The Thief, His Wife and the Canoe

JOURNALISTS CHATTER

I think you've maybe forgotten, buddy,

I cut you in on the Timberlake story.

And you made a fortune out of that mother, so

just goddamn pick up, David. Cos I know you're in there with her!

HE SHOUTS IN SPANISH

What, you saw her?

She just ran out of the back with some others.

What's out the back? HE SHOUTS IN SPANISH.

There's more than one car.

Oh, it's smart...

They're sending out decoys.

She's in the back of the Beamer! TYRES SCREECH.

Shit!

Did it work? I don't know.

How did they know where to find me? Journalists, it's what we do.

I'll try San Miguelito. We'll lose them, for sure.

WOMAN EXCLAIMS

Oh, Jesus, Stef! You want me to lose them or not?

TYRES SCREECH

How are we doing? I can't see anyone.

You think we've lost them now?

I think we actually might have.

PHONE RINGS

Pete? We're right behind you.

No, you're not. Look out the back.

What do you want? Just one photo.

You can have the story, I just want a snap.

In the nicest possible way, Pete, piss off.

Is he behind us? No, he's bluffing.

OK, he's not bluffing. Faster, Stef! On it.

'I expect you're wondering how I ended up here.

'So am I.

'All I ever wanted was a simple life.'

'December 2000.

'The third worst Christmas of my life.

'This was a whole year before it properly began.

'But we'd already lost grip.'

Anne!

Come on, love!

Shake a bloody leg!

Do you want to grab that, love?

Strong as an ox, that one.

Did you put the kettle on? I was doing this, like you said.

No problemo, I'll do it.

How are we going to furnish it all, John?

Or decorate it?

Because every single room needs doing.

Of 13.

MUSIC THUMPS FROM NEXT DOOR And how are we gonna heat it?

Not to mention next door, which, by the way,

you can hear on every floor through those bloody doors.

Drunks and drug addicts and people having sex.

I mean, just how are we gonna pay for any of it?

With next door, love.

11 bedsits, which I will be doing up.

As I've explained

a thousand times.

And how long before this isn't enough?

SHOUTING FROM NEXT DOOR

I'll get all those bricked up, soundproofed.

We'll never need them anyway.

And this time, this is it. I promise.

'Except, of course, it wasn't.'

Hang on, move in a bit, I can't see.

'John was a man who'd buy a Range Rover he couldn't afford...'

Now, say, "Cheese!"

'..And then spend 3,000 on a personalised number plate.'

Cheese!

'And all before we'd got the gas connected.'

Tea?

Oh, thanks.

There you go. Thank you.

Happy New Year! Oh, happy New Year! Happy New Year!

'John was a man who wouldn't just buy number three,

'if he could kid the bank to lend him enough money

'to buy number four as well.

'On top of the 12 rental properties we already owned.

'John was a man who always needed more...'

John!

'..Of everything.

'To show just how far he'd travel led

'from the stink and the soot of the colliery town he'd come from.'

DRIPPING

'Except now

'it was all finally falling apart.'

WIND HOWLS

DOOR OPENS

DOOR CLOSES

John, stop.

American Express called again this afternoon.

They've said they're going to have to send the bailiffs in.

And I just totted up the others.

You owe 64,000 on 13 different cards.

Never mind the mortgage.

Because the markets have collapsed.

I mean, I'm trying my best here. I really am.

But there are never enough hours in the day to do it all.

The shifts at the prison, having to find new tenants all the time,

the endless repairs.

And I know you're doing your best, love.

I do.

And I know it isn't your fault.

But we do still have to face up to reality now,

because I can't go on like this.

No, I know.

Do you?

Of course.

I know you think I don't take it seriously.

But I do.

In fact, I've been thinking of pretty much nothing else

for the last six months.

And as far as I can see, we don't have a lot of choice.

As far as I can see, there is only one sensible solution.

And I know how hard that'll be.

I know how important it was for you

to feel like you'd bettered yourself.

But I promise you

filing for bankruptcy won't make me love you one single jot less.

Bankruptcy? Yes.

What are you talking about?

You said there was only one sensible solution.

And there is.

But it's not bankruptcy.

Well, what on Earth is it, then?

You're going to love this.

Well, I don't even know where to start.

I mean, apart from it being completely illegal,

apart from it being totally immoral,

what in God's name do you think it would do to our family?

To our boys?

To your dad, my parents, to any of them,

to actually think you were dead?

I think they'd be upset for a few weeks and then they'd get over it.

You've lost your mind, John.

You are literally mad and... Enough!

I am most certainly not mad, Anne.

What I am is a man who thinks outside the box.

Oh, are you?

And no of fence, but that takes a certain sort of brain.

So... I need you to trust me here.

Because this

is a very good idea.

Is it?

OK, so talk me through it, then, please, in detail,

this "very good idea".

I have a canoe downstairs in the cellar.

And I have that canoe because, as you know,

I used to like canoeing.

Now, it would be fair to say it has been some time since I last used it.

So, for the purposes of phase one of my plan,

we will need to remind people of my historic love of canoeing,

but also of my intention, once again, to take it up.

And this will thus require,

at appropriate moments in the coming weeks and months,

that you and I drop it into conversation with people.

Saying something along the lines of,

"John's thinking of starting up canoeing again."

Right.

Meanwhile, in tandem, I will start to assemble

what will essentially be a survival kit.

An emergency kit

comprising everything I'd need to survive in the wild

for an unspecified period of time.

A tent, obviously. A sleeping bag.

A stove. Clothes. A torch.

A penknife.

Maybe some Kendal Mint Cake, whatever.

These examples are illustrative, rather than exhaustive,

but I'm sure you get my drift.

Now, once I have assembled my kit,

I will then start to monitor local weather reports,

forecasts, tides, sea conditions etc, etc.

And then, on a pre-arranged day,

when we are sure that the weather is fine,

phase one of the plan will begin.

So

you will go to work as if everything were completely normal.

And I will covertly survey the street,

and then, at an appropriate moment,

that is, when a neighbour is approaching,

I will walk out of the front door with the canoe under my arm,

ensuring I am seen.

I will then carry the canoe down to the beach,

making sure a few people see me there as well.

I will then put the canoe in the water,

I will get in it, and I will paddle out to sea.

I will then bank north and paddle along the coast for a few miles.

And then, at an appropriate point, now out of sight of any walkers,

I will then paddle back in.

And once ashore, I will unpack my kit,

I will break the paddle, throw it out to sea.

I will push the canoe out as well.

I will then make my way across country

and pick a wild and remote spot where I shall then hide.

You'll hide? I will then hide.

In your tent? In my tent.

So

that very same evening, you will return from work,

realise I am not there and spot that the canoe,