Still Waters by Judith Cutler

But, since it didn’t need washing up – presumably glass recycling did all that was necessary to get rid of any bacteria – a bottle was definitely the drinking vessel of choice this evening.
    ‘Cheers. I’m sorry to land you in all this.’
    She slipped an arm round his waist. ‘All what? We’re together and at last the Rectory is in good hands. I liked the way Paula had organised the scaffolding people before we even left the place. They make a good team, don’t they? Paula’s organisational skills and Caffy’s obvious idealism?’
    ‘Do you think they’re an item?’
    ‘I hadn’t thought about it. Does it matter? Let them have their private life – or lives. I’m sure they deserve them.’
    He nodded. ‘I just wish I could place them – I know those names from somewhere, but certainly I’ve never met them before.’
    ‘Is that what’s the matter?’
    ‘Matter?’
    ‘Something’s been troubling you ever since we left Loose.’
    ‘Ah. Well… I suppose Sammie’s the matter.’ It came out with a rush. He gave an edited version, just as he was sure her account of childminding had been somewhat censored.
    ‘At
what
interest rate?’ she demanded as he finished. ‘Hell’s bells! So what are we going to do about it?’
    ‘You’re not going to do anything. She’s my problem.’
    ‘She’s actually Lloyd’s problem, or more properly herown. All the same, what are we going to do?’
    ‘I’ve told her to phone the company and explain. And to see a solicitor.’
    ‘If she’s declared bankrupt it’s going to cause all sorts of problems down the line. Maybe for Lloyd too.’
    ‘And me, of course, if she uses my address.’
    ‘Bloody hell, yes. So what are we going to do?’
    He could feel the anger that ought to have been directed against Sammie rising against Fran. ‘I’ve told you, she’s my problem, not yours.’ Seeing her stiffen, he took a deep breath. ‘Look, if she’d ever spoken a civil word to you, let alone a friendly, welcoming one, damn me if I wouldn’t have there-there’d her and paid every last one of her bills. And if we hadn’t had the Rectory to pour money into, of course.’
    She didn’t argue, but her face closed against him, as it always did when she was troubled – no, when he had troubled her. And now she was getting the dinner, in a sort of pained silence. They’d laughed over buying pre-washed microwavable vegetables, plastic glasses and paper plates, but that was before their visit to Loose. And why, while he laid the table, did she break off to do some jotting with which she clearly had difficulties?
    She turned to him with a face lit as if by a minor triumph. ‘Do you know how much interest she has to pay overall if she only pays off the bare minimum each month?’
    ‘She’s talking about changing her card, to one that charges no interest on your existing balance.’ At least they were talking again.
    ‘That’s fine and dandy so long as she doesn’t put any more on it. Or on any others. I take it you’ve established howmany she has? Mark, you haven’t, have you? Go on, phone her now and find out. Every last penny she owes. You don’t have to tell me, but she needs to be honest with you so she can be honest with herself. And you might talk to her about Lloyd, too.’
     
    While he did as he was told, Fran disappeared to the scullery, sifting through the sack of paper scheduled for recycling.
    ‘I’d have thought you’d have had enough of rubbish after this weekend,’ Mark observed, making her jump.
    ‘I just have this niggle,’ Fran said, still burrowing. ‘Ah!’ Triumphantly she flourished an orange-jacketed
Focus
. Presumably each issue was colour-coded – the one in Minton’s flat had been green. Sitting on her haunches, she thumbed through. ‘I ought to make a point of reading this, you know. Look, it’s got details of everything that’s going on: Borough Council Corner; Parish Affairs; Our Man in Westminster; Lenham Community