Alex carefully packed away his tools and his pack-up lunch, before leaving work. Keeping his head down as he left, not to draw attention to his sudden departure. He had worked for Murphy & Sons as a roofer for nearly a year. Brilliant pay, enough for him to have decent digs, purchase a pay as you go mobile and buy all his safety gear. He hoisted his bag over his shoulder and made it onto the street without anyone stopping him. This had been a big job for Murphy's, one they needed as work had dried up except small domestic jobs. Alex not having any official accreditation was the reason he had to go as the site's health and safety policy insisted on it. Declan Murphy had stated he'd still use Alex for small jobs but the unemployed roofer was a realist. Alex had only been kept working as he was paid six pounds an hour not the expected 12. He technically had no insurance or any training beyond the fact old man Murphy thought he was the best worker they'd had in years. It helped by the fact Alex loved working at height and had no problem with harnesses. Now, Alex would hand in his notice for his room, as it was obviously time to move on. So from Enfield back to his old haunts in central London. Times were hard, unemployment was a fact for thousands in the capital due to the economic downturn in the construction trades. The young drifter could not complain, he had worked nearly non-stop for three years. He had over ten glowing references now. The problem was most prospective employers wanted some professional qualifications or accreditation, and the fact it was normal to expect PAYE. Life seemed to be dragging him back to short term, low paid, unskilled jobs where no one cared about the grunt doing it. Alex still did not want to be normal as paying tax, getting a bank account or even renting a place for himself would make him visible to MI6.
He was thankful that Mr. Patel had offered him work again, but the man was insisting if he wanted full time work he needed to go on the books. Alex then got evening work at a local pub, to earn pin money. In a change of tack, he put cards in newsagents windows in Tooting, Hammersmith and Hounslow as a handyman/painter and decorator. Not having transport may be an issue but he could always buy a banger with 6 months tax on it and not worrying as he wouldn't be the only uninsured van on the road. He was living in a squat with several other of society's dropouts. The house was noisy and crowded. Alex had put three locks and two deadbolts on his bedroom door to keep out the pikeys. The window was nailed shut with boards on the exterior. At least there was electricity, gas and water, though that could be cut off at any moment. A new lock on the front and back doors had effectively shut out the absentee landlord and it would be months before repossession by the bailiffs. Squats were never ideal but it was better than the street.
The message left for Alex the Handyman on his mobile had requested his services to redecorate a house in Twickenham. That would be his first job as a self employed tradesman. He turned up smartly dressed and hoped for more than a couple days work.
An old lady peeked out from behind the door chain. "Mr. Handyman I presume?"
"I prefer Alex, Mrs. Drummond."
The door closed and then opened again once the chain was undone. "Do come in to the kitchen, for a cup of tea and a slice of cake. After refreshments, we'll discuss business."
The charming lady spoke of peeling wallpaper and a need to freshen up the entire house, including the exterior. She had wisely suggested he start with the hall, as a test of his skills and professionalism.
Alex offered to come with her to the local B&Q to pick out wallpaper. She then smiled at him and said "I would like to know your full name and to see those references you mentioned before we agree on a plan of action"
"Right, my full name is Alexander John Rider and I'm twenty-one years old. I do prefer just Alex though."
Mrs. Drummond slowly read through the references, which told her of a hard working, excellent and efficient employee who was never late and always polite. "Named for your grandfather or father, I presume, with such traditional names" the woman said slyly.
"John was my father's name. I have no idea about my grandparents as I'm an orphan and both my parents died when I was three months old." Alex explained to the inquisitive old busybody.
"Oh I am so sorry, my condolences. I guest you were adopted then?"
"Nahh, my uncle got custody and a series of nannies and housekeepers brought me up. I only saw Ian during holidays. He died when I was fourteen then I got to know how delightful complete uncertainty was. I ended up being foster several times after a short stint at an awful public school and ended up in a halfway house at seventeen and when I was eighteen I was meant to inherit enough to be comfortable and I was planning on setting up my own business. However, the people who looked after the trust, from my uncles and parent's bequests, changed the terms and conditions on me. I had to go to college to get A Levels, then university, get a job in the Bank where my uncle worked. It was a never ending series of hoops to jump through and I recalled hated school. So, I decided I didn't need the dosh, I've been managing with cash in hand jobs since. I quite like living for me and being in complete control of my destiny."
"Families are strange things. More about hurt and betrayal, than love in my experience. I was unhappily married for thirty years. Trapped by fear and threats. My daughter is the mirror of her father; cold, controlling and always right. We do not see eye to eye. In fact, we have not spoken since she tried to have me placed in an old peoples home. Cyril was a horror when he was alive but he left everything to me on his death. Donna thinks it all belongs to her by right."
"From that I take it you are leaving the lot to your favourite charities." Alex liked how this woman thought. Revenge was a dish best served cold. Alex himself had already made a will, with copies sent to Edward Pleasure and Dieter Sprintz. He had left all the money he did not want to be split between his Point Blanc Academy classmates, Sabina and Tom, or their chosen heirs. He had also stipulated that he expected them to give as much as was comfortable to their favourite charitable causes or just to spend, spend, spend every penny. Alex did not expect to live to a ripe old age but the last three years had shown him any knock backs were temporary and the good life was a warm dry bed and having a full belly. As he drank the third cup of tea and helped himself to another slice of fruitcake, Alex raised his mug to his new employer, "To a successful partnership."