‘Fine, if you’re going to ignore all my compelling arguments as to why working for an organisation like Endeavour Trust would be beneficial for both you and them, then you leave me no other option.’
Nat had waited, wondering what on earth Pip was going to come up with. What came out of her mouth had shocked Nat.
‘No way. Why would you do that?’
‘Tell your family you’re gambling full-time? Why not? If it’s a legitimate career and you’re winning money, why wouldn’t you share this news with them?’
‘Because it’s none of their business.’
Pip shook her head. ‘I think it is. I don’t want to be the friend who knew all about this and then discovers you’ve run up debts of thousands of dollars and I could have done something to prevent it.’
We’re already at that point.
‘I think I should probably tell them whether you interview for the job or not, but at least I’ll know if you’re working full-time, you won’t have the same amount of time to ruin your life by losing all your money. You’ll also have another income to fund your hobby, which will hopefully minimise your losses.’
‘You’ll only tell them if I don’t interview for the job?’
Pip nodded.
‘But what if I don’t get it?’
‘You’re qualified, likeable and I’ve already twisted Col’s arm. You’d have to do or say something wildly inappropriate not to get the job.’
Nat nodded, draining the last of the mojito from her glass. ‘I guess you aren’t giving me a choice then.’
As she opened two tables, ready to start the day, she smiled. Pip had been uncharacteristically persuasive, if you could call blackmail that, but she hadn’t accounted for Nat’s strong aversion to being told what to do. Yes, Nat would go to the job interview but she would ensure she presented herself so badly there was no way Col would give her the job.
As Sunday morning ticked by Nat only stopped to give herself enough time to make coffee and grab a banana. It was easier when Phyllie was out not to get as distracted or have her wanting to sit and chat. While the arrangement was working well, Phyllie still wanted to know her business. It was lunchtime when she heard the front door open.
‘I’m home bearing cake. Come and get it whenever you’re hungry.’
Nat watched as her hand folded in front of her and she was bundled out of the tournament. It had not been a good start to the day. She’d lost everything she’d won yesterday and more. How could it go from one extreme to the other so quickly? There didn’t seem to be any proper reasoning behind her winning or losing streaks. Was it all down to luck? Surely it couldn’t be. She checked her account balance. She still had two thousand dollars of the five Phyllie had given her, but that meant she had lost three thousand in only five days.
‘Nat? Are you home?’
She heard Phyllie’s feet on the stairs. ‘Yes, coming down now. No need to come up.’ The last thing she wanted was to be responsible for Phyllie taking a tumble on the stairs, as well as her substantial financial losses. She closed her computer down and walked out of the room to the landing at the top of the stairs.
Phyllie beamed up at her. ‘Let’s be incredibly decadent and have cake for lunch. Verna gave us the rest of a delicious hummingbird cake. The passionfruit is to die for. Let’s celebrate, shall we?’
‘Celebrate?’ What on earth was there to celebrate?
‘You going out last night,’ Phyllie said. ‘You’re back in the land of the living, which is just wonderful. Now, I hope you’re not planning to work all day. You must start taking some time for yourself on the weekend.’
Nat moved down the stairs in a trance. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Phyllie would react if she discovered what she was really up to. And if she was honest, she wasn’t sure she would be able to handle her finding out.
Chapter Fifteen
Damien and Amy disappeared with Bear for most of Sunday morning, giving Hannah plenty of time to trawl through websites on addiction. When she read through the online questionnaires with titles such as ‘Do you have a Problem?’, she wondered how many of the symptoms listed Damien was suffering from. It was quite likely he was experiencing extreme guilt, and what he’d told her about feeling low because of his birth parents could be a lie. The articles all began to blend into one: the same lists of likely symptoms addicts would be suffering, along with advice to get help. You are not alone. It appeared there were thousands of people who were being ruined by gambling, and there were plenty of support services.
She read through the Gambler’s Aid website, discovering it offered a full range of support services, including daily meetings. A bit like AA, she assumed. You could speak to psychologists, and there was a chat room to talk with like-minded people. She couldn’t enter a chat room and pretend to have a problem. They’d see through her straightaway. Well, they would if they asked her anything at all about poker. But would they? And anyway, was there any reason to say it was her? She could always ask for some advice about confronting someone with a gambling problem.
She hesitated before creating an account. Other than an email address, it wasn’t like she was giving any of her real details. And even if she was, what did it matter? This wasn’t anything dodgy. She was looking for some guidance on how to handle something she felt out of her depth with. There was no point confronting Damien without a plan in place for moving forward. She’d read enough that morning to know that he was likely to lie about his gambling habit when confronted.
She thought about a username. She could use Bear. People often used their pets’ names, didn’t they? But what if there was someone online who knew about Bear? She gave herself a mental shake. It was hardly a unique name. But, to avoid the risk – as slim as it might be – she used BrownDog40. A combination of Bear and Damien’s age.
Once she’d verified her account, Hannah started to read through the various chat threads. It seemed on most chat screens two or three people were having a conversation. She hadn’t been sure how it would work. She’d almost imagined that, like social media, there might be a large number of people commenting on a single post. These smaller interactions made it more personal and meant a proper conversation could be had.
She sat back and read through the conversation notes of a woman, Jazbelly70, who was asking for help. She woke each morning vowing to stay away from the poker rooms and could often get through most of the day without going near them, but at around five o’clock the urge was so great she found herself back on the tables for most of the evening. She’d maxed out six credit cards and spent all the savings she and her husband had accumulated. Hannah sucked in a breath as she read on. The woman’s husband knew nothing of the debt, or that she was in trouble. She’d convinced him that she just played for fun, mostly on the free tables, and he shouldn’t be concerned. He was now planning a trip to Europe for the two of them to celebrate her fortieth birthday, completely unaware of their financial situation. In her day job she was a bookkeeper, so had always looked after their finances. He trusted her implicitly, and she had no idea how to break the news to him.
Two people were in conversation with her. Both were incredibly sympathetic, reassuring her she’d get through this. One had what looked like good, practical advice.