Page 9 of Behind Frenemy Lines

She told me.

Took me a moment to find my voice. “But that’sfifty thousand pounds.”

Ma, tragically: “Now you see.”

CG: “How do you spend that much on stones?! What are they made of, pure gold?”

Ma: “For the best ones, must be jade. Not cheap.”

CG: “No kidding!”

Ma: “It wasn’t just buying the gwaat saa. He invested in a website, hired a designer. Shopping is all online now, so that’s very important. He hired some young people to advertise the product on their Facebook—”

CG: “Oh my God!”

Ma: “That’s not even everything. If you knew it all, you would be so stressed. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, after talking to Ba. That’s why I called you.”

CG: “Right. OK. I’ll handle it. All right? There’s no need to worry about it.”

Ma: “But can you manage? It’s so much money.”

CG: “If I said I can cover it, I can cover it. What’s the point of doing this job if I can’t afford to fund whatever idiotic get-rich-quick scheme Ba comes up with?”

Ma: “You sound stressed out. Are you stressed out? I think you work too hard.”

No arguing with that. What does Ma want me to do? I could quit my job and go mountaineering in the Andes, but then what would happen to her and Ba and Iza and the kids?

CG: “I’m fine. But can you do one thing for me?”

Ma: “What?”

CG: “Go and find…” Wasn’t sure who to suggest, then remembered Loretta’s younger brother was home on a “gap year,” i.e., skiving and leeching off his parents. “Go and find Freeman—”

Ma: “Why Freeman?”

CG: “He plays so many video games, he should be good at tech. Get him to block Ba’s number on your phone. OK? It’s my birthday in five months’ time, it can be your present to me. Bye, Ma.”

Went back up the stairs to sixth floor. Felt like I was dragging a boulder behind me, weighing down every step.

I could come up with fifty grand. Would blow a hole in my savings, such as they are. Cleaned them out when I bought the flat from the landlord a few years ago, even with the massive mortgage I took out. Could have got somewhere cheaper if I’d moved farther out, but I was used to the flat by then—had been renting it for years.

Throat felt tight. Felt like I’d been running all my life andlooked up to find myself in the same bloody place. No progress, no possibility of change. Just me doing the same thing over and over again, hoping for a different outcome each time.

Feeling was familiar. Get it whenever I have to deal with Ba.

He doesn’t contact me directly, even though I don’t have him blocked. He spends all day long online, gambling and getting scammed by dodgy Facebook accounts with profile photos of attractive young women. He could WhatsApp me, email, whatever. But he’s never the one to break the news about his latest crisis. Last time, it was Iza.

She didn’t ask for money. They don’t have to. They know I’ll understand why they’ve got in touch.

Good old Charles. Reliable as the Bank of England.

Relief to get back to my desk, to the deluge of new emails in my inbox. Anne-Laure wanted a note on why I thought the claimant was entitled to£1 million in damages. Already did this for them—twenty-seven pages of closely argued analysis—but she wanted a two-hundred-word summary she could ping on to the Board.

And there were directions from the court on the DLP case, setting dates for the hearing. Farah had forwarded a request from the client for an urgent meeting to discuss next steps.

It was looking like I’d be staying late at the office. Needed to text Loretta, or she’d wait for me to have dinner and probably forget to eat.

Fumbled on desk for my phone. A noise from the other side of the room made me look up.

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