Cheryl didn’t know which bus would take her to the police station, or if they even ran on time. So she decided to walk. She guessed it would take about half an hour. She fed Milo early and changed his nappy, got his bag sorted and some juice to take. He had his nap while she did a French manicure and pedicure for a friend of Vinia’s. The girl paid Cheryl and gave her a couple of quid tip, which was cool.
Cheryl was just going to get Milo up when there was a knock at the door. She thought perhaps Vinia’s friend had forgotten something. A man and a woman stood there. In suits. Her first thought was Jehovah’s Witnesses but they weren’t smiling so they couldn’t have been selling anything.
The woman stared at her. ‘Cheryl Williamson?’
They knew her name! Cheryl felt her stomach drop. Were they from the police? Had Joe sent them? Was it a trap?
‘We’re from the Department for Work and Pensions. Can we come in a moment?’ The woman wore dark lipstick, purple, too severe for her face. The man was young and fat with baby blue eyes; he carried a file.
‘I’m just going out,’ Cheryl said.
‘That’ll have to wait,’ the woman told her.
Cheryl let them in; she didn’t know what else to do. Perhaps if they were quick she’d still make her appointment. ‘What’s it all about?’ Cheryl tried to keep the apprehension from her voice. Maybe it would be some scheme they wanted her to go on, access into work or something. But who’d look after Milo? And she’d miss him; he was only a baby really.
‘You claim Income Support,’ the woman said, ‘we have copies of your files here. Your benefit is means tested and you have a duty to report any change in circumstances, including any additional income.’
The man patted the file with one dimpled hand. Cheryl felt her face grow warm.
‘You declare that you have no income from employment but that isn’t true, is it, Miss Williamson? You are running a business from home.’
Running a business! Cheryl nearly laughed but knew that would be a stupid thing to do. ‘No, I’m not,’ she said. ‘What business?’
‘You’re denying it?’ The woman motioned to the man and he opened the file and passed her a piece of paper. She had a fancy pen and wrote something down. ‘A nail salon,’ she said with an edge and made a point of looking over at the trolley in the corner where Cheryl’s polishes and creams, glue and false nails and tools were all kept in plastic containers. See-through containers. ‘Benefit fraud is an extremely serious offence.’
Fraud! How did they know? Had someone shopped her? She felt grubby; they thought she was a scrounger, milking the system, making a mint. It had never been like that, she just tried to help out a bit so they could cover the bills, get things fixed when they broke. Twenty quid here and there. She kept looking down. ‘I’m going to be really late,’ she said. ‘Can I do this tomorrow?’
‘Other work to do?’ the woman said smartly.
‘No, erm, hospital.’ Cheryl felt sick. ‘I’ll have to ring them. Explain.’
‘Hospital?’ The woman frowned. ‘An appointment?’
Cheryl didn’t want her checking up. She stalled for a moment: ‘Just antenatal group. But I’d better let them know.’ The woman couldn’t check whether she was pregnant, could she?
The woman nodded. ‘We could be some time.’
Cheryl rang the number Joe had given her, and he answered quickly. ‘Hi, it’s Cheryl Williamson,’ she said. ‘I was coming in for three but I can’t come now.’
‘Can you tell me why?’ He sounded alert, secretive.
‘They, erm, the benefits people are here.’
‘Cheryl, where are you?’
Didn’t he believe her?
‘I’m at home.’
‘I don’t have your address.’
She hesitated, gave it. The woman was watching her. Had she twigged it wasn’t the hospital? ‘Thanks,’ Cheryl said. ‘I’ll try and make it next time.’
It can’t have been more than five minutes and he arrived. He wasn’t like she’d imagined, he sounded younger on the phone but he was quite old with grey hair and a lot of wrinkles round his eyes. Laugh lines. Cheryl wondered what he had to laugh about, doing a job like that.
The door had woken Milo. Joe introduced himself to her visitors, then suggested Cheryl see to the baby and leave Joe to have a word.
She left the living-room door open a bit and as soon as Milo stopped crying, Cheryl sat on the stairs with him.
The benefits woman was spitting mad. ‘You can’t just tell us to back off,’ she was complaining. ‘Have you any idea what benefit fraud costs the nation every year?’
Joe said something back, too quiet for Cheryl to catch the beginning but she heard the rest. ‘And if you insist on interfering with a witness, I can have you both arrested.’
‘You can’t do that!’ Purple lips was outraged.
‘Oh, yes I can. Though I’d rather not. It does seem rather extreme.’
Cheryl couldn’t resist, she walked downstairs and back into the room with Milo. The couple from the benefits were on their feet, she had circles on her face like she’d been slapped and the big guy was putting the file back together. Neither of them spoke as they crossed to the door. Joe gave Cheryl a little nod.
The woman turned back and spoke to Cheryl. ‘This hasn’t gone away,’ she said. ‘I’ll continue to monitor your case and if you carry on working illegally while claiming benefits we will know about it. You will eventually be prosecuted. I can assure you of that.’ Then she opened the door and they left.
Joe gave a big sigh. ‘If we only put as much effort into making the rich pay tax…’ He shook his head. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Okay,’ said Cheryl.
‘And who’s this?’
‘Milo,’ she answered. Milo played shy, burrowing into Cheryl’s shoulder.
‘I can give you a lift down to the station,’ Joe said.
Cheryl’s belly cramped at the thought of anyone seeing them. She hesitated. He must have seen she was worried because he went on, ‘Plainclothes car, round the corner. And now I have a cover story. Anyone asks, I’m a benefits fraud investigator.’
Cheryl smiled.
Cheryl had to tell him everything. How she knew Danny, and Carlton and Sam Millins. Where she’d been when she spoke to Danny, what they said. Exactly what she saw as Carlton drove his car towards the rec. Where Vinia was, who else was around.
‘If you tell them where I was, they’ll figure out it’s me,’ she said alarmed.
‘Anything in your statement that could be used to identify you will be excluded. So, we might say you were near the shop but not that you were with your friend, or that you had a baby with you.’
A couple of times, when Cheryl thought about what she was doing, what might happen, she nearly lost it. She’d get up and walk about; like she’d explode if she didn’t move. Joe calmed her down. Kept telling her all they could do, would do. She wouldn’t even go in the witness box, just give her evidence on video. Carlton and Millins would never see her. Even her voice would be changed.
‘Make me sound like a man?’ She’d seen stuff like that on television, people in silhouette with growly voices.
‘Maybe.’
He said she’d be able to leave Milo at the crèche at the Town Hall while she gave her evidence. No one would ever know she had done it. He also told her that she was very brave – courageous, he said. And that it took a special sort of person to stand up for justice. Cheryl shushed him, feeling embarrassed, a lump in her throat.
Vinia rang her that evening. ‘Where were you?’
Cheryl froze. ‘What?’
‘I came round, you weren’t in. Your mobile was off.’
‘Hospital,’ Cheryl said. ‘Nana had tests.’
‘Nana was back,’ said Vinia, suspicious.