“Subsidence! I don’t believe it!”

“Barry you can see the report. I can scan it in and send it to you.”

“No, Madelaine.  It’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s just that I thought we were sorted.  This is not good news. I can feel me cholesterol levels going up.”

Perhaps he means blood pressure?  “I am so sorry.  You don’t need this aggravation, not when you’ve just come back from a nice holiday”

“Don’t get me started on the holiday. I am telling you, Madelaine, you do not want to be stuck on a ship with 1200 people holidaying on other people’s money. Not one of them paid cash. Plastic, plastic, plastic. It’s beyond me, they still don’t get it.”

But wasn’t it relaxing, being at sea.

“Oh, yes. The sea bit was lovely. Would’ve preferred being on my own boat though. None of this poncing up for dinner. A bit of fresh fish straight from the sea, straight on to a fire. Lovely. But would she do it? No, she wouldn’t? Do you know what the latest is? A brush for thirty quid! A brush! For exfoliating the skin! How can a bloody brush cost thirty quid!”

“It’s the type of bristle, Barry.”

“Probably comes from some poor bloody goat up the side of a mountain in Tibet!  Anyone bother to think about the carbon miles?  ‘Course not!”

I don’t care about Barry’s wife’s brush. I care about what he is going to say about the sale of the house falling through because the house is falling through, I mean in, falling “in”.

“Right, well. We’ve a situation, and we have to face it.”

Yes. But how are we going to face it? “The technical surveyors are coming to file a report”

“You want me to be there, do you?”

No, no. I’ll be fine.  My friend, Pat, he’s a lawyer, he said that whatever happened a debtor must not let the Bailiffs in the house. They have to get a warrant from the Court. Well, he didn’t actually say it to me. He said it in conversation, when I bought up the question of a bailiff’s power to take your life away. He has no idea I was talking about myself.
“No, no, Barry.  Thanks.  I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t want them walking all over you.”
Like you, you mean!
“Best thing is, get a time table out of them. I’ll tell the office that in the meantime you are going to make regular payments”
Regular payments?  We’ve been through this? How can I make “regular payments”? I am freelance for God’s sake!
“You’ll have to be more proactive. Get a few more pamphlets to write. Can’t be many people out there with your skills”
Can’t there be? Wrong, Barry! Newspapers are closing. Folk get their news on line. Free!  No readers, no advertising.  No advertising, no revenue. The joys of the printed page may well become a distant memory in the not too distant future.
“Madelaine. You are depressed. It’s the flu. I understand. That boyfriend of yours?  He’s looking after you properly?”

That boyfriend has not been seen. He mustn’t catch swine flu. He has gigs to think about.  But when did I tell Barry about Michael?!  I am clearly losing my mind. 
“That’s a bit selfish, I must say. Now, you just worry about yourself. I’ll lose the file for a day or so and then we can pick this up when you’re feeling better. Gotta be on my way right now.  There’s this woman giving me ear ache just because I clamped her car.  If she’d have paid the bloody fine in the first place there’d be no need for all this name calling!”

The phone goes down. Barry has gone. I didn’t tell him about the debt counsellor, about how encouraging she was, that I was going to beat this debt nightmare; but then, of course, I didn’t tell her about Barry. .