Chapter Nineteen #3
Frankly, I could’ve done any evening except for the evenings I was on the late shift, but I made a show of thinking it over.
“Thursday I could do,” I said in the end.
Why wait? Then I changed my mind: “Friday,” I said.
I wouldn’t be paid until Friday; I was already thinking about what I would go without to pay for a round of drinks or whatever we were going to do.
“Great! I’ll pick you up at eight.” And once again, it became the best evening since my mum died.
That night I fell asleep thinking about James Dixon and how I’d never noticed before how attractive he was.
His face was thin and his nose was quite sharp; I’d always thought of him as rather fox-like, but I realized now how lovely foxes were.
His hair, I’d previously thought of as mud brown, but now I’d describe it as tawny; the shape of his lips I’d once considered as girly, now I saw they made him look sensitive.
***
On Friday afternoon I emptied out my wardrobe onto my bed and wondered what to wear. I had a mixture of shop-bought clothes and the homemade ones I was wearing more and more often. I wasn’t sure whether Primark or Made by Daisy would go better with his designer gear.
In the end I chose the dress that my mum and I had made together for the one and only holiday we ever went on.
It was our masterpiece; it was sleeveless and fitted, made from blue cotton, with satin sewn into the sleeves and skirt.
We embroidered the dress with little daisies, for my name, and sewed tassels to the hem, using bookmark tassels left over from a jumble sale.
It looked simple, but from design to completion, it had taken us weeks.
It made me feel like my mum was with me, although I understand not everyone would want their mother with them on a date.
“Evening. You look…original,” he said as I opened the front door, trying to wriggle out without him seeing the chaos inside. “Your carriage awaits.”
The chauffeur stood by the car, and as we approached, he opened the rear door. “Hello,” I said to him as I ducked my head to get in, and he ignored me.
“Do you always have a chauffeur?” I asked James as the door closed on us.
He shook his head. “It’s a service you hire. I’m just trying it to see if I like it. I have him until midnight tonight.”
“Then the limo turns into a pumpkin,” I said.
He stared at me blankly for a moment, and we drove in silence out of the village.
“Where are we going?” I asked as we wound through country lanes; it wasn’t the usual route into town. It came out sounding as if I thought I was being kidnapped. “There’s no money for a ransom.”
James smiled a more natural smile. “It’s called Jacques’s,” James said. “It’s just off Mary Magdalen Road.”
“I’ve never heard of it.” Mary Magdalen Road was not renowned for its nightlife.
“It’s not really advertised to the mass market.”
That sounded posh. I hoped I had enough money for a round. I would probably have to duck out before a second one, or forgo eating for the month.
But when we got there, my worries were for naught.
It was colorful, it was cheerful, the smiles of the staff looked like real smiles.
They brought us cocktails at a table below which was an aquarium, so we could look down and see neon tetras and something yellow I didn’t know the name of.
A sign on the wall told us the fish tanks were soundproof, to protect the fish, but asking us to please not knock on them.
“All on my tab,” James said when he saw me scouring the drinks menu for prices. “So, what are you doing with yourself these days? Big career? Nonstop social life?”
“I’m in retail,” I said. “It keeps me really busy. I’m thinking about taking on a sideline though.” He waited for me to elaborate, and I waited for him to offer me some cleaning shifts at Langley Hall. When he didn’t, I said, “Tell me about cryptocurrency.”
“It’s pretty straightforward, really. You mine for coins, put them in your wallet—your virtual wallet—and in a matter of months they double, triple, quadruple their value.
Simple as that.” It did sound easy. He continued, “Where I come in is that people don’t understand it, so they don’t trust it.
Or they don’t know how to mine for it, or which currency to invest in, or how to monitor it.
It really could make everyone rich if they knew what they were doing.
Instead, those that have vision, but not the expertise, invest in it through me.
I cut through the confusion. Do you have anything you want to invest? ”
“What’s the minimum investment?”
“A thousand pounds.”
“I’ll think about it.”
I was thinking about it. If I could get my hands on a thousand pounds, I could double, triple, quadruple my investment.
Then maybe I could invest it again, double, triple, quadruple it and so on.
It didn’t take many multiples before I lost track of the fortune I could make, in the unlikely event I could get my hands on a thousand pounds.
“Are you planning to stay in your house?” James was asking. I nodded, he continued, “It’s a big house. There’s a lot of equity sitting there doing nothing. You could sell it and invest the proceeds.”
“I’m using it for living in for the foreseeable future,” I said. “I shouldn’t think I could live in a crypto coin.”
He smiled a charming smile. “I don’t mean for you to risk your security. I was thinking, if you fancied living somewhere smaller one day, you could downsize and you could also have an investment for later. But don’t do anything hasty.”
“It’s something to think about,” I said, and that was true. I could sell the house, buy a modern flat, with a cooker, and run the heating all day every day with the money I would make from the cryptocurrency.
But my family had lived in that house for generations.
It was full of my memories, and it was full of my possessions, which were threatening to make their way out of the front door and all over the garden.
I needed every single one of them, and I didn’t know how I’d fit them into a smaller abode. But I’d think it over.
And in fact, it was all I could think about while I was stacking shelves that week. Especially since my washing machine was sounding rattly, and I didn’t relish the idea of doing my washing in the sink once a week.
I should save a grand and invest it in cryptocurrency. I’d failed to save up for a cooker, but if I kept to a strict regime, if I had no disasters, if I could get extra shifts, maybe I could save it within four years.
After that it would be just a few months to see my investment double, but I would leave it for longer. I would wait for it to be five thousand, ten thousand, twenty. In five or six years’ time, I would never have to work again.
***
James invited me on another date.
We went to the local fun fair, which had rolled into town a few days before and was not a place I thought I’d be visiting myself.
I wore a pair of secondhand jeans I’d embroidered around the hems and pockets, and a T-shirt made from patches of other T-shirts.
James said that while the jeans were very individual, the T-shirt sounded a bit cannibalistic.
He bought a gazillion tokens, and we rode the rides until I felt queasy.
Then we ate burgers from the burger van and went over the road for a drink, which did nothing to settle my stomach, but I made it through on high spirits.
It was only the second time that year that I was having fun—if the truth be told, I’d found our first date quite stressful—even though the Waltzer seemed to have given me whiplash.
“What do you do in retail?” James asked me as we settled at a corner table with our drinks. I was caught off guard and my mood dropped.
“I’m involved in displaying the stock,” I told him.
“Window displays? I remember you as being creative.”
“Not quite.” But I liked the idea that he thought I was creative, although I’m not. Or maybe I am; I’d been creative with microwave dishes after the oven burnt, and I made many of my own clothes. But those were from necessity. I didn’t feel they qualified as creativity.
“Do you do the displays inside the shops, then?” he asked. Wasn’t he going to let this go?
“Closer.”
“Do you have to do a course for that?”
There was an induction day, then a few minutes watching a more experienced colleague putting packets of dried rice on a shelf and telling me to make sure the oldest stuff was at the front. “Not a long course,” I said.
“Really? I thought it was quite involved.”
“Look,” I said, “I stack shelves in the SPAR. I worked at the bric-a-brac shop in Tippington and I loved it. I was going to go into antiques, Miss Bradbury said I had an eye for it, but it closed down. Then Mum died and I needed a job quickly and that is what I got. It won’t be forever, I’ll get another job in bric-a-brac sooner or later, or antiques, but for now, I’m working at the supermarket. ”
“Nothing wrong with that,” James said. “My mother was at the SPAR for most of her working life.”
I was so relieved I could have cried. It was easy to forget Mrs. Dixon had worked there with the way she swanned around like Lady Muck, although she was a supervisor, not a lowly shelf stacker.
“I’m sure things will get better,” James said.
We finished our drinks and I couldn’t face another after the way I’d been shaken around at the fairground, so I said, “Shall we go? I’ve got an early start—deliveries in the morning and much to put on the shelves.”
He dropped me off at my house, but before I got out of the car…he kissed me!
***
We fell into a routine of regular messaging.
Good morning.
Really enjoyed last night.
Looking forward to next time.
Did you see Hollyoaks? OMG! (from me) and
Just watching Newsnight (from him).
Goodnight xx
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You win! Goodnight.
***
We met up more and more often, and I stopped being embarrassed that James always paid for everything.