The Stranger by Mark Ayre (books you need to read TXT) 📗

interest repayments, he still owes the sharks twenty, even though most of the twenty-five grand went back to them. They won’t lend him anymore, and they make it abundantly clear if he doesn’t keep up with the repayments, they’ll be visiting our home, stripping our possessions in place of repayments. And how will my father keep what he’s done from my mother then? He won’t be able to. On the cusp of losing everything, he resorts to desperate measures.”

Abbie had her hand around her fork. Upon the fork was a bite of food. The fork hung in mid-air, halfway between her mouth and the plate. Noticing this, Abbie took the bite and replaced the fork. She didn’t take another as Bobby forced himself to continue.

“By this point, dad had ingratiated himself in the criminal underworld. Stupidly, he trusted a member of Francis’ inner circle. Together they hatched a plan. This inner circle member would reveal to my father a night when one of Francis’ night clubs would contain a lump sum of cash. Idiotically, thinking this was his only option, my father jumped at the chance and one night stole from Francis sixty grand, thirty of which he gave to Francis’ lieutenant, the other thirty he used to pay off the loan sharks. For a week, everything seemed perfect. Then, one day, Francis turned up at our door armed with a smug smile and some incriminating CCTV footage.”

Abbie could not help but groan. How desperation made people stupid. It should have been easy not to feel sympathetic for a man who had been so careless. Perhaps because of Bobby, Abbie none the less felt sorry for the father.

“Francis kept it simple,” said Bobby. “He had reclaimed the first thirty grand and dealt with, his words, the traitorous lieutenant. My father had given his half of the money to the loan sharks, so he could not pay it back. Francis said dad now owed him forty grand, ten for the inconvenience. If he paid it back by the end of the year, forty was all he would need to pay. But on midnight on the 31st, as December became January of last year, the amount would go up by twenty grand. The same rules would apply the next year, which is the year just gone, and the year after that, which is this year, and so on. Francis laid out these terms then left.”

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. A sensible saying Francis had clearly taken to heart when it came to reclaiming money from those who had robbed him. With Eddie, who had stolen nothing from Francis and was only inheriting his brother's debt, Francis had been more lenient. There would be no lump sum added to the debt immediately, and while the amount owed would increase each year, it would do so only by ten rather than twenty grand.

On the stupidity of those foolish enough to try and play him, Francis merely increased the size of his fortune. In the end, the house always wins.

“My mum moved out,” said Bobby. “Took my little brothers and begged me to come too. She didn’t want me to get in trouble. But I couldn’t leave dad, no matter what he’d done. She divorced him. We sold the house, and she took half the profit. The fifteen grand my father earned from the sale, plus the money we were able to earn that didn’t go on bills or rent the rest of the year equalled thirty k, all of which went to Francis. When midnight struck on New Year’s Eve, people celebrated and kissed and laughed and drank while my father and I watched the debt we had reduced to ten grand climb to thirty. Last year, we put everything we had into paying off the lot. Between us, we were able to raise twenty-five grand—an incredible amount. We should have been relieved, but it was worse than ever. Two weeks ago, when the fireworks and bells indicated 2020 and become 2021, our debt moved from five grand to twenty-five. We almost killed ourselves earning that amount last year, now we have to do it again. If we’re even a pound out, we face another year of misery.”

Bobby fell back. Abbie had thought it incredible he could work two jobs, one of them in a place like Perfect Chicken, and still retain that smile. That he retained it in those jobs and under the weight of his father’s crippling debt was nothing short of miraculous.

But retelling and reliving the story of his father’s downfall had defeated the smile in the same way as had Abbie’s. Had the emotional bloodletting really been freeing? Or had it broken their already cracked spirits?

As though in answer to this question, Bobby reached across the table, took Abbie’s hands, and squeezed. Meeting her eye, he pushed the smile back onto his face. At first, it was a mere shadow of his usual smile and forced. The longer he held her hand and her eye, the stronger and more genuine the smile became.

“I’m glad I told you,” he said. “Hurts like hell to say it, but it’s good having it out there.”

“Yeah,” said Abbie, “it is.”

Somehow, she found a way to smile. Beneath whatever happiness she was able to paste upon her face, a rage swirled, and the name Francis burned in neon lights through her mind, taunting her.

She thought of Eddie and his brother, Michael and his mother, Bobby and his father. She thought of Francis’ ever-increasing wealth.

Before her head could explode, Abbie retracted her hands from Bobby’s and took up her cutlery.

“Come on,” she said. “Hard part’s over. Let’s enjoy the date.”

Dinner was sumptuous, dessert divine. With the latter, Bobby and Abbie ordered a double espresso each, and they remained half an hour after they had finished eating and drinking, chatting, getting on, being normal.

Somehow, they managed to push the darkness to one side and to enjoy each other’s company. Though it was always