"If we reduce the repayments on the car loan, the mobile bills and the arrears of water rates, I think you'll have just enough for that dress you want, Mrs Anderson," Gerry said with a plastic smile.

"Oh, thank you," Mrs Anderson replied, dabbing her forehead with a pink spotted handkerchief. "You are a treasure."

"My pleasure," Gerry said clasping his sweaty hands together. "Now, I'd better get started on the paperwork to get your finances in order, Mrs Anderson."

"Yes, yes, of course," she answered, looking round suddenly as she realised she was politely being dismissed. "Do I need to book another appointment?"

"Not at the moment Mrs Anderson," Gerry said, letting his voice sound a little tired. "If I need anything, I'll be sure to contact you."

"Ok," Mrs Anderson said, rising unsteadily onto her feet whilst grunting and sighing excessively. "I look forward to hearing from you."

"Have a nice day," Gerry said forcibly.

As the door slammed behind the waddling old woman, Gerry swung round in his seat to his steely grey filing cabernet. He pulled out his mobile phone and loaded up his favourite gambling site 'Game of Chance.' Even though he knew he should be getting started on Mrs Anderson's accounts, he could not help but place a few bets and play a few slots first. There really was not any rush; everyone knew that poor old widowed Mrs Anderson was in a lot of financial debt and eventually she was going to have to declare herself bankrupt.

Gerry liked his job as a financial advisor and accountant and he was quite good at it too. He had worked for White and White Accountancy Services for four years and worked his way up from the bottom. His was still far from the top of the corporate ladder, but he doubted that he would ascend any more rungs. Gerry just hoped he would not end up like Mrs Anderson, watching his money slip away between his fingers.

"Yes," he whispered quietly to himself as three cherries came together on his game, awarding him with two hundred credits and five more free spins. He looked nervously towards the door, then the window that overlooked Canary Wharf and back to the door. Surely, nothing bad would happen if he just used up his free spins.

* * *

The workday ended and Gerry made a hasty exit from his office. He had worked hard, so now he was going to play hard. Clutching his knapsack in one hand, he struggled to pull his beanie cap over his balding head, whilst also struggling to get his brown leather coat to settle over his shoulders. He was in such a rush, that he did not notice two of his work colleagues, Richard and Freya signalling him.

"Gerry. Hey Gerry," said a gruff male voice.

"Oh, hi Richard," Gerry said impatiently. "I need to get going or I'll be late."

"Late for what Gerry?" Richard said, putting his hands on his hips and giving him a stern look. "You got a date?"

"Yeah, a date with his phone," said Freya, with a toss of her ginger locks. She also had her hands on her hips and seemed to be staring right through Gerry

Gerry shook his head at his two work mates, how dare they think that playing his game was not important. Without a word, he turned to leave, but felt a strong hand grasp his arm.

"Gerry, wait God dammit," Richard said, a wry smile appearing across his face. "We're only teasing you."

"Are we?" Freya asked.

"Yes," Richard said, giving her a cold look. "Look Gerry we're a little worried about you. Do you remember how we always used to go that nice bar by the Thames every Friday? Well, we haven't been in months, it seems like you're avoiding everyone. Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"No," Gerry replied struggling loose from Richards grip. "I've just had a lot on recently."

Gerry could tell by the looks on their faces that they knew he was lying. Freya's eyes had softened slightly and the look on her face was full of pity, Richard however looked outraged and ready to fight.

"Look, I'm sorry guys," Gerry said, pleading in an attempt to get away from the difficult conversation. "How about we all go to that work charity event at the end of the month? We can catch up over some wine and prosecco."

"Sure, whatever," Richard said, turning his back on Gerry.

"We'll hold you to that Gerry," Freya said. "Please don't let us down."

"I won't, I promise," Gerry answered, giving her his broadest fake smile. "See ya."

Gerry rushed away as fast as he could; he had to get home quickly. There was no WiFi signal out here on the streets of London and he had gone way over his mobile data allowance. He also had to survive the tube ride back to Greenwich. He hated the Underground, especially at this time of day; it would be full of smelly workers, tourists and weirdos.

The one shining light within the tunnel was that he could stop and listen to old Reynolds play his favourite song. No amount of desperation to get home was going to stop him from hearing the busker play 'All the Pretty Little Horses.' The lullaby was all Gerry had left of his Mother. He had no photographs of her; they had all been lost in the fire. He had no keepsakes of trinkets from her; she had never owned much. He had very few memories of her, for she had abandoned him long ago. All he could remember was her voice singing 'When you wake, you shall have, all the pretty little horses.'

Old Reynolds was in his customary place, right between the two cylindrical tunnels that led to the Jubilee line and the DLR. The wizened old man's wrinkled eyes lit up when he saw Gerry, but he did not stop playing his lively Irish jig. A jig that the world seemed to be keeping time with as the people rushed back and forth through the station.

"Yer want the usual?" Reynolds asked after watching Gerry drop a quid in his hat once the up-tempo tune had finished. Gerry nodded, unable to speak.

Gerry stood entranced in the middle of the tiled tunnels as the old man began his next song. Gerry hummed along softly, trying to hear his mother's voice, but he could not. He felt his eyes welling up and his heart sank again into its dark depression within his chest. He wiped the fledgling tears from his eyes, dropped a ten-pound note into Reynolds' hat and ran for his train, not even waiting for the lullaby to finish.

* * *

Gerry crashed into his apartment like a black brooding cloud. He waded through the ankle deep mess of fast food containers to his padded armchair and collapsed into it. He flicked on the television, but all he saw was the dark blue screen and the message that 'no satellite signal is being received.'

His mood was dark and his heart heavy. Gerry wanted desperately to understand why he had been born, why he had been abandoned and what it was that he had done wrong. There were however no answers, there never were, but Gerry could not let his past go. Maybe a few rounds on 'Game of Chance' would cheer him up.

The cold white glow of his mobile phone illuminated the dingy unclean apartment. A room neglected by its owner, as cluttered as its inhabitants mind and as pitch-black as Gerry's emotions. The game lit up Gerry's face and his eyes brightened as he watched the loading bar fill with animated dice. Which mini game did he want to gamble on today; a new slot machine with a fairy tale theme had recently been added, which looked interesting. Without even noticing the five-pound cost of downloading the new machine, he tapped the button and began his quest for the four shields and a chance to win twenty quid.

Time swam mysteriously by, as Gerry kept pulling the imaginary handle to spin the rollers again and again. He lost track of how many times he had to top up his credit and only his sudden loss of internet signal pulled Gerry out of his chair. He grabbed the router and shook it furiously.

"No, not now you piece of junk," Gerry screamed at the black plastic box. "I was so close, now I'll have to start all over again."

The lights on box winked at him with complete disinterest, flashing green one moment, and then red the next. Gerry unplugged the device, turned it off and on several times, but it just would not work. In a fit of rage, he hurled the box across the room, leaving a nasty dent and a black smudge on the wall.

Shaking with anger Gerry took a bottle of wine from his rack, fell back into his chair and seethed at his predicament. The strong alcohol helped to cool his temper, his resolve and judgment dribbled away with every sip of the dry ruby liquid. Knowing that it would cost him a fortune, he elected to play the game through his mobile data plan. He needed to play his game; he needed to forget about his life and his mother. They all went away as long as he had his game to distract him. Gerry played and played until fatigue overtook him and he fell into a dreamless sleep, his phone still in his hand.

* * *

"What are you doing?" demanded Mr White as he flew into Gerry's office like a whirlwind. So sudden had his entrance been that Gerry had not had time to hide his phone, which was merrily playing the 'Game of Chance' theme tune.

"I... I..." Gerry stammered, bolting up from his seat like a piston. "I was just having a break sir."

"No breaks on company time," said Mr White in a scathing tone that set Gerry's teeth on edge. "You know the rules. I'm going to have to add this to your end of year report."

"Yes sir," Gerry said his head hanging and his palms suddenly very wet.

"I don't know what's going on with you at the moment son," Mr White said, a little more calmly as he firmly pushed Gerry back down into his seat. "I've had many reports of tardiness from you and now I've got Mrs Anderson threatening to complain because you haven't called her this week. You are up to date with her account aren't you? She's one of our highest paying customers you know?"

Gerry nodded quickly, a cold fear running through him as he thought about the pile of papers he had yet to complete on Mrs Andersons behalf. "I'm almost done with her account and I promise I'll call her by the end of today," Gerry said appealingly. He could not lose his job, not now when he was falling behind with own bills.

"You had better Mr McGivern," Mr White said menacingly. "I also need you to attend the charity event on Friday with Mrs Anderson, make sure you convince her that we're the right company for her money and you better patch up this little misdemeanour too."

"Yes sir, I will, I promise," Gerry swore.

"Good," Mr White said smiling, "however if I ever see you on the phone again during work hours, you'll be taking the long one-way walk out of this business."

* * *

"You made it Gerry," Freya said coming up silently behind him.

"Yeah, I'm here," Gerry said, pulling at his shirt collar in an attempt to hide his discomfort about being snuck up upon. "I'm here on business though Freya. I've got to babysit Mrs Anderson and keep her on the books."

"I see," Freya said, the corners of her mouth drooping in disappointment. "Guess you won't be drinking tonight then?"

"I'll have a few, better not have too much or I may end up going home with Mrs Anderson," Gerry said playfully.

"Eeeww," Freya said shuddering. "Look Gerry, maybe after this is over we could go get a drink or something? It's been ages since we just talked, you know?"

"Yeah, maybe," Gerry said evasively, suddenly conscious of his empty wallet and mounting debts. "The dinners starting, I'd better go sit with Mrs Anderson."

Gerry made his way to his table; just as the first course was being served, he took his place at Mrs Anderson's left. "Mrs Anderson," he said grandly, "You look lovely tonight. Is that the dress you wanted?"

"Oh my yes," she replied, her cheeks reddening. "What a kind boy you are."

The dinner was a drag, Gerry tried his best to make small talk, but really all he could think about doing was playing 'Game of Chance.' The wine and champagne kept flowing and Gerry could tell Mrs Anderson was getting quite drunk. She became very touchy-feely with him, her cold musky hands kept holding his and a few times, she even reached under the table to squeeze his thigh, probably considerably higher that she should.

After one such squeeze that seemed closer to his pelvis than his leg, Gerry gave up, excused himself from the meal and rushed to hide in the toilets. His phone leapt into his hand as he ran through the door and stumbled straight into Mr White.

"Are you on that bloody phone again?" Mr White almost yelled at him.

A mixture of the frustration of being Mrs Anderson's plaything when all he wanted was to use his phone and the burning fire of the champagne in his belly, tipped Gerry's rage over the edge and he lost control. "Firstly, this is not company time, it's a party. Secondly, your client who you wanted me to woo into staying with us is on the verge of sexually assaulting me and thirdly, I just don't want to do any of this anymore."

Gerry turned and ran from the dining hall, out into the streets of London, out into the cold. He ran to the tube station, he ran from his job and he ran from his responsibilities.

Old Reynolds saw him coming; somehow, he knew Gerry was in a hurry, probably because of the haunted look in his eyes. The old whistle player stopped mid song and switched to Gerry's lullaby, not wanting his daily ten pounds to get away. The melody sang around the corridors and Gerry heard the line, 'The bees and the butterflies pickin' at its eyes, the poor wee thing cried for his mammy' in the back of his mind and he sobbed as he ran.

He ran to the station platform and stood there shaking. He pulled his phone from his pocket, he needed his game, and it would all be all right if he had his game. The dice rolled up the loading bar, but stopped at seventy-nine percent and the terrible message appeared 'No internet signal detected.' In despair Gerry was about to throw his phone onto the tracks, but he could not, if his phone was going, then he was too.

The rush of air signalled the approaching train. Gerry steeled himself, his mobile firmly clasped in his hand, his bruised heart pulsing abnormally in his chest. He raised his right foot, readying himself for the final step.

A hand grabbed him abruptly and pulled him backwards away from the edge of the platform and down onto the ground. It was Freya, Freya had stopped him for some unknown reason. She pulled him back up onto his feet, wrestled the phone from his hand and embraced him tightly.

"What do you think you're doing?" she yelled at him.

"I... I... I don't know," Gerry stammered. "I don't have anything anymore."

"You daft fool," Freya snapped, "You can have me."

She took his face in between her hands and placed her lips upon his. Her soft lips and intoxicating scent made him weak at the knees, his anger and despair seemed to slip away. That one simple kiss made him feel alive and its sweetness sang louder in his heart than any lullaby ever could.