They Thought I Was Dead: Sandy’s Story

56 26 September 2011

‘Where the hell have you been, you stupid bitch?’

That was the greeting Nicos gave myself and Bruno as we arrived back at the flat after three days in England, just before 7.30 p.m.

He was shaking with rage. Scarily so. I was convinced he was going to hit me again and, still holding the suitcase of cash, I stepped in front of Bruno, protectively. The bastard could hit me all he wanted but never my son.

Nicos looked like a demon was inside him. He paced up and down the apartment, seemingly fixated on his watch. ‘Do you have any idea what the fucking time is? What the fuck have you been up to? You should have been here four hours ago. I’ve got a deadline — you know I’ve got a deadline. It actually crossed my mind you might have run away with all the cash or gambled it! But I know you’d not be that stupid.’

‘I texted you,’ I replied. ‘The ferry from Poole was late,’ I lied. ‘I texted you that.’

‘Why didn’t you get a fucking plane?’

‘You told me to take the ferry.’

He looked at his watch again. ‘If I’m late for the rendezvous, you know what’s going to happen? The whole deal could be off. Do you understand?’

‘Maybe you could ask the ferry company for compensation,’ I replied, mockingly.

‘That’s not even funny,’ he snarled, snatching the suitcase out of my hand, dumping it on the floor, then kneeling and popping it open.

And suddenly I felt a catch in my throat. Shit. Shit. Shit. Please no.

As he raised the lid he said, ‘Let’s just check all is in order, shall we?’

His words filled me with terror. I stood, frozen. I knew he was on a deadline, which was why I’d deliberately arrived back so late. I honestly thought he would have just grabbed the suitcase and rushed off. I turned to Bruno and told him to go to his room. Obediently he towed his little Trunki off.

I watched Nicos stare at the tightly packed bundles of fifty-pound notes, each held together with a red band. I was bricking it. Taking more of his time than I’d hoped he had, he lifted out one bundle at a time along the top layer, flicking through each of the banknotes in turn like a bank teller, then putting them down on the floor. His eyes darted up at me constantly, suspiciously. He looked at his watch again and I thought he was about to close the lid. Instead he began to remove the second layer.

I tried to appear carefree, but my hammering heart felt like it was going to break loose inside my chest. He removed one, checked it, then another, then another. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bruno come back into the room.

‘I’m hungry, Mama!’

‘I’ll get you something in a minute, darling.’

I was watching Nicos checking through the second bundle, when I heard a crash and a sound like pebbles rattling across the floor.

Bruno, standing on a chair, had pulled down a box of Cheerios. They had spewed out of the packet and were everywhere.

‘Jesus, you asshole kid!’ Nicos yelled. ‘You—’ Then he looked at his watch again. ‘Shit, I have to go.’

‘I’ll clear it up,’ I said.

‘Fucking right you’ll clear it up.’ He hastily crammed the bundles back inside the suitcase, closed the lid, then lugged it into the hall.

The door slammed shut.

He was gone.