It is a nine-to-five job that Jann usually does from eight-thirty to six. She word-processes. She accounts. She premiums and she claims. Once upon a time she would have been called a clerk. Now all the staff are encouraged to call themselves Insurance Brokers. Jann has a piece of paper which she sweated for in her late twenties whilst raising the kids and coping with her ex-husband’s increasingly demanding drinks’ budget. It says ‘Jann Appleby ACII – Associate of the Chartered Insurance Institute’ and of it she is rightly proud. She is a proper Insurance Broker.
Jann can’t tell you when she first had the idea for the scam but the trouble is that she had it. She had it and it was deliciously, delightfully devious. Better; it was undetectable. Had her idea involved some element of risk she would have left it alone. It didn’t, so she didn’t. She tried to leave it, but in the early hours of a summer morning, sleep over for the night, she would play around with the idea, looking at it from every angle, creeping up on it and trying to surprise it, but it remained obstinately central to her thinking. No matter how hard she prodded and poked this idea it still retained its shape. It worked.