Benjamin Harel sat at Georgina’s desk. He pushed his round-rimmed glasses up his nose and snapped shut the accounting book. ‘Apart from The Penthouse out of business while it’s under repair, your figures are looking a lot healthier,’ he told Georgina. ‘Though I’m not counting the two thousand pounds on erm, loan, from Mr Zammit as I expect that will, erm, be paid back shortly?’
‘Yes, it will. In fact, all being well, you can return his money to him on Monday.’
‘I don’t want to think about the alternative.’
‘Don’t worry, Benjamin. I shall endeavour to remain well and healthy and Temi Zammit can be paid back in full.’
‘I hope so. I don’t suppose you will, erm, tell me what it is you’re doing?’
‘You know I won’t. I’ll tell you after, I always do, don’t I?’
‘Yes, I’m always the last to know,’ Benjamin answered as he packed away his books. ‘I shall see you on Monday?’
‘Yes, you will. If not, you know what to do with my money and assets.’
Benjamin looked sad as he nodded his head.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said reassuringly. ‘Now go, and give my love to your dad.’
Charlotte entered Georgina’s office as Benjamin left. She frowned as she stamped in.
‘I’ve had it with her,’ Charlotte grumbled, throwing her head towards the door. ‘I thought you was going to have a word with her?’
‘Yes, I am, but I’ve been a bit busy.’
‘You ain’t kidding. Bodies have been dropping like flies since you got out of prison. And I’ll tell you what, if Miss bleedin’ Fancy Pants out there don’t pull her socks up, she’ll be joining the body count an’ all.’
‘What’s she done now?’
‘Nothing! That’s the whole point. She ain’t done a bleedin’ thing. I’ve been serving customers, wiping down tables and preparing food while Elsie has been sat on her good-for-nothing lazy arse with her stuck-up nose in a magazine. I’m gonna go for her, so help me God, I’ll scratch her bleedin’ eyes out. See how she gets on then with looking at her stupid magazines!’
‘All right, calm down. Send her in to me, I’ll talk to her.’
‘I don’t know why you’re bothering. There’s plenty who’d be grateful of the job.’
‘I’m bothering because she’s Johnny’s girlfriend and we look after our own.’
‘Yeah, well, Johnny needs his head testing. You know he’s gone out nicking for her again?’
‘You’re kidding me? After the fiasco with the Zammits’ jewellers?’
‘Yep. She got that fur stole from Johnny, and that expensive hat. She told me he brings her something home every day. Bragging about it, she was. Apparently, “my Johnny said I’m his queen and he’ll have me dripping in jewels soon.”’
‘You’re right, Johnny does need his head testing. The silly sod. He’d better not get himself nicked for pinching stuff for her. I won’t be happy. Anyway, send her in.’
Moments later, Elsie breezed into the office and sat at Georgina’s desk.
‘You weren’t invited to take a seat,’ Georgina snapped.
Elsie raised her eyebrows, but rose to her feet.
‘Do you realise what a fortunate position you’re in?’ Georgina asked.
Elsie shrugged her shoulders.
‘Allow me to spell it out for you. You’re a woman with no means of her own. But you have a roof over your head provided by a man who doesn’t knock you about and asks for little in return. A man who brings you gifts, expensive ones an’ all from what I’ve observed.’
Elsie just shrugged and, suppressing her anger, Georgina continued, ‘You have no experience or qualifications in any type of work. Actually, you’ve never done an honest day’s work in your life. Yet here you are, provided with secure full-time employment for a reasonable salary, and let’s face it, it’s not overly taxing working in my small café, is it?’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘Good, I’m glad we agree on that. So, would you like to explain to me the reason why you are allowing Charlotte to do all the work?’
Elsie pursed her lips then shrugged again.
‘I see. Do you want the job?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe,’ Elsie answered belligerently.
Georgina’s temper snapped and she said angrily, ‘Fine. You can leave anytime you like. You’re not a prisoner here as you were with your husband. In fact, I’ll make it easy for you. You’re sacked. Get your coat and hat and leave. And you needn’t think you’re getting paid for the time that you’ve sat in my café, drinking my tea and eating my cakes.’
‘But—’
‘—No buts. I don’t want to hear it. Go. Now.’
Elsie sloped off, leaving Georgina shaking her head in disbelief. Charlotte had been right – Elsie’s attitude had been appalling. Georgina wished Johnny good luck with the woman, glad that Elsie was no longer her problem.
Charlotte stuck her head through the office door. ‘She’s walked out!’
‘I know. I sacked her. Get hold of Fleur. She should be out of Holloway by now. I’ll have to leave that with you because I’ve got enough to be getting on with,’ Georgina answered as she thought about her next task.
‘No problem. I like Fleur and she’s a grafter,’ Charlotte smiled.
‘Once you’ve trained her up, you can jack in the café if you like?’
‘No, I think I’ll stay. I know I said I didn’t want to do it but, actually, I quite enjoy working here. Gotta dash, there’s a customer.’
The door closed and Georgina rubbed her forehead. She had a splitting headache but needed to think clearly. It was Thursday. Tomorrow would be Friday. The Top would be dead by the end of the week. She would kill him. That’s what she’d told Temi Zammit and it’s exactly what she intended to do.
*
Geert Neerhoff opened his eyes to excruciating pain in both his arms. The searing agony was almost unbearable but he couldn’t scream. He felt like he was choking and struggled to breath. He cried out but there was no sound, just a muted groan. The pain at the end of his arms intensified. Why couldn’t he call for help? Panic coursed through him. Was he dreaming? Having a nightmare? His eyes, wild with fear, looked around. He recognised he was at home. In his kitchen. He couldn’t talk. Oh, God, he hurt so badly. Then he realised he was gagged and at that moment, the terrifying memories flooded back. He raised his arms in front of his face and stared in shocked horror at the charred and swollen stumps where his hands should be.
Vomit rose in his throat at the disgusting sight. The gag. The vomit. He couldn’t expel it from his throat. He couldn’t swallow it back down. He couldn’t cough it back up.
Instinctively, he tried to undo the knot at the back of his head that secured the handkerchief in his mouth that was killing him. He had no fucking hands!
He couldn’t breathe, slowly choking to death on his own puke.
Geert jumped from the seat and ran to the kitchen drawer. A knife, a pair of scissors. Anything to cut off the scarf so that he could breathe again. He reached for the handle of the drawer and tried to hook his blackened thumb under it. The pain. Then it dawned on him again. He had no fucking hands! He wouldn’t be able to hold a knife, let alone use it to free himself. He wanted to call Doris to help. His lungs ached.
Geert staggered towards the table, desperate to breathe. A feeling of floating out of his body washed over him. He saw his severed hand and reached out for it. Using his arm, he scraped it towards him but then collapsed to the floor. His hand fell from the table and landed on his face.
Geert Neerhoff died in severe pain while staring in horror at his disconnected hand that covered his eyes.