5
Mickey rapped his knuckles on the shiny front door. It was brand new, like the door to every other flat he’d knocked at that morning. Only difference was, he knew this door was never going to open for him. After his sixth visit in ten days, he’d accepted it.
Didn’t stop him trying, though. He knocked one more time, then backed up to take a seat at the top of the stairs, ignoring the protest of the fading bruise on his hip. He pulled out his phone and placed a call. It rang and rang and rang before an automated voicemail kicked in.
Mickey sighed, waiting for the beep. “Good morning, Mrs De Luca, it’s Mickey Larwood from DOSHA Housing. I’m still trying to reach you about your rent arrears. I’m in the area all day if you’d like a face-to-face to talk about it, or you can call me back on this number anytime. Please contact me as soon as you can. I know it’s a difficult situation, but I can’t help you if there’s no communication between us. Cheers, bye.”
He ended the call, cringing slightly. Two years on the job and he still hadn’t figured out how to end formal phone calls without sounding like a moron. It had been less of a problem in his old job—that’s what you’re calling it? A fucking job? Where’s the pension then, mate? The fuel allowance and the friendly boss on the other end of the phone?
An internal sneer raked Mickey’s soul. He bit back a shiver and made another call.
Isha Hussain answered on the second ring. “You must be psychic. I was going to touch base with you this afternoon. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to update you on the De Luca case.”
“De Luca?” The tap of a keyboard filtered down the line. Mickey waited, knowing his boss had a hundred households on his books, not just the ones Mickey cared about. “Yup. I see it. Those arrears are pretty substantial now. They haven’t made a full payment since last year.”
“I know. I set up a payment plan for them six months ago, but they haven’t paid anything at all since July.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. I can’t get in there to have that conversation, and every call goes to voicemail.” Mickey glanced over his shoulder. The closed door seemed to taunt him, and frustration rippled through him. “I don’t know what to do next.”
“Yes, you do. Non-adherence to a payment plan coupled with no communication means we have to pass the account to the collections team at the council. It’s the agreement we made when we took over the flats in that block.”
“But—”
“I know,” Isha said, not unkindly. “You don’t want to potentially put someone out of their home, but there’s a limit to what we can do if we can’t get a clearer picture of what’s going on. Don’t forget that we have a three-year waiting list for properties in that area—families whowantto pay their rent.”
“So, it’s about money?”
“No, it’s about giving people a hand-up, not a handout. You knew this when you came to us.”
Mickey let out another long breath and remembered why he had Isha’s number for calls like this and not his other boss’s. Dominic Ramos was a softer touch, and Isha had banned him from taking the lead on hard luck cases. If that was even what this was. For all Mickey knew, the unpaid rent could’ve funded a week in the Maldives.
“What about UC?” Isha said when Mickey didn’t speak. “It says here that the tenancy holder was working at Santander. Has that changed? Is there a Universal Credit claim now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, well, finding out is imperative if we don’t want this to escalate. What’s your gut telling you? Do these people need help, or are they taking the fucking piss?”
That was more like it. Sometimes, Mickey felt as if he’d woken up in the wrong body, but when Isha cut the formalities and handed out real talk, Mickey’s life made a lot more sense. “I don’t think they’re taking the piss. Something’s changed for them, and they don’t trust us enough to help. They’re avoiding me because they think I’ll evict them.”
“You might have to if this goes south. It would be a first for you. You haven’t terminated a tenancy the whole time you’ve worked for us.”
“That’s the point, though, isn’t it? To keep families with unstable incomes in secure housing? It’s why your company exists.”
Isha hummed. “Yes, but we have to be realistic here. We can’t be soft on non-compliance at the expense of other families. Somewhere there’s a line, and it’s your job to find it.”
“How long will you give me?”
“On top of the time you’ve already spent? Two weeks, and that’s only if I can reschedule the council meeting on Friday.”
Mickey had lost track of his days. He counted them up. It was Wednesday. If Isha couldn’t push back the meeting, he had forty-eight hours to find some fucking movement. “Canyou reschedule the meeting?”
“I’ll try. The main issue at my end will be finding time to have it next month. I’m jammed as it is.”
“I’m sorry.”