Marie skipped around the subject of how hard the Christmas was going to be for her and her child for the entire month of November. I knew what she was getting at but played dumb. She saw daily how much I was making so knew all too well my financial position. So the more I commiserated with her about her lack of funds instead of offering to loan her money, the greener her eyes became. Two weeks before Christmas she came right out and asked for a $1000 loan. I told her that I couldn’t afford it and that I was sorry.
In truth I wasn’t sorry at all. Marie lived the high life at her child’s expense. For a woman on the pension she seemed to spend a lot on partying and nice clothes and then wondered why there was no money for Christmas.
Marie was pissed off, to say the least. She berated me for a good half an hour about why I should help her and that if I didn’t, ‘God help you’. She was so angry I truly feared that she was going to hit me. I tried to remain as calm as possible, not wanting to infuriate her further. Bits of spittle were flying into my face while her pointer finger was drilling into my forehead.
The only thing that saved me was a client knocking on the door. The poor bugger didn’t know what hit him: he asked for half an hour and got two hours. I was too afraid to leave the bedroom. When it got to five thirty—Poppy’s daycare shut at six—I left the bedroom, paid Marie her daily rate and we both left the apartment.
That evening I called her to ask for an apology for her behaviour and aggressive outburst. When one was not forthcoming I told her that she should not bother coming to work the following day. I felt she had overstepped her boundaries and was out of line speaking to me that way. I also told her that her lack of funds was not my responsibility. This last remark seemed to throw her right over the edge.
‘You fucking whore, you will regret this, I know too much about you for you to treat me this way so close to Christmas. Watch your back, bitch, you’re finished in this town.’
At that point I hung up, not in the least concerned by her empty threats.
Within a week I had a knock on the door from my friendly apartment caretaker. He had received an anonymous complaint about me running a brothel from my apartment. I laughed in his face and to my amusement he laughed as well. We remained in stitches for a couple of minutes.
‘I never really believed it, Annika, but it’s just my job to let you know. I’m sorry if I upset you.’
I told him that I’d had a fight with one of the other tenants in the building down by the pool. I intentionally named a girl who was leaving soon anyway, a girl the caretaker had asked to leave for loud parties.
‘She accused me of flirting with her boyfriend when I was topless sunbaking.’ This incident had indeed happened but I knew the complaint had been made by Marie.
It was time to move on before they had real proof, because even though he wasn’t buying it now, it was the caretaker’s job to watch me a little more closely on behalf of the owners and body corporate. I decided to rent a secure house, that way I could never be at the mercy of nosy neighbours and caretakers. As luck would have it I found the perfect little house in an even better location—right opposite parliament house. I felt like I owed Marie a thank you phone call. Her maliciousness was a blessing in disguise.
I never again employed a permanent phone girl, I only ever employed casual university students who shared a five-day week, that way no one girl ever knew how much I was making. One of the other threats I had received from Marie was that she would write a letter to the tax department telling them that she had witnessed me earn twice what I declared the previous year. As a safeguard, I also made sure that I rented a house that was a private lease where rent was paid into a bank account rather than through a real estate agency. I felt better knowing that no girl would ever know who to dob me into if this problem ever arose again. I also gave the girls I employed the impression that I owned the property myself so that when they deposited the rent into an account they assumed it was my mortgage account. With all my bases covered I felt protected and wiser.
31
Falling in Love
Socialising in this industry is hard, usually friends demand to know what you do for work and I was adamant about not lying to people. So usually I stayed indoors or went out with the parents of Poppy’s friends.