“I appreciate you’ve been patient, really, but things have just got a bit on top of me lately and, well, that last rent hike was… it was quite steep and I wasn’t really, I mean I hadn’t factored in… I just wasn’t expecting it. Not so soon after the last one.”
“Yeah, well, that’s inflation for you. Don’t blame me, blame the economy.”
“I know, but, well, with all due respect, inflation’s, like, what? Three percent? And my rent went up twenty percent, so—”
“Admin,” said Reg.
“What?”
“Admin.”
“Admin?”
“Is there a fucking echo in here, Dent?” said Reg.
Mr. Dent shook his head.
“Admin,” said Danny. “Right. Of course. It’s just… we haven’t got the same money coming in like before. Not since… you know…”
“Terrible thing, what happened to your Liz,” said Reg. He took another drag on his cigarette. “She was a good girl, that one, I liked her a lot. But at the risk of sounding like a heartless old twat, which, come to think of it, is exactly what I am, your loss, while tragic, don’t change the fact that you owe me two months’ rent.”
“I know, Reg, I know, and you’ll get it, I promise.”
“Oh, I know I’ll get it. There’s no question about that. The only question is how I’ll get it. See, I prefer cash, but Dent here, he’s a bit more, let’s say old-school when it comes to recouping expenses. Ain’t that right, Dent?”
Mr. Dent nodded. He opened his jacket to reveal the head of a well-used claw hammer poking out of his inside pocket. Danny’s chair creaked as he squirmed in his seat.
“So what’s it going to be?” said Reg.
“I’ll get the money, Reg, I swear. Just give me a bit more time.”
Reg took a contemplative drag on his cigarette. Nobody spoke for a moment.
“I wouldn’t normally do this,” said Reg finally, “but in light of your… extenuating circumstances, I guess it’s only right that I show a little compassion. I might not be pretty, but I ain’t a monster. Still, consider yourself lucky that your wife copped it. Otherwise I wouldn’t be half as understanding.”
Danny clamped his teeth together and forced himself to nod.
“I’ll give you two more months to pay everything you owe. Otherwise you and that boy of yours will be looking for a new place to live. I have to warn you, though, Dan, finding a flat with disabled access is a lot harder than you think.”
“Thanks, Reg,” said Danny. “I appreciate it.”
“So you should, Dan, so you should. As for interest, I’d say thirty percent is more than reasonable, wouldn’t you?”
Danny winced as he struggled to swallow his objection. “More than reasonable,” he said.
“Good. That’s settled, then,” said Reg. His cigarette hissed as he dropped it into Danny’s tea.
“I don’t mean any disrespect, Reg, but I’ve got to get to work. See, there’s this new guy, he’s a Russian, Vitali or something, and if I’m late—”
“Two sugars.”
“What?”
“In me Rosie,” said Reg. He took another bite of toast.
“Right. Your tea. Of course. Sorry.”
Danny disappeared into the kitchen, cursing under his breath as he rushed to make Reg’s tea.
“And don’t be stingy with the milk!” yelled Reg.
* * *
Danny ran across the building site, his hard hat bobbing on his head as he ducked and dodged behind girders and excavators. He made for Ivan, who was busy unloading bags of cement from the back of a lorry.
“Danny Boy,” said the Ukrainian. “Alf is looking for you.”
“Did he say why?” said Danny, struggling to catch his breath.
Ivan shrugged. He was the only man Danny knew who could shrug with a bag of cement on his shoulder.
“Danny!” yelled someone from across the site. Danny turned to see a red-faced Alf gesticulating angrily from the doorway of his prefab office. “Get your arse in here now!”
* * *
Alf was sitting behind his desk, furiously clicking a retractable pen against his mouse pad.
“All right, Alf,” said Danny, the floor flexing beneath his feet as he stepped into the office and took a seat opposite Alf. “What’s up?”
“What did I tell you yesterday?”
Danny removed his hard hat and nervously ruffled his hair. “You told me to go and work on cement with Ivan,” he said.
“Don’t mug me off, Dan, you know what I’m talking about,” said Alf.
Danny sighed. “All right, Alf, look, I’m sorry, really, but seriously, mate, it wasn’t my fault. See, me and Will were eating breakfast when somebody starts hammering the door down, right? So I go to investigate and who’s standing on my doorstep but Reg and his giant lummox of a bodyguard. Next thing I know they’re sitting at my dinner table and refusing to leave until the teapot’s empty.”
“Go on,” said Alf.
Danny frowned. “Go on what?”
“Finish your story.”
“I just did.”
“That’s it?” said Alf. He looked like he was battling a sudden onset of brain freeze. “That’s your excuse? You were late for work, again, even though I explicitly warned you not to be late again just twenty-four fucking hours ago, and the reason for that, if I’m understanding you correctly, and I really hope I’m not, is that you were busy supping Tetley with your landlord?”
“Sainsbury’s Basics,” said Danny.
“What?”
“It wasn’t Tetley, it was Sainsbury’s Basics. We can’t afford Tetley.”
“Unbelievable,” said Alf, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“They’re actually not that bad once you get used to them.”
“I’m not talking about your fucking tea bags!” yelled Alf, mashing the desk with his fist.
“Right. Sorry,” said Danny.
Alf shook his head. “You should have listened to me, Dan. I was trying to help you.”
“I did listen, but what was I supposed to do? The guy had a hammer, for Christ’s sake. No, not a hammer, a claw hammer. Why the hell does he need the claw? What’s he planning to do with the claw? I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out, so when a man with a claw hammer tells me to make him a cup of tea, I’m not exactly going to say no, am I? I’m sorry, Alf, really, but it’s not like I had much choice in the matter.”
“Yeah, well, neither do I,” said Alf.
Danny’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means.”
“No, Alf, I don’t.”
“It means the word’s come down is what it means.”
“What word?”
“I’ve got to let you go, Dan.”
“That’s seven words.”
“Don’t make this harder than it already is,” said Alf.