Cat O'Nine Tales And Other Stories Part 2

Chris paused and raised his head, while he made some calculations. "Not including any profit we might have hoped for, once we'd seen our capital returned..."

"Yes, only what they've stolen from us," Sue repeated.

"A little over two hundred and fifty thousand, if you don't include interest," said Chris.

"And we have no hope of seeing a penny of that original investment back, even if we were to work for the rest of our lives?"

"That's about the sum of it, love."

"Then it's my intention to retire on January the first."

"And what are you expecting to live off for the rest of your life?" asked Chris.

"Our original investment."

"And how do you intend to go about that?"

"By taking advantage of our spotless reputation."

The End.

Chris and Sue rose early the following morning: after all, they had a lot of work to do during the next three months if they hoped to acc.u.mulate enough capital to retire by 1 January. Sue warned Chris that meticulous preparation would be needed if her plan was to succeed. He didn't disagree. They both knew that they couldn't risk pressing the b.u.t.ton until the second Friday in November, when they would have a six-week window of opportunityChris's express...o...b..fore "those people back in London" worked out what they were really up to. But that didn't mean there wasn't a lot of preliminary work to be done in the meantime.

To start with, they needed to plan their getaway, even before they set about retrieving any stolen money. Neither considered what they were about to embark on as theft.

Sue unfolded a map of Europe and spread it across the post office counter.

They discussed the different alternatives for several days and finally settled on Portugal, which they both considered would be ideal for early retirement. On their many visits to the Algarve they had always returned to Albufeira, the town where they had spent their shortened honeymoon, and revisited on their tenth, twentieth, and many more wedding anniversaries. They had even promised themselves that was where they would retire if they won the lottery.

The next day Sue purchased a tape of Portuguese for Beginners which they played before breakfast every morning, and then spent an hour in the evening, testing out their new skills. They were pleased to discover that over the years they had both picked up more of the language than they realized. Although not fluent, they were certainly not beginners.

The two of them quickly moved on to the advanced tapes.

"We won't be able to use our own pa.s.sports," Chris pointed out to his wife while shaving one morning. "We'll have to consider a change of ident.i.ty, otherwise the authorities would be on to us in no time."

"I've already thought about that," said Sue, "and we should take advantage of working in our own post office."

Chris stopped shaving, and turned to listen to his wife.

"Don't forget, we already supply all the necessary forms for customers who want to obtain pa.s.sports."

Chris didn't interrupt as Sue went over how she planned to make sure that they could safely leave the country under a.s.sumed names.

Chris chuckled. "Perhaps I'll grow a beard," he said, putting his razor down.

Over the years, Chris and Sue had made friends with several customers who regularly shopped at the post office. The two of them wrote down on separate sheets of paper the names of all their customers who fulfilled the criteria Sue was looking for. They ended up with a list of two dozen candidates: thirteen women and eleven men. From that moment on, whenever one of the unsuspecting regulars entered the shop, Sue or Chris would strike up a conversation that had only one purpose.

"Going away for Christmas this year, are we, Mrs. Brewer?"

"No, Mrs. Haskins, my son and his wife will be joining us on Christmas Eve so that we can get to know our new granddaughter."

"How nice for you, Mrs. Brewer," replied Sue. "Chris and I are thinking of spending Christinas in the States."

"How exciting," said Mrs. Brewer.

"I've never even been abroad," she admitted, "let alone America."

Mrs. Brewer had reached the second round, but would not be questioned again until her next visit.

By the end of September, seven other names had joined Mrs. Brewer on the shortlistfour women and three men, all between the ages of fifty-one and fiftyseven, who had only one thing in common: they had never traveled abroad.

The next problem the Haskins faced was filling in an application for a birth certificate. This required far more detailed questioning, and both Sue and Chris quickly backed off whenever one of the shortlisted candidates showed the slightest sign of suspicion. By the beginning of October they were down to the names of four customers who had unwittingly supplied their date of birth, place of birth, mother's maiden name and father's first name.

The Haskins' next visit was to Boots the chemist in St. Peters Avenue, where they took turns to sit in a little cubicle and have several strips of photographs taken at 2.50 a time. Sue then set about completing the necessary application forms for a pa.s.sport, on behalf of four of her unsuspecting customers. She filled in all the relevant details, while enclosing photographs of herself and Chris, along with a postal order for 42. As the postmaster, Chris was only too happy to pen his real signature on the bottom of each form Sue filled in.

The four application forms were posted to the pa.s.sport office at Petty France in London on the Monday, Thursday, Friday and Sat.u.r.day of the last week in October.

On Wednesday, 11 November the first pa.s.sport arrived back at Victoria Crescent, addressed to Mr. Reg Appleyard. Two days later, a second appeared, for Mrs. Audrey Ramsbottom. The following day Mrs. Betty Brewer's turned up, and finally, a week later, Mr. Stan Gerrard's.

Sue had already pointed out to Chris that they would have to leave the country using one set of pa.s.sports, which they would then need to discard, before they switched to the second pair, but not until they had found somewhere to live in Albufeira.

Chris and Sue continued to practice their Portuguese whenever they were alone in the shop, while informing any regulars that they would be away over the Christmas period as they were planning a trip to America. The inquisitive were rewarded with such details as a week in San Francisco, followed by a few days in Seattle.

By the second week in November, everything was in place to press the b.u.t.ton for Operation Money Back Guaranteed.

At nine o'clock on Friday morning Sue made her weekly phone call to headquarters. She entered her personal code before being transferred to forward finance. The only difference this time was that she could hear her heart beating.

Sue repeated her code before informing the credit officer how much cash she would require for the following weekan amount large enough to allow her to cover withdrawals for any post office savings accounts, pensions and cashed postal orders. Although an accountant from headquarters always checked the books at the end of every month, considerable leeway was allowed in the run-up to Christmas. A demanding audit was then carried out in January to make sure the books balanced, but neither Chris nor Sue had any intention of being around in January. For the past six years Sue's books had always balanced, and she was considered by headquarters to be a model manager.

Sue had to check the records to remind herself of the amount she had requested in the same week of the previous year40,000, which had turned out to be 800 more than she needed. This year she asked for 60,000, and waited for some comment from the credit officer, but the voice from headquarters sounded neither surprised nor concerned. The full amount was delivered by a security van the following Monday.

During the week Chris and Sue fulfilled all their customers' obligations; after all, it had never been their intention to shortchange any of their regulars, but they still found themselves with a surplus of 21,000 at the end of week one. They left the cashused notes onlylocked up in the safe, just in case some fastidious official from headquarters decided to carry out a spot-check.

Once Sue had closed the front door at six o'clock and pulled down the blinds, the two of them would only converse in Portuguese, while they spent the rest of the evening filling in postal orders, rubbing out scratch cards and entering lottery numbers, often falling asleep as they worked.

Every morning Chris would rise early and climb into his aging Rover, with Stamps as his only companion. He traveled north, east, south and westMonday Lincoln, Tuesday Louth, Wednesday Skegness, Thursday Hull and Friday Immingham, where he would cash several postal orders, and also collect his winnings on the scratch cards and lottery tickets, enabling him to supplement their newly acquired savings with an extra few hundred pounds each day.

On the last Friday in November, week two, Sue applied for 70,000 from head office, so that by the following Sat.u.r.day, they were able to add a further 32,000 to their invisible earnings.

On the first Friday in December, Sue raised the stakes to 80,000, and was surprised to discover that there were still no questions back at headquarters: after all, hadn't Sue Haskins been manager of the year, with a special commendation from the board? A security van dutifully delivered the full amount in cash early on the Monday morning.

Another week of increased profits allowed Sue Haskins to add a further 39,000 to the pot without any of the other players round the table demanding to see her hand. They were now showing a surplus of well over 100,000, which was stacked up in neat little piles of used notes, resting on top of the four pa.s.sports buried at the bottom of the safe.

Chris hardly slept at night as he continued to sign countless postal orders, rub out piles of scratch cards and, before going to bed, fill in numerous lottery tickets with endless combinations. By day he visited every post office within a fifty-mile radius, gathering his spoils, but, despite his dedication, by the second week in December Mr. and Mrs. Haskins had only collected just over half the amount required to retrieve the 250,000 they had originally invested.

Sue warned Chris that they would have to take an even bigger risk if they still hoped to acquire the full amount by Christmas Eve.

On the second Friday in December, week four, Sue called the issuing manager at headquarters, and made a request for 115,000.

"You're having a busy Christmas," suggested a voice on the other end of the line. First sign of any suspicion, thought Sue, but she had her script well prepared.

"Run off my feet," Sue told him, "but don't forget, more people retire to Cleethorpes than any other seaside town in Britain."

"You learn something new every day," came back the voice on the other end of the line, before adding, "Don't worry, the cash will be with you on Monday. Keep up the good work."

"I will," promised Sue, and, emboldened by the exchange, requested 140,000 for the final week before Christmas, aware that any sum above 150,000 was always referred back to head office in London.

When Sue pulled down the blinds at six o'clock on Christmas Eve, both of them were exhausted.

Sue was the first to recover. "We haven't a moment to waste," she reminded her husband as she walked across to the bulging safe.

She entered the code, pulled open the door and withdrew everything from their current account. She then placed the money on the counter in neat bundlesfifties, twenties, tens and fivesbefore they set about counting their spoils.

Chris checked the final figure and confirmed that they were 267,300 in credit. They put 17,300 back in the safe, and locked the door. After all, they had never intended to make a profitthat would be stealing. Sue began to put elastic bands around each thousand, while Chris transferred the two hundred and fifty bundles carefully into an old RAF duffel bag. By eight o'clock they were ready to leave. Chris set the alarm, slipped quietly out of the back door and placed the duffel bag in the boot of their Rover, on top of four other cases his wife had packed earlier that morning. Sue joined him in the front of the car, as Chris turned on the ignition.

"We've forgotten something," said Sue as she pulled the door closed.

"Stamps," they said in unison. Chris turned off the ignition, got out of the car and returned to the post office. He reentered the code, switched off the alarm and opened the back door in search of Stamps. He found him fast asleep in the kitchen, reluctant to be enticed out of his warm basket and into the back seat of the car. Didn't they realize it was Christmas Eve?

Chris reset the alarm and locked the door for a second time.

At eight-nineteen p.m. Mr. and Mrs. Haskins set out on the journey for Ashford in Kent. Sue worked out that they had four clear days before anyone would be aware of their absence. Christmas Day, Boxing Day, Sunday, Monday (a bank holiday), back in theory on Tuesday morning, by which time they would be viewing properties in the Algarve.

The two of them hardly spoke a word on the long journey to Kent, not even in Portuguese. Sue couldn't believe they'd gone through with it, and Chris was even more surprised that they'd got away with it.

"We haven't yet," Sue reminded him, "not until we drive into Albufeira, and don't forget, Mr. Appleyard, we no longer have the same names."

"Living in sin after all these years are we, Mrs. Brewer?"

Chris brought the car to a halt outside their daughter's home just after midnight. Tracey opened the front door to greet her mother, while Chris removed one of the suitcases and the duffel bag from the boot. Tracey had never seen her parents looking so exhausted, and felt they had aged since she'd last seen them in the summer. Perhaps it was just the long journey. Tracey took them through to the kitchen, sat them both down and made them a cup of tea. They hardly spoke, and when Tracey eventually bundled them off to bed, her father wouldn't allow her to carry the old duffel bag up to the guest bedroom.

Sue woke every time she heard a car come to a halt in the street outside, wondering if it was marked with the bold fluorescent lettering POLICE. Chris waited for the front-door bell to ring before someone came bounding up the stairs to drag the duffel bag from under the bed, arrest them and escort them both to the nearest police station.

After a sleepless night they joined Tracey in the kitchen for breakfast.

"Happy Christmas," said Tracey, before kissing them both on the cheek.

Neither of them responded. Had they forgotten it was Christmas Day? They both looked embarra.s.sed as they stared at the two wrapped boxes that their daughter had placed on the table. They hadn't remembered to buy Tracey a Christmas present and resorted to giving her cash, something they hadn't done since she was a teenager. Tracey hoped that it was nothing more than the Christmas rush, and excitement at the thought of their visit to the States, which had caused such uncharacteristic behavior.

Boxing Day turned out to be a little better. Sue and Chris appeared more relaxed, although they often lapsed into long silences. After lunch Tracy suggested that they take Stamps for a run across the Downs and get some fresh air.

During the long walk one of them would begin a sentence and then fall silent. A few minutes later the other would finish it.

By Sunday morning Tracey felt that they both looked a lot better, even chatting away about their trip to America.

But two things puzzled her. When she saw her parents coming down the stairs carrying the duffel bag with Stamps in their wake, she could have sworn they were speaking Portuguese. And why bother to take Stamps to America, when she had already offered to take care of the dog while they were away?

The next surprise came when they set off for Heathrow after breakfast. When her father packed the duffel bag and their suitcase into the boot of the car, she was surprised to see three large bags already in the boot. Why bother with so much luggage when they were only going away for a fortnight?

Tracey stood on the pavement and waved goodbye, as her parents' car trundled off down the road. When the old Rover reached the end of the street it swung right, instead of left, which took them in the opposite direction to Heathrow. Something was wrong. Tracey dismissed the mistake, aware that they could correct their error long before they reached the motorway.

Once Chris and Sue had joined the motorway, they followed the signs for Dover. The two of them became more and more nervous as each minute pa.s.sed, aware that there was now no turning back. Only Stamps seemed to be enjoying the adventure as he stared out of the back window wagging his tail.

Once again, Mr. Appleyard and Mrs. Brewer went over their plan. When they reached the docks, Sue would jump out of the car and join the queue of foot pa.s.sengers waiting to board, while Chris drove the Rover up the car ramp and on to the ferry. They agreed not to meet again until the boat had docked in Calais and Chris had driven on to the dockside.

Sue stood at the bottom of the gangway and waited nervously at the back of the queue as she watched their Rover edge toward the entrance of the hold.

Her heart raced when she saw a customs officer double-check Chris's pa.s.sport, and invite him to step out of the car and stand to one side. She had to stop herself from running across so she could overhear their conversationshe couldn't risk it now they were no longer married.

"Good morning, Mr. Appleyard," said the customs officer, and then added after looking in the back of the car, "were you hoping to take the dog abroad with you?"

"Oh yes," replied Chris. "We never travel anywhere without Stamps."

The customs official studied Mr. Appleyard's pa.s.sport more carefully. "But you don't have the necessary doc.u.ments to take a dog abroad with you."

Chris felt beads of sweat running down his forehead. Stamps's papers were still attached to the pa.s.sport of Mr. Haskins, which he had left in the safe back at Cleethorpes.

"Oh h.e.l.l," said Chris. "I must have left them at home."

"Bad luck, sir. I hope you don't have far to travel because there isn't another ferry until this time tomorrow."

Chris glanced helplessly across at his wife, before climbing back into the car.

He looked down at Stamps, who was sleeping soundly on the back seat, oblivious to the problem he was causing. Chris swung the car round and joined an overwrought Sue, who was waiting impatiently to find out why he hadn't been allowed to board. Once Chris had explained the problem, all she said was, "We can't risk returning to Cleethorpes."

"I agree," said Chris, "we'll have to go back to Ashford, and hope we can find a vet that's open on a bank holiday."

"That wasn't part of our plan," said Sue.

"I know," said Chris, "but I'm not willing to leave Stamps behind." Sue nodded in agreement.

Chris swung the Rover onto the main road, and began the journey back to Ashford. Mr. and Mrs. Haskins arrived just in time to join their daughter for lunch.

Tracey was delighted that her parents were able to spend a couple more days with her, but she still couldn't understand why they weren't willing to leave Stamps with her; after all, it wasn't as if they were going away for the rest of their lives.

Chris and Sue spent another uncommunicative day and a further sleepless night in Ashford. A duffel bag containing a quarter of a million pounds was tucked under the bed.

On Monday a local vet kindly agreed to give Stamps all the necessary injections. He then attached a certificate to Mr. Appleyard's pa.s.sport, but not in time for them to catch the last ferry.

The Haskins didn't sleep a wink on the Monday night, and by the time the street lights went out the following morning, they both knew they could no longer go through with it. They lay awake, preparing a new planin English.