I picked up my business mail from the table in the hall and went down to the cellar. The answerphone light blinked three times and paused. I hung my coat on the back of the door and made ready to take notes. The first message was from Wondawindow Systems, from Michelle, no less, who would call again later to discuss with me the new range of low-maintenance, high-quality, fully guaranteed, top-security, bonus-offer uPVC double-glazed windows currently available. I glanced at the narrow basement window with its broken blind. Shrugged.
The second caller had rung off without leaving a message. The third was the man who’d rung me the previous afternoon. I recognised the nervous laugh.
‘Hello…’ laugh. ‘Yeah, it’s about something I want you to investigate. Can you ring me at work?’ He reeled off the number. ‘And, erm…’ laugh, ‘if I’m out on a job then leave a message for me and I’ll ring you when I get back. Right.’ Pause. ‘Thanks.’
Well, I’d have done so gladly but he hadn’t left his name. I did try the number on the off chance it was a direct line. A woman answered. ‘Hello, Swift Deliveries.’
I explained that I wanted to get in touch with one of the younger men whose name I’d forgotten. She couldn’t help.
‘We’ve fifteen drivers, love. All over the region. I need a name.’
I gave up. With luck, he’d try again.
My mail consisted of bumf from the bank trying to get me to take out a loan and a letter from the accountants asking for my detailed income and expenditure so they could prepare my year-end accounts.
I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing my accounts. It would have been easier if I’d entered things on a more regular basis but I shoved all my invoices and receipts into a box file marked ‘Finance’ and left it till the dreaded letter arrived. It wasn’t even all that complicated. The thought of doing it was always worse than the reality.
By the time I’d finished I reckoned I’d have to pay about £500 tax in a couple of instalments over the next year. I couldn’t believe that I could earn so little and still have to pay tax. I certainly didn’t have a spare £500 sloshing round in the bank. Oh, well. It wasn’t due yet and maybe by the time that bill came in I’d have found a nice little earner.
The phone interrupted my musing.
‘Hello, is that Miss Kilkenny?’
‘Yes. Miss Donlan?’
‘That’s right. I was wondering how you were getting along.’ She spoke tentatively, she didn’t want to bother me but she was worrying herself sick.
‘Fine. I’ve been doing a bit of background reading and talking to people. I didn’t want to visit Mrs Palmer until I’d a little more information. But we could fix that up now.’