20. Brody
Brody
I’m in Sangers waiting for a chicken and bacon wrap – for me – and something containing beetroot which sounds vile but is apparently delicious – for Ari, obviously – when I get an email from Squirrel Bank.
I put my thumb over the text as I open it, holding onto the moment before I have to actually read what it says.
I want this time to last for ever, just me and Ari working side by side to develop the app, spinning something from nothing in her rundown flat as we drink far too much coffee.
I knew it would have to end at some point but I’m not ready to let go.
“Your order’s ready love,” the lady behind the counter says and I take the opportunity to avoid looking at the email, cramming my phone into my pocket before I take the small brown bag she’s holding out for me.
“Thanks,” I call as I scurry from the shop.
As soon as I’m outside I stop. Did it really say that?
Did I snatch a glimpse of the email before I put my phone away?
Or is my brain building a memory on my behalf, something I can’t trust. Something that might have started with the words “we are delighted”.
I move round the corner, out of sight of the Sangers staff who probably already think I’m weird enough as it is without adding “standing like a statue in the street” to my roster of anomalies.
I pull my phone from my pocket with a similar level of gingerliness as if it were a small and extremely venomous snake.
With my thumb over the text, I open it once more.
Deep breath. Then another. On the third I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten, telling myself that as soon as I get to one I’ll look.
We are delighted to offer you the opportunity to discuss your loan requirements further. Please log into the app and book an online video appointment with one of our team. Best wishes, Gwen. I have no idea who Gwen is but I want to kiss her.
It takes me less than five minutes to get back to Ari’s flat – I might have run part of the way in my excitement – and she opens her door to find a slightly out of breath nerd with coffee sloshed over his hand and the bag of lunch he almost dropped on the way.
“What’s happened?” she asks, leaning out of the door to peer down to the street below. “Is someone chasing you?”
“Err… no. I had an email from the bank. They want to meet us.” The words come out in a breathless rush, all the syllables running together.
“Really?” She pauses for a moment and then pulls me into a hug, the coffee splashing down her back a little. She jumps away.
“Shit. Did I burn you?” I ask.
“Oh. No. I’m fine,” she says, but she gives me this funny look that I can’t read.
We head into the flat and I show her the email, trying not to let my grin break so wide it makes me look like a fool.
She reads it and I watch as her expression goes from happy to worried in the space of seconds.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Well, they want to discuss things further. So it isn’t an outright yes.” She glances up at me.
“True. But it isn’t an outright no either.”
“There’s that Brody optimism again,” she says, but there’s an edge to her tone, like perhaps my constant attempts to put a positive spin on things isn’t the desirable quality I imagine it to be. “And they want a video appointment.”
“So? It’ll be a lot easier than having to physically go to the bank. We can just talk to them right here.” I motion around the flat.
“I can’t,” she says softly.
I pause. Oh shit. She’s right. She can’t be on camera. Fuck. Why didn’t I think of that before?
In the end I’m forced to call the bank which – given its whole raison d’être is streamlined online services – is a complete nightmare. Eventually I’m put through to Markus, who sounds thoroughly bored and disillusioned with life. I put him on speakerphone so Ari can listen in.
“You’d think he was the vampire,” Ari remarks under her breath. I put my finger vertically on my lips and she pouts back at me.
Markus informs me that if the application can’t be completed online then we would have to arrange a meeting in our local branch.
“Oh wow, well that sounds perfect,” I tell him as the light at the end of the tunnel blinks back on. We can still do this. All is not lost.
“Ha,” Markus says with a sardonic edge. “I’ve just looked at your postcode and you might not be so happy when I tell you there isn’t a branch in Exeter.”
“Oh. So where is the nearest?” I didn’t bother looking before we did the application, assuming we’d just do it all online.
“Wales.”
“As in Cardiff?” I ask hopefully. To be fair that wouldn’t be too hideous, it’s only about a two hour drive.
“As in Aberystwyth.”
“Oh.” That is literally the other side of Wales.
“Yeah. And we only do in person appointments between nine and eleven in the morning.”
I look at Ari who has pulled a face like a dog who inadvertently ate a wasp. I raise an eyebrow at her. “Road trip?”
She shrugs. “I guess…” She doesn’t sound convinced.
I clear my throat. “Well I suppose we should book one of those appointments then,” I tell Markus.
“Great. Oh. Oh dear.”
“What?”
“Well…” He drags the word out and dread fills my stomach. “The only appointment I have available in the next three months is a cancellation. It’s tomorrow at nine thirty.”
“Tomorrow? But we’re in Exeter.”
I can hear the sound of tapping in the background. “Well, alternatively I can get you an appointment in two weeks, but it’s a little further.” He sounds like he’s wincing as he says the words.
“Let me guess. Scotland?” I don’t even bother to hide the sarcasm.
“Not quite. Carlisle.”
Fuck’s sake. Carlisle is literally ten miles from the Scottish border. I dated a girl from there in my early twenties and fell madly in love with her. She cheated on me with her neighbour. And one of her colleagues. And a guy from her gym. I shudder at the memory.
Ari reaches out and takes the phone from my hand. “We’ll take the appointment tomorrow morning in Aberystwyth,” she says. “Thank you for everything. You’ve been such a help.” Then she ends the call and hands the phone back to me. “We need to leave in one hour. I’ll book a hotel. You get your car.”
“Yes ma’am,” I say and offer up a salute. A road trip with my seriously sexy vampire boss. What could possibly go wrong?