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‘You’re one of our suppliers?’ Janey guessed.
That would explain why she hadn’t recognised him. Cindy had insisted that she take over dealing with all the orders and the manufacturers and suppliers, saying that it would leave Janey free to concentrate on being creative. Janey had been grateful to her for doing so.
‘One of the many fools you owe money to,’ he agreed grimly.
‘There must have been some mistake,’ Janey assured him confidently. She was feeling much more relaxed now that she knew why he was here. Obviously a payment to him had somehow or other been overlooked. It was easily done; she’d lived in fear of doing so herself until Cindy had taken over the accounts.
‘There’s no mistake,’ he assured her. ‘Not according to my bank. Have a look for yourse
lf.’ He removed a letter from his pocket and shoved it under her nose.
His bank was stating that their cheque had been ‘referred to drawer’, although Janey couldn’t understand why.
Hers was a small business and she had always been careful not to overextend herself financially. Added to that, her clothes were becoming increasing popular and selling well, and the business had actually built up a rather nice surplus of cash.
‘Four times I’ve rung here and each time I’ve been fobbed off with some excuse or other. Well, now I’ve had enough.’
He opened the door and called out into the street, ‘Right, lads, come in and get it, and put it in the van.’
To Janey’s horror two burly young men marched into the shop.
‘It’s on that rail over there,’ he told them, indicating the rail that held the new delivery.
‘Oh, no, please, you can’t take them…’ Janey protested. She felt mortified, conscious of the attention the men were attracting from shoppers.
‘Oh yes I bloody well can.’
In desperation Janey pleaded with him, ‘Look, I’m sure there’s been a mistake.’
He would have to come in now, whilst Cindy was having a Saturday off and wasn’t there to deal with the situation. She had told Janey that she had to go and spend the weekend with an elderly second cousin of her mother’s who lived in the Home Counties somewhere.
‘There certainly has, and you’re the one who’s made it if you think I’m going to stand back and let you get away with not paying me.’
‘I’ll write you another cheque,’ Janey promised him, adding frantically when she saw the look on his face, ‘A personal one this time.’ She had no idea why the cheque hadn’t been honoured, and she wished desperately that Cindy was here to sort everything out.
‘And wot’s to stop that one being a dud, an’ all? No, thanks. Jed, them’s ours as well, over there in the corner.’
Janey gasped as one of the young men lumbered past her. She couldn’t let them take the dresses, there’d be no stock left.
‘Look, I’ll pay you in cash, all right? I’ll go to the bank straight away and withdraw it, only please leave those dresses where they are.’ She was nearly in tears, fighting panic as well as shock now.
For a few seconds it looked as though he was going to refuse, but then grudgingly he agreed, ‘All right, but I’m coming with you, and these two are staying put, and so are them frocks.’
All too conscious of the whispers she could hear all around her, Janey somehow managed to walk out into the street although her legs had turned to jelly.
Her bank wasn’t very far away, although it was busy with young King’s Roaders drawing out money for the weekend, chattering happily about the fun they planned to have.
By the time it was her turn to go up to the window, Janey’s hands felt clammy.
‘I’ll pay you the amount of the returned cheque,’ she told the supplier, trying to sound as businesslike as she could, ‘but if there is any more money outstanding I shall need to see an invoice. There’s obviously been a mix-up somewhere along the line.’
She spoke to the waiting cashier, asking to see both the shop and her own personal statement. Her own account, she knew, would have a decent amount of cash in it as she had recently received a payment from her trust fund, but when she saw the shop statement her eyes widened in dismay. The account was overdrawn by nearly five hundred pounds! How on earth had that happened? Her knees had gone all shaky, she didn’t trust herself to ask any questions or demand any explanations. Instead she went to one of the cashiers and drew out enough money from her own account to pay the supplier.
There was no point in her trying to telephone Cindy–she would have to wait until Monday to learn what was going on. It should have been impossible for the shop’s account to be overdrawn, but Cindy was bound to have an explanation, Janey comforted herself as she set out for the pub to meet Charlie.
Rose’s hands were sticky with perspiration as she clung to the steering wheel of the Mini, driving as though she had all the furies of hell chasing after her, taking corners at a speed she would never normally have contemplated in her frantic need to escape–not so much from Pete, as from the horrible reality of what she had done.
Her heart was jumping–from panic and remorse, or from the drug she had taken? Rose didn’t know which, nor did it really matter. The effect was the same, whatever the cause: a relentless, frighteningly heavy racing heartbeat, combined with a sweaty sickly feeling, and a pounding headache.
