Page 28 of Too Busy for Love

‘Agreed. Let’s shower and pack, then get the hell out of here.’

10

There’s no sign of Maria when we get back down to the kitchen, but the two congealed plates of bacon and eggs are still on the worktop, along with the cold cappuccinos. She hasn’t even turned off the coffee machine, I notice. I’m tempted to leave everything as it is – after all, it’s not my problem any more – but I know I can’t. With a sigh, I switch off the coffee machine, scrape the food into the bin and pour the coffee away before washing everything up. Jock has grabbed his knife roll and is rootling in the drawers, pulling various objects out and piling them on the worktop.

‘I’m not leaving anything behind that I bought,’ he tells me when I raise my eyebrows. ‘Madame may have liked everything just so, but she was as tight as a duck’s arse when it came to buying equipment, so a lot of this stuff is mine.’

‘Comme le derrière d’un canard,’ I joke.

‘Exactly. Can you give me a hand with this?’

We’re just loading up a plastic bag with the equipment Jock is taking when Maria reappears.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she asks accusingly. ‘You’d better not be nicking that stuff.’

‘I’m only taking what’s mine,’ Jock tells her forcefully. ‘And even if I was stealing it, what are you going to do? Call the police? Oh, and in case you haven’t worked it out yet, I quit.’

‘Me too,’ I add.

‘What? Why?’ Despite being incredibly unpleasant from the moment she walked through the door, it obviously hasn’t crossed her mind that we might follow through on our threat to leave.

‘Oddly,’ I tell her coolly, ‘we have a problem with your business model.’

‘What do you mean? It never bothered you before.’

‘That’s because we didn’t know what was going on before. You can’t seriously expect us to turn a blind eye while you carry on an illegal business that’s exploiting vulnerable women.’

‘Oh, I get it,’ she sneers. ‘You don’t want to get your hands dirty now you know about our little sideline. But, before you come over all holier-than-thou, you sanctimonious little bitch, ask yourself this: where do you think all the girls we had working for us are now, eh? I’ll tell you. They’re probably on the streets servicing the fucking weirdos out there, and relying on pimps who will quickly get them hooked on drugs to control them. They’ll have to do more and more tricks to fund the drugs, and they’ll need more and more drugs to make doing the tricks bearable. If they’re lucky, they’ll get put up in some filthy, rat-infested squat, and they’ll have to service punters there too, like a conveyor belt. They’ll probably die of an overdose or choking on their own vomit. Of course, that’s assuming they don’t get murdered by a punter first. At least they were safe here. This place is a sanctuary in comparison.’

‘Sanctuary?’ Jock laughs humourlessly. ‘That’s not the word I’d use.’

‘That’s because you’re just as bloody ignorant as her. I expect you grew up in a nice middle-class home with hot meals on thetable three times a day. You’ve never been forced to sell yourself just to survive. If you had, you’d realise just what a good deal it was working here. Anyway, I can’t be arsed to argue with you two fuckwits any more. If that’s how you feel, you can leave at the end of your notice period. In the meantime, I need you to help me make the beds.’

‘No. We’re going now,’ Jock tells her.

‘I don’t think so. You need to give notice. It’s in your contract.’

‘I don’t remember you being so concerned about our contracts when you told us to “pack our bags and fuck off” earlier.’

Jock’s landed a blow. I can tell because it takes her a while to decide what to say next.

‘Fine,’ she blusters eventually. ‘Play it like that if you want. It’s no skin off my nose; I can manage quite happily without you and your shitty attitudes. But don’t think of asking for a reference, because there’s no bloody way I’m giving either of you one.’

‘That’s just fine,’ I reply sweetly. ‘A reference from you is the last thing I want.’

I’m shaking as we drag our bags to the door. It’s not that I’m particularly afraid of conflict; I wouldn’t be a very good manager if I was. But there was something so malevolent about Maria that I actually wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d physically attacked us when we turned our backs on her. The relief when I step out onto the street is short-lived, however, as an awkward silence descends between Jock and me.

‘I guess this is it then,’ he says eventually. ‘Which station are you heading to?’

‘Paddington. You?’

‘Kings Cross.’

‘Right. Well…’ He peters out.

This is really uncomfortable. How is it that we could do all the things we’ve done together this week and suddenly not know what to say to each other? In the end, I step forward and wrap my arms around him. His arms come up and pull me close as I bury my head in his chest and breathe him in. Although we’ve been perfectly upfront with each other about our relationship being time limited, there’s a big part of me that doesn’t want to let him go.

‘Thank you,’ I murmur into his shirt. ‘For everything.’

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