While my relationship might have been in a rut, my career certainly was. Six months into her first job, Megan was promoted, while I was still working at Video City. A year later, she started a better job with another company. I was still working at Video City. Six months on and the company promoted her. I was still working at Video City. It then reached the point where Megan was earning double my salary. After I made several, half-hearted threats to leave, Malcolm had agreed to increase my pay, but we’d reached the stage where the store simply didn’t generate enough income to justify any further increases.
As we drifted into the 1990s, I vowed to do something about my stagnant career. Unfortunately, the country was in the middle of a deep recession and decent jobs were hard to find. I applied for every position I could, but my appalling exam results ensured that my CV never reached the top of any pile. With job opportunities dwindling, and a growing collection of rejection letters to my name, I became increasingly despondent. Megan was keen to move out of our tiny flat, but less keen to subsidise the move with her wages. This became the source of many an argument, always ending with a promise from me that things would change. As the pressure mounted and our relationship began to crack under the strain, things did indeed change.
10
A bitter wind stung my face as I walked to work on a frigid February morning. Malcolm was on his travels again, hunting for some elusive Star Wars toy he’d been trying to find for months, so I had agreed to open the store. We always bolted the front door from the inside and let ourselves in through the back door. That door was accessed via a small delivery yard at the rear of the building. As I turned the corner into the yard, I pulled a bunch of keys from my pocket, keeping my head lowered to avoid the cold wind tearing at my face. I sorted through the keys, and with numb fingers, prised the correct key from the bunch. As I looked up to unlock the rear door, I stopped dead in my tracks.
The rear door to the store was slightly ajar, the glazed section gone. I cautiously moved forward, calling Malcolm’s name a few times, but there was no response. I pushed the door open with my foot and stared into the dark corridor. No sounds, no movement. With my heart pounding, I slowly stepped across the threshold into the corridor before pausing a few seconds. I called Malcolm’s name again. Still no sounds, no movement. I took a couple of wary steps forward, shattered remnants of the window crunching under my feet. I kept my focus on the archway directly ahead of me, and seeing that the computer was still on the counter, I breathed a sigh of relief. That relief lasted barely a second as I turned my head to the left. The door to Malcolm’s Star Wars collection was open a few inches, a flare of splinters around the lock.
I nudged the door open and took a step into the doorway. I thumped the light switch. The fluorescent bulb coughed light into the room, confirming my fears. I checked every shelf, but whoever had been in there had done a thorough job. There wasn’t a single item remaining. I ran into the front of the store, and with shaky hands, I jabbed 999 into the phone.
Two uniformed officers arrived fifteen minutes later, eventually followed by two detectives from CID. They quickly set about asking questions, taking notes, and dusting anything and everything for fingerprints. An hour later, as I sat on the counter out front, one of the CID detectives approached me.
“I’ll be frank, young man, it’s not looking good. It seems they were only interested in the memorabilia. Coupled with the lack of physical evidence they left behind, I’d say they were professionals rather than opportunists. I’m afraid I don’t hold up much hope of you ever seeing that stuff again,” he said grimly.
“I don’t understand. Why did they only take the memorabilia and nothing else?”
“I’m no expert, but I’d imagine it's in high demand and easy to shift. Certainly easier than hundreds of videos with limited value.”
“God, Malcolm will have a fit when he finds out. It’s taken him years to build that collection.”
The detective chewed the end of his pen for a second.
“I’m guessing there isn’t an alarm system or any security cameras?”
“No, afraid not.”
He let out a sigh and shot me a look as if to suggest we almost deserved to be burgled. He gave me the phone number for an emergency glazing company before handing over his business card.
“Get Mr Franklin to call me the moment he returns.”
Five minutes later, they all left.
I put a handwritten note in the window to say we’d be closed for the day due to unforeseen circumstances, and then I rang the glazing company. An hour later the glazier arrived and set to work fixing the back door. Making quick work of replacing the single pane of glass, he gave me a hand-written invoice and left. I made myself a coffee and sat on the counter, wondering how I would break the news to Malcolm. That task was prematurely ended by a knock on the front door. It was Malcolm, carrier bag in hand and a puzzled look on his face. I unlocked the door and let him in.
“Why are we closed?” he said with no greeting.
There was no easy way to say it, no way to soften the blow, so I came right out with it.
“I’m sorry Malcolm, we’ve had a break-in.”
A look of horror slowly rose on Malcolm’s chubby face. Before I could say another word, he darted past me and through the archway behind the counter. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable reaction.
“No! No! No! Dear god, no!” he howled.
I drew a deep breath and followed Malcolm through to the back of the store. He sat slumped against the wall in the now-empty room, head in hands.
“What the hell happened, Craig?” he asked with a tremor in his voice.
I went over the day’s events, from the moment I arrived at the store. Malcolm just sat there, not saying a word and probably in shock. Eventually he clambered to his feet and barged past me. He disappeared into his office for a minute and then left through the back door.
“Where are you going? You need to call the detective,” I called after him.
“I’m going home. Just leave me alone.”
I called Megan at work to give her the bad news and she paid Malcolm a visit to check up on him. One subsequent consolation of the burglary was that Megan suggested I suspend my job search until Malcolm was in a better frame of mind. He eventually appeared at work a few days later. He looked and smelt awful, even by his own low standards. Every day for the next few weeks he’d turn up and shut himself away in his office, barely uttering more than a dozen words. It reminded me of my dark days post-Tessa, but unlike me, Malcolm didn’t have a mother to rescue him. I couldn’t let the situation continue as it left both of us in a state of limbo.
Almost three weeks after the burglary, I knocked on the door to Malcolm’s office and pushed it open. The smell was appalling. Malcolm sat in his chair, staring at a solitary Star Wars figure on his desk, the elusive one he’d finally found on the day of the burglary. I took a seat at the opposite side of the desk, but Malcolm didn’t shift his gaze from the figure.
“Malcolm, Megan and I are worried about you. It’s been three weeks now and it can’t be doing you any good hiding yourself away in here.”
I waited a few moments but there was no response.
“Talk to me, Malcolm, please,” I pleaded.
His hollow eyes finally moved from the figure.
“It’s all over, Craig. When those bastards stole my collection, they stole my future too. Everything I had planned, gone.”
“I know it must feel that way and I do understand, but plans can change, and besides, you’ve still got this place.”
“You’re a good lad and I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t have it in me anymore,” he sighed.
I was losing the battle so the only remaining option was to bare my soul.
“Do you remember when I came in for my interview?”
He nodded but said nothing.
“When I walked through that door I didn’t have a future. I sat in this chair at absolut
e rock bottom. But you gave me a chance, you gave me hope — and if you hadn’t done that, then I’d never have met Megan. That proves that good things can come from bad situations.”
I had nothing else left to say, and we sat in silence for a few moments. Malcolm forced a faint smile.
“You’ve got a wise head for one so young.”
He plucked the figure from his desk and held it in his hand, staring at it intently.
“Maybe there is still some hope. Give me this evening and I’ll be okay tomorrow, promise.”
With that, he hoisted himself out of the chair, put on his coat and left. I doubted my words of wisdom were the catalyst, but clearly Malcolm found something to motivate him. I didn’t care, I just wanted to get on with my life.
When Malcolm arrived for work the next day, his mood was more optimistic, and thankfully he’d had a bath. We had a long chat during which he apologised for shutting himself away and thanked me for showing concern. We settled into our old routine and life bumbled along at work. Alas, the same couldn’t be said about life at home. With concerns about Malcolm in the past, Megan made it clear my hiatus from job hunting was over. It wasn’t long before I was back to trawling the employment section of the local paper and making frequent, fruitless trips to the job centre.
It was after one of those trips to the job centre I returned home and unexpectedly found Megan sat on the sofa, an hour before she usually got home from work.
“We need to talk,” she said solemnly.
Just four little words, but capable of striking fear into any man. I took a seat next to her on the sofa while mentally going through a list of all the things I’d said or done over the previous month that might have annoyed her. I drew a blank.
“What have I done?” I asked defensively.
Her lip trembled.
“I’ll tell you what you’ve done, Craig. You’ve made me pregnant.”
11
The words hit me like a freight train. We were twenty years of age and having a baby was not even on the agenda, let alone a possible reality.
“Are you sure?” I said predictably.
“I’ve just been to see the doctor, which is why I’m home early. He said it’s definite.”
Tears welled in her eyes and she flung her arms around me.
“What are we going to do?” she choked through her tears.
There were many ways I could have answered that question, but it would have been a lottery. I played safe and answered her question with one of my own.
“What do you want to do?”
We broke from our embrace and I took her hands in mine. Still sniffling, Megan gave me her answer.
“I don’t want an abortion, I could never do something like that.”
Megan had patently made up her mind, but felt it necessary to discount the only possible option for me.
“I want to keep her, but only if that’s what you want?”
Whether she intended it or not, by referring to the baby as ‘her’ made it all the more real. Suddenly we weren’t discussing a cluster of newly formed cells, but a smiling baby girl. It was impossible not to let that picture dictate my feelings.
“Whatever makes you happy, makes me happy,” I smiled.
I held her again and tried to block out the facts of our situation, the most pressing being our living arrangements. Even the rent on our tiny studio flat would be a struggle without Megan’s wages. My career at Video City had reached a financial peak, and there were no new job opportunities on the horizon. A baby was the last thing we needed.
We spent the evening concentrating on the positive aspects of our impending parenthood. Then the subject of my career came up. In fairness to Megan, she was more supportive and encouraging than before. I guess she realised that no amount of nagging would change the situation, so a carrot replaced the stick. In return for promising to do everything possible to find a new job, I wanted a few weeks grace before we told anyone about the baby. Despite our predicament, I still had some pride left and didn’t want people casting doubts about my ability to provide for my new family.
The first week passed and despite my best efforts, I drew a blank on the job front. As we entered the second week, I was growing more concerned. Then, for the first time in my life, Lady Luck paid me a visit.
I was alone in the store one evening when an unassuming man, wearing jeans and a scruffy sweater, approached the counter. He handed over the movie he’d selected, together with his membership card. As I entered his details into the computer, it crashed. Our computer was due an upgrade and would randomly crash for no apparent reason.
“I’m sorry about this, I need to re-boot the computer. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”
The man nodded and watched me closely as I went through the re-boot procedure.
“You seem to know your way around a computer,” he said casually.
I explained how I’d computerised our system a few years earlier. The man seemed lost in his thoughts for a moment, then threw a question out of the blue.
“I wonder if you might be able to help me with something?” he asked.
“Sure, I’ll do my best.”
“Have you heard of RolpheTech?”
I chuckled and pointed out that we'd purchased the troublesome computer from the local branch of RolpheTech. The man then held out his hand and introduced himself as Brian Carter, manager of said branch.
“One of our team has just handed in his notice, so we’ll be looking to recruit a replacement soon. I wondered if you might know somebody who has experience with computers and might be interested?”
I thought for a few seconds.
“Nobody springs to mind I’m afraid. Sorry.”
Brian raised his eyebrows.
“Nobody?”
The penny dropped.
“Um…I might be interested,” I replied, hoping I hadn’t misread the situation.
Brian smiled and handed me a business card.
“Call me tomorrow and we can arrange for you to pop in for a chat next week. If you like what you hear we can take things from there.”
I shook Brian’s hand again, and after I booked his video out, he left the shop saying he would look forward to my call.
I locked up at the end of the evening and strolled home, wondering if I should give Megan the good news that evening or wait until I’d had my chat with Brian. I decided on the latter option as I didn’t want to raise her hopes. I called Brian first thing in the morning and arranged to see him on the Monday of the following week. With my deadline for telling our families about the baby looming, Megan was losing patience, but I assured her that something positive was on the cards, and not to worry.
Monday arrived, and I was in a determined mood as I approached the RolpheTech store. This was my one-and-only opportunity to appease Megan, so there was no margin for error. I entered the store and strode purposefully towards the service desk, where a genial woman took my name and then called for Brian over the tannoy. A few minutes later he appeared, looking much more like a manager in his pinstripe blue suit. He shook my hand before leading me up to his office on the first floor. I kept the picture of our unborn baby in my head. I had to do this for her, or him.
Brian started the interview in a fairly formal manner, telling me about the company and what the position entailed. As we talked, his passion for technology became apparent, and we were soon chatting enthusiastically about the latest developments in the computer world. Brian was obviously a geek at heart, and our conversation veered off-topic several times as we discussed subjects that had no relevancy to the job.
After an hour of chatting, Brian switched back into manager mode.
“I’ll cut to the chase, Craig. I think you’d fit-in really well here. You obviously know your stuff when it comes to the products and you’ve got plenty of customer service experience. I don’t want to put you on the spot, but I need to book a recruitment advert in the paper tomorrow. If you can give me a decision n
ow, I might be able to save a few hundred quid on that advert. The position is yours if you want it. What do you say?”
I gave Brian the most emphatic and positive ‘yes’ possible.
We spent the next ten minutes going over the employment contract, which included details of a decent basic salary, and potential to increase it with sales-based commission. I did a few sums in my head and worked out that if I hit my targets, we could afford to move to a bigger flat and just about survive without Megan’s wages. It would be tight but do-able. The only downside was that I wouldn’t be able to start for four weeks but at least it would give Malcolm time to find my replacement.
With everything agreed, I was about to leave when Brian slapped his forehead.
“Sorry Craig, I almost forgot. I have to send some paperwork up to head office so they can add you to the employee database. We usually get an application form before the interview, but in your case it didn’t happen that way. If you’ve got ten minutes, can I be a pain and ask you to complete the form?”
“Sure, no problem,” I replied.
Brian handed me a six-page form and a pen, before saying he had a few things to do downstairs.
“I’ll only be ten minutes. If you get stuck on anything, just leave it and we’ll cover it when I get back.”
I nodded and Brian disappeared out the door. I sailed through the form, which was fairly self-explanatory. Then I came to the section about qualifications. Bollocks. If I listed my actual grades, maybe I’d be shooting myself in the foot. Perhaps they had some minimum standards, and when Brian saw my woeful results, he’d revoke the job offer. But if I embellished the grades, would anyone check? I guessed they wouldn’t and added my enhanced exam results.
I completed the final section of the form just as Brian returned to the office. He quickly scanned it as my heart began to beat a little faster. Seemingly happy, he dropped it into a tray on his desk. My mild panic subsided — it looked like my decision had been the right one, for a change. Brian shook my hand again and showed me out of the store.
The '86 Fix: A 1980s Time Travel Novel Page 6