The Flexible Friend

THE FLEXIBLE FRIEND

I first became aware of him one sunny afternoon when a table by the window in the bar suddenly let go a loud cheer as this young chubby, smiling confidently, crossed the carpet and joined them. I learned afterwards that this was the day of his release from Her Majesty’s Prison, and they were celebrating.

He became a regular in the bar and we got to known him a little better, but he wasn’t at large long before going back to jail, from where he wrote to us that his radio had been stolen by a fellow inmate, he was lost without it and would we buy him a new one. We were astonished. Why us? Nevertheless a few days later we sent him a radio.

Released after not too long he came to see us with a sincere thank you for the present. However, it took weeks before he intimated that he couldn’t get a job and was finding it difficult to get by on benefits though he was living with his parents and they were helping him.

I suggested, being an intelligent articulate fellow, could he use his time in prison to do an Open University course and gain a degree. He responded it wasn’t worthwhile as it would give HM Prison as his address.

He was a very pleasant cheerful chap, easy in conversation with a generous genuine smile, full of life and well liked as he bounced around the bar.

Recognising he had the personality, Blossom and I decided to give him a job if he didn’t mind washing up, serving behind the bar, serving in the restaurant, acting on reception etc. and generally doing what had to be done. We paid him above the minimum hourly rate and gave him all the hours we could. He proved to be an asset, reliable, always on time, never complaining and just getting on with it the way Blossom and I did.

He was a natural at hospitality.

Then one morning Blossom surprised by asking what I’d bought with my credit card.

“Nothing,” I said incredulous. She knew full well I never used the thing, didn’t know where it was most of the time and I never ever spent money she didn’t know about.

A couple of days later we told our new man of our discovery.

“It’s me Gordon,” he said looking contrite and rather sad as he explained that on picking up the mail, he knew the contents of an envelope addressed to me was a new credit card, so he simply took it, signed it and went shopping.

Understanding how reckless I’d been employing this flawed individual in a position that exposed dozens and dozens of credit card details to a credit card fraud specialist I was sickened.

The policeman said he couldn’t help himself.

From prison he wrote again asking did I feel better now he was locked up. He clearly had the wrong idea. It wasn’t like that. I didn’t call the police to punish him, to savour revenge or enjoy some kind of obscene satisfaction. It was simply that we needed a crime number to establish our integrity, get re-imbursed and a new credit card.

Afterwards we realised he’d been acting against us for a while, trying to spoil our good relations with the rest of the staff by insinuating a hard to define us-and-them atmospheric miasmic influence.

GOOD FIRDAY 26TH MARCH 2016

Blossom “Have you had any money from the office?”

“No,” I said.

Blossom “I’m sure some has gone missing. I counted some ready for the bank and now it’s short.”

“I haven’t had it. I wouldn’t take money and not mention it. And anyway, I haven’t bought anything nor made any payments. I haven’t even been out.”

“Will you check the CCTV. Something’s wrong.”

“I can do but…………….”

“Well something’s wrong. The banking’s definitely short.”

“Ok, Ok.“

Irritated I started the search. We had a pretty sophisticated CCTV installation. Cameras all over the place inside and out and memory going back 2 to 3 weeks. Good as it was I didn’t have much patience with it normally. And this time I thought Blossom must have mislaid the money, put it in a different bag or drawer and she would soon announce she’d found it. She’d done that a number of times in the past so I was less than half-hearted about this chore.

However, I was looking for a possible recent event and whereas sometimes I spent hours at the machine’s screen without success I was soon sickened by what I saw.

Into the office; into Blossom’s bag he went, removed something into his back pocket, put the bag down and left. It was that quick. Amazing, awful, I was dumbfounded.

After years working with me on maintenance and refurbishing, enjoying Christmas dinners.

I’d been told years back he was a thief but didn’t take it seriously. We were all friends together. I played the evidence over and over, showing Blossom what I had discovered. How long had this been going on? Had he done it before? Going further back the replay showed another occasion almost a carbon copy.

“I’ve been racking my brain for days about a £50 note which I knew I’d had but couldn’t remember spending.” Blossom said.

This left me struggling with my stupidity. My failure to understand even recognise such rabid poverty. Such a grovelling, demeaning admission of low-down. Such animal, such utter monkey. Just a degree maybe two above shitting on the carpet in the middle of the floor whilst talking nicely. Talking monkey.

What to do? He wasn’t going to be working with me anymore but should we confront him? Should we get the police involved? We didn’t really want to do that knowing his family.

It must have been Sunday evening following and, unusual for him, he came in the bar. He’d been drinking elsewhere. Still we hadn’t decided what to do. There was just the three of us Blossom and I and him. And all sorts of things started to come out as we talked. Like, he was leaving his wife; wasn’t going home that night; would probably go to a friend’s. He had no money worries. His name wasn’t what we thought it was and this was after years of association.

We didn’t believe anything he said of course, hadn’t done for a long time. Mostly he had nothing to say to us that mattered true or false. We accepted he was a romancer as did everyone else who knew him. But the “no money worries” really stung. Because we had.

We said nothing about the theft and after he left we decided to have a word with his wife.

We didn’t want to interfere in a shaky marriage and didn’t want to hurt his family but somehow, we had to share our despair. Feeling keenly the contempt shown for years and years of friendship, help appreciated, familiarity, common humanity.

She brought their daughter round right away in response to our call. And their immediate reaction to seeing the CCTV was “Get the police.” Though I begged her not to she was on the mobile telling her husband what she had seen, countering his denials.

“He’s done it before” she said. “He lost two good jobs and a career for the same thing. Stealing.”

A few days after this meeting the post brought an envelope containing £180 and a letter of apology explaining he had never stolen anything before. Perhaps he had forgotten.

We had informed the police but after an interview, statements and supply of a disc with the evidence said we did not want to prosecute and the matter went no further.