Big Deal No Deal

It rained a lot last night, and what with being worried about Trev doing the deal with the other place and having a stash of cash burning a hole through my pillow, it was hard to sleep. The rain belted down on the slates, and now and then as the wind shifted direction it would suddenly hit the window like somebody had blasted it at point blank range with a sawn off shotgun, or a giant invisible dog had cocked its leg against the glass. A couple of times I was jerked out of a fitful sleep, thinking that the window was going to explode and shower me with fragments of glass. Through the rain running down the uneven panes, a pixillated Godrevy Lighthouse blinked blearily in the distance.

I must have fallen asleep eventually, because it was just getting light when I was woken up by the sound of the loose floorboard on the landing outside my room on the floor below. The rain had stopped. I lay listening for a few seconds and then heard the creaky step three from the bottom. A few seconds later I heard the front door opening. Someone was going out, rather than coming in. I didn't hear anybody else moving, so I got up, put my hoodie on and scooping up all the money from under my pillow, stuffed it in my front pouch.

I got down two floors and to the top of the hall stairs just in time to catch sight of Trev slipping out the front door. Vaulting down the last few steps, I pulled the door open - his hand was still on the catch, and standing there in his light grey suit, he looked shocked, I guess because all I was wearing was a hoodie and my pants, and he probably couldn't even see my pants. I've got your money, I said, reaching into the pouch of my hoodie, and pulling out handfuls of coins. Here, count it, it's four figures like you said. He held both his hands out as I poured the money into them, pound coins, fifty pees, ten pees, even brown money spilled and slid between his fingers onto the wet doorstep. You said we had until the end of today, didn't you? He filled his pockets with his fistfuls of small change, and bent down to pick up the coins that had fallen on the ground. Then he straightened up, and I held out my hand for him to shake. That's how deals are done, I thought to myself, and satisfied I went back to bed.

It was quite a nice morning when I woke up again. The seagulls were making their usual racket on the roof. I went downstairs to find my dad, my mum and a policewoman in the kitchen. What's up? I asked mum. It's Trev and his wife, said mum. Turns out they've done a runner without paying their bill. It's not the first place they've done it either. This lady here says in the last three weeks they've done it in Polzeath, Padstow, Newquay and Perranporth. My dad shook his head in disbelief. We're sure it's the same couple, the policewoman added. The woman passes herself off as his wife, sometimes a production assistant. He's a highly plausible con artist who passes himself off as television producer, and as well as disappearing without paying his bill he often cons people out of large amounts of money on the pretext of featuring their property in a tv programme. Well at least he only got away with not paying for a couple of nights B&B here, right? Dad and I looked at each other. I wasn't going to say anything, and I got the feeling he wasn't either. That's the thing about being conned. As the policewoman said, you feel stupid, as if it's your fault, and you aren't going to go on Crimewatch telling everybody about it are you?