‘This is Neville Logan,’ George says, ‘the builder I told you about.’
One of them stands and offers his hand. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Daniel Neal. My wife and I are buying a house that needsrenovating. We’ve had plans drawn up, but haven’t found the right builder yet.’
‘Where?’ I ask.
‘Sorry?’
‘Where’s the house?’
‘Just outside Wootton.’
I nod. ‘Nice area.’
He looks unsure. Maybe he expected me to be more eager.
‘We’ve met with a few builders, but didn’t click. Maybe you could come over this evening, see the plans?’
‘You’ll get a fucking good whisky while you’re there,’ the other man pipes up.
Neal looks uneasy again. The other guy waves George over like he’s a waiter. ‘Three more shots, my good man.’
Bloody rich wanker, I think. He seems buzzed, and I doubt it’s just the booze.
I turn back to Neal. ‘Give me your address. What time?’
‘My wife’s doing a day shift. She’s a surgeon at the Churchill Hospital.’
Oh, fantastic. Surgeon wife. Fat monthly income.
‘We’re free at eight.’
I’m doing bugger-all else, so I agree. ‘Okay,’ I say, downing the shot.
He scribbles the address. I recognise it: a fancy apartment block about a mile from my own grotty flat in Cowley. ‘See you later,’ I say, heading back to my table. ‘Actually, maybe I will have that ploughman’s,’ I tell George.
Later, fortified by good bread and cheese, I leave the pub and head to Carol’s. The gate creaks as I open it, and she pulls the door open before I knock.
‘The kids are having dinner at my parents’,’ she says.
‘That’s okay,’ I reply, masking my disappointment. I pull out my wallet and hand over the cash. She counts it, then looks up. ‘I know,’ I say. ‘Stern screwed me over. He’s not paying the rest.’
She sighs. ‘For God’s sake, Nev, this isn’t enough, it’s not even all the back payment.’
‘I know. I need the rest for rent.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Please,’ I say, grabbing her arm gently. ‘I’ve got something lined up, a new job. It’s a big renovation. I’ll pay you everything. Just let me have the kids one Saturday.’
She bites her lip, thinking. ‘It’s getting hard without your help, Nev. If it weren’t for Mum and Dad…’
‘One Saturday?’ I plead.
She nods. A wave of relief hits me.
I’ve got a good feeling about this Neal job. Maybe, just maybe, things are finally looking up.
Chapter Four
Daniel. The day of the kidnapping.
Itake the lift up to our apartment, unlock the door, and call out.
