THE BULGARIAN EPISODE

The girl was tall dark, slim and beautiful. She spoke English with a deliciously mannered foreign accent.
‘You French?’ the fat man said.
‘Bulgarian,’ she replied. She was messing about with some cups and saucers. She was the waitress attending the meeting. The fat man looked at her appreciatively. He saw a woman of about 25, with smouldering soulful eyes and a mass of dark hair, tied carelessly back. A slight scar ran from north to south down her forehead.
‘You from Sofia?’ the fat man asked.
‘I studied fashion at the university there.’ She replied.
‘What are you doing working here?’ he asked
She reflected ruefully. ‘My mother suggested I come. She knew an Englishman once. She said he was a kind and generous man. She said that England was a nice place. I came to England to make a success with my fashion design skills. I found it wasn’t so easy.’ She shrugged her shoulders and started to lay out some spoons.
‘Where do you live now?’ he asked
‘Willesden Green. Maybe 15 minutes north-west of here.’
‘Bus?’
‘Tube.’
‘Piccadilly?’
‘Green Park – it’s slightly nearer.’
The fat man cleared his throat and nodded.
‘I’m an Englishman but I hate London,’ he said. ‘It’s filthy, noisy and most of the people are nasty, scruffy and aggressive. Apart from you, of course,’ he added hastily. She smiled.
‘Where do you live?’ she asked
‘Edinburgh. Now there’s a place, ‘ he said, proudly. ‘Clean streets, clear air, friendly people and spectacular views. There’s no place like it.’
‘I should like to go to Edinburgh’ she said, wistfully. ‘I have been told that it is a romantic, magical, mystical city. I have always wanted to see it, but I cannot afford to go.’
The fat man regarded her keenly. He was large, florid, friendly-looking and middle-aged. He had a laugh like the whinny of a particularly boisterous horse and little piggy eyes that sparkled and shone when he laughed, which he did often.
‘I can help you,’ he said.
‘Oh, can you? How?’ she replied.
In response, he took out an expensive and full calfskin wallet. He counted out twenty twenty-pound notes and laid them on the table in front of her.
‘A lovely girl like you is wasted in a hell-hole like this. You’re young, and a foreigner in a cruel and unforgiving environment. You need a break. I couldn’t think of a better investment right now than to give you your train fare to Scotland and your stay for a week in a half-decent hotel.’
‘How will I ever pay you back?’ she asked.
‘My name is Powers - I’m here every three months – I’ll be coming until I retire in four years’ time. Pay me back when you can.’
She picked up the money and placed it in the pocket of her uniform. Then she bent forward and brushed his perspiring brow with her cherry-red lips. A tear rolled from one of her eyes onto his massive balding head.
‘Thank you, thank you,’ she said ‘You do not know how miserable I have been during these last few years since I came to this country. I have worked hard every day and have never had a holiday. I have no savings and no prospects. This will be good for me, I think.’
‘Who knows?’ he replied, ‘You might find a better job, one that suits you. All you need is a little luck and a little push. This cash might give you a little bit of both.’

The fat man never saw her again. Three years later, even heavier and more red in the face, he wandered into his London meeting-place. The concierge on the door said: ‘I have an envelope for you.’ It was from an address in quite a decent suburb of Edinburgh and it contained a cheque for £400, made out by a Mrs MacAlister. There was a short note attached. It read: “To my benefactor, Mr Powers. I found a better job, as you said I might, and I have found work in fashion design, which I like enormously. Last week, I finally married the man I love. I met him during that week I spent in Edinburgh at your expense. I have waited until the time was right before sending you this, because I wanted you to know just how important your kindness has been to me. I have never been happier in my life, so now is the time to return your loan and to tell you of the impact it has had on me. God Bless you, for you are a truly kind and generous man.”

The fat man placed the envelope and its contents in his jacket pocket. ‘It’s from my daughter’ he said to the concierge.