Perfect Intentions: Sometimes justice is above the law (2 page)

The alarm resonated around the room. As Clare reached to switch it off, the pile of books sitting precariously on the edge of the bed fell, scattering themselves across the floor.

Clare made her way to the bathroom, carefully avoiding the books that were now strewn across the floor and getting into the shower began to plan her day.

She had work and then a meeting with Loretta, and at some point she had to go to her bank and try to reconcile her finances.

Loretta was a counselor she had originally contacted for some help with her psychology course. Loretta had been aware of how hard juggling work and study could be, and had agreed to help Clare whenever she had time. This meant that her meetings with Loretta were not as regular as Clare would like, but she appreciated it all the same.

Clare
’s decision to start studying again had been met with mixed reactions as her new routine had meant little time for socialising, something her friend Hannah had been quick to point out. Getting out of the shower and dressing, she grabbed her bag and headed for the door, stopping briefly to have a swig of lukewarm coffee.

As she made her way toward her car she noticed that one of her tyres was completely flat.

Knowing this was going to make her late for work, she decided to ring in. She knew this wasn’t going to make her popular as the delivery of a new stock of perfume was due in this morning and she was supposed to be there to help with the display. Clare worked on the beauty counter at a large department store on the edge of Mannings Town, and although this had never been her career choice she enjoyed it when they got new lines in.

She pulled out her phone and scrolled to the stores office number.

“Can I help?”

The voice was so close Clare dropped her phone.

“Sorry, it’s just that I noticed your tyre. I’m Dean by the way”

The man bent down to retrieve Clare’s phone.

“Clare. Can you change tyres?”

He smiled at her and she was struck by how young he looked.

“Just open the boot for me.”

Clare watched with interest as Dean methodically went to task.

“So what is it you do then?”

“Me? I work in a garage, can’t you tell?”

He had a lop-sided grin that made Clare smile.

“In which case I’m sure this isn’t offering you much of a challenge?”

“Not so much
no.”

“Is this going to make you late for work?”

“Possibly but I couldn’t really walk past could I? No offence but you don’t strike me as someone who’d know what they were doing with a tyre jack.”

“And you’d be right there. Personally I would’ve just called the RAC.”

After ten minutes, the car was ready to go. Dean hurriedly replaced all the tools he’d been using back into the boot.

“Can I give you a lift anywhere?”

“Nah, you’re all right, I can catch the bus from here.”

He pointed at the bus stop across the road.

“I’ve not made you miss your bus, have I?”

“There’ll be another one along in a minute. See
ya.”

Clare waved her thanks and got into the car and switched the radio on.

‘
The charred remains of what is believed to be a man have been found on the Leicester Road industrial estate in Manning’s Town this morning. The police have yet to make a statement regarding the identity of the victim, although it is believed he is not local to the area…’

Clare hit the search button and found a station playing ‘non-stop hits.’ Five minutes and five adverts later, she pulled into the car park singing along to ‘Sound of the Underground.’

Aware she was already running a little late, Clare hurriedly dropped her bag in the staff room and went straight to her counter, where Hannah was already busy sorting through a new line of perfume that had come in. Hannah spotted her and smiled.

“All right, doll?”

“Yeah, yourself?”

“Uh-huh. You off to see Loretta tonight?”

“Half six. You want to come round later?”

“Sure. How are things going with her, anyway—she as
good as her rep suggests? My sister in law swears by her, she’s a modern day saint, and everyone who’s met her says how fucking invaluable she is.”

Clare could hear a hint of ill-disguised jealousy in her friend’s voice and dismissed it.

“Well, it is good of her to help me; she doesn’t have to.”

“Yeah, modern day saint, like I said”

“Well, I can come over and talk behavioural psychology with you if you like, but I thought your strengths lay with your amazing ability to pick up random men in bars—“

Clare was baiting her, and Hannah knew it.

“Fair enough, point made. So lets move onto my strengths then. Are you coming out with me tonight or not?”

“Tonight? No, I can’t do tonight; you know that. I’ve got too much work on at the moment.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

“Hannah, I told you this weekend’s not good for me.”

“Bloody hell, Clare, you’re turning into a hermit. One night off won’t kill you; I might, though.”

“Maybe next weekend.”

“Remove the ‘maybe.’ ”

“Ok, next weekend.”

“Good. Ok, moving on: did you hear the news this morning?”

“The burnt body?”

“Yeah, they reckon it happened sometime last night.”

“They don’t know who it is, though, do they?”

“No, hope it’s no one I know. It’s a bit bloody worrying when it happens on your doorstep. I mean there haven’t been any reports of missing people have there? And in a small town like this everyone pretty much knows everyone else’s business.”

“We’ll have to check the news at lunch, see if the police have any more leads.”

“Yeah, anyway, I’ve got to get to the stock room. If I take much longer Maggie will have my guts—she’s still pissed off about the time I came in late. I mean, for God’s sake, it was over a year ago, get over it.”

“You mean when you were two hours late and
hungover?”

“Yeah.”

“And you threw up on her?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I know what you mean, Hannah; some people really know how to hold a grudge.”

Hannah smiled and wandered off in the direction of the stock room.

Clare checked her watch; if she wanted to get out in time to go to the bank, she was going to have to get the stock re-ordering done before lunch. Taking a deep breath, she began sorting through papers.

Clare was twenty minutes late when she eventually arrived at the bank. Red-faced and clearly flustered, she went straight up to the information desk and informed the teller she had an appointment to see the bank manager. After exhaling noisily, the teller begrudgingly swung her chair round and skulked off towards the back of the bank, presumably to find the manager.

As the teller came back into her line of sight, the manager was trailing behind.

“Ah, Miss Heathers, I’m Ian White. Glad to see you could make it.” Clare decided to ignore the jibe, realising she probably deserved it.

“Would you just like to follow me through to my office?”

Clare smiled.

“Lead the way.”

The office was sparse: it held only a computer, a desk, and a stand full of leaflets advertising all the new services they offered. As Clare took a seat, she wondered briefly how old the man-child in front of her was—he didn’t look a day over eighteen. She had a horrible suspicion he was going to patronise her, and the days of her holding her tongue were long gone.

“Miss Heathers, the reason I wanted to see you is the fact that your account has been overdrawn several times in the last few months, pointing to the fact that you are having trouble managing it, which means your latest application for an extension on your overdraft facility has been declined. Sorry.”

“So as you see that I’m a little overdrawn each month, you’re not going to give me an additional extension on my overdraft facility, is that right?”

“Yes, I’m afraid that you have to show the account is stable for at least six months before we will consider extending your credit.”

“So basically after six months, if I manage not to become overdrawn, you’ll give me an extended overdraft facility?”

“Yes”

“But if I’m not overdrawn anymore, why would I need an extension on my overdraft facility?”

“Well, I’m sorry Miss Heathers, but that’s bank policy, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, well, forgive me for being a little cynical, but I can’t help thinking I’m funding your Christmas parties. Every time I’m overdrawn by ten or twenty pounds, I get charged an additional fifteen pounds, and then I receive one of these thoroughly charming letters.” Clare threw the bank letters on the table.

“Which not only informs me that I’m overdrawn, but also drops in the fact that you’re charging me for writing to tell me about it.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Heathers. If you’d like, we can meet up again in six months and do another review.”

Recognising defeat, Clare scooped up her letters and jammed them back into her bag.

Mr. White sat back in his chair, watching Clare’s retreating back, and released a long, low breath out. She may have been attractive, but he wouldn’t fancy taking her out on a date—not with that temper, anyway.

Getting back into her car outside the bank, she allowed herself a moment of pity before starting the engine. Driving toward Loretta’s office she almost missed the turn into the car park as her mind was still on her dwindling finances. She had known there had been little to no chance of the bank being able to help her. She decided to try and put it to the back of her mind as she parked up. Clare knew that Loretta wasn’t going to be happy.  Loretta had agreed to stay on later than she would usually to accommodate Clare’s working patterns. As Clare walked into the office reception the receptionist looked up and smiled at her. Clare forced a smile back and the receptionist motioned her straight through to Loretta’s office.

“Hi, Clare, how are you getting on with the course? Did you look up that case study I told you about?”

“Yeah, thanks for that, it was really useful, although I did want to ask you about something.”

“Go on.”

“Well, it’s about something I read in a magazine. It was an article on a prison guard who worked in the paedophile wing in some prison, and it was so depressing. Did you know the majority of convicted paedophiles refuse help? I mean they can’t or won’t comprehend that they did something wrong.”

Loretta nodded and sat back in her chair.

“You know, Clare, one of the best things about psychology can be the most frustrating. As in within traditional science, there are certain rules, the laws of physics, chemistry, and biology are irrefutable, and we know them to be true because we see them every day. With psychology there is no absolute truth; it deals with patterns, patterns of behaviour, patterns of thought. There are no absolutes. There are certain things we can look for, but if you expect to find a neat template that will fit every one of the seven billion people on Earth, you’re going to come up short.”

Loretta smiled.

“Now, have you heard of an experiment called ‘gorilla in our midst?’”

An hour later Clare left Loretta’s office feeling much better than she had going in. Her meeting with Loretta had gone so well in fact, that she’d almost forgotten how badly her day had been prior.  Clare pulled her car back into the car park by her flat, noticing someone sitting on the wall opposite.  There was nothing unusual in that; the local teenagers were always hanging about drinking, smoking and hurling obscenities at anyone who walked past. But this was different. For a start, there was only one person there, and she recognised him instantly. She grabbed her bag and got out of her car, slamming the door and locking it. She looked over at him.

“Hello again, what are you doing hanging about?”

“Waiting for you, as it happens.”

“Really? And why’s that?”

“I wanted to make sure that wheel was still attached,” he said, gesturing towards the car tyre he had fitted that morning.

“Well, that’s reassuring.”

“To be honest, that wasn’t the only reason. I was just wondering if you were doing anything Saturday.”

Clare’s eyebrows shot up.

“Are you asking me out?”

“Yeah, I guess I must be.”

“Don’t you think you’d be better off asking someone closer to your own age?”

Dean looked abashed for a second before regaining his composure.

“I’m asking you out for a drink, not proposing marriage.”

“Fair point. Ok, then, why not?”

“I’ll meet you here Saturday at eight.”

Not waiting for a reply, he turned and left.

Clare watched him for a few moments before grabbing her bag and heading toward the door.