A Christmas Gift. Sue Moorcroft

collection agents knocking at the door while I was eating my porridge this morning.’

      ‘No money,’ he replied listlessly.

      ‘Well, tell them that! You’ve been gone for three months. Stop them coming to my house or give me an address I can pass on.’ She waited. ‘Aidan?’ She checked her phone screen and glared at it. Call ended.

      She counted slowly to ten, annoyed with herself for venting. Since being made redundant from his job as a commercial executive for a huge car manufacturer Aidan didn’t really handle anger.

      After three minutes of pacing and huddling into her jacket, Georgine rang back. ‘Look, Ade,’ she said, pouring syrup on her voice. ‘I understand you got in a muddle with money and didn’t feel you could tell me.’

      ‘Because you’re funny with money. I was protecting you,’ he put in morosely.

      Georgine closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sky. ‘OK, because I’m scared of financial pressure.’

      ‘Yet you give Blair money. And your dad.’

      Her nails dug into her palms. ‘You know I feel an obligation.’

      ‘Yeah, I know the whole sad story, even if I don’t understand it.’

      Georgine refused to let herself be sidetracked into explaining yet again why she helped her dad and sister, but didn’t have a pot of gold handy for Aidan. ‘I understand that, in law, I’m as liable as you are for the unpaid utility bills, even if those were your agreed responsibility. I sold the jewellery you gave me to offset some, and the rest I’m paying off as I can manage it. But I can’t cover whatever other liabilities you took on unbeknownst to me while you lived at my place, even if I wanted to. So please contact the organisations concerned and tell them not to come knocking at the door of 27 Top Farm Road. Explain you no longer live there.’

      Aidan sighed. ‘But you can tell them.’

      Revulsion shivered through her. ‘I don’t want to speak to debt collectors! It’s your responsibility …’ She recognised the futility of talking to Aidan about responsibility and changed tack. ‘I’m only asking you to stop them turning up at my door.’

      ‘There are websites that tell you what to do when that happens,’ he said with irritating calm. ‘They say don’t panic. Don’t let them in; complain to their company if they intimidate you.’

      ‘I don’t want to talk to them to find out which company they’re from! And I can’t help panicking.’ If she clenched her eyes shut any harder she’d bring on a migraine. Her voice rose, despite her best efforts. ‘If I lose my house because of you—’

      He sighed. ‘Did I ever ask to use the house as security? No. Then how can you lose it because of me?’

      Sleepless nights worrying through all the worst possible outcomes had provided the answer to this one. ‘If I can’t meet my mortgage because I’m catching up on all the bills you left unpaid! Or I miss a catch-up payment and the utility company takes me to court.’

      It was Georgine who ended the call this time. How could Aidan have changed so much? Until last year he’d held down a good job, worn an expensive suit and driven a late-model car. But when the job went as the company restructured, everything good about him had followed.

      In the early days, she’d loved his joy in life, not realising until everything went wrong how heavily he’d depended not only on a fresh pile of money hitting his bank account each month but bonuses coming along twice a year to wipe clean his credit card excesses. It became obvious that saving up had never been in his psyche.

      With a sigh that matched any of the pitiful ones Aidan had been heaving down the phone, she blinked open her eyes, unclenched her fists and used the fingers of her gloves to wipe stray tears from beneath her eyes, then looked up and saw Joe standing motionless on the outside staircase that rose up the side of the building. Watching her.

      She jumped, then, hoping he’d been too far away to overhear her conversation, forced herself to smile and call up to him. ‘Hello. Are you lost? Those stairs lead to some kind of private apartment. The landlord keeps it separate and Oggie says it’s not in our lease.’

      He glanced down at the staircase beneath his feet. ‘Right. Thanks. That would explain why up here wasn’t included in your tour.’ He ran lightly down to ground level. ‘Oggie said to talk to you about the Christmas show. He thinks you might like lighting and sound taken off your hands.’ Joe looked much more self-possessed than he had this morning, even if he talked slowly, quietly, as if he were testing every word before letting it loose.

      ‘Would I ever. I’ll take you through what you need to know,’ she said promptly. She didn’t bother reminding him he wasn’t supposed to be wandering around unaccompanied, because she hadn’t given any thought to his whereabouts after he’d gone off to the admin office during dance rehearsal and probably she should have. Georgine gave a last sniff and pushed Aidan and his troubles into a mental ‘worry about this when I’m not at work’ box. ‘I’m going for lunch. Shall we walk over together?’

      ‘That would be great.’ Joe flashed a smile. It was so unexpectedly warm that she grinned back as if she’d known him for much longer than a few hours.

      Lunch break was half over and tables were freeing up when they reached the cafeteria, though the noise level was only a couple of decibels below deafening. Georgine was convinced that some students sat two tables away from their friends just so they could shout conversations like, ‘Have you done any of your Christmas shopping yet? No, me neither. Got to get some money first.’

      Three lads were picking at guitars, apparently trying to master a tricky bit of fingerwork. It wasn’t unusual to see students turning any spare spot in the college into a rehearsal room.

      She went ahead of Joe in the queue in case he wasn’t sure of the system – not that it was hard. You chose your food and drink and paid by scanning your pass, having already credited the cafeteria account linked to it. Accounts could be topped up online, pleasing parents who suspected their kids would use meal money to buy cigarettes or sweets if the actual cash was put in their hands.

      Even at staff rates it was an economy to eat a hot meal in the cafeteria at lunchtime. Georgine would content herself with a sandwich or a bowl of soup at home in the evening.

      ‘Oh,’ said Joe, ruefully, when they got to the head of the queue and he saw Georgine hold out her pass card to be scanned by Celine, who was on the till today. ‘I was supposed to collect my pass from Fern before lunch and I forgot.’ He turned to Celine who, in her blue smock, was waiting patiently. ‘Can I pay in cash today?’

      Regretfully, Celine shook her head, complete with hat and hairnet. ‘I’m sorry, darlin’, it’s not a cash till. We don’t have actual money.’

      ‘Oh.’ Joe dropped his gaze to the contents of his tray: pasta and the biggest latte on offer, garlic bread he’d already taken a bite from and a cereal bar. His face reddened. ‘Erm, I can’t really put this back.’

      Celine turned to Georgine. ‘Shall I put it on your card? Then he can give you the cash.’

      ‘Would you mind?’ Joe switched his gaze to Georgine too, expression hopeful and relieved.

      From the scalding in her cheeks Georgine was pretty sure she’d turned every bit as red as him. She didn’t have much choice but to say, ‘Not a bit,’ and proffer her card again, but her heart began a slow descent to her chilly toes.

      Celine passed the card beneath the scanner. It beeped angrily. She flashed Georgine a look of surprise, then returned the pass with a shake of her head. ‘I bet it won’t go through twice in a row as some safety precaution.’ She tapped at the till’s screen then said to Joe, ‘I’ve voided your bill for now. Get your card and account sorted and you can pay us tomorrow. You look the honest sort.’ She scribbled down £6.38 on a torn-off receipt, gave it to him with a big smile and moved on to the next in the queue.

      Hurrying