Chapter Sixty-Five
Neville
It was Daniel Neal’s idea to meet at a pub.
‘Better to sort out the finances there, rather than at Jo’s little celebratory do,’ he said. ‘We can go on after.’
Thinking about it now, the whisky bottle – a silent witness to Daniel Neal’s inner turmoil – should have been a glaring red flag. His confidence had crumbled; he looked like a man crushed by something. I can see now that it was probably guilt.
***
The liquid remnants in the bottle hint he is most likely on his third glass. A desperate attempt to drown sorrows or summon courage? A sense of foreboding clings to me, whispering, ‘It couldn’t happen twice.’
Daniel’s eyes meet mine, and he slides a glass across the table. I hesitate, nausea welling up in me, somehow knowing the words he is about to utter. Yet I feign ignorance, as if pretending I can somehow halt the fate that awaits me.
‘Happy with the house?’ I venture.
I pour myself a measure of liquid courage; its warmth seeps through my veins, but does little to comfort me.
The final invoice lies before me. I’ve paid the workmen, but I still have child support due next month, and only fourteen days left to pay two of the business’s creditors. That will leave me just enough to cover rent and maybe get back on my feet.
Daniel knocks back the remains of his glass and reaches for a refill, but I swiftly slide the bottle out of his grasp. His eyes lock onto mine. Wordlessly, I slide the invoice across the table.
He stares at it for some time but makes no move to pick it up.
‘I’m screwed,’ he confesses, his voice cracking. ‘I can’t pay you. It stings knowing how that other bastard let you down, and now me. Nev, I’m at a loss.’
My emotions are conflicting. Should I strike him or offer sympathy? The room seems to spin as disbelief grips me. They’re wealthy, after all. How can he be falling short on payment?
‘I don’t understand,’ I say. ‘Wasn’t that the purpose of our meeting? For you to pay the money you owe me?
Daniel rubs his eyes, a cynical laugh escaping his lips. ‘Jo’s father always believed I wasn’t worthy of her. Looks like he was right. If only I’d used my damn brains,’ he says, his voice rising in frustration.
‘Daniel, keep it down,’ I say urgently. ‘What’s happened?’
He seizes the whisky bottle before I can intervene, desperation etched across his features.
‘Nic, my supposedly great friend and work colleague, that’s what happened.
’ His voice drips with bitterness. ‘Let me tell you something, Nev. Don’t ever trust anyone.
Nic helped me secure this prestigious job as chief financial officer.
I was elated; felt like a teenager. I excelled at the job,’ he continues, the bitterness deepening.
‘The high life beckoned. I had a taste of opulence and thought I’d soon have everything.
But let me tell you, Nev, it’s not worth it.
That glittering world conceals all sorts of trouble. ’
I haven’t signed up for a confession. I’m a builder, not a priest. My only concern is the payment. But Daniel’s still talking.
‘I was coerced – or rather, blackmailed – into laundering money through the company,’ he said, fear flickering in his eyes. ‘I was weak. I fell for it all, the fancy restaurants, the casino, the drugs. Jo thinks we’re thriving; she’s been working with Alice and buying designer stuff for the house.’
He stops for a moment. He looks as if he is about to cry.
Then he continues. ‘It’s all gone down the fucking drain.
Everything is closing in on me, Nev. My credit cards are maxed out.
I owe money to drug dealers and loan sharks.
I’ve been so stressed that I cocked up a transaction when laundering the money.
I didn’t get paid for that transaction. I was depending on that ten grand.
I couldn’t pay my dealer. And this is what happens when you miss a payment. ’
He lifts his designer top. An angry red welt on his side, which is surrounded by a large blue bruise, glares back at me.
‘My God. How the hell did you get into this mess?’
‘How long have you got?’