The door opens and Benny shuffles in, looking around, goggle-eyed.
I’ve come to take for granted my office, with its comforts, its luxury and the vast panorama over the
City. It’s a reminder to me not to forget my roots, seeing the reaction of someone who is so much a
stranger to privilege and wealth.
“Come in, Benny. Sit down. Make yourself comfortable.” I turn to Charlotte. “Could you ask Francis to
bring in coffee for three, please.” She nods, pops out and then back in again almost immediately. I point
her to sit off to one side.
Gesturing Benny to the couches by the windows, I take the seat opposite for myself; a low table
between us, a thin brown envelope lying on top. “Thank you for coming today.”
“Um, that’s fine.” He picks at a thumbnail. “Um… what am I here for exactly? Am I in some kind of
trouble?” He sneaks a glance to Charlotte who grins and winks at him. I shoot her a glance and she
subsides.
“No, not at all,” I say. “Quite the opposite. I’ve been talking to Sam…”
His forehead creases…
“… Sam Callaghan, the site foreman, about how you’ve been doing down there. He says you’re getting
on pretty well and I wondered if you would like to make it permanent?”
His face lights up. “Mr Callaghan says I done good?”
“He does, yes. Would you like to stay on with us, Benny? The Company. We can always use talented
hands.”
“Oh, yes. Absolutely. The job’s great.”
“Good.” I push the envelope towards him. “You can ask Charlotte here to read this to you, but roughly,
we are offering you a permanent position with the Haswell Corporation in an apprentice training
scheme with a view to you qualifying as a maintenance engineer.” Benny’s jaw drops but a delighted
smile is forming.
I hold up a finger. “There are, however, conditions.” His face falls. “I don’t think you will find the
conditions objectionable. In order to complete your apprentice training, it is necessary that you are
literate to an adequate standard…”
Benny havers then looks to Charlotte, eyes full of appeal. “He means you need to learn how to read
and write,” she says.
“Ah…” He hunches.
“To this end,” I say, “you will attend adult literacy classes, if necessary, at night school to attain the
necessary standards. I suspect that Charlotte here will be happy to assist you…” Benny swings his
gaze to my vigorously nodding mermaid.
His Adam’s apple bobs. “I don’t know. I mean thank you…”
I interrupt him. “No thanks needed, Benny. Everyone deserves a fair shot at life. Yours is just coming a
bit later than usual.”
*****
Twenty-Six Years Ago
“Give me my stuff, Angelo.”
He won’t meet her eye as she scrabbles through bags, snatching whatever looks useful and stuffing
into a holdall. “Mitch, I’m sorry. He threatened me…”
She looks up; the briefest of eye contacts. “It doesn’t matter. You were scared. I get it. I’m scared. I’m
going.”
“Where to, Mitch? Where will you go?”
But she doesn’t answer…
He’s already betrayed her once…
“Mitch, there you are!” She swivels to see Frank propped against the bar. He gives her that big, all-
American smile of his. “I was beginning to think you and Larry had run off into the sunset together.”
Turning to the barman, “Beer and a whiskey chaser, please, Angelo.” Then, “What can I get you,
Mitch?”
Her eyes dart to his and then, flushing, she looks away again, shoving stuff into her holdall.
“Mitch, what's wrong?”
She mutters something incomprehensible.
Angelo slaps the drinks down on the bar next to him, but Frank ignores them. “Mitch? What is it? Have
I done something to offend you?”
She shoots him a toxic look. “Not been talking with your friend then?”
“Friend? What are you talking about? D’you mean Larry? Has he upset you?” It dawns that Angelo is
memoing him from one side with short shut-the-fuck-up-come-here gestures.
Eyes flicking between the hair-trigger beauty to one side and the urgently gesturing barman to the
other, he picks up his beer. Leaning over his glass, he listens as Angelo mutters quietly, close by. His
heads drops. “Drugs? No…”
Frank puts the beer down, knocks back the shot then, “Mitch? Drugs?”
She stands, eyes ablaze. “Look at me, Frank. Look at me. Here…” She holds up a slim white wrist,
rolling back the sleeve of a blouse. “Look at my veins, my skin. Here…” She leans in close. Look at my
eyes, my nose. You’ve seen the rest, plenty of times. Do I look as if I’ve been using? Do I behave like
that? It’s crap. Lies. Total utter, fucking lies.” A sob breaks free and she drops her face into her hands.
“God, what am I going to do?”
Frank, bewildered, “Mitch, I believe you. But what’s this about? Angelo says the police were after you,
but…. Some guy giving you trouble? You got a stalker or something?”
“No… Yes... I don’t know.” Shaking, she hugs herself, arms clasped tight.
“Angelo, I’ll have another and a brandy for Mitch.” Frank takes her at the shoulders. “Sit down. Calm
down and tell me what’s the matter. I’m sure it’s something we can sort out for you. Nothing’s that bad.”
He gestures to a nearby seat, but she resists, instead heading for a far corner of the lounge. Angelo
follows after a moment, puts the brandy in front of her, a large one, but she sits, lips sealed until he is
out of earshot again.
“Drink the brandy, Mitch.” She tries to brush it to one side, but Frank lifts it, tilting it to her lips. “Drink it.
Some at least. You’re no good to anyone in that state.”
Chest heaving, she drinks; just a sip, then another. Then she takes a good mouthful.
“That’s better. Now, start at the beginning. What’s Larry done to upset you so much? I thought the two
of you were an item now.”
“How well do you know him, Frank? How did you meet him?”
“Um, let’s see…” He rubs an ear. “I’ve known him a while, maybe three years. We met because I was
acting for the vendor on the Blessingmoors site…”
She shivers. “And what did he tell you he wanted it for?”
“You know what he wanted it for. It’s a shelter…”
“It isn’t. It’s not a shelter at all. It’s a prison. I was in there, Frank.”
He jerks back, brows pulling together. “What? What are you talking about?”
“I saw it, Frank. I saw it. I went there to try to find Larry. But there were women inside. Girls. Locked in,
Chained up. They were prisoners. I tried to let them out, but I had no way of releasing them. And there
were voices. Men’s voices. People moving around. I left, but I was seen. And… and… the police came
for me afterwards. I’ve never touched drugs. Never. Someone was coming for me. And I told my lawyer
about it…”
Frank, chin propped on a fist, screws up his face. “Mitch… you’re not making all this up, are you?”
“That’s what the lawyer said…” Her voice hitches… “…but he believed me in the end and now... now …
he’s dead…”
“Dead?”
“In the papers… look.” She points up to the bar. “Read it.”
Frank frowns, stands, fetches the paper. “The man that was gunned down. It was him? That was your
lawyer?”
She nods, the tears flowing again. “God, I’m so scared, Frank. I daren’t go back to my apartment. I’ve
nowhere to go. I don’t know what to do.”
He slaps an arm around her shoulder. “Come back with me to my place. You can stay there for a few
nights while we get this sorted out. Eh?”
Her face is a mask of fear and hope. “Are you sure? I don’t want to… to bring any of this on you.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” He slips the arm down. His hand creeps over hers. “Get your stuff. Let’s get you out of
here.”
*****
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