Charlotte found the note on the kitchen table, scribbled on the back of a receipt and weighed down by a 1961 Tottenham Hotspur commemorative mug.
"Dearest Charlie, " it read. "Sorry to burgle but needed the cash. Emergency. Will pay you back one day. Thanks for understanding, Clive. X."
Her eyes widened in anger - the "X" was one step too far.
Charlotte left the kitchen and wandered back into the sitting room to take another look. The TV was gone. So was the laptop. And the iPad. And the signed picture of Jermain Defoe. And the 7" of Diamond Lights. And the Official Club Calendar 2002/03. "Needed the cash" my arse, she thought.
What else had he taken?
Suddenly panicked, she ran across to the dresser and pulled open the drawer.
Thank God. The season tickets were still there.
Charlotte smiled. He could have taken those tickets, but he'd left them for her.
It meant a lot. It meant that she was going to White Hart Lane on Saturday. It meant that everything was going to be ok.
No comments:
Post a Comment