I have the money! I have it in my bank account. I keep looking at my bank account. It hasn’t had four figures on it for as long as I can remember.  I want to cry.   I just want to look at it.  Not the money, the figures!!   £3,028.00! I had £28.00 in the account, left over from last week’s wages from Pierre. As I am salivating over those pretty numbers the phone rings. I look at my watch. It is 7.45 in the morning. It’s Barry!

“Madelaine?”

Yes, Barry, the money’s hit the account.

“Well that’s good. We can get that bit of business out of the way, then. Want to give me your debit card number?”
I sigh. 

“Madelaine? You all right.”

Yeah, I’m fine of course.

I grab my wallet, extract the debit card and give him the number, the start date, the end date, the three security numbers on the back.  I can feel my heart beating.  A triumphant Barry gives me the verification code.  

“Now doesn’t that feel good £1,500 off your balance of £7500. “

£1,500. We agreed  on £1,000! And how come the balance is now £7500. 

“Interest Madelaine, and fees. It all mounts up.”

Fees? 

“Letters, phone calls….”

I haven’t had any letters…

“That’s only because I’ve stopped them. Got to go. Some woman’s playing merry hell because I clamped her car. If only these people would pay their fines we wouldn’t have to have any of this unpleasantness! Speak to you tomorrow. Good luck with the mortgage.  That’ll be another weight off your back!”

I am left with a dialling tone.  

I look at my watch.   No point in ringing the mortgage company yet. Their lines won’t be open. I calculate the payments I need to make on the rest of my debts. I will have £920.00 left. That’s three figures in the bank account!

For want of something else to do, I write a list….

“Things I can do without” 

Cigarettes…  I cross cigarettes out, it doesn’t qualify for my list.  I don’t smoke.

I start again.  

Good Red Wine. It slips down like velvet, but in the end, all I have left is an empty bottle.

A car. Eats beyond my means, requires maintenance and insurance, and has to be taxed. Sounds like a husband.

Sheer tights. Thick tights last longer. There are always bare legs.  

Ice cream. I can make my own!

Theatre. When did I last even think of going to the theatre!

Holidays. A recliner in the park will be fine! 

Indian Takeaway. Over emphasis on heat doesn’t make up for a lack of an underlying hint of spice variation.

New clothes. The latest nipped in waist will be next season’s cold toast.

Cinema. Eventually they are all on TV. Eventually!

Phone calls with Friends. Eats up time and money. Keep in touch with an email!

By the time I have finished the list, it is time to make the payments. Half an hour later, it is all done. Paid in full for this month. I take a deep breath. It’s almost time to go to work.  

The phone rings.  I answer.  It’s the Armed Robber.  “I hope you got the money,  Madelaine?”

“Yes, thank you so much…”

“Hope you are going to treat yourself to something special, something for yourself.”

“Err….   My daughter needs a coat.”

“I am delighted that you will be able to buy it for her.  But I want to know what you are going to buy for yourself, to make yourself feel better.”

“What would actually make me feel better is a win on the lottery, just enough to clear the debts and Barry out of my life.”

“Barry is the Bailiff?”

Oh damn it!  Will I never keep my mouth shut.

“How much has he wormed out of you?”

I am suddenly, oddly, defensive of Barry.  “The agreed amount.”

“And what was that.”

I find myself mutter £1,500.

“That’s half of the money I have advanced you.   We’d best get on with the book.  Shall I arrange a visiting order for next week?”

Yes, I will have finished the research by next week.   Why did I say that?  I haven’t even received it yet!

“I will make it for the end of the week.  Look forward to seeing you Madelaine.”

We say goodbye.  I am wondering if the voice is malevolent, or am I just paranoid.  At least I know where I am with Barry.

I hear a voice shouting my name.  “Madelaine”.  My heart leaps.  It’s Michael.  Oh God, its Michael.