FIVE - ROTTEN DECEMBER
“Deidre, I have some bad news for you. They’re not registered with the Guildsman. Now this doesn’t mean anything other than they are not members. Have you had a chance to talk with them yet?”
“No, I just keep getting their answering machine.”
“And how’s Jim?”
“He’s gone in this morning, but he was awake best part of the night coughing.”
“Has he seen the doctor?”
“Yes, he has been given some more antibiotics. They wanted to send him to hospital for tests, and give him another sick note.”
“And?”
“Well, like he said, 3-Way can’t give him any more time off work, not even sick, it’s coming on Christmas … “
“Tosh! The man should be on the sick. He’s neither use nor ornament at the moment.”
“He’s already had two weeks off. He got told that if he had any more time off, then he will be disciplined.”
“Well, that’s wrong. He can’t help it if he is sick.”
“What am I going to do Ms Smith? I have been to the C.A.B., and all right, I have consumer rights, but it is hard when nobody is replying.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I have a great grandson, who has just become a solicitor. He would love a job like this.”
“We wouldn’t be able to afford him.”
“No, but I can.”
“I can’t ask you to do something like that. No, I can’t allow it.”
“Now look, you have been a really good friend to me, let me do this for you. He can do this just as a favour – it might only take a letter or two from a law firm to get this sorted out.”
“Could you Ms Smith, would you do this?”
“Of course I will!”
Ms Smith was as good as her word. That night, she knew that her great grandson had no westerns to watch. She telephoned him, poured it all out to him. Of course he was intrigued. And of course, he will meet up with Jim and Deirdre.
“Hello Deirdre, how’s Jim?”
“Hello Terry, he’s in the front room. That chest infection hasn’t shifted. Come on in.”
“Jim – how are you?”
“Not clever Terry.” Jim coughed, quite violently. “Can’t shake the thing. I think I will be taking a few days off again next week – I’m getting no sleep, tired as anything, weak as a kitten, just can’t … “ Cough “… shake it.”
“Look, the office have asked me if you are able to make a payment this week. I’ve told them how sick you are, and had to take time off sick, but they have asked me to ask. Even a little, just anything.”
“What have we got Deirdre?”
“Five.”
“Well, that’ll keep them quiet. But what about you guys? Have you got groceries in?”
“Yeah, we’ll be fine … “ Deirdre let the words fall off. Truth be known, she was hoping to use the fiver for milk and bread, and a few bits.
“And what happens next week?” Jim was asking.
“One step at a time mate. Look, you are not in any state to worry about that … “
“Tell me about it. If I take any more time off work, 3-Way might sack me.”
“You’re kidding?!”
“No. I’m between a rock and the hard place.”
“Doing anything tomorrow night?”
“No.”
“Right, Matt and me are coming around. We have been working on a plan. And I want to include you in it.”
“I won’t be able to do much for you.”
“You’d be surprised mate.”
“Deirdre, keep him warm, and we’ll call round – be about 5 because Matt is on a run tomorrow.”
It started about nine that night. Jim started coughing, and it wouldn’t let up until the middle of the following morning. What snatches of sleep he and Deirdre got were short and far between. And it was only the beginning of December.
At eleven the next morning, the neighbours were coming home from local garden centres, with several bags of Christmas lights and decorations.
Deirdre wished that Christmas had never been invented.
Jim coughed yet again.
“I’m going to have to call in work, and tell them I can’t come in tomorrow.”
“Oh Jim.”
“I can’t help it Deirdre. I feel sick.”
“I know. I know. Shall I call in for you?”
“No, they told me I had to ring in.”
Deirdre couldn’t help think just how absurd it is, someone sick having to ring in sick.
“Hello, Baz?”
“Good afternoon, 3-Way/”
“Baz?”
“Yes, is that Jim?”
“Yeah, look, I was up all night last night, I’m really rough. I can’t make the run tomorrow.”
“Oh that’s a shame Jim. Not even half of the shift if I can get someone else to finish it off for you?”
“I can try, but can’t do a full run.”
“Ok, come in for 10, and I’ll get someone else in for 2.”
Baz had to then phone as many men as he could, only one other could do the split shift. But the bosses would have to be told.
The doorbell rang at just after 5. Deirdre answered the door. Bearing gifts of bitter and pizza, Matt and Terry stood there, smiling.
“He’s in the front room Terry.”
“How ya doin?”
“Just about usual. He’s tried to ring in sick about tomorrow’s run, but has ended up saying he’ll go in for half of it.”
“That’s going to go down well with the bosses. But this is what you take on when you offer a service to supermarkets. They don’t want interruption!”
“I guess so.”
“Hey listen Deirdre,” Terry put an arm around her shoulder, “look, we’re here with a proposition for Jim that might just sort him out.”
“Is it an office job? He’d be ok with something like that.”
“It could turn into one, couldn’t it Matt?”
“Well yeah, if that’s what he wants.”
“What. What is it that you two are cooking up? Are you starting a business?”
“Hey, the thought never occurred to me, but, hey, Terry – we could, you know.”
“Yea-a-h, yeah.”
The two men disappeared into the front room, the gas fire was sucking up the damp in the room and making it like a greenhouse. Jim spluttered.
“Make us a brew Deirdre, I’m gagging. Then we can tuck into these beers.”
Deirdre disappeared into the kitchen making coffees and a tea for herself and the men. Now, let’s see what idea Matt and Terry had come up with.
She set the cups down on the coffee table, and sat down.
Up to now, the men had just been talking football. But now, with the full audience, they could introduce their masterplan that they believed would help Jim, no end.
“Right, now this is very dodgy what we have to tell you. But hear us out before you disagree.”
Matt looked at Terry, who nodded with acceptance.
“Right, we know that you are in trouble … “
“Yeah, but as soon as the spring is here, we’ll be … “
Matt raised his hand to stop Jim.
“Look, spring is a long way off mate. I’m going to be brutal with you because I care about you. And the longer I waffle on, the longer it will take me to get to the point.”
“Shut your waffling mate, and get on with it!!”
“Well said Terry. Ok, Jim, this is what me and Terry have come up with. I’m just going to blurt it out too, not cottonwool it.”
“Ok, what is it?”
Terry took in a deep breath.
“We’re going to rob the van.”
“What?!”
“Going to rob the van. I’m going to go out on a run, phone the office and tell them the traffic is manic and just go to all the calls, collect their money, and then … rob it.”
“You’ll never get away with it.”
“He will. It’s the build up to Christmas, takings will be up, yeah? Roads are getting busier. Between now and the next few weeks, every so often, on a random day, he will phone in and tell the office he is running late and doing a couple of collections. And then, he will be returning to the office with the takings. And then, on the day itself, the office will be none the wiser.”
“But that’s thieving.”
“We know.”
“But you won’t get away with it.”
“If it is done properly, it can be done. We’re going abroad. We’ve got our passports ordered.”
“Where?”
“Dunno yet, we thought we would just get a cancellation flight and holiday for a couple of weeks, go on somewhere else, holiday there for a while, and so on for a while. Get some other ID, and that’s that.”
“What about your houses?”
“Getting repossessed. Haven’t paid the mortgage for a few months now, so the letters are coming.”
“And you Terry?”
“We’ve sold it to a house buyer who rents back. You could do the same with this. I can give you their name. Got ours sorted in a month.”
“But it’s wrong.”
“Think about it Deirdre. You could get Jim somewhere warm and dry, and say goodbye to the cough. What did the doctor say the last time? Congestion on the lung?”
“And what about my jobs?”
“Well, of course, you’d have to give them up. I reckon we could clear about a £100k each, minimum.”
“Well, yes, that is possible. I carried about that last Wednesday, and we’re nowhere near Christmas.”
“Jim, what are you saying?”
“Nothing.”
It wasn’t until half past two the following afternoon that Jim’s mind had been settled about the prospect.
The night before, the conversation then changed to the world cup, pizzas, beers and what to buy the wives for Christmas, out of their wages.
But at half past two, one of the managers asked Jim into the office. The relief driver had turned up, quite happy of the double overtime rate he would earn. The manager wasn’t happy.
“Jim, look, you’re a good man, a good driver. But I’m sorry mate, but I am giving you warning that unless you put your contractual hours in, then you’ll get the push.”
“Look, Mr Hall, I can’t help it. It’s this cough. I’m getting infections through it, not sleeping right.”
“You might be best off finishing work, going on permanent sick.”
“I can’t afford to do that, not with the mortgage and everything.”
“Well, I can’t afford to keep you on and pay you sick, paying other drivers overtime to do your runs.”
“Is there anything anywhere else I could be doing where I don’t go out, just until next spring. I think it will clear up when the weather gets better.”
“No, I’m sorry mate. Look, I’m sorry about this. I’m just the messenger boy.”
“Ok, I understand.”
Jim had to talk with Deirdre. They were already behind with the Diamond loan. Red letters were coming in for the electricity, and he was sure that the mortgage hadn’t been paid last month. They were getting in a mess.
“We’ll lose the house if you go on the sick Jim. Look, I can ask for more hours.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“We have no choice. I’m going to ask tomorrow.”
“What do you think about Matt’s plan?”
“No, Jim, definitely not. Let them go to prison, you are not going to get a record.”
“I know, I know.”
They went to bed, not really talking to one another, for fear of bringing up the subject of money again. Just wished one another a good night’s sleep. Jim was awake the better part of the night again.
“Hello, Moira? Deirdre here. Yes, hello, yeah, not bad, and you? Oh, Jim’s got a bad cough too. Look, Moira, are there any more jobs that you can give me? Oh, oh right. Are there anyone taking holidays over Christmas? Well, yes, please. Keep me in mind will you, we really need the money.”
Ms Smith could easily see that Deirdre wasn’t well that day. A quick pry told her that Deirdre and Jim had money problems.
“Oh, my dear, I wish there was something I could do.”
“We’ll work something out.”
“Look, don’t be down, things will work out.”
Deirdre went to Mrs Warburton’s home afterwards, only to be told that she would only be needed twice a week from now on, being that Mrs W would be working more from home. That was just what they needed.
Jim had been sent home from work early.
When they sat down to their sausage and mash meal, the conversation soon got round to how to pay for bills.
“Look, I’m working on borrowed time now,” Jim was telling her.
She knew this now. 3-Way were always recruiting drivers, so Jim was not safe.
“Matt was talking with me at our break this morning, and asked if we had managed to talk about things … I told him that I would sit down with you tonight, and talk to you. Deirdre, we’re on skid row. We’re going to loose the house.”
“I know. Let’s talk about it. Get the coffees, and the biscuits, and let’s talk about it.”
They spent the rest of the evening talking about the pro’s, con’s and ethics about the plan. The same answers, damned if they did, damned if they didn’t. But Jim did point out one small fact. The rates that 3-Way charged their clients, they were making a mint on their contracts and paying their drivers just the minimum. So, who, also, were thieves? Did they stop to think about their ethics?