by Simon Bourke
That night he lay in bed imagining what it would be like, finding them, meeting them. She was a shop assistant, Heather, one of those friendly ladies who called you ‘love’ when handing you your change. Younger than his mum – still in her thirties – she lived not far away. They arranged to meet for a cup of tea in a café near where she worked. He got there first and ordered a Coke. As soon as she walked in he knew it was her, and vice versa. She sat down at the table and they just stared at each other, unable to get over how alike they were. Heather grew tearful and apologised for giving him up. He reassured her, said he understood.
“Are you married?” he asked.
“Yes, with two children.”
Two children, his siblings.
“Can I meet them?”
“Of course you can,” she said with a smile. “Not today, though. It’s all a bit sudden, I’m sure you’ll agree”.
He nodded. “It’s incredibly sudden, Heather, you’re right. What are their names?”
“Well, Kirk is nine and Daniel’s just had his fifth birthday.”
“Two boys, eh? My little brothers.”
“Yes, Jonathan, your little brothers.”
“I really can’t wait to see them. Do they like football?”
“Yes, they love football. They’re both big City fans.”
“City? You’ve got to be joking!”
“Afraid not, Jonathan.”
“Well, it’s probably too late to save Kirk, but if I can get to Daniel quickly I might be able to avert disaster.”
Heather laughed and he laughed too. They shared the same sense of humour, that much was obvious.
“What about your mum and dad? What are they like, Jonathan?”
“They’re the most amazing people in the world.”
“I bet they are. I can see they’ve raised you well. Maybe I could meet them some day.”
“Certainly. You could bring the boys; we’ll make a day of it.”
“That sounds great, Jonathan.”
She looked at her watch. “I really should be getting back now, love. I only get half an hour for lunch.”
“Okay, Heather.”
“It was lovely to meet you and I can’t wait to see you again.”
“Me too.”
She took his hands in hers, looked at him intently and left the café. He watched her go, thinking how great it was that he now had two lovely mums. Wait, they hadn’t made any plans to meet again, and she hadn’t given him her number; probably just an oversight on her part. His gut told him differently, though. She didn’t want to see him again; she already had a family, she didn’t need him coming along complicating matters. He’d never meet Kirk and Daniel, his two little brothers. Heather would return home and her husband would ask how her day had been. “Oh, fine,” she’d say. “Went to Robson’s for my lunch; they do a terrific cup of tea in there.” There would be no mention of Jonathan, the boy she’d given away and had no intention of taking back.
The next morning, as soon as he’d finished breakfast, he went to the library. School had only just broken up for the summer so it was unlikely he’d meet anyone he knew. All his friends and classmates would still be in bed, enjoying the first of many lie-ins. When he got there, the library was almost completely deserted. An elderly couple were sitting at the large table reading the morning papers, and two members of staff were on duty, one behind the desk and another replenishing the shelves with returned books. Neither were anywhere near the bulletin board. He sidled over to the board, trying to look as if he were just browsing but all the while focused on the tall display unit which housed the pamphlets. He spied them from the corner of his eye: Information for School Leavers, Getting back to work, Guide to entitlements for people over sixty. None of those was what he was looking for. He moved a bit closer, forgetting the bulletin board, now actively scanning the array of pamphlets and booklets: Volunteering in the local community, Review of Sign Language Interpretation Services, Rights and Entitlements for young people. Maybe that one would be helpful.
“Can I help you, love?”
He hadn’t heard the woman approach.
“I’m all right, thanks,” he said, not turning to face her.
“Are you looking for something in particular?”
He couldn’t even look for information without being pestered. He wanted to do this by himself.
“No, just browsing,” he said impatiently.
“A part-time job for the summer, maybe?”
He ignored her, hoping she’d go away.
“We’re looking for staff here, if you fancy it?”
Jonathan turned around.
“I’m just browsing. Why can’t you leave me alone?”
The woman, older than he’d realised, – small and fragile – recoiled, her face of mixture of indignation and dismay.
“Well!” she said. “This is what I get for trying to help. Never have I – ”
Jonathan didn’t wait to hear the rest. He grabbed a handful of the pamphlets, ensuring he’d got the one about young people’s rights, and rushed out the door. He didn’t stop there; as soon as he got outside he started to run, far away from the library and the nosy old woman. He came to a halt a couple of streets away, near a playground to which his parents had brought him as a child. Like the library, it was deserted. The younger kids were still at school. He sat on one of the benches overlooking the play area and pulled out the pamphlets. Most of them were of no use; information for school leavers, the elderly, unemployed and infirm, those sections of society that frequented public libraries on a daily basis. But there was that one about young people’s rights. Well, he was a young person and he needed to know his rights. He opened the pamphlet and checked the list of contents: How to Claim Benefits, Looking for Work, Paying your Council Tax, Are You a Parent? Nothing about adoption there. He flicked through the pamphlet, finding a list of numbers at the back; various helplines for young people seeking information. Some looked promising: there was one for the Citizens Advice Bureau, which was probably where he should have gone in the first place. He didn’t know where the nearest one was, though, and when he got there he’d have to deal with more nosey parkers, people doing their utmost to thwart him. He screwed up the pamphlet and put it, along with all the others, into a nearby bin. He’d sit here a while and think things over, then later on he’d go home and try to find out where this bloody Citizens Advice Bureau was.
8
“What’s going on, Malcolm?”
Dennis had entered his office uninvited and was standing in front of him. He looked exasperated, annoyed even. It took quite a lot to ruffle Dennis’ feathers, so there could be no doubting the gravity of the situation.
Malcolm looked up from his imaginary worksheets and hastily shoved the bottle of Smirnoff into the drawer. “What’s up, mate?”
“Don’t give me that,” Dennis said, pulling up a chair. “Something’s going on, and I’m not leaving here till I find out what it is.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Malcolm replied weakly.
He yearned to tell someone, to spill his guts, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“I’ve hardly seen you for the last two weeks; you’re either off sick or meeting a client. On the rare occasions that you actually come in, you’re holed up in here like a hermit,” Dennis said.
“We’re busy, mate. You know that as well as I do.”
“I’m busy,” Dennis said, pointing to himself. “You’re doing fuck all. I’m not supposed to deal with Mary’s maternity leave, the health and safety report, potential customers enquiring about our yearly expenditure and the lack of fuckin’ teabags in the canteen! But I have been.”
Malcolm’s shoulders sagged. Another person he’d been letting down; join the queue, pal.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
> Dennis remained seated, awaiting an explanation that was long overdue, but all Malcolm could muster was a few rueful glances and a despondent shake of the head.
They could have sat like that for hours, Dennis eyeballing Malcolm while he moaned and groaned in despair. Sensing that his colleague was in need of a friend right now, however, Dennis opted for a softer approach.
“Look, Malc, whatever it is, I’m here for you. If you don’t feel like talking to me, maybe I could give Margaret a call?”
Malcolm emerged from his malaise all at once. “No! Don’t call Margaret!”
“Okay, so whatever’s going on, your wife doesn’t know about it. Would I be correct in saying that?” enquired Dennis.
Malcolm nodded glumly.
“Gambling? Alcohol? Has your bit on the side given you the heave-ho? Which is it?”
“I’m not like you,” Malcolm said firmly.
“Eh?”
“I don’t spend all my money in the bookies and have ‘bits on the side’ as a matter of course. I’m not like you.”
“Well, excuse me; I didn’t realise I was in the presence of Saint Francis of bloody Assisi! So, oh holy one, if you’ve not given in to one of the deadly sins, whatever’s got you in such a state?”
He was mocking him now, but it was true; he wasn’t like Dennis. That is, he hadn’t been until recently. Now he was just like him, he and all those other husbands who constantly complained about their wives and found any excuse not to go home. He’d always pitied those men, how sad their lives must be, he thought. He usually couldn’t wait to get home. He still got excited about the prospect of seeing his wife and kids on the drive home every evening. Now he was another man lumbered with a ball and chain, another sinner keeping secrets from those he loved.
It made sense to tell Dennis, and not just because he was staring him down like a pitbull. He was his business partner for a start, so he was duty-bound to tell him. He had to keep him informed of everything that went on in their office, no matter who was involved. Legal issues aside, Dennis was the perfect person to confide in. He was one of life’s problem-solvers, a fixer, blessed with the ability to make the biggest of crises seem miniscule, trifling affairs. Once Malcolm had poured out his heart, Dennis would spring into action. He’d find a way out, offer a solution. Best of all, he wouldn’t judge him; if anything, he’d congratulate him for trying his luck and curse himself for not getting there first. Malcolm usually found that side of Dennis’ character rather unsavoury, but right now he was all for being one of the lads.
“Something happened,” he said.
Dennis gave him a look that conveyed ‘You don’t say?” but allowed him to continue.
“It happened here in this office, in this very room. I should have told you before, but I couldn’t.”
The pressure bubbled up in Malcolm’s chest. Every ounce of his being wanted to blurt it all out, but still he held it in. His conscience told him that telling someone was the right thing to do, but his heart thought it folly. He continued to wrestle with his emotions, wavering, until Dennis threw up his hands in despair and rose to leave.
“Katie from accounts,” Malcolm blurted out with a pleading look.
Dennis nodded; he understood now. He sat down again, took some loose sheets of paper from the desk and removed the pen from behind his ear. “Okay, what are we dealing with?”
9
Finding work hadn’t been easy for Katie Pendleton. She’d been signing on for almost a year when she’d been offered two months’ work experience at a local web-design company. It would be unpaid and there was no guarantee of anything at the end of it, but it was better than sitting at home doing nothing. Even though it wasn’t like starting a real job, she was still excited and wanted to make a good impression. You never knew what could happen, after all; one minute she’d be a junior temp, the next she’d be on the board of directors! She was up early on her first morning, perhaps a bit too early; six a.m. seemed excessive, even to her. But she had to make sure she looked her best, first impressions were everything in these situations. Her mother had bought her a rather severe trouser suit, bless her. Katie tried it on and nodded amenably as Mrs. Pendleton told her how sophisticated it made her look, but there was no way she was wearing it, at least not on her first day. It made her look like a power-hungry feminist, and that wasn’t what she was aiming for. She wanted to look smart and professional but with a touch of glamour. That didn’t mean exposed cleavage and a skirt up to her arse, but it did mean an air of elegance and at least a hint of femininity. After an hour of preparation, including three changes of outfit and a last-minute panic with her hair-straightener, she declared herself content. She headed out the door, giving herself an hour for the fifteen-minute drive.
Her first day was made a whole lot easier by her new boss. He was friendly and helpful, a really nice, genuine guy. Her new colleagues in accounts weren’t so welcoming. They were all older than her, in their thirties and forties, their best years well behind them. It was clear they were jealous of her and of the attention she was getting from the men in the office. Katie chose to ignore the snide comments and remarks. She would dress as she liked, and if it gave the men in the office something to look at, so be it. There was no harm in it, after all. The work itself was easy; she’d done all this stuff during her course a couple of years ago. Even when the most jealous, gone-to-seed member of accounts, Nadine, had tried tripping her up with a difficult spreadsheet, she’d calmly assessed the document and had it processed within the hour. By the end of her first week she felt like she’d worked there all her life, which was thanks, in no small part, to Malcolm, her boss. He really was a gentleman; constantly checking to make sure she was all right, answering all her queries, even accompanying her to lunch so she wouldn’t have to sit on her own. What did it matter if no one else in the office really spoke to her? She was friends with the boss.
The notion that his interest in her might not be purely work-related did cross her mind, but he was married with two kids and she had a boyfriend. They flirted a bit, true, but he was probably like that with all the temps. She couldn’t blame him, considering the state of some of the women here. And, if some playful office innuendo helped her get a step up the ladder, that was okay too. When he assigned special duties to her, including directly liaising with him on a weekly basis, she just assumed he was pleased with her work. Nadine and the others grumbled and made pithy remarks, but she laughed it off. They’d been here for years, sitting in those same chairs since the day they’d got here, and they’d probably be sitting in them for another twenty years until the day they retired, old and bitter. She was the bright young thing of Philliskirk & Barnes. She was moving up in the world, and they were just going to have to deal with it. But no sooner had she settled in and begun to enjoy herself when her finish date loomed large. She was only here for two months, after all. Soon it’d be back to the dole queue and sleeping till midday. The others couldn’t wait for her to fuck off, she could tell. They visibly relaxed at the start of her last week, stretching out their legs shooting smug smiles in her direction. Pretty soon things would be back to normal, no more ambitious wannabees making them look bad. She still held out hope that Malcolm (or the other guy, whose name she couldn’t remember) would call her to the office and announce they were extending her work experience for another couple of months. She would have given anything to see the look on Nadine’s face as she returned to her seat with a smug smile of her own. Then, on the Wednesday of her last week, something extraordinary happened; something even better than having her work experience extended.
At lunchtime she’d gone to the canteen as usual, but there was no sign of Malcolm and she didn’t want to sit at a table by herself. So she returned to her desk, choosing to eat alone in the office rather than risk contact with her colleagues. Having finished her sandwiches there was little else for her to do, so she decided to get a head start on the
work she’d planned for that afternoon. She hardly noticed the grinning middle-aged man approach her desk.
“Hi, Katie,” her boss said, casually sitting on her desk.
She jumped at the sound of his voice. “Oh hi, Malcolm.”
“Aren’t you taking lunch today?” he asked.
“I had it at my desk,” she replied.
“Our Katie, such a hard worker,” he teased.
She smiled shyly. He often made fun of her dedication to the job, but it was always good-natured.
He took a deep breath. Something was clearly on his mind. She hoped she hadn’t done anything wrong; maybe that was why he hadn’t joined her for lunch today.
“I’ve got some good news,” he said.
”Yes?” she replied, trying not to get her hopes up, but failing.
“It’s about your role here.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve discussed it with Dennis, and we’d like to offer you a full-time position as a junior accountant.” Had she heard him right? Had he just said what she thought he’d said?
“Really?” she asked.
He nodded and smiled.
“Oh, Malcolm, that’s unbelievable! I mean, of course, yes – I accept gladly.”
“Great. I’ll bring over the forms and we can go through the details. It should be official by the end of the day.”
As he walked back to his cubicle she allowed herself a little fist-pump: a full-time job as an accountant, a career girl. This would be just the beginning for Katie Pendleton. Now that she had a full-time job with a steady income, she could finally afford to move out of her mum’s. She could get a place with Ian, her boyfriend. They’d been together for six years; it was about time they took the next step. They’d have to rent somewhere at first, but eventually they could look at getting a mortgage, which would probably mean getting married. Well, that wouldn’t be a problem now, either; she’d be able to afford a proper wedding. Her car would have to go too; she’d been driving that crappy Micra since she’d got her licence, four years ago. A business woman couldn’t be seen in such a vehicle. It was time for an upgrade, but to what? A Polo? Yes, that sounded nice.