A Dangerous Profession

A Dangerous Profession
Desperately I pressed a handkerchief to my mouth and dropped onto my
belly, my eyes streaming, my hair and skin scorched by the furnace that
raged behind me. The blinding, acrid smoke was all around me and as it
seared my lungs I was certain that within minutes I would be
dead.
I crawled like a snake towards the back door, my only means of escape
from this poisoned air. My progress was painfully, laboriously slow -
but I had to keep going if I was going to survive. I heard the roar of
the flames as they destroyed everything I owned and threatened to
destroy me too. Twice I almost passed out, only just managing to fight
the black veil that was descending over my consciousness.
And then - blessed relief! My groping fingers found the latch and I
hauled myself to my feet, tumbling over the threshold into bliss. I lay
face down on the damp lawn, unable to move because of the pain that
engulfed my body - inside and out. Each breath ripped my chest and my
flesh was stretched agonisingly tightly across my bones. Then I heard a
crash as the windows of my burning home exploded, showering my back
with a thousand shards. A moment later I slipped thankfully into
unconsciousness.

'Somebody posted a petrol bomb through your letterbox. Do you know of
anyone who might bear a grudge against you Miss Perks?' The detective
averted his eyes, unable to look at my burned face.
I almost laughed.
'Anyone who might bear a grudge?' I echoed through swollen lips.
'Three hundred people at a rough guess,' I whispered. He stared at me
and frowned.
'I don't understand&;#8230;' he began.
'I'm a money-lender,' I whispered. The detective nodded, and I saw
that his nose wrinkled distastefully. Not that his reaction bothered me
because, after twenty years in the business, I'm well used to people
telling me that I'm the lowest scum to walk God's earth.
Of course - the job isn't always unpleasant. For a while I'm a Fairy
Godmother - and it's a most satisfying feeling to know that your
benevolence has enabled peoples' wildest dreams to come true. The
trouble is that as time goes on, some of those happy recipients of my
hard-earned cash can't meet the repayments, and that's when my
popularity dwindles and I become the Angel of Death.
Fifteen suicides on my client list last year! Can you believe it? And
this imbecile asks me if anyone bears me a grudge!
'Check my office for names,' I whispered. 'They're listed in
alphabetical order.' I turned away. 'Now, please go.'
I heard him leave the room and my thoughts drifted back to the day
when I hired the henchman who would collect my money. Geoff!
Images of Geoff rose before me, starting with him in my interview
room, answering questions about his qualifications. He was built like
an all-in wrestler and covered in vivid tattoos that depicted scenes of
battles and dragons. He was shaven headed, his nose broken in two
places and his skin resembled thick oatmeal that had been sprinkled
with black pepper.
In short - he was perfect.
'You're hired,' I smiled. He smiled back and I saw that most of his
front teeth were missing.
'Thank you Miss Perks,' he said in a gentle, cultured voice that
belied his fearsome appearance. 'You won't regret it. You can count on
me to collect every penny that's owed to you.'
I nodded, believing every word.
And Geoff certainly proved his worth in the years that followed. If he
set out to collect money he came back with it. He was a hard man! In
the money-lending business you can't afford to be soft if you want to
eat beef on Sundays. Soon I promoted him to my almost equal partner.
And he was so happy with his new title - 'Junior Partner,' that I was
touched. Oh yes - Geoff was a true gentle giant.
After a while I found that I was relying on him more and more - and
then it occurred to me that he was actually a very intelligent, nice
bloke - and that I liked him rather a lot.
'Are you doing anything tonight?' I asked him casually one evening as
we locked up the office. He looked a little sheepish.
'Well - as a matter of fact I'm seeing a friend,' he admitted. I was
surprised. I didn't know that he had any friends.
'Never mind,' I said, disappointed. 'Perhaps another time?' He nodded
and was about to move away when he stopped and looked at me
indecisively.
'There's something that you should know,' he began, looking decidedly
uncomfortable. 'I mean - now that we're getting on so well and we're
partners and everything.'
'Yes?' I responded encouragingly. Nothing would make a difference to
our newly found mutual friendship. His next words caused me to choke on
my chewing-gum however.
'I'm gay,' he said.
For a moment we stared at each other and I knew that my face was a
mask of total disbelief. I mean - I have never in the whole of my life
met anyone who looked less gay than did Geoff! Then I felt my lips
begin to twitch and I saw that his were twitching too. A moment later
we dissolved into uncontrollable giggles that caused passers-by to stop
and stare in amusement.
'Gay!' I finally managed to splutter. 'Thank God for that! Now I don't
have to worry about not fancying you!'
'You can join David and me for dinner tonight if you want?'
'I'd love to!' I said warmly.

David and I took an instant dislike to each other.
His colourless wary eyes appraised me from head to toe and I knew that
he didn't like what he saw. I, in return, eyed him back with
undisguised hostility. My flesh crawled as I took in his pale skin that
was the colour of sour milk, and his long mousy curls that clung to the
nape of his neck like rats' tails. He smelled of Chanel No.5 and he was
effeminate and decidedly the opposite of Geoff in every way. His
conversation didn't exceed the limits of grocery prices and his lip
curled in a snarl as he failed to contribute in any way to the
conversation that Geoff and I were having about the Stock Market.
By the end of the evening David and I were rivals.

Ten years later, even whilst David hovered like a nasty virus in the
background, Geoff and I were as emotionally close as two human beings
could be. He was the brawn and I was the brain. And I can assure you
that in our business you need equal measures of both qualities.
To my delight, a few months ago he and David had a big row and parted.
Geoff turned to me, his only friend, for comfort and support. I had
grateful clients but no friends, and I was glad to feel at last that I
was desired for myself and not just for my money.
Poor Geoff was inconsolably miserable, but I was only too relieved
that David had disappeared from our lives. And just to make sure that
he had, I hired an ex-convict to track him down and tell him that if he
tried to contact Geoff again I would remove any part of his body that I
found offensive.
Exit David.
Geoff, with my help, soon began to see that David had been a slime bag
- and we grew to depend solely upon each other.
Our social life blossomed and soon it became one big happy round of
pubs, clubs, meals and laughter. We shared the same sense of humour and
taste in music, food, art and literature.
We were soul mates.
'I'd be so lonely without you,' he murmured, squeezing my hand
affectionately so that for one mad moment I wished that he was
straight. 'Especially now that David's gone,' he finished, tears
welling up in his eyes.
'Forget that snivelling little toad,' I advised.
If I could forget the sixty phone calls that David had made to the
office as he tried in vain to persuade me to let him speak to Geoff -
then Geoff could certainly forget the ten wasted years that he had
spent with the horrible, inarticulate little woman-man!

But somehow Geoff found out about the calls. David had managed to
contact him, in spite of the fact that I had persuaded Geoff to move
house and change his phone number. And it seemed that the cunning
little creature, who was (in a final dramatic flourish) dying of AIDS,
had vented his spleen against me, managing to convince the gullible
Geoff that I was evil.
'If you'd let him contact me he'd be alive now,' sobbed Geoff. 'He'd
never have caught this terrible disease! You killed him!' accused
Geoff, his face puce and the bristles on his head standing ferociously
proud. 'You've ruined my life with your jealousy - you ***!'
Geoff called me dreadful things that day.
'As long as I live,' he swore, 'I'm going to make you pay for
this.'

And now I lie here in my hospital bed, homeless and scarred for life.
And I wonder&;#8230; Only a true friend would have exacted such
retribution. Who else would have cared enough?
Oh yes! It was Geoff who had set fire to my home, not some debtor.
Debtors committed suicide.
And then I wonder about something else. I was Geoff's friend wasn't I?
Or did my jealousy turn me into the worst kind of enemy? I have time on
my hands now. I'll think about it.