The dark side of my soul (3 page)

Three

By ten thirty that morning I had booked a nice looking hotel near Burnley and ordered a taxi to take me into town. With the car safely locked in the garage and Sandra warned not to answer the door to anyone I was starting to feel a little more confident that we might get away with it.

The cab arrived on time and ten minutes later the driver dropped me off outside my bank. I couldn’t use the cash machine as it only dispensed up to three hundred pounds in any one day so I went inside the branch and joined the queue for a cashier. The line was long and slow moving and an old lady in front of me kept tittering away about the delay. She was small, dressed in black and had a face full of lines and crinkles. Her head was covered in a strange looking black hat that could have come from Victorian times and the stick she carried looked as if it could easily be used as a weapon. After a while she turned to me and said in heavily accented English. “I could die you know before I get to zee end of zee queue.”

“It is a little slow today.” I agreed.

“It is like zis every day, alvays the same” she said waving her stick. Having acknowledged her remark there was no stopping her and she continued her rant as though the delay was the end of the world. On and on she went until I could quite cheerfully have throttled her right on the spot. By the time the woman had reached the front of the line my nerves were on edge and it was a great relief when it was her turn and she waddled off, still muttering to herself, to the next available cashier.

A minute later another cashier became free so I moved up to the counter and slid my bank card under the glass security screen. The girl on the other side was young, slightly overweight and very dour. The nametag pinned to the lapel of her little blue jacket read Karen Murphy. She looked as though she would rather be anywhere else than working in a bank. “Good morning, how can I help you?” she asked without the hint of a smile.

“Could you tell me the balance on my account please?” I asked politely.

“You can find out your balance on the cash machine you know.” The straight faced cashier regarded me as though I was stupid.

“I am aware of that but I need to do another transaction when I know the balance.” I remained outwardly calm although inside I was already on edge.

“Put you card into the machine.” She instructed.

I did as she requested. The young woman tapped away at a keyboard, peered at her monitor, then wrote the balance of my account on a piece of paper and slid it under the security screen.

Three thousand four hundred and twenty two pounds and sixty pence, “Good” I said, relieved that my guess at the amount available had proved to be correct. “I would like to withdraw three thousand pounds please.”

“Who would you like the cheque made payable to?” She did not look away from her screen.

“No, I don’t want a cheque; I want the money in cash.”

With that, the cashier looked at me with surprise. “The most you can draw out in cash in one day without notice is one thousand pounds.”

“What, there are sufficient funds. I need three thousand.” My voice was raised, just a little.

“If you wish to draw out more than one thousand pounds you have to give a days’ notice. I can request the money for you for tomorrow.”

I am normally a mild mannered man and very rarely lose my temper but with the trauma of Sandra’s accident, having to put up with the old hag in the queue and now this moron, my patience was wearing thin. “Look, when I opened this account I was told it was an instant access account not a one day job. Instant access, that means now. I need that money today.”

“I am sorry sir, if you want more than one thousand it has to be requested the day before. It’s bank policy.” The woman was unmoved, gloating in her little bit of power.

“I have a bill to pay, the guy wants cash and he won’t wait.” My voice was becoming louder and I was aware of the people in the queue watching me.

“I can let you have a thousand now, you can get another three hundred out of the cash machine and I can order the rest for you for tomorrow.” Her face never changed, her eyes did not blink.

Becoming angrier, I shouted at her. “That’s not good enough. I need it today, now. I want to see the manager.”

Without the slightest delay or hint of emotion she replied, “He’s not available right now.”

There were murmurs from the people waiting in the queue behind me but I didn’t care. I had to have that money. What right had she to refuse my request? Struggling to control my temper but failing, I shouted again “Then I shall wait until he is available. I am not moving until I get my money.” More furtive sounds came from the growing line of onlookers then a tall slim young man in a white shirt and black tie approached me from the rear of the bank.

“Perhaps we can sort this out over here sir.” He said firmly and led the way to a small glassed in room that served as an office. After removing my debit card from the reader I followed him and he held the door for me. “Please sit down.”

I sat one side of an empty desk and he the other “I am afraid Karen is correct. If you wish to withdraw a large amount in cash you have to give us notice the day before. You see we do not carry a great deal of cash anymore.”

“You’re a bank.” I said in amazement.

His smile was insidious. “Banking has changed.”

“I need three thousand pounds, in cash, today.”

“As I am sure Karen said, you can have one thousand now and we can order the rest for you tomorrow.”

“That’s no bloody good.” I leaned forward, rapidly losing control. “The guy I have to pay will not take excuses. If I don’t pay him today I won’t be here tomorrow. If I’m lucky I shall be in hospital with a couple of broken ribs and smashed kneecaps and if I am unlucky I will be in the morgue. Do you want that on your conscience?”

He winced and gave my latest comment a few moments thought. “Wait a minute.” With a little less swagger he got up and left the office, leaving me alone and fuming with anger and dissatisfaction.

It seemed ages before he returned but when he did he entered the little office with a sheepish smile. He remained standing by the door. “Well Mister Conrad, just this once we are able to make an exception. Your money is being counted out now and if you go to the counter, cashier number four will have it ready for you.”

I didn’t have to get in line again. If I had been forced to do that I think I would have exploded, instead I was led directly to the appropriate cashier. It was a fresh faced young lady with a much more pleasant disposition. She counted the cash out in front of me, placed it in a large white envelope and pushed it under the security screen with a smile and an “enjoy the rest of your day.”

Outside the bank I felt invigorated, not only by the cool breeze but because I had stood my ground and collected my money. “Bloody Banks” I thought as I walked along the pavement. However, I began to reflect on my actions. Perhaps I should not have made such a fuss and should instead have remained calm and not drawn attention to myself. In the present situation I needed to stay under the radar. I did not really want people to remember me and my initial euphoria soon died away to be replaced by my earlier nervousness. If only there was someone I could talk to, a friend who I could open up to and tell the whole story, get it off my chest but I was something of a loner. I had numerous acquaintances and golfing buddies and lots of casual friends but I could think of no one who I could call really close.

I was an only child and my parents had both passed away when I was in my early twenties. I was used to being alone and having only myself to rely on but it would be nice to be able to share my burden with someone and then I thought of David.

David Blackmore and I had been friends for over ten years although lately we had not seen so much of each other. David and his wife Margaret were our favourite couple and over the years we had spent many enjoyable evenings together as a foursome. We would take it in turns to visit each other’s homes for dinner and to chat or play cards until the early hours. Sometimes we would go to a restaurant, see a show or go to the movies but then four years ago Margaret had developed breast cancer. It was a particularly aggressive type and within eighteen months she was dead.

It was a bad time for all of us, especially David. He had taken Margaret’s death very badly but then just over a year ago he met Julie. At twenty four she was much younger than him and boy was she hot. With long dark hair, even darker smouldering eyes and an eye popping figure she oozed sex appeal. Needless to say Sandra didn’t like her.

David was pretty well off, he was a good deal older than me, a retired city banker and Sandra said that Julie was just a gold digger. She was probably right because David was nothing special to look at. Although he was always smart and wore expensive clothes, he had something of a paunch, thinning hair turning grey and his right eye seemed to wander around of its own accord. Gold digger or not David certainly didn’t appear to care and who could blame him, Julie was quite a catch and within three months they were married.

A couple of times we tried to resume our evenings together as a foursome but it didn’t work. The women were bitchy towards each other and there was a terrible atmosphere so we saw less of them as a couple. I still went around to David’s place although less frequently and thinking about it I guess it was maybe a month or more since we had seen each other but he was still a friend, someone you could rely on in times of trouble and that was exactly what I needed now.

I called him on my mobile to see if he was home and he seemed genuinely pleased to hear from me. When I asked if I could pop round for a coffee and a chat he said he would put the pot on straightaway.

Less than a quarter of an hour later the taxi dropped me off outside his impressive home. It was a large bungalow set in the country with no other houses in sight, the neighbouring properties being hidden by rows of trees on either side of his land. The wide paved driveway led up to a double garage and then around to the front of the building. A brand new silver Mercedes convertible was parked carelessly on the drive near the front door. That was Julie’s car.

As I approached the door, it swung open and Julie bounced out to greet me. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans that were so tight it looked as though they had been painted on and a white flimsy blouse with the top buttons undone revealing a tantalising cleavage. Without a word she flung her arms around me and gave me a sensual kiss full on the lips. She tasted good, her body was soft and warm and at that moment I half envied my friend.

“Where’s your car?” she asked, her arms still around my shoulders.

“Sandra’s using it.” I replied without hesitation.

Julie nodded, “Well I’ll take you home.”

Her eyes lingered on mine for a second with undisguised sexual meaning. Even with David around she was an outrageous flirt. Releasing me she led the way inside.

David came out as I entered and gave me a manly hug. “It’s good to see you pal. I was going to call you just yesterday but you know how things are. Time flies and before I knew it the day had gone. Where’s Sandra, isn’t she with you?”

“No, she’s at home packing. We are going away for a few days.”

“Anywhere nice?” He asked over his shoulder as we made our way into the luxurious lounge that had a white inch thick pile carpet and soft plush settees lining almost every wall.

“Burnley,” I replied taking off my shoes for fear of marking the pristine flooring.

He gestured for me to sit down and laughed. “Burnley, do you have to go? Is it some kind of punishment?”

As I lowered myself into one of the oversized armchairs I thought how close to the truth he was but replied with a smile “Business I’m afraid, but I know someone who comes from the area and they have told me of some lovely walks nearby. You can go up onto the moors and go for miles without seeing another soul and there are some fantastic views, good pubs too, so we are going to stay for a few days and make the most of it.” For once I was telling the truth. One of my clients hailed from Lancashire and was always expelling its virtues.

Julie brought us in two steaming mugs of coffee, set them down on a side table then left with a wiggle and a smile.

“She remembers how you like it, amazing memory to go with the body.” David grinned.

I smiled politely, not knowing what to say next. We had been friends a long time and were comfortable in each other’s company but I didn’t think he would appreciate my raunchy thoughts about his new wife. I was even having second thoughts about unloading my troubles onto him, not that I didn’t trust him but looking around the room I noticed the various crucifixes and pictures of Christ on the cross that adorned the walls and they reminded me of the one and probably only difference between us. David was extremely religious and I was not.

In the past we had occasionally discussed his conviction and my lack of it and sometimes he had tried unsuccessfully to convert me but we had never argued, in the end always accepting each other’s differing views on the subject.

“What brings you over here today then?” David interrupted my thoughts with the question. “Lost for something to do or guilty at not coming around more frequently?”

“You always were a perceptive bastard.” We laughed together and my tension and uncertainty faded. It felt almost like old times.