A Prisoner Of Birth - By Jeffrey Archer Page 0,130

But surely the grant isn't sufficient to live on?"

"I can just about get by," said Danny.

Ms. Bennett returned to her list of questions. "Are you still living in the same house?"

"Yes."

"I see. I think perhaps I should come and inspect the property at some time, just to make sure it meets with the minimum Home Office standards."

"You would be most welcome to visit any time that suits you," said Danny.

She read out the next question. "Have you been associating with any former prisoners you were in jail with?"

"Yes," said Danny, aware that concealing anything from his probation officer would be regarded as a breach of his parole conditions. "My former driver has just been released on bail, and is currently staying with me."

"Is there enough room in the house for both of you?"

"More than enough, thank you, Ms. Bennett."

"And does he have a job?"

"Yes, he's going to be my driver."

"I think you're in enough trouble as it is, Nicholas, without being facetious."

"It's no more than the truth, Ms. Bennett. My grandfather has left me with sufficient funds to allow me to employ a driver."

Ms. Bennett looked down at the questions that the Home Office expected her to ask at monthly meetings. There didn't appear to be anything there about employing your own driver. She tried again.

"Have you been tempted to commit a crime since our last meeting?"

"No, Ms. Bennett."

"Have you been taking any drugs?"

"No, Ms. Bennett."

"Are you at present drawing unemployment benefit?"

"No, Ms. Bennett."

"Do you require any other assistance from the probation service?"

"No, thank you, Ms. Bennett."

Ms. Bennett had come to the end of her list of questions, but had only spent half the time she was allocated for each client. "Why don't you tell me what you've been up to for the past month?" she asked desperately.

***

"I'm going to have to let you go," said Beth, resorting to the euphemism Mr. Thomas always fell back on whenever he sacked a member of staff.

"But why?" asked Trevor Sutton. "If I go, you won't have a manager. Unless you've already got someone else lined up to replace me."

"I have no plans to replace you," said Beth. "But since my father's death, the garage has been steadily losing money. I can't afford this state of affairs to continue any longer," she added, reading from the script Mr. Thomas had prepared for her.

"But you haven't given me enough time to prove myself," protested Sutton.

Beth wished that it was Danny who was sitting in her place-but if Danny had been around, the problem would never have arisen in the first place.

"If we have another three months like the last three," Beth said, "we'll be out of business."

"What am I expected to do?" demanded Sutton, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. "Because I know one thing, the boss would never have treated me this way."

Beth felt angry that he had mentioned her father. But Mr. Thomas had advised her to try to put herself in Trevor's shoes, and to imagine how he must be feeling, especially since he'd never worked anywhere else since the day he left Clement Attlee Comprehensive.

"I've had a word with Monty Hughes," said Beth, trying to remain calm, "and he assured me that he'd be able to find you a place on his staff." What she didn't add was that Mr. Hughes only had a junior mechanic's job available, which would mean a considerable drop in pay for Trevor.

"That's all very well," he said angrily, "but what about compensation? I know my rights."

"I'm willing to pay you three months' wages," said Beth, "and also to give you a reference saying that you've been among the hardest workers." And among your most stupid, Monty Hughes had added when Beth had consulted him. While she waited for Trevor's response, she recalled Danny's words, but only because he can't add up. Beth pulled open the drawer of her father's desk and extracted a bulky package and a single sheet of paper. She ripped open the package and emptied its contents onto the desk. Sutton stared down at the pile of fifty-pound notes and licked his lips as he tried to calculate just how much money was on the table. Beth slid a contract across the desk that Mr. Thomas had prepared for her the previous afternoon. "If you sign here," she said, placing her finger on a dotted line, "the seven thousand pounds will be yours." Trevor hesitated, while Beth tried not to show just how desperate she was for him