~~~
“Have you seen your Gran lately?” enquired Linda that Saturday morning over breakfast.
“No, and I don’t want to either. She isn’t my Gran any more. I’ve given her the sack. Don’t you remember, she ruined my life? The scarf. The phone.”
“She’s just a harmless old lady, though,” said Linda. “I’m sure she didn’t mean to...”
“I know she did. And that sidekick of hers – Logan – he gives me the creeps.”
“Mmm, yes, I know. Me too... Can you get the coffee trays ready while I put the scones in the oven?”
Ben was taking the clean table-cloths out to the café when Erin wandered in.
“Hello,” she said. “Has your Mum got any of those yummy scones ready?”
“She’s putting them in now. They’ll be a wee while. We’re not really open yet.”
Erin blushed. “Oh – sorry. Well, not sorry really. I wanted to talk to you.”
“Me?” mumbled Ben. “Um...”
“I’m sorry I freaked out so much about the phone. Dad’s got it now – he says it’s evidence. But I don’t know what that’s all about.”
“Evidence?” Ben was alarmed by this. “Am I going to get into trouble?”
“I hope not,” said Erin. “But – do you think your Gran would give me my scarf back?”
“I’m not speaking to her at the moment,” Ben confessed. “But I’ll get Mum to ask her if she comes in.”
Linda came in from the kitchen as he was speaking. “We’re not really open yet. I’d better lock the door.”
She went over and was about to close it when Tim Fitzgerald pushed past her to get into the café.
“I’m sorry, we don’t open until 10.”
“Never mind that, I’ve come for my daughter.”
“Calm down, Dad!” said Erin. “There’s nothing wrong.”
“I just don’t want you mixing with those people.”
“It isn’t Linda and Ben’s fault. Ben’s Gran just gave him the phone. He didn’t know there was anything wrong about it.”
“He should have taken it to the police,” said Tim grumpily.
“Why should he?” said Erin, facing up to him.
“It would have been the right thing to do.”
“Not everybody thinks of the police as a good place to go, you know. Just because you’re...”
“Sssh!” said Tim crossly. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“Why shouldn’t I tell them you’re a police inspector?” said Erin. “Are you ashamed of that or something?”
“Of course not,” snapped Tim. “It’s just...”
Linda drew in a deep breath. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to go and see to my scones.”
“Can I have one?” said Erin hopefully.
“There’s no time for that,” said her father. “Let’s go.”
“Sorry,” Erin told Linda. “You can see what I’m up against.”
“It’s not your fault, dear.”
“Maybe see you another day?” said Ben hopefully.
“That’s extremely unlikely,” said Tim over his shoulder as he ushered Erin out without letting her say any more.
“That’s my life ruined again, then,” said Ben.
Linda put her hand on his shoulder. “There’s no need to be so dramatic about it. You’d only just met her.”
“And now I’ll never get the chance to know her better. You know what? It just sucks. There’s no other word for it.”
“Maybe she’ll be back,” said Linda. “Did you know her Dad was a policeman?”
“Oh, that’s typical,” said Ben. “Just my luck. When I’ve got a hardened criminal for a granny.”
“She’s not a hardened criminal. She’s just an eccentric old lady.”
“An eccentric old lady who steals other people’s scarves and gives her grandson haunted mobiles that wake him up in the middle of the night and can’t ever be switched off. Where do you think she got it?”
Linda looked thoughtful. “Erin said her Mum was killed in a car crash. Maybe Senga found it afterwards. Lying around somewhere.”
“Hmph! Delightful.” Ben kicked a table leg.
“Don’t do that,” Linda told him. “I need the café to look its best for the re-launch.”
“Re-launch, re-vamp. Why can’t we leave things alone?” yelled Ben, suddenly overwhelmed by all the things that were turning his world upside-down. He made a dash for the stairs to the flat and resolved to shut himself in his room for the rest of the morning.
He was back down in the café later with his mother when a strange man appeared in the doorway.
Linda sprang to her feet so quickly that her chair went flying. “Can I help you?”
“I certainly hope so,” said the man. “I’m looking for a Linda Brown.”
“That’s me,” said Linda in a subdued voice.
“I’m here on behalf of your landlord, Neil Jackson. He’s concerned because you’ve fallen behind with your rent over the past couple of months.”
“Mum!” squeaked Ben.
“Ben, I think you’d better go upstairs.”
Ben folded his arms. “No, I think I’d better stick around.”
Linda said nervously to the stranger, “I’ve been having trouble making ends meet. The recession... But I’m doing something about it. I’m revamping the café, and I think I can bring in more customers.”
“Oh, you think so, do you?” enquired the man. Ben thought he seemed fairly polite but rather stern, a bit like the deputy head of a school.
“Not yet, but…”
“Mr Jackson knows you’re usually reliable, but he can’t afford to let this slip for too long. He says he’ll give you until the beginning of next week to find the money. Just this once.”
“The beginning of next week?” said Linda. “But it’s Saturday already!”
“I hope you’re going to take this seriously. Otherwise there could be unpleasant consequences.”
“Are you making threats?” said Ben, glaring at the man.
“Of course not! Whoever heard of a debt collector making threats?” The man laughed to himself, and Ben revised his previous opinion. He didn’t even seem polite now. “Good day, Mrs Brown.”
With that the debt collector left. Linda sat back down as if her legs wouldn’t support her any longer.
Ben kicked the dresser. “Where does Mr Jackson live? I want to go round there and…”
“No, Ben,” said Linda firmly. “That’s not the answer. I’ll just have to find the money somehow. We’ll maybe have a sudden influx of customers... Pigs might fly.”
Just when it seemed things couldn’t get any worse, Senga and Logan came in. Ben retreated to the table over by the cake cabinet, where he pretended to be busy collecting cups and plates. He didn’t want to abandon his mother, but he wasn’t keen on being hugged by Senga either.
“What’s wrong, hen?” said Senga, homing in on misery like a pigeon on its home loft after a long flight across the seas. Ben thought he heard her muttering, “Like I care.”
“Nothing!” said Linda. “Absolutely nothing! Unless you count lives being in ruins, dreams being shattered and so on.”
“Not our fault, dear.”
Of course Logan couldn’t resist joining in too. “Wasn’t us. We weren’t even there.”
“Can I get you anything,” said Linda, “or have you just come to gloat? I assume you’re the ones who put Neil Jackson up to it.”
“Up to what?” said Logan, trying to look innocent and failing.
“He’s only sent round a debt collector. And I’ve had hardly any customers yesterday either – is that anything to do with you two?”
“We made them an offer they couldn’t refuse, dear,” said Senga, nodding.
“What?” said Linda, looking surprised that her hunch had been correct.
Senga giggled. “We drew their attention to a coach trip to Gretna Green shopping outlet.”
; “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” said Linda. “What sort of a day out is that?”
“An excellent one, in my opinion,” said Senga. “And they got a proper cream tea at the end of it, too. No burnt scones or tepid coffee.”
“I don’t serve burnt scones and tepid coffee! How dare you!”
“Now, now, girls, no fighting here,” said Logan. He stared at Linda. “I’ve got a little business proposition for you, Linda. It would keep Neil Jackson off your back, and it would do me a favour too.”
“I suppose it’s some dodgy deal,” said Linda.
Logan pointed his finger at her. “If I were you, I’d listen carefully. You won’t see another chance like it.”
Linda perched on the edge of the nearest table. “OK. You’ve got my full attention.”
Logan glanced round the room and lowered his voice. Ben wondered whether to edge closer to the little group, but he found he could hear what was going on anyway if he didn’t clatter the plates around so noisily.
“If you let me store some boxes in the room at the back, behind the kitchen, I’ll pay you this much a month.” He waved a bundle of notes at her.
“Just storage? Nothing else? It isn’t drugs, is it?”
“Scout’s honour,” said Logan, putting on a solemn face.
“I don’t know,” said Linda. “What’s in the boxes?”
“Nothing bad – honest Injun.”
“Honest Injun? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“All right then – honest Native American,” said Logan with a roll of his eyes. “That’s what they’re called nowadays, isn’t it?”
Ben could tell his mother was still doubtful.
“Well, as long as you’re sure it isn’t drugs or anything,” she said.
Logan opened his eyes wide as if that would demonstrate his honesty. “It’s nothing illegal. Would I involve your mother-in-law in something illegal?”
“Ex-mother-in-law.”
Logan handed over the cash. “Here we are –