Chapter 121: The Tin II

Nothing happened for about 4 seconds.

She did not gasp and she did not put anything down and she did not stand up. She sat on her own settee with a postcard in her hand and looked at the carpet, and Danny sat and let her have it.

"You know the pence," she said.

"Yeah."

"Say it again."

"One million, two hundred and sixteen thousand, four hundred and twelve pounds and 87 pence."

"One million." She said it the way she reads a meter. "And you’ve been sat at my table eating shepherd’s pie."

"Yeah."

"And you bought a jumper off a man on a market."

"It was a good jumper."

She put the postcard down on the arm of the settee, face down, and squared it up with one finger.

"Right," she said. "Now tell me where it come from."

"Mum."

"No." Her voice had not gone up at all. "I’m going to do this properly, because I’ve had one go at it and I took the easy answer, and I’ve been sat in this room since half 2 knowing that I took it."

"You didn’t take anything."

"I said crypto." She looked at him. "In your kitchen. Stood there in my fleece looking at a river. You never said it. I said it, and you took it off me, and you said it went bigger than you’d told me."

"That’s what happened."

"That’s what happened and it’s not what it is." She sat forward. "Danny, you were skint in September. You were skint in September and you were skint in August. You had that meter in the cupboard at that flat and you were putting a tenner on it at a time, and in March you were 11 days late with your rent and that girl never chased you for it."

"Adaeze."

"Whatever she’s called." She was not stopping. "And then in October you clear 40 grand of somebody else’s debt in one go, and you buy a café, and you’re in a flat with a lift that only goes to you, and now you’ve sat on my settee and told me the pence."

Danny sat there.

"So." His mother had both hands flat on her knees. "What did you have in September?"

Say it.

"Forty-one quid," he said.

"Forty-one pound."

"In the account. And rent due."

"Forty-one pound in September." She said it slowly. "And one million in November."

"Yeah."

"Then it isn’t crypto, love." She said it without any triumph in it whatsoever. "Because crypto’s something you’ve had for a bit and it goes up, and you’d have had a phone in your hand for 3 years being cheerful about it, and you never had. You had nothing, and then you had all of it, in about a fortnight."

The pipe went knock, knock.

"Have you hurt anybody?" she said.

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"No."

"Is it drugs?"

"Mum."

"I’m asking you properly and I’m going to ask all of them, so sit there." She was ticking them off on her knee with one finger. "Is it drugs."

"No."

"Are you handling money for somebody."

"No."

"Are you going to get took away."

And Danny sat on a settee in Battersea and thought about a corridor with carpet on it and a man in a bed and 5 people who could all be asked and one who could not.

"I don’t know," he said.

His mother did not move.

"Right," she said.

"Mum..."

"No, that’s the first true answer you’ve give me since October, so don’t spoil it." She got up, and went to the window, and stood with her back to him looking at a car park. "I’m not going to ask you what it is."

"Why not?"

"Because you’d tell me a thing that’s near it and not it, and then I’d have that as well." She had her arms folded. "And because I’ve watched your face doing it for 6 weeks and I’d rather you stopped than got better at it."

"That’s not fair."

"No." She turned round. "But here’s what I am going to say, and then we’re having our tea. Don’t tell another living soul that number."

"I wasn’t going to."

"I don’t mean because somebody’ll rob you." She came back and sat down. "I mean because the minute anybody knows it, they’re doing sums about you. Every one of them. That woman at the shop, the solicitor, them blokes doing your ceiling. They’ll not mean anything horrible by it and they’ll do it anyway, and you will never again know what anybody actually thinks of you."

"Right."

"And I’ve done it twice sat here in the last 10 minutes," she said, "so don’t tell me I wouldn’t."

He had not been going to ask her the next thing at all. It came out because the room had gone somewhere that let it.

"Mum, can I ask you something about work?"

"Go on."

"I’ve got to give my solicitor an hourly rate by tomorrow. For the 2 of them." He had the mug in both hands. "And I’ve been going round it since Sunday and I keep landing on a number and then thinking it sounds mad."

"What’s the job?"

"Keisha runs the machine and opens up 4 days at 5 in the morning. She’s 9 years in and she’s the best I’ve ever seen. And the lad’s a barista on a zero hours with a kid in nursery."

His mother thought about it properly, the way she thinks about everything, which is slowly and then all at once.

"Thirteen," she said.

"Thirteen pound an hour."

"For a 5 o’clock start, and she’s experienced, and she’s doing the ordering." She nodded once. "That’s a good wage, that. That’s better than most of them round here’d give her, and she’d know it, and she’d not go anywhere."

And Danny sat on his mother’s settee with a mug in his hands.

Thirteen.

She’s just told you what a good wage is, and she means it, and she thinks she’s being generous with it, and she’s added a pound on in her head for the early start.

And I’ve been sat on 15 since Sunday and thinking I might be insulting somebody.

"Mum."

"Mm?"

"What are you on?"

She stopped with the mug halfway up.

"What?"

"At Tower Court. What’s the hourly?"

"Why?"

"Because I’ve never asked you," Danny said, "and I’ve just asked you what’s fair for somebody else, and I’ve not once in my life asked you what they give you."

His mother put the mug down on the arm of the settee.

"Twelve twenty-one," she said.

"Twelve twenty-one."

"It went up in April. It was eleven forty-four." She said it without any weight on it at all. "And they took the travel off us in the same letter, so it went up and it went down."

Nobody said anything for a bit.

"Twenty years," Danny said.

"Twenty years in April."

"And they’ve got you on twelve twenty-one."

"It’s the rate, love. It’s what everybody’s on." She picked the mug back up. "Don’t start."

"I’m not starting."

"You’ve got a face on and I’m telling you not to start, because I’ve heard it off Denise for 3 years and it doesn’t change what’s in the envelope."

Danny sat there.

Thirteen.

She said 13 and she thought she was being good to a stranger, and it’s 79p more than she gets for doing 4:10 starts for 20 years.

"I’m going to pay her 15," he said.

"Fifteen?"

"And the lad 14 while he’s learning, and 15 when he’s not."

"Danny."

"I know."

"That’s..." She was doing the sum and he could see her doing it. "That’s a lot of money over a year, that is. For 2 people."

"It’s about 58 grand with the tax and the pension."

"Fifty-eight thousand pounds."

"Yeah."

His mother looked at her own carpet.

"Right," she said. "Well. They’ll not leave you, then."

"Mum..."

Her hand came up off her knee about 4 inches and stopped him where he sat.

"Don’t."

"You don’t know what I’m going to say."

"I’ve known what you was going to say since you told me the pence," she said. "You’ve been building up to it for an hour and you’ve gone and done all the sums out loud first so it’d land soft. Twelve twenty-one and 15 an hour. You think I can’t add up?"