Due Date, Page 3

  Sitting in the driver's seat, I placed my phone in the dock before starting the drive to the high street.

  “Call office.” I instructed the phone.

  It ruminated for a moment, then dialled. Two rings later, the receptionist answered.

  “Faulk and Golstein, how may I direct your call?” said Sian, the far-too-chirpy receptionist.

  “Sian, it's Nina.” I said.

  “Nina! How's Lisa doing?”

  “Fine.” I said, quickly retracting the statement. “Actually, not that fine. She needs me to be around today... maybe the next couple of days. Can you tell Neil and Claire I'm probably going to have to go on maternity leave early?”

  “Yeah, of course! Is she ok? Is it coming? Have you got a name yet!?”

  “She'll be ok.” I said gruffly, not wanting to answer the other questions.

  “Well, be sure to bring that adorable squishy wormbaby round to meet us soon as, 'kay?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” I said, hanging up before the idiot receptionist had a chance to fire any further queries that I didn't want to field.

  Peering back in the rear view mirror at the belongings strewn across the back seat, I hoped they were worth anything close to what I needed.

  I parked up as close to the Cash Converters as possible, and got out of the car. Opening the back door, I struggled with the guitars whilst trying to close the door and lock the car with the fob. When the doors finally clicked shut, I made my way down a few stores and pushed the door open with my shoulder. The shop assistant stared, not even flinching towards offering assistance as I walked up to the counter, placing the valuables down in front of him.

  “Morning.” he said.

  “Yeah. Sure.” I replied. “There's more to come.”

  I made my way back to the door, returning with the bag and laptop, proceeding to dump the contents out in front of him.

  “Whad'ya do, rob some old lady?” said the guy with a guffaw.

  “Clearing out the attic.” I said, trying to keep eye contact, remaining nonchalant.

  “Yeah, I bet...” he said, with a smug grin as he flicked through the jewellery, holding the occasional piece up to the light, then leafing through the books, eyeing up the publishing dates. “How much you looking for?”

  “Ten thousand.” I said. “Think the white guitar is a ninteen-sixty original, the Fender? And the Gibson cost maybe five grand new.”

  “Can pick 'em up on eBay for maybe eight hundred these days...” the man said, inspecting it. “Got some scuffs on it too, so ain't exactly mint, y'know?”

  “Collectors would probably love it though, right?” I said.

  “Yeah, but I ain't a collector, just stick shit on shelves. Could do you five hundred a piece for the guitars, maybe?”

  “Five thousand for the guitars.” I said, standing my ground. He'd low-ball again, but I knew there would be no harm in bartering.

  “Havin' a laugh, ain't worth more than two.”

  “Four.”

  “You'll be lucky. Two five's highest I'll go.”

  “Three five.” I said.

  “Nah, ain't that interested in them love, no one comes down this way with a grand and change for a guitar – I gotta make a profit, don't I?”

  “Three.”

  “Two five.”

  “Two seven fifty.” I said, hating myself for dropping so low. Lisa loved those guitars, even if she never played them any more. But they were just objects, things that could be replaced. Lisa was one in seven billion.

  The man looked the guitars over, his eyes lingering on their bodies. He ran his fingers over the scuff marks and brought his eyes to mine slowly, probing my curves en route, just as he had with the curves of the guitars.

  “Two seven fifty. But you're bleedin' me dry here...” he said, scoffing as he went to the cash register.

  “Bet you say that to all the girls...” I said with a wry smile. I'd dealt with people like him before at work, and was more than familiar with how a little bit of casual homo-normative flirtation could turn a deal. I let the smile linger longer than it needed to, as I watched him ring up the number.

  “You looking to sell the jewellery and books too? Can't say I know much about that kinda thing...”

  “Yeah.” I said. “Worth about three thousand, give or take.

  “Pricey. I'll give you one.” he said, chuckling at his double entendre.

  “Nice try.” I said, the smile fixed on my lips. “I'm not going any less than two five. Diamonds are a girl's best friend, after all...”

  “One five.” he said, looking back at the register for a moment, then turning to me with a bigger smile.”Two if you give me your number...”

  “Are you going to pay for dinner with all the money you're making from me?”

  “Sure. You like McDonalds?” he chuckled.

  “You got yourself a deal.” I said, as I took a pen out of my bag, and started scrawling a fake number on a notepad, tearing it off and laying it on the counter.

  He rang up the total, four thousand seven hundred and fifty, which was barely going to make a dent in the total I needed. But it was one step closer. I took the cash and left the store, going straight to the car to work out the total so far.

  £25,021.48

  I was only half way there, and was running out of time. Leaning my wrists on the wheel, I dug my finger nails deep into my palms, closing fists as hard as I could, skin aching, muscles tense, nails wrestling to break through and let blood flow. It was a familiar sensation, too familiar, a sense memory from dumb teenage angst. Except it was a razor rather than nails, and back then, the blood ran, thick and dark.

  Needed to clear my head, exorcise those pitch black notions. But the pain was helping with focus. Looking over the top of the wheel I saw a yellow sticker on the windshield, and a parking attendant walking away down the road.

  “Motherfucker!” I screamed, banging my hands on the wheel.

  I got out the car, pulled the ticket off and tore it up, the pieces falling over the door, spiralling down on a light breeze into the foot well.

  Getting back into the car, I rested my head on the steering wheel and closed my eyes, breathing deeply. Lisa always told me to breath deeply when I felt like this, she'd always coach me through the unfathomable rage that would creep up when a meeting didn't go well, or a client was an arse.

  When the calm returned, I looked down at the pieces of the ticket on the floor, and a memory started to surface. Amongst the writing and torn paper was remnants of confetti. I tried to remember where or when it might have come from. We had been to so many weddings in the last year. Most of them were people we had known for a long time, but some of them were just casual acquaintances. Lisa said those invitations meant we were on everyone's 'I guess we have to invite them' list.

  We had made one of those lists ourselves for our own wedding, full of friends and family and acquaintances that didn't quite fit in with the people that mattered to us. Picking up the pieces of confetti, I inspected them. Blue and white. The weddings were all a blur, each of them as elaborate as the last, all costing more than the two of us thought should ever be spent on a single day. It wouldn't have been anyone we worked with, all of those were run by wedding planners who seemed as though they could double as dominatrixes. Ruling with an iron fist, insisting that weddings are always themed pink. It could have been someone from Lisa's family, but I had a tendency to forget those people as soon as I met them.

  “You family all look the same.” I once told her, before she proceeded to literally fall off her chair with laughter.

  Going through our friends from university, it finally came to me; Alli and Joe's wedding.

  They got married a month or two previous, and it was themed blue and white in honour of the football team he supported. Alli had even let him play Tottenham Hotspurs' theme tune as they walked back down the aisle after the ceremony, the recession theme, I think they called it. Joe and his friends loved it, laughing and singing along, a
nd Alli grinned through it, sacrificing a traditional orchestral theme for the sake of love.

  That wedding, with five hundred guests and a room at The Grosvenor House Hotel, cost over a hundred thousand pounds. I remembered the figure clearly because of the shrug Alli gave alongside it, saying “I guess that's what these things cost...” as if it were nothing.

  I pulled a pen and notepad out of my bag, leafing through sketches and designs for clients in search of an empty page, and started writing down the names of our friends. The rich ones, couples and singles, all of the ones who I trusted and knew were affluent enough to shrug at an otherwise ludicrous sum of money.

  Ten sets of names.

  Alli & Joe

  Ben & Kate

  Jack

  Paul & Kathy

  Lynn

  Fran & Gail

  Daniel & Mary

  Yvette

  Will & Helen

  Marie

  Under that list I wrote a new list, putting the names in order of who could be relied upon in time of crisis, those I knew loved and adored Lisa, or more specifically, who I thought owed her. Owed us. People we had always been there for, had always gone out of our way for. Who might, with minor convincing and corralling, be willing to part with their money if they thought it was for a good cause.

  I didn't want to think about paying anyone back, not while there were more important things to worry about. But the new list was in order of people who wouldn't miss that kind of money.

  Alli & Joe

  Marie

  Jack

  Will & Helen

  Fran & Gail

  Ben & Kate

  Paul & Kathy

  Lynn

  Yvette

  Daniel & Mary

  That was it. Ten sets of names I could count on in descending order. I pulled out my phone and put it in the dock.

  “Call Alli.” I instructed, as I flicked the engine on and started driving to their house, knowing that after over a decade of friendship, she would never refuse an out-of-the-blue request to visit.

  “Nina!” said the excited voice on the line.

  “Joe?” I replied.

  “Yeah, Alli's just in the other room. How's it going? Haven't seen you since the wedding!”

  I didn't expect Joe to answer.

  Alli had been one of my best friends for over fifteen years, whereas Joe, I always had a vague notion didn't like me. It didn't make sense, and I knew it. He was always thoroughly nice to my face. An irrational reaction, likely because of the way my father thought of, and spoke to me; I didn't entirely trust straight men when they were being nice. There was a whisper in the back of my mind that it must be fake, plastic, even when it was probably a hundred percent genuine.

  “Yeah, it's been a while.” I said, over a lump in my throat. “Actually, I was wondering if I could come over?”

  His pause seemed to last an eternity, and I was only minutes away from their house.

  “Yeah!” he said. I could hear a hesitancy in his voice. “I don't see why not.” there was a fumble with the phone as he held it away from his mouth and shouted “Alli, Nina's coming over in a bit.” he pulled the phone back to his face, the scratch of his beard channelling soft static through the bluetooth speakers in the car. “She can't wait. See you soon!”

  “Yeah.” I said, as I turned into their road, hanging up the phone.

  I drove slowly up to the house and waited in the car. Didn't want to appear weird for calling whilst pretty much outside their house, and still didn't know how I was going to broach the subject.

  After seven minutes passed on the dashboard clock, impatience got the better of me, I was out the car and walking up the path to the front door. My finger hovered over the doorbell as I went through the speech I had practised in my head. Getting through the pleasantries and pushing aside generic 'catching up' conversation to get to the point of the visit.

  Seconds later, the door burst open and I found Alli's arms around me, in a long, tight hug. I didn't want to let her know, but welcomed the embrace. It felt good to have someone's arms around me, finally being given some comfort in a dark, shitty hour, even if the person giving the hug had no idea how much it meant.

  Alli welcomed me inside, closing the door behind, where Joe was waiting with a less-firm, but still friendly hug. I never thought of him as a hugger, it was something that Alli had taught him over the years. We had all known each other almost as long as I had known Lisa, old friends from university, and one of the few couples that truly seemed as happy as Lisa and I were. It was our nuptials that encouraged Joe to take the leap, which he sweated through, even though it was obvious to everyone that knew them that the answer would be a resounding 'yes'.

  “Lisa doing ok?” Alli asked, as she ushered me into the living room, plying wine before I had the chance to refuse.

  “Al, I don't know how to say this...” I said. “I don't know how to ask this...” the routine practised in the car had left the confines of memory, disappeared into the ether, and I couldn't even begin to remember how I was going to phrase it to sound like it was a natural progression of conversation. “I need money.”

  The couple looked at me with blank, confused stares. Glanced at each other momentarily, gazes returning to my direction as I watched them communicate in silence.

  “It's for Lisa.” I tried to explain. “I can't tell you any more.”

  “How much are we talking?” asked Joe.

  “Twenty five....” I said, coughing over the words “Twenty five thousand.” my eyes fell to the floor, heavy with the burden of having to make such an imposition. I never had to ask anyone for money before, not properly, not this much, and it was harder and more embarrassing than I could have ever imagined.

  “Jesus!” Joe exclaimed. “What the hell do you need that for?”

  My eyes were still on the floor, couldn't meet his stare.

  “I can't say.” I said, quietly.

  “What the hell has happened? What costs that much?” he said.

  “Shut up.” Alli instructed. “Is Lisa ok? Does she need an expensive treatment or something?”

  “Or something...” I mumbled.

  “What, was she kidnapped?” Joe said with a smirk. He was trying to make a joke.

  My eyes darted up to him of their own accord, telling more in a look than words ever could. In that instant, the couple both knew the situation wasn't a laughing matter.

  “Oh fuck!” said Alli. “Have you called the police?”

  “I can't.”

  “She's due any day now, isn't she?” Joe asked.

  “Yeah.” I said, eyes falling back to the floor, weighed down like lead.

  “So this couldn't have been a coincidence.” he said. “They must have planned this, done recon or whatever, maybe they're serial kidnappers of pregnant women? Ransoming them to - -”

  “- - Not fucking helpful.” Alli said with a scowl.

  “It doesn't matter who they are.” I said. “I just need the money to get her back.”

  “I don't think we've got that much lying around in an account... but we'll give you what we can.” Alli said with a fearful, but reassuring smile. “Anything for you guys, you know that.” She took my hand in hers, and kneeled down to meet my eyeline. “Whoever these people are, it's all going to be ok.” she said. “Lisa's going to be fine. She's a fighter, always has been.”

  I nodded, and attempted to force a smile.

  It felt like a lie curling up my face, and I was certain that's how it appeared to Joe and Alli. He went to get his laptop to send the money over to my bank account whilst Alli sat by my side, refusing to let go of the hand she had in her grasp, or leave me when I needed her most.

  It took me an hour to convince Alli that I was going to be ok and finally be allowed to leave. I went straight to the car and got out the notepad, adding another twenty thousand to the tally.

  £45,021.48

  I was almost there. Going back to the list of names, I crossed off Al
li and Joe and put the phone back in the dock. “Call Marie.” I instructed.

  The phone beeped back at me.

  “Three Maries are present in your phone book.”

  I stared at the names and numbers, all were just called 'Marie', no last names or additional details. I cursed myself for being useless at updating my contacts. I pressed the first one to dial the number. It took a moment to call through, and as soon as the ringing was interrupted, I tried to confirm the identity of the woman.

  “Marie?” I asked, unsure as to who might answer.

  “Bonsoir?” said the woman on the other end.

  “Sorry, wrong number.” I said, hanging up and deleting the number.

  French Marie was a prospective client from over two years ago, who turned around and went to a rival firm after I had wasted three weeks preparing for what was meant to be a huge job. I grimaced at the thought of having to speak to that woman ever again, and dialled the next Marie.

  “Nina!” squealed an excitable voice, before I had a chance to say hello. “How the hell are you?! It's been so long!”

  It was the right Marie.

  I didn't know anyone else who was that infectiously enthusiastic. Putting the car into drive, I sped down the road to Marie's whilst fielding questions, and awkwardly crowbarring in a self-invitation to visit.

  Marie was one of those people I knew would always be a friend, even if we didn't see each other for months or years. She was also wealthy, and as long as I knew her, didn't seem to know the value of money. With only five thousand pounds left to acquire, I hoped and prayed that the years since Lisa and I had last seen Marie hadn't changed her fiscal ways.

  Too much time was wasted being comforted by Alli. It was getting dark, and getting late, and I knew I could probably only call on one more friend if Marie wasn't able to help.