The Freak Accident

I had just left the office to pick up Simon's lunch order from the café in the town canter. He has a standing order there of a ham and cheese toastie, a croissant with jam and cream, black coffee with room for milk, 4 shortbread biscuits and a bottle of water to wash it all down with, for me to collect by 13:15, 6 days a week. The café was happy to have the business I'm sure, as it's always empty when I walk in to pick up the basket they insist on putting his order in, but I have never questioned why; and Simon always gives me a £50 note to tip them with whenever I go. He's rich enough too.

Simon Altridge was the SDO (Senior Director Official) of the latest 'Green' energy brand 'A+ Energy', a company he and his University best friend James Audbry started at the age of 25, straight after they finished their masters in environmental science and engineering. Due to Simon's contacts in high places, they were quick to find investors and within their first tax year they had made £2.36 million. They expanded pretty quick, James opened a second HQ abroad on the coast of Italy, where as Simon stayed local on the outskirts of London, and hired me to be his PA. I learnt all of this just for the interview, which I'm happy I did considering the amount I have to regurgitate to potential clients or investors that want to know more about Simon than they do the water-energy converters he managed to get put in the Thames. I can't complain though, he pays me more than enough, regularly takes me on business trips and fancy dinners to meet with clients, brought me a company car, a new flat closer to the office building (after I was late from missing the tube a couple times in a row), and hired an understudy just in case I wanted to take one of my 6 holiday weeks off a year, to cover all of my jobs (which he says is not as good as me, I may add). He's become almost a rich older brother rather than someone like a sugar daddy, as he's only 3 years older than me, not 30.

The Roasted Bean in Essex was a cute little café squeezed between a New Look and a card factory, gracefully decorated in minimalist black, white and grey, but inside had an industrial theme to it. It was ran by students looking for work, and always stopped to talk to me about how I got to work for Simon and if I could get them a job when they finish school, to which my answer is always 'I'll see what I can do' I sit at one of the bar stool tables, on my private phone texting my boyfriend or best friend, whilst my work one stays on the table, screen up, ringer on loud- just in case. I smiled and thanked the young lad for getting me the basket so quickly and started my walk back to the office.

I turned the corner and got a phone call from Simon, which was a rare occurrence but still a likely one, "Simon hey, I'm just getting to the building's doors, I shouldn't be much longer, what-"

"Do not move, Camille."

"What?"

From above me, around 10 stories up, a window smashed and a body followed the glass shards down. Only a few yards away a street stall selling groceries was hit with the shards before the fabric sheltering the seller was ripped by a body, comforted by smashed fruits and vegetables. People on the street scattered like pigeons when you run towards them, people in their cars got out to look what had happened. I just stood there, grasping the basket with both hands, the screams echoing in my head before I saw a head move on the now shattered stall, one that I recognised all too well.

“Oh my god! James?!” I dropped the basket and ran to the stall. “James! James! Look at me, it’s Camille- Millie, it’s me.” He gave me a weak smile as I reached for my phone and pressed the emergency call button. “Hello, I need the police and ambulance, one of my colleagues just fell from a window. Yes, it’s, Loughton Way, Essex, the A+ Energy Building. Thank you, hurry please.” I put the phone down and waited, looking at James who grasped my arm his head bleeding viciously. “James why are you here?” He didn’t answer, only looked up towards the smashed office window. I followed his gaze, expecting to see the culprit, but nothing, only the roof of my office. My office? James would've been in Simon’s office if anywhere in the building, not my conjoining office. “James, why were you in my office? What were you doing in my office!” His free hand reached into his left breast pocket of his Ted Baker suit and passed me a little black book, with his initials engraved on the spine. “Take this to the bank closest to the office. Then follow all of the instructions.” I held the book as I felt his grip loosen around it, along with my arm. “James, James no. No! No!”

He was gone.

I tried to get into the building but my key card got declined, so I rang Simon through reception and both of my phones, but got no answer. I started to worry, and asked if anyone had seen him leave, which no one hadn’t. I waited for the emergency services and told them everything. They told me they’d find Simon and contact me, but I was told not to re-enter the building. I couldn’t stand in the 10-degree weather worrying for much longer, so I walked around the nearby town, trying to calm my head and keep my legs warm. Whilst walking, I googled the nearest bank to the office, which was only 5 minutes away luckily. Only a branch bank, not a rich personal account like Simon has in London where he keeps what I can only imagine are gold blocks and Harry Winstead diamonds. I walked in casually, waited for a bank teller to call me over and as calmly and unsuspiciously as possible, slid the little black book into the money box. The woman looked at me, took the book, and walked away.

She was gone 2 minuets or so before a different woman sat in her seat and smiled at me, “Would you please be as so kind to follow me into the mortgage room please?” Mortgage room? What did this have to do with a house? I nodded anyway and followed her to the left of the building where she logged onto a computer, clicked a few things and smiled at me. “So you’d like to withdraw the full amount in all 4 accounts, yes?”

“I don’t know, I was just told to bring this here.”

“Okay, so would you like a bank transfer or in cash, or both? A full cash withdrawal could take a while longer than the other two options.”

“Do both then.”

“Okay good, can I have your sort code please, Camille?” How this woman knew my name I didn’t know, especially considering Simon made me not wear a name tag as he thought it was stupid. But too many other strange things had happened today to wonder why a bank teller knew my name, so I slipped my main debit card over the desk to her. She clicked and typed some more before smiling at me and saying. “Here’s your book back. So, I’ve bank transferred the full amount in the first two accounts which totals around £3 million, and the other two accounts to be given to you in cash, which totals around £1.9 million. Is that okay?

I was dumbfounded. Why had I been given this amount of money from James? Did he not have a girlfriend, wife, family he could donate it too? And what am I meant to do with all that money? I flicked through the black book, only filled with dates and co-ordinates, how am I meant to follow instructions that aren’t there? The bank teller left and returned with 2 duffle bags that she placed in front of me.

“Congratulations, Camille. You’re a millionaire.”