Mel hesitated, knowing she’d never felt normal in her entire life. But, if it meant nearly sixteen hundred pounds a month in her bank account, plus she could still do a shift at Michael’s shop each week, then she’d be able to afford a little place for her and Kate in no time. As well as start making a dent in the debts Billy had left her with.
Mel rests her head on the car window. Josette did this to me. She set me up. She must have, she thinks. She wanted me gone. I’m disposable to her. Not even worth recycling.
She screws up her eyes, refusing to let her past impact the present.
But thoughts of appeals, solicitors, court cases and some kind of revenge – any revenge – flash through Mel’s mind. Getting through life alone, surviving, had been hardwired into her from the moment she was born – even though she’d not realised that as a baby. An abandoned baby.
She refused to be anyone’s trash.
‘It’s unfair dismissal and I won’t have it,’ Mel tells herself, getting out of the car and locking up. She heads through the drizzle to her favourite coffee shop.
‘A medium latte, please,’ she says, pulling out her purse. Even a coffee is a luxury right now, but she doesn’t care. She can’t face being home alone with her thoughts. ‘And one of those too, please,’ she adds, pointing to a tray of chocolate brownies. She’s got just enough cash on her.
In the window seat, Mel stirs her coffee and watches the drizzle turn into heavier rain. Shoppers and passers-by pop up umbrellas, some hurrying past with their coats pulled over their heads.
Mel closes her eyes as she takes a bite of her brownie, reminded of the first time she met Billy. It had been raining then, too, and Mel was soaking, standing at the shelter-less bus stop when Billy had joined the queue behind her, insisting she take his newspaper to shield her head. The bus was already fifteen minutes late.
‘It’s the best I can offer you,’ were his first words to her, and little did she know then how true that would turn out to be.
He’d pulled a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, flipping open the lid and holding it out to Mel. She’d given a quick shake of her head, her eyes flashing to the diagonal scar on his cheek. His sharp jawline – the smattering of stubble running from the top of his neck, up his cheeks and onto his shaved head, which she could just make out under the dark cap he wore – his piercing blue eyes and the scruffy army-style jacket he had on over a black T-shirt, made him look more like a criminal than a Times reader. Someone she’d cross the street to avoid after dark.
If only she’d known.
He’d taken a long draw on his cigarette, his eyes fixed on Mel with… with a steely look in them. The look she’d later come to be excited by as well as terrified of. At that point, Billy was still an enigma.
And he still is, she thinks, taking a sip of her coffee, grateful he’s got at least two more years behind bars.
Mel spots a newspaper on the vacant chair beside her, laying her hand on it, remembering how, at the bus stop, as the double-decker pulled into view, Billy had taken a pen from his top pocket and raised his right hand to her head, jotting down something on the edge of the newspaper – one of the few times he’d raised a hand at her and she’d not flinched.
As he’d got off the bus a couple of stops before her, he’d paused beside her, making a telephone gesture with his hand. It was only when the bus had pulled away, and she had mindlessly turned over the newspaper he’d given her, that she discovered Billy had written his name and phone number on the edge of it.
Eight
Mel drains her coffee mug and presses her forefinger into the brownie crumbs on her plate, licking them off. She wipes her hands and balls up the paper napkin, stuffing it in the empty mug.
‘Are you leaving?’ someone says – a bearded man with the small hand of a toddler clamped in his. Mel glances down at the little girl and smiles, briefly reminded of Kate, how Billy used to grip onto her hand when they were out and about. While he may have treated her badly, Kate had always been a daddy’s girl.
‘Oh, yes, I’m just going,’ Mel says to the man, reaching for her bag and getting up. Before she heads outside into the rain, she feels around in her bag for her car keys, pulling out other items so she can see to the bottom.
That’s odd, she thinks, staring at the envelope – the one containing the solicitor’s letter. Michael must have put it in there last night without me knowing. She slides the letter out, revealing the firm’s name: Green, Lupton and Hedge. Michael had insisted they sounded genuine. And their offices are only round the corner on High Street, she thinks, pulling open the door and heading out into the rain.
Five minutes later, having dashed along the pavement with no umbrella, Mel stands outside a red-brick building down a street occupied by various shops and estate agents, as well as solicitors’ and accountants’ premises. She’s uncertain whether it’s anger about her unfair dismissal or the growing curiosity about the letter that has drawn her here.
What if Michael is right? What if she has inherited something, and she ignores it? She could certainly do with a bit of extra cash right now, and it’s not as if she’s going to be so stupid as to part with any money upfront. Either way, if the letter is genuinely from these offices, they can confirm it. And if someone is using their firm as a front for a scam, Mel is sure they’ll be grateful to know.
She rings the bell on the outside of the door and a moment later the latch buzzes and she heads inside.
‘Hi,’ Mel says to the smartly dressed receptionist. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail and her pale skin is lightly made up. She wears a plain grey skirt and a white blouse underneath her fitted jacket. Mel pushes her fingers through her soaking hair, praying the recent home root touch-up hasn’t run onto her face as she stamps her feet several times on the doormat.
‘How can I help you?’ the receptionist says, eyeing Mel up and down.
Still holding the letter, Mel replies, ‘I… I was wondering if you take on cases for people who can’t immediately pay?’
The receptionist sits down behind the counter, half obscuring herself as if she’s already lost interest. ‘You mean no win, no fee?’ She clears her throat slowly.
‘Maybe. Yes, I guess so.’
‘Which area of law are we talking about?’ she asks idly, tapping something into her computer.
‘Employment law. Unfair dismissal.’ She takes the letter from its envelope and waves it about. ‘It didn’t say here if you deal with that kind of case, so I thought I’d call in and ask, seeing as I was nearby.’
The receptionist, who from her name badge Mel can now see is called Emma, glances at the letter. Mel leans on the counter, but immediately withdraws again, concerned she’ll leave wet marks.
‘That is an area of law we cover, yes,’ Emma says, smiling politely. ‘I see you’ve already had correspondence from us about it.’
‘Oh… er, no,’ Mel says, fluttering the letter again. ‘This is about something else.’ She feels the colour rising in her cheeks. ‘An inheritance, apparently.’ She pauses, watching the receptionist as her eyes flick from the letter and back to her. ‘Though it’s the employment case I’m really here about. I’ve, well… I’ve been fired. And it’s really not right. They said I stole some money, but I was set up. It’s complete rubbish.’ Mel’s stomach churns as she thinks of the scene in the staff room earlier.