Chapter 1

The Cast

Brian Bodkin, of Aytuzi Finance Company, Newton Godfrey.
Cedric King, of Little Chinfold.
Stephen Rook, of Aytuzi Finance Company.
Henry Blaimire, of Trask, Blaimire & Co., Solicitors, Lower Newton Godfrey.
Lionel String, of Holliday & String, Solicitors, Chinfold Major.
The Editor, Chinfold Parish Magazine.

From:
Aytuzi Finance Company
Unit 3, White Horse Yard
Newton Godfrey
10 February

To:
Mr Cedric King
Poplar House
Halfpenny Lane
Little Chinfold

Dear Mr King,

I write with reference to our letters of 8 and 19 December last and 20 January, none of which elicited a response from you. The current position is that your required mortgage repayments are in arrears to the extent of £930.60, this being six months at £155.10 a month.

We at Aytuzi are understanding people and appreciate that there must be some reasonable explanation for your failure to reply. Our representative, Stephen Rook, has called at your house several times, but has not succeeded in contacting you, though he informs me that he has seen you in your living room and that you have refused to answer his repeated ringing of the doorbell and knocking. Although his efforts will continue, we cannot allow this position to deteriorate further without taking steps. So unless we hear from you within seven days from the date of this letter, we shall put the matter into the hands of our solicitors, who will apply on our behalf to obtain an order for possession of your property.

I urge you to be aware that this is a most serious matter. We do not lightly dispossess our borrowers, but in the given circumstances, you leave us no choice. If you wish to avoid the proposed action, please contact me as soon as possible by telephone or return post.

Yours faithfully,

Brian Bodkin
Credit Controller

From:
Mr Cedric King
Poplar House
Halfpenny Lane
Little Chinfold

To:
Aytuzi Finance Company
Unit 3, White Horse Yard
Newton Godfrey
10 February

Dear Brian Bodkin,

So, it’s Dear Mr King, is it? Ooh, lah-di-dah. So polite. Why don’t you say what you really have in mind? By all means address me as ‘Dear Churl’, or ‘Dear Villein’, or any form that implies forelock-tugging or brow-knuckling? After all, that’s your game, isn’t it? Humiliate them. Grind them into the dust! Well, you are at the wrong address here. If you were seeking a foeman worthy of your steel, you have found him. By the way, I am surprised that you didn’t close your letter with Your obedient servant’ – suitably Dickensian, don’t you think?

You have the right name for your job. According to my dictionary, a bodkin is an instrument for piercing holes. Somehow I see you as an anthropomorphised version of this tool. Well, broddle away. You will find that you are no more efficient than anyone or anything else in getting blood from a stone. I cannot give you what I do not have. I wonder if it ever occurs to people like you, sitting in air-conditioned offices and being whisked to and fro by upmarket company cars, that some of us are out here in the real world, where unpleasant things happen at times. I have lately been assailed more than somewhat by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune – not that you would care. Is your cigar drawing well? And what about your cut-rate mortgage? I’ll bet you have no trouble in keeping up the repayments.

By the way, I note your address with some interest. White Horse Yard, eh? Well, that’s as fine a misnomer as I’ve yet come across. I thought the baddies were supposed to have black horses, to match their hats and hearts. Fear not, Dear Mr Bodkin. We shall have our high noon in due course, and you will find that I am quick enough on the draw. Did you ever see a good taut Western? If you’re familiar with the genre, think of yourself as the evil one, facing a comeuppance. Jack Palance in ‘Shane’ springs to mind.

On further consideration – I didn’t intend to go on about this but the attitude you exude provokes payment in your own coin – I cannot avoid the thought that those in your line of work would shoot people in the back. I can just see you puffing the smoke from that many-notched six-gun, as I lie face-up in the street. Make sure you engage the safety catch before you peer into the barrel. I wouldn’t want you to blow your face off at the moment of triumph. Alternatively, you might try to visualise yourself as Genghis Khan, counting that infamous stack of skulls – 4,000, was it? Adding my bonce to the pile would be a nice touch.