Four Figures

Trev said to dad as he was serving his breakfast this morning (no sign of Mrs Trev) that he'd had a call from his producer who was really interested doing this prog at our place, he said it had got everything they wanted, whereas the other place - well - he did a sort of side to side shake thing with his hand, which for a minute made me think he'd got Parkinsons or something and that was what he meant when he said he didn't want to show his hand, but it was meant to convey that things were uncertain, things were in the balance, and I'm sure the balance in question was the bank balance.

My dad was torn between excitement at doing the programme, being on telly, transforming our run-down B&B into a profitable business, and anxiety that Trev was about to do a deal with somebody else for an undisclosed sum that, whatever it might be, would be beyond his abilty to match. It's a measure of how much on a financial knife edge things are around here, let me tell you, that if my dad has to replace a light bulb I see an immediate impact on my pocket money at the end of the week, especially out of season when we don't have many people staying and there's no regular money coming in. My dad doesn't get much building work these days, probably because people can see what a pig's ear he's made of our house, I should think.

Anyway, Trev's phone rang and he went out to take it, and while he was gone I yoinked one of his sausages off his plate when my dad wasn't looking. He wasn't gone long, and when he came back he was shaking his head and had a serious face on, but it turned out to be one of those X-factor judge's looks that's meant to make you think one thing before they tell you the opposite. Fear, relief. Well, he said, it wasn't easy, but I've managed to persuade my co-producer that I need another day to complete negotiations here in St Ives. I bigged you up with him, I stuck my neck out for you, I said look, this place is just what we're looking for, we just need a few more hours to firm up the deal. So, this is it, I've rescheduled the production meeting until tomorrow, so I've got another day here, but that's all I can do. If we can facilitate the er, facility fee by close of play today we've got a deal. I can't go back to London tomorrow without the deal. Know what I mean?

We knew what he meant. I wondered how he'd managed to get so much into the conversation with his co-producer in the very short time he'd been outside on the phone, but I suppose that's how you get to run your own production company. Not wasting time. Being persuasive. Not taking no for an answer. We're looking at four figures, Trev said to my dad. I shouldn't be telling you this, but that's the other offer. I'm sticking my neck out for you here, right? Four figures, and we've got a deal, but it's got to be today.

Well, he'd made it pretty clear. Now he'd taken us into his confidence we were all in this together and we all had to make it work, or everything would be down the drain. We were looking at four figures, Trev had said. I went upstairs, put a chair against the door, put another chair under the the skylight, stood on it so my head and shoulders were poking out, and lifting up the loose slate, from the space in the roof took out the box I call my Escape Fund. I keep it in an old cashbox wrapped in a Co-op carrier bag to protect it from the wet, wrapped in a piece of sheet. It's money I stash away for when I need it to escape. Escape what, and how, I don't know yet, but I'll know it when the time comes. It could be to run away when it all gets too much, or buy a boat to take me off half way round the world, or pay my way through university, because sure as hell mum and dad aren't going to be able to afford it when the time comes. Keeping it hidden under a loose slate in the roof, I don't know, sort of keeps my options open in case I need to make a quick getaway.

I've never really thought through the logic of this quick getaway across the rooftops thing, because I keep the key to the cashbox sellotaped inside the back cover of my French dictionary, so I had to go downstairs to get that before I could go back, put the chair behind the door again, and count my stash. There was £34.87 in pound coins and change. That was four figures. Stuffing the money in my jeans pockets, I chucked the empty cashbox under the bed and went downstairs to find dad.