Apples Never Fall

“All parents are innocent,” said Simon. “My parents nearly fell for that latest Tax Office scam, if you can believe it.”

“Oh no,” said Amy, who had nearly fallen for it herself. Thankfully she’d called Troy when she was on the way to the bank to withdraw money to pay her apparently unpaid taxes. It’s a scam, you idiot, he’d shouted from America.

“I can give you a lift over to your parents’ place if you like,” offered Simon. “You don’t drive, do you?”

He said this with interest rather than implied criticism. Some people couldn’t get over her lack of a driver’s license. It was like her dad’s refusal to own a mobile phone. People took it personally.

“I’ve never been behind the wheel of a car,” said Amy. “I’m pretty sure I died in a car accident in a previous life. Possibly involving a bridge.”

She really did think this. She had fragmented memories of a crash. Water. Glass. Screaming. It may well have been from a movie.

“Were you driving?”

“What?”

“In your previous life,” said Simon. “Were you behind the wheel?”

“Oh,” said Amy. “I think so.”

“So you have been behind the wheel of a car,” said Simon. “Just not in this life.”

“That’s right,” said Amy. “You’re very … accurate, aren’t you?”

He had actually been very accurate, even when drunk.

“I have good attention to detail,” said Simon. “I’m thorough.”

“You are,” said Amy, straight-faced. “Your attention to detail is scrupulous.”

He held her eyes for just long enough to show he got it, and then he said, “I could give you my accurate opinion on this potential scammer.”

“Your accurate accountant’s opinion?” said Amy.

“That’s right,” said Simon. “I don’t have anything else to do right now, and one of my goals for the next few weeks is to improve my spontaneity.”

“Why?” asked Amy, interested. She had always been advised to pull back on her spontaneity.

“You know I was meant to be getting married this April? When my fiancée was explaining why she’d decided to end the relationship she had a list of … you know, things about me that didn’t work for her. And one of them was my lack of spontaneity.”

“She wrote a list of things that didn’t work for her?” asked Amy.

“She liked lists,” said Simon. “It was something we had in common.”

“She sounds just lovely,” said Amy.

“You sound like my sister,” said Simon.

Amy looked at him. He radiated good health, as if he’d just stepped out of a bracing cold shower after a run. His T-shirt was crisp and clean.

“Do you iron your jeans?” she asked. He was so exotic.

“Of course,” he said.

“Okay,” she said.

“It’s okay that I iron my jeans?”

“No, that is definitely not okay. I mean, okay, you can come with me to meet the scammer. The possible scammer. She may also be a nice girl who is down on her luck. It’s up to us to make that call.”