Ducie by Chris Freeman

  Chapter 29. The audit

  The first time they saw Daniella, Frank knew it was her. Up until now, when he thought of Daniella’s sweet tone, he could only picture Kate Gaffney’s tough, freckled face to go with it. Here she was though, working at the exact street market in Mendoza that Kate’s sleep-state alter-ego had predicted when she was administered a dosage of CROP a second time. Her dazzling green eyes seemed to welcome the world right into them. Her auburn hair as natural and flowing as the cycles of nature itself. This image of her seemed to be the picture Frank’s mind had been trying, but failing to paint for him all along. He watched as she handed over an ornament of a small boy with a dog to a customer, along with a smile so genuine and infectious that it could change the course of a man’s day. He felt like he’d met her before. He felt that he already knew her.

  Frank hadn’t exactly planned what he’d say to Daniella when he first saw her, but he needn’t have worried. He had the master of smooth talk in-tow with him. Even nursing a hangover, Harrison’s inhibitions were usually close to non-existent.

  - Right then Flex, are you going to talk to her or am I?

  Harrison was a million miles from his Tequila fuelled nirvana the night before. It was a sweet place he’d been in when he arrived at the hotel, high off jetlag and neat liquor. But now all that remained of that bliss was a thumping headache around the eyes and an absolute desire not to be called Flex. He cringed, as Frank reminded him of his new self-imposed nickname.

  The suck of the teeth was almost mandatory now.

  - Arl do ya anudda deal Frankie…. You stop widda ‘Flex’ ting and arl keep on karlin you Frank. Sight?

  Frank sensed a lot of mileage out of this puppy and wasn’t planning to let it go lightly.

  - I dunno mate. I think it’s nice. It’s got like an MC Hammer feel to it. You know…. Down with the kids and all that? Shows off your youthfulness, Flex.

  Frank moved his arms and legs in a jerky awkward fashion that could well have been intended to represent someone with a limb-based disability, but given the context, was more likely to have been a poor MC Hammer impression. He added a robotic sounding “Can’t touch this” to confirm that it was indeed his attempt at imitating the 90s rapper.

  - Look Frankie. If ya want me to tark smooth t’dis shorty, Daniella, den don’t come wid none of dis funny-man shit. Sight?

  - Talk smooth? We’re not trying to shag her Harrison. We just need to get her to agree to meet us for a coffee or something.

  - See Frankie, dis is where dem big ball head brain cells of yours let you down.

  - How?

  - Tink about it Frankie. Take a look around dis market. Da gal dem going about daily business. Selling wares. Making money. Then a dread like me appear out of the shadows and start tarking about coffee and biscuits? What she gonna tink Frankie?

  - Well….

  - She gonna tink I-man be a samfi.

  - A samfi?

  - A trickster, a conman. Gen-e-ral hustler!

  - I suppose…

  - Dread need a lickle bit of decorum and flair for a job like dis.

  - Well you’ll need to tone down the homeland talk for starters.

  - And you know I can do dat Frankie.

  - Good, because our chances are already running at 50/50 on whether she speaks English at all, never mind your version of it.

  Harrison sucked his teeth for the umpteenth time in place of an answer to Frank’s question. He waited for the man with the boy-and-dog ornament to finish talking to Daniella, then he made his move. He strode across the market with an exaggerated spring of confidence in his step that appeared to scream, “Yes, I’m different to all of you and I’m on your patch…You got a problem with that?”. In reality, Harrison barely turned a single head, as he bounced his way over to Daniella, his thick dreadlocks following in-tow behind him. Noisy traders and punters around him were far too wrapped up in making a living to even notice his approach. As he reached her proximity and caught her eye, Daniella smiled a smile so sweet and inviting that it threw Harrison off track for a second.

  - Erm…hello, Madam. Hola, signorina!

  His opening line came out like someone doing a poor impression of a middle class English person. And with some bad Spanish thrown in for good measure. That was the problem when he spent too long embracing the Caribbean dialect; the switch back to standard English sometimes took a little while to fully click.

  - Good afternoon Sir. Can I help you?

  Her gentle words seemed to caress Harrison’s aching head like his Mother had done when young Harrison had a fever. He cleared his throat and prayed it came out better this time.

  - Yes, Ma’am. Madam….

  - It’s Daniella, Sir.

  Wow! It really was her. He trusted Frank’s plan, but to hear it confirmed like that made this feel all too real.

  - Yes…erm…..Daniella.

  - My colleague and I….

  Harrison gestured to the spot where he’d just left Frank, but could have been pointing at any number of people in that corner of this bustling food quarter. Daniella squinted in that direction and smiled politely as she turned back to Harrison, despite still having no idea who his colleague was

  - We’re here to audit your market stall.

  Harrison hadn’t planned that line, but he was improvising now having been derailed early on in the conversation by Daniella’s endearing sweetness. Did market stalls even have audits? He was familiar with clinical audits, but that was about it. He cursed his own brain for offering his mouth such a stupid word at such an inappropriate time.

  - Ok, what do you need from me Sir?

  Daniella took payment for a small statue of two blue dolphins that touched at the nose and tail to form a sort of circular shape. She spoke briefly in Spanish to the buyer, as she handed him his change. Again, she gave that perfect smile that seemed to come free with every purchase. She turned back to Harrison.

  - We just need to see your takings records for the last week and we just have a few forms for you to fill. We can do it over a coffee if you like; away from this noise.

  - I close up at 2 for siesta. Will that be ok?

  - Perfect!

  - My stomach’s rumbling for more than just coffee though.

  - Whatever you like then.

  - Have you ever tried Empanadas?

  - Dem wrap arowund pastry tings?

  - Ahhh….but have you ever tried real Empanadas?

  - I’m not sure.

  - Head to the end of the market where the crazy guy with the grey beard is slamming fish down onto scales and shouting….

  Daniella pointed in the direction they’d arrived in. Harrison remembered seeing the mad fish man.

  - ….When you’re clear of the stalls, if you look slightly left, you’ll see a clock tower across the street. The far side of that clock tower there’s a row of shops. One of them has fresh flowers outside. Two doors down from there is Fortunato’s café. I’ll see you at 3 in there?

  - Ok.

  - Don’t be late, as I have to be back on the stall for 3:30.

  - It’s a date.

  - No Sir, it’s an audit.