Page 4 of Someone For Everyone

‘Indeed, Your Honour. However, my intention is to find another job and clear the debt as soon as possible. I just need more time.’

The judge tapped his glasses with his pen. ‘I’ll allow an adjournment of three months.’ He checked the calendar on his desk. ‘A new hearing will be scheduled for the beginning of February. If by that time I am satisfied you’re in a position to repay the debt in a reasonable timeframe, say two years, then the application for bankruptcy will be suspended.’

‘But Your Honour…’ HMRC man didn’t look happy.

‘That is my final decision. Case dismissed.’ He banged his gavel on the desk and offered Kate a sympathetic smile, before exiting the courtroom.

The HMRC representative packed up and left without comment.

Kate took a moment to catch her breath, before picking up her bag and following him.

She’d done it: she’d successfully persuaded the judge to allow her more time. It wasn’t the perfect outcome – three months wasn’t very long – but it was better than nothing. Now all she had to do was find a decently paid job in the hope she could resolve her debt situation – something she prayed would happen soon.

It was dark by the time she emerged from the courthouse. Rain pelted the grimy London streets, splashing water against her legs as she headed for the tube station. Apprehension and a nervous state of anxiety had made her hot and clammy prior tothe hearing, but spent adrenaline and acute disheartenment had left her shivering and cold in the November night air.

She sped up, eager to get home and soothe her sorrows with a long hot bath and an equally large glass of something laced with gin; she was in need of an anaesthetic.

A noise behind her made her glance over her shoulder, but there was no one there, only a few shadows darting across the wet pavement. The trees in the neighbouring cemetery rustled in the breeze, as if whispering conspiratorially, but it was just her imagination playing tricks on her; no one was following her.

She turned off the main road and into a side lane, trying to shake off the tension clamping her skull and making her head ache. Her shoulders were like cement, rigid and unrelenting – a symptom of a stressful day.

She just prayed another panic attack wasn’t looming. She’d managed to keep a lid on her anxiety so far today, but the constant threat of a meltdown lurked beneath the surface, poised and ready to strike.

As she made a mental note to stop off and buy painkillers, a dark figure lunged out from behind the wall and grabbed her arm, knocking her off balance.

Shock caught her off guard and her immediate instinct was to hit out. Her fist connected with the assailant’s chin, making a crunching sound, which was followed by a low moan. This wasn’t enough to deter the man, who was wearing a black balaclava and thick gloves – something which sent a wave of fear racing through her.

As they grappled, the man shouted at her, spitting in her face. ‘Bag! Now!’

Realisation dawned. She was being mugged.

The sensible lawyerly part of her brain told her to let go of the bag. Losing a few possessions wasn’t worth the risk of getting hurt, but another part of her refused to let go. Why, she wasn’tsure. She clung to the straps, pulling against the man as he dragged her down the lane.

They staggered one way, and then the other, like some bizarre tug-of-war contest. Kate was losing ground; the man was clearly stronger. If she was going to fend him off then she needed to fight dirty. She kicked out, missed him and stubbed her toe on the wall behind. Sudden pain almost made her lose her grip, but the rage burning within her fuelled her strength and she wrenched the bag as hard as she could.

The bag slipped from the man’s clasp, causing her to stumble backwards. She lost her footing and fell hard onto the wet pavement, banging her head against the concrete as she landed with a thump.

The next thing she knew, the man was above her, kicking her in the ribs as she cowered on the pavement. ‘Give me the bag,’ he barked, his black padded jacket failing to mask his body odour. ‘I won’t ask again.’ And then he drew a knife.

Oh, hell.

Once again, Kate’s sensible lawyerly brain told her to give it up as a lost cause, but she was damned if she was going to let another male lowlife take something else from her. All the pent-up anger that had been bubbling under the surface for the last two years finally exploded in a torrent of aggrieved outrage.

‘Or what?’ she yelled, swinging her legs around and catching him hard on the kneecap. ‘You’ll stab me?’

He staggered backwards, allowing Kate to scrabble to her feet.

‘Quite frankly, after the year I’ve had you’d be doing me a favour, mate. You want my bag? You seriously want my bag?’ She shook the thing at him. ‘Do you know what’s in it? Do you?’

He waved the knife at her. ‘Just give me the bag!’

‘I have precisely twelve pounds and thirty-three pence!’ She ripped open the bag and pulled out her battered purse. ‘As you can see… there are no credit cards, store cards or charge cards…Why, you ask? Because they’ve already been cut up! You are, however, welcome to take my library card and my donor card… although perhaps I should hold on to this, seeing as you’re about to stab me! At least that way I can do something useful and save the life of some poor sod awaiting a liver transplant!’

The man hesitated. ‘You’re mad, you are.’

‘Mad?’ Kate let out a scream. ‘I’m frickin’ furious!’

‘Just give me the bag!’ He sounded slightly desperate now.

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