Claudia Carroll 3 Book Bundle. Claudia Carroll
people. So now, I figure, well maybe here’s my chance.’
He nodded, but still couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to all this than met the eye. Considerably more. What though? That was the million dollar question.
‘Anyway,’ she went on in her usual back-to-business way, ‘what do you think about flatsitting?’
‘It’s an incredibly generous offer, but I’d only take it on one condition.’
‘Which is?’
‘I’d insist on paying your sister rent. Upfront and from day one. And that’s not negotiable.’
Eloise nodded, and seemed happy enough with that. Then she started to probe around a bit more.
‘And another thing Jake. I wanted to ask you if you’d thought about how you’d manage for money once you get out?’ she asked directly.
‘Jesus! Like if it’s not too personal a question?’
‘Sorry, I just wondered, that was all,’ she said, biting her tongue and looking flushed that she’d maybe overstepped the mark.
Jake sat back and shook his head. Because even just being asked that made him feel about two inches tall. She didn’t mean to humiliate, of that he was certain. It was just unfortunate that this was her manner. He’d learned by now that if there was a wrong way to get around people, Eloise would pretty soon light on it. You could see it in the way she spoke to the screws, snappily, brusquely, like someone who was used to barking orders while all around her jumped to.
A real shame, Jake thought. Because underneath all of that toughness, there was a good heart there, if you only took the trouble to furrow down deep for it. A genuine warmth and a caring side that for whatever reason, she took great pains to conceal from all around her. Not for the first time, it made him wonder why exactly she’d chosen him to be on the receiving end of all this altruism. (Another new word for the day.) Because why pick a soon-to-be ex-con when she could easily help those with far more need of it? It was a mystery, one that baffled him, but if it was the last thing he did, he’d somehow get to the bottom of it.
‘Look, I didn’t mean to be rude or nosey Jake,’ she cut across his thoughts, ‘I just wondered if you were okay for money, that was all.’
And at that point, he’d have sworn on a stack of Bibles that no bank manager on earth could have done it quite as probingly, cutting straight to the heart of the matter in seconds flat. If this one had an animal image, he thought, looking evenly through the grille at her, it would have been a bird of prey; an eagle or a hawk. She was that alert, that keen and clued in; she’d sound out any tiny detail you were not one hundred per cent sure of. In fact, she’d not only sound it out, but be on top of it in a matter of seconds.
So he paused, waited for a bit, saw that she wasn’t going anywhere till she got the answers she was looking for, then finally realised there was nothing for it but to open up to her. What the hell, she seemed to have found out everything else about him from the governor, what had he to lose?
‘I’ll be just fine, thanks for asking,’ he told her, coughing and keeping his voice deliberately low, hoping she’d just drop the subject and move on.
‘You’re sure?’
‘Positive. As it happens, I’ve a few quid put by, not much but enough to tide me over for a few weeks till I find work.’
‘What do you think you’ll work at?’
He sighed. Because he’d been giving that one a lot of thought lately and the options didn’t exactly appeal.
‘Thought I might hire out a taxi plate,’ he told her, but she didn’t exactly look impressed. But then neither was he, particularly.
‘It’s a gig plenty of the other lads in here do as a kind of stepping-stone when they first get out,’ he went on to explain. ‘You don’t have the expense of running the car, tax or insurance or any of that, the guy who owns the taxi plate looks after all that. So as long as you pay him his cut out of whatever cash you make, he’s happy. Means I can do the odd night shift for some overworked driver who only wants to work more sociable hours during the day.’
‘Oh Jake,’ she said sitting back, deflated. ‘That’s really what you want? To ferry home a load of drunks out of their head on alcopops at four a.m., after all the nightclubs close?’
‘That wouldn’t really particularly bother me at all,’ he said, unconvincingly. ‘To be honest, I’d just be glad of the cash and can put up with anything, as long as they don’t puke in the back of the car.’
There was only one disadvantage to the plan and he knew it only too well, though he kept it to himself. If he went back to driving, his old gang would surely find him. Chances were they’d track him down in no time. Nothing could be easier. If they wanted to, they could get to anyone, but a taxi driver was a particularly useful animal to them. They’d get you working like a courier, and before you knew where you were, you were back in trouble, back in court, back inside, back to square one, back where you swore you’d never go back to.
Eloise didn’t actually say as much, but seemed distinctly unimpressed with the plan. It was in the slightly disdainful sniff she gave when he mentioned taxi shift work and in the way she impatiently tapped the tips of her skinny fingers off the metal counter in front of her, when he talked about night shifts and soilage charges. But then, he’d noticed she was good at communicating disapproval without even having to open her mouth. For a split second he wondered what life was like for all the legions of reporters and editors who worked under her. Were they all afraid of her? He’d nearly put money on it.
Jake knew so little about her, but could already guess that in a work situation, her bark was as bad, if not fifty times worse, than her bite. Idly, he found himself sitting back, arms folded, wondering when the last time was someone had used the word ‘no’ in front of Eloise Elliot.
‘But you have a TEFL qualification,’ she reminded him insistently. ‘You got first class honours, you did really well at it! Why are you throwing all that away so you can sit on some taxi rank for hours in the middle of the night? Why not put your qualification to good use? And you’re studying for your English and psychology degree. Surely pursuing these goals would give you a far more promising future then schlepping round night clubs in some borrowed taxi at some ungodly hour in the morning? Course, I know that your future is in your own hands and that it’s none of my business,’ she added, ‘but it seems to me that you’ve got a real chance to make something of yourself here. To really start over, turn a new leaf, not look back.’
At that, he sat forward, starting to listen more intently now. Because without her even realising it, that last sentence had chimed a deep chord. He wondered if Eloise knew that was exactly what he needed to hear at this point in time. Wondered if she knew that the very thought of making a fresh start, of even taking a step up in the world was like music to his ears … Who knew?
All he knew was that he found himself suddenly paying alert attention to what she was saying. She had a way of making everything sound so easy, so achievable. God, he thought, this one was far, far better than any parole officer at encouraging you, guiding you to haul yourself up by the bootstraps and make something out of what was left of your life.
‘You know what you could do Jake?’ she went on, really warming to her theme now, ‘You could apply for a job teaching TEFL courses to overseas students, maybe at one of the language schools that are springing up all over town. After all, education is the one recession-proof business,’ she went on enthusiastically. ‘I’d put money on it that you’d be well able to get work, even part-time.’
So Jake let her chat on, finding himself listening interestedly at first, then intently. Because she just made it all sounds so easy, so doable.
‘You could be a proper TEFL teacher,’ she encouraged him. ‘You could do it, easily, I know you could. I’ll even be a referee on your references for you. We can gloss up your CV,’ she said, like it was already a done deal. ‘I’ll