Chapter 7

Saturday morning at the Banks household was tense. There was an unpleasant exchange between Jennie and her stepfather, he accusing her of using their home like a hotel, and Jennie retorting that she was actually paying like it was a hotel. "How did you get home last night dear?" a very unhappy Mrs. Banks asked trying to smooth things over.

Jennie hesitated. She would so have liked to fling her real father's name at her step-father, but she did not want to humiliate her mum in his presence. "My colleague's girlfriend's father drove me home," Jennie replied - in complete accordance with the truth.

"That was nice of him dear," her mother said.

"Yes, he and his wife are lovely people. They made me ever so welcome," Jennie replied, once more telling the exact, if somewhat incomplete, truth.

"Did you get paid for this week?" Mr. Banks asked abruptly.

"I haven't checked," Jennie said - technically true, but perhaps disingenuous. She had set up the automatic payments for Jeff and herself Friday morning and George had authorised it with his digital signature just before leaving. George had insisted on her and Jeff getting a full week's pay, even if they had only worked for a few days. 'To cover the overtime, ' he had said. Jennie was not going to let her step-father know that.

"I don't think the money will be in my account yet," she added 'it won't, but only because I asked for the transfer to be delayed until Monday - by which time I will no longer be living here, ' she thought. "Why?" she asked innocently 'Do you need more money for your gambling?' she thought viciously.

"I just wanted to know," Mr. Banks said. "You have been very reluctant to pay what you owed me so far."

"But surely you don't expect me to pay before I have the money myself, do you?" Jennie asked much too sweetly.

"Of course your father doesn't," her mother chirped in - getting a withering glare from both of them.

Mr. Banks got up and left the house. 'Damn the brat!' he thought. He didn't have much spare cash besides the £400 he had gotten off her earlier and he didn't dare not pay that to Mike. But he had a hot tip. It couldn't fail. He could make a stash! Like the compulsive gambler he was, he was certain that just one lucky bet and his problems would be over. 'If Mike isn't there I could place a bet with the money from Jennie and be able to clear my entire debt, not just pay off the most urgent part, ' he thought, building up a rosy picture of a bright future that collapsed completely when he got to the seedy little gabling place and saw Nick and Steve - two nasty characters that worked for Mike - just inside the door.

"Mike would like to talk to you 'Arold," Nick said without preamble. "Steve and I will take you there," he added - nodding at the huge chap.

"'Eh, of course. When?" Harold asked in a voice that even to himself sounded like a high-pitched whine.

"Right now," Nick said. "Mike told us to keep an eye out for you. 'Take 'im straight to the office' when 'e arrives, ' 'e said."

With as much dignity he could muster Harold Banks let himself be 'escorted' to Mike's 'front office' up stairs - in reality it was three rickety chairs on the landing. Mike was having another 'meeting' so Harold and his minders were made to wait for nearly three quarters of an hour. Eventually Mike let it be known he was ready to 'see Harold' and had him ushered in. All things considered it went well. Harold admitted readily that he couldn't pay everything he owed Mike here and now, but he had £400 and would pay off another £200 a week until the debt was gone.

"Make that £300 a week for a year Harold," Mike said. "Not a penny less. If you get behind again I'll take your house. And don't go anywhere else until we're square. I'll know if you do, Harold, and I won't like it."

Harold Banks gasped. £300 a week for a year - that was close to £16.000, or nearly twice what he owed. He started to say something in protest, but Mike lifted his hand. "Show him off the premises lads," he said. "Make sure he doesn't come again for any other purpose than paying his debt!"

A completely demoralised Harold Banks was 'shown off the premises' with a painful kick to his backside. He aimlessly wandered the busy streets not knowing what to do. Paying off £300 a week would mean siphoning £100 out of the household money in addition to the money from Jennie. It was more or less what he had been taking for years to fuel the, at first quite innocent, habit - until it had suddenly gone out of hand with grey loans and more and more risky bets. He was sure his wife would notice. It also meant an abrupt end to gambling; he was sure Mike would find out if he tried to go elsewhere. It was too risky, even for Harold.

The next couple of hours were a blur. At noon he found a pub and decided to get drunk, or as drunk as he could get with the cash he had. Nursing pint after pint of the cheapest beer for as long as he could make them last meant he didn't get home until the source of two thirds of what he had committed to pay had slipped out of his house and hands for good. His 'ban' had not been heeded; the golden bird had flown.

Jennie's mother had taken the news that Jennie would be moving to the apartment fine. She had been genuinely pleased for Jennie when it was first mentioned and hadn't expected her husband's protest to mean anything. Harold was a bit stuffy at times, she admitted to herself. A bit quick to see sins where there were none. Surely he wouldn't really mind that Jennie had her own place again. So when Jennie said that her colleague had managed to borrow a lorry today and that he and his girlfriend would come over to help packing, Mrs. Banks was delighted on Jennie's behalf and offered to help with the packing too.

Mrs. Banks had also previously noticed the scarcity of close friends in her daughter's life and so she was delighted that Jenny had found such good friends in the co-worker and his young lady. But her cheerfulness towards Jeff who arrived a few minutes after 10 turned to abject shock when she saw Cathy. If Molly O'Brien could recognize Jennie in one glance then Vera Banks could do as much with Cathy. She blanched like she had seen a ghost. "Who are you?" she asked in a weak voice. Quite superfluous question, really. There could be no doubt.

"I'm Catherine O'Brien, Mrs. Banks," Cathy replied as if this encounter was nothing out of the ordinary. "I believe you knew my father very well."

Jennie giggled at her sister's innuendo. That was 'knowing' in a Biblical sense all right! "Yes Mum," she said, "I found out that I have a little sister. 3 little sisters and 2 brothers to be precise. Dad was happy to see me again."