It’s been a chaotic ten days.   A week ago, I went to see the respectable editor at the respectable publishing house to discuss “Confession”, or as it is known by the Daughter and I as “My Life as an Armed Robber, A How to Guide”.   I gather that the Publishing House is going to pay me a £3,000 as an immediate advance.   And… £2,000 will be paid on delivery and acceptance of the synopsis.   I will then be paid an additional £10,000!  £5,000 on deliver on acceptance and £5,000 on acceptance.  I am ecstatic. 

I tell Barry.

“  Right, well the £3,000 will go some way to keeping “them” quiet.”

  £3,000!  The lot!   I can’t do that.  I have slipped up on two mortgage payments.   I need to bring those repayments up to date, and the daughter desperately needs a new coat.  Not a fashion item.  A coat that covers her knees and her wrists and keeps her warm!   Then there is gas, electric, council tax.   I work out that I can give Barry £1,000.

“£1,000 is not really going to help, Madelaine.”

“But, Barry…  I can’t slip any more payments on the mortgage.   You see that, don’t you?”

“It’s my heart.  It’s my downfall.  I have too big a heart.   I’ll tell them about the £1,000.”

“Oh Barry, thanks”

“But the thing is Madelaine, are you sure you should be doing this?   How kosher is it!”

Completely.  The advance is coming from the publishing house

“No one releases money without a contract, Madelaine”

Well…err….

“Madelaine, I worry about you.   That money is coming from the armed robber, if you ask me.  It is being laundered through the publishing house”

No.  It’s not possible.

“I am not saying the publishing house is laundering money, I am simply saying the money is not from the publishing house.   It is from the armed robber!”

Barry and I are arguing.  I hate it when we argue.   It leaves a hole in my stomach.   Barry has become rather important. 

“I appreciate that, Madelaine.”

Oh my God, did I actually say that, out loud!

 “You are rather important to me.  I like to see myself as a safe haven for my clients, a sort of counsellor”.

Clients?  Counsellor?  I thought we were debtors, bad people who owed money and people like Barry, debt collectors,  are supposed to be like the turnkeys at Newgate, Prison.

“I’ve told you, in my line, you have to be able to read people, use psychology.  There are three kinds of debtors Madelaine.  There are the shirkers who won’t pay.  People who are out of their depth, floundering, desperate.  And there are people like you who can swim around the island and eventually climb out of the water on to dry land.”

Barry and his analogies!  I think the last time we discussed this debt was like a glacier!

“Tell me something, Madelaine.  You are a woman of the world”

I am?

“ Does a woman need to spend £40.00 on having the hard skin scrapped off her feet and a lick of red painted on her toes?”

I clear my throat.  You mean a pedicure, Barry.

“I can understand going to the chiropodist.  If you’ve got a corn, a bunion, or an ingrown toenail, that’s what you do.”

I can’t believe I am having a conversation with Barry about ingrown toenails and hard skin.

“That’s life, Madelaine, ingrown toenails and hard skin!”

Right, I assume we are referring to a pedicure.

“Precisely.”

There is more to a pedicure than scrapping off skin, and cutting toe nails!   There’s immersion of the feet in warm, soapy water in foot spa that swirls the gentle suds up and over the feet.  Each foot is gently lifted out of the water, and towel dried, creams and lotions are applied, toes are clipped and filed and tweaked until they look as if they have never seen a shoe.  The massage, a foot and leg massage, is bliss.   Toe painting completes the pure pamper.  The business of pedicure has about as much to do with a visit to the chiropodist as a facial has to do with a visit to a dermatologist.

“Right.  £40 for submerging feet in a bucket with some detergent in it, toe cutting, slopping on a bit of cream, and some paint on the nails.   You can do that at home!”

Me!   I haven’t had a pedicure for as long as I can remember.  And I want one.   Sorry, Barry, but I may just sneak one out of that £3,000!

“I am referring to the wife.  She has a pedicure every bloody month.  And to be frank my credit card is beginning to get severe indigestion. I can’t see the point of it.  .”

Barry, you may be an expert on debt but you know nothing about women.