I See You(34)

Melissa was forty when we met – still young enough to have a family – and I asked her once if she and Neil were planning to have children.

‘He can’t.’ She corrected herself instantly. ‘That’s not fair. I meant we can’t.’

‘That must be hard.’ I’d been a mother for so long I couldn’t imagine a life without children.

‘Not really. I’ve always known, you see – Neil had leukaemia as a child and the chemo left him infertile – so it was never part of our life together. We’ve done other things; had other opportunities.’ Work, I supposed. The business, holidays, a beautiful house.

‘Neil found it harder than I did,’ she said. ‘He used to get very angry – Why me? That sort of thing – but nowadays we barely even think about it.’

‘Whereas I’d love a house like yours,’ I say now, ‘all clear surfaces and not a dirty sock in sight!’

She smiles. ‘The grass is always greener, isn’t that what they say? Before too long, Katie and Justin will have moved out and you’ll be rattling around in an empty house, wishing they were here.’

‘Maybe. Oh, that reminds me; what on earth have you done to my son?’

Melissa looks instantly worried, and I feel bad for trying to make a joke. I explain: ‘He presented me with money for rent on Tuesday. Without being asked for it. I gather you’ve promoted him.’

‘Oh, I see! He deserves it – he’s doing a great job, and I need a manager. It’s worked out perfectly.’

There’s still something troubling her. I hold her gaze till she breaks away, looking out of the window to our scrubby garden. Finally, she speaks.

‘The pay rise.’ She glances at me. ‘It’s cash-in-hand.’ I raise an eyebrow. I’m her friend, but I’m also her bookkeeper. I suspect she wouldn’t have told me, had I not mentioned Justin’s pay rise.

‘When customers pay in cash, it doesn’t always go through the books. I keep a rainy day fund. It covers the odd household bill without my needing to take a dividend from the business.’

‘I see.’ I should probably be wrestling with my conscience, round about now, but the way I see it, she’s not hurting anyone. She’s not some global retailer, avoiding corporation tax with offshore accounts. She’s just a local businesswoman, trying to make a living like the rest of us.

‘It’s not purely selfish, you know.’ I can see from Melissa’s expression that she’s regretting telling me; that she’s worried I’m judging her. ‘It means Justin doesn’t lose out to the taxman either; he can start to put something aside.’

I’m touched that she’s even considered it. ‘So do I also have you to thank for him passing some of his pay rise on in rent?’

‘We might have had a word or two …’ She assumes an innocent face that makes me laugh.

‘Well, thank you. It’s good to see him finally growing up a bit. You’re not worried about someone grassing you up to HMRC?’ I add, my bookkeeper hat temporarily in place. It isn’t just Melissa who should be worried. If she were to be caught, I’d be hauled in too.

‘You’re the only one who knows.’

‘Knows what?’ I grin. ‘I’d better get dressed – I must reek.’ I’m still wearing the jogging bottoms and T-shirt I slept in last night, and I’m suddenly conscious of the stale smell of sickness. ‘I’m meeting Katie’s new boyfriend-slash-director later – he’s picking her up for rehearsal.’

‘Boyfriend?’

‘Well, she hasn’t called him that, but I know my daughter. She only met him on Monday, but I swear I haven’t had a conversation with her since then without her mentioning his name. Isaac this, Isaac that. She’s got it bad.’ I hear the creak of the stairs and I stop talking abruptly, just before Katie appears in the kitchen.

‘Wow, check you out!’ Melissa says, jumping up to give her a hug. Katie is wearing grey skinny jeans that look sprayed on, and a gold sequinned sweatshirt that rides up as she puts her arms around Melissa.

‘Is that your famous chicken soup? Is there any left?’

‘Loads. So, I’ve been hearing about Isaac …’ She emphasises the vowels in his name, and Katie looks at me suspiciously. I say nothing.

‘He’s a great director,’ Katie says primly. We wait, but she won’t be drawn.

‘And dare I ask about the money?’ Melissa says, ever the businesswoman. ‘I know acting isn’t the most lucrative of professions, but will it at least cover your outgoings?’

Katie’s pause tells me everything I need to know.

‘Oh, Katie, I thought this was an actual job!’

‘It is a job. We’ll get paid after the run, once the ticket revenue’s in and the bills have been paid.’

‘So it’s a profit-share?’ Melissa says.

‘Exactly.’

‘And what if there’s no profit?’ I say.

Katie rounds on me. ‘There you go again! Why don’t you just tell me I’m shit, Mum? That no one will come and see it, and we’ll all lose our money—’ She stops, but it’s too late.

‘Lose what money? A profit-share I can understand – to a point – but please tell me you haven’t actually given money to some bloke you’ve only just met!’