors?’
Vendors. She’d never used that word before yesterday afternoon. Raven was full of them. Vendors, payees, accounts receivable, accounts owing. Learnt them all at her mother’s elbow, she said. Helping at the pharmacy since she was young. The most Sue’s mother had taught her was that marriage was nothing more than a disappointment unless, of course, you were ambitious like Katie and Dean.
Raven thumbed across a couple of pages on her phone. ‘About four grand. You’re owed about twenty going three or four years back if you include the bills from when your father-in-law got sick. And you owe about four which, if everyone pays … would leave you with sixteen. There’s the VAT returns to do as well if he was VAT registered. Do you know if he was?’
Sue shook her head. ‘Why would he have needed that?’ She’d never really talked to him about the nuts and bolts of his business. Only the funny stories, really. Like the time he’d saved a squirrel blocking someone’s toilet. They’d giggled about that for ages. The smile faded from her lips as she began to tune back into what Raven was saying.
‘… although it’s not obligatory if it’s under, you have to be VAT registered if you earn over eighty-five thousand—’ She stopped when she saw Sue’s face crumple. Gary definitely wouldn’t have needed to register for VAT.
All of which meant, if everyone paid up, Sue would have sixteen thousand pounds.
And then a few more pieces shifted into place.
Sixteen thousand pounds was what their joint savings had been. An account they’d been scraping together for their retirement or a house upgrade (whichever came first). He must’ve been using it to pay off the bills to protect her from the fact he was falling behind on the paperwork and then when that had run out and the money owing began building up …
Sue tried swallowing against the lump in her throat but couldn’t. Her poor, lovely, kind, sweet Gary. Not wanting her to worry.
Snippets of conversations they’d had over the years came back to her as, systematically, Sue and Raven got back to work sorting through the piles of paperwork
‘GarBear?’ She used to call him GarBear when he was in a grump about something. Her own little grizzly. ‘What’s all of the swearing for up there? Anything I can help with?’
‘No, Suey. You’re all right. Let’s pop out for a film shall we? Or a drink down The Oak? I’ve done more than enough scribbling for one night.’
‘Gaz?’ He was Gaz if she was concerned but didn’t want him to know. ‘Everything alright? Need a cuppa?’
‘Right as rain. I might head down to the pub and watch the footie with the lads. Finish this lot of paperwork up after. That alright?’
She shivered as her skin remembered the touch of his calloused hands after he’d slide down the banister and pull her into a hug. No. No. She wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready at all.
‘Why don’t we pop the telly on and watch something silly, eh? Celebrity Bake Off’s on.’ Sue loved Bake Off. It was so gentle and sweet. People getting into a sweat over their mille feuille. It was adorable.
‘But – we’ve barely started,’ Raven pointed at the stacks of papers Sue had refused to let her decant from the boxes.
‘That’s enough for today.’ Sue said, suddenly desperately wishing they’d left the boxes exactly where they were. ‘You know,’ she said, flicking on the telly even though Raven
