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‘Shit.’Morebills she couldn’t afford.Great. ‘Whencan you do the work?Today?’Shehad some money she’d saved to pay taxes and to tide her over during the six weeks’ recovery after her operation.Shecould dip into that.
‘Ah, no.You’llneed a builder for this.’Thelocksmith was looking at her with pity.
Shesighed. ‘Okay, well, thanks for coming out.Sorryit was for nothing.’
Shovinghis hands into his pockets, he said, ‘Well, not fornothing, sweetheart.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Youstill owe me.’
Suddenlyhe wasn’t so grandpa-like. ‘Forwhat?’
‘Forcoming out.Youbooked me for an emergency appointment.Icame.Youowe me 150 quid.’
Herhead began to throb.Rationalthought fled.Herface tingled from the rush of blood, and she could feel the cords on her neck growing taut.Asmall voice within her whimperedRun!to the locksmith, but the word never made it past her lips.
Hulk, smash!!!
‘AREYOUFUCKINGKIDDINGME?’Hetook a step back from her. ‘I’vebeenrobbed.Awhole wedding’s worth of files has gonemissing.Thebride’s father did time forhiding bodies.There’saTeflonratliving in my flat that thinks poison pellets are snacks.Myex-boyfriend is dating a gorgeous fuckingAmazon.Andyou want to charge me 150 quid fornotfixing my locks?!’
‘Yes?’ he squeaked as he picked up his toolbox and backed towards the stairs.
Evenas the words tumbled out of her mouth, she knew she was being unreasonable.Hehad a small business to run, just like her.Andhe was the only locksmith out of the five she’d called who had agreed to help her. ‘FINE!’Shereached into her bag and tossed the envelope of cash to him, which he caught clumsily.Hescuttled to the stairs and disappeared around the corner.Francescacould hear the toolbox crashing against the front door in his haste to leave.
Shestarted to cry, guilt making her wish she could rewind the past few minutes and try again.Shedidn’t mean to scare him, but inPMSweek, she had such trouble controlling her emotions.Sherode an invisible roller coaster.Sometimesshe felt like she should be given one of those buttons to wear, like women who were pregnant on theTube.Insteadof alerting people that she needed a seat, her button would let people know that she needed space and understanding.
She’dhave to send a message to the locksmith apologising for her behaviour.Sherested her back against the wall and did some of her breathing exercises.
Herphone rang again and she hoped it wasn’t the locksmith, giving her a piece of his mind from a safe distance.SPEEDYDANilluminated her screen.
Slidingdown the wall into a squat, she answered. ‘Hi,Dan.’
‘Whassup.’
‘Didyou manage to get the files?’Hervoice sounded sad and tired after her earlier outburst, even as hope flowered in her chest.
‘Doyou want the good news or the bad news?’
Shesprang to her feet, automatically on alert.Nobodywho started a conversation like that ever had anything positive to say. ‘Thegood news?’
‘Humph.Well,Ionly have bad news.Yourcards are fucked.’
Herfingers squeezed the phone. ‘Whatdo you mean “fucked”?’Shepaced back and forth with her other hand on her forehead.
‘Imean,Ican’t get your data.They’dall been triple formatted, and you shot some new footage on a couple of them…so, yeah.Fucked.’
‘No, no, no.’Thiswas a nightmare.She’dlost the data for the wedding of a bride whose father used to bury bodies for a living.Heknew all the good hiding spots.Hercontract stated that her indemnity was limited to the return of the fee originally paid, but she doubtedLarry‘Chuckles’Bonnefacewould see it that way.She’dprobably have to go into hiding.
‘Sorry,Shorty,’Dangrunted, not sounding like he cared one way or the other.
Athought occurred to her. ‘Isit possible you’re just incompetent?’
Theknob actually laughed. ‘Love,I’mincompetent at many things, but data recovery ain’t one of ‘em.’
‘Thisis the worst day,’ she said and burst into sobs.
17
