by R L Stephens
***
A couple of months after that uncomfortable encounter with DI Peters Harry everything was no more or less sorted for his move to London. The background check had comeback quicker than he had expected and much to his surprise, and relief, they had also comeback clean. Almost a week after hearing this news the HR Department of the bank had written to Harry to inform him that they could now officially, and formally, offering him the job of office manager. This was due to start from the beginning of October and that gave Harry almost six weeks to find a place to live in the Capital and to move his stuff down.
Considering that he only really had his laptop, a TV and his clothes to move that wouldn’t have much of an issue. It was just the finding of a place to live that concerned Harry and by the time he narrowed the possibilities to a few places that seemed even remotely suitable. He could straight away exclude all those that were going to be too expensive or too far away from the office in the City of London where he was going to be working. Sod that, I'm not spending 4 hours a day commuting, Harry thought to himself when he had found almost the perfect place in terms of price, but had then seen how far away from work it was going to be.
In the end he had settled on three different possibles; two of which were almost in the center of London and the other seemed to be out near the Clapham Junction station. Great another overnight stay in London then, Harry thought to himself when he couldn’t arrange to see all three in one day, and the best he could do was to be able to view the two that near together in the center one day and the one in Clapham Junction the next.
When he viewed the two flats in the center of London, they turned out to be little more than shoeboxes and Harry could feel his spirits drop the moment he set foot through the front door of the first one. You want £400 a month for this? The unasked question around his mind as he was shown first what was supposed to be the bedroom/living room and Harry was certain he had seen single prison cells on TV that were bigger. And that look luxurious compared to this dump, he thought as he the prison cell metaphor stayed with him as he looked around the room and was sure that he could see cracked paint in the corners and what even looked like mold growing there.
Least said about the kitchen the better I think, Harry thought as the landlord wittered away about the advantages of this room and what was included in the rent. The only advantage I can see is that I would be able to grow my own penicillin, and that thought made Harry smile which brought a querying look from the landlord.
“Oh nothing I was just thinking about another place I saw,” Harry said trying to emphasis the another as to make it sound as though that place was miles worse than the one he was now being shown. “Well I have another couple of places I want to see first,” Harry found himself almost on autopilot when the landlord stopped and looked expectantly at Harry as if asking for his decision there and then. “And I think it's only fair to see those as I've made appointments and I think it's only fair to honor them,” he then added before the landlord could another word. The other place he’d arranged to view that day was almost as bad, if not worse.
Well so long as this place isn’t too bad I guess I’ll just have to take it, Harry thought to himself that night in the hotel as he weighed up his options.
It was almost 10.30 am and at that time of the morning the bus from Clapham Junction Station, which was billed as the busiest train station on the UK, was fairly quiet. Admittedly Harry thought that most people would’ve gone to work or school or whatever already, but still it did seem fairly quiet. There were perhaps ten people on the bus in total, plus Harry. They all seemed to be just sitting there minding their own business, some reading a newspaper and others just looking stiff necked straight ahead waiting for their stop.
I wonder if they know, or if they can tell, Harry wondered to himself as the bus trundled along the on straight round that would eventually take him to what he was sure would turn out to be another grotty little shoebox that some unscrupulous landlord was way over what he should be, but then it was London and you had to expect to pay way over the odds for any scrap of space, no matter how unkempt and rundown it was. For the first time Harry was actually regretting having to move down here as he certain that he would have to pay far more than he wanted to just keep a roof over his head.
I suppose we’re all keeping those little secrets, the mused looking at a woman in her mind forties who was sitting across the aisle from him. He then had the sudden urge to adjust his boxer shorts in that typically blokish way when they'd become uncomfortable and his eyes darted around the bus wondering whether anyone had even noticed or if they were just deliberately ignoring it. I wonder what your secrets are, he then thought as his attention was drawn back to the woman in her forties.
She was dressed in a light airy blouse type top that was just about perfect for the summer and a long skirt that came down to her ankles. Harry could imagine it flowing in the breeze as she walked and he just caught the flash of the sun off her wedding ring. He could also imagine her wearing black lacy panties and a matching bra.
I wonder if your husband knows that you're now one your way to see your lover? He thought imagining that she could hear his thoughts. Does he know you're bit of a slut on the side and have been seeing someone behind his back for years? Come on what secrets are you keeping? He thought letting his mind wonder as the bus trundled on. Or what about lesbian affair you had a couple of years ago, does he know about that? Or is it something you keep secret that lets you get off when he’s on top of you? With that thought Harry swung his head forward and kept it fixed straight ahead so that he couldn’t give away his thoughts about her as he realized that he starting to get like Ken and his mates.
The way they talked about women had always made Harry feel more than a little uncomfortable and he had found himself on several occasions just smiling awkwardly and let them get on with it. Now though it was different as he was the one having such vulgar thoughts and there was a part of him that was really very bothered by that. After what would Emily think? Harry heard himself think as the bus came to what he thought was his stop.
As the bus pulled away Harry looked up at the building that was Gernigan House, which looked little like it had been made out of Lego by a particularly unimaginative child who had no creative vision or style, and who had then decided to paint it the dreariest shades of grey. This had then been allowed to gather dirt and allowed to settle for several decades ; and Harry was almost certain it hadn't been painted, or repainted, since Harold Macmillan was telling people they'd ‘never had it so good’ in 1957.
It can’t be that bad, Harry thought as he looked round at the four or five other buildings that were in the same area and, eventually, found the entrance to Gernigan House. As he waited for the elevator to arrive Harry was certain that the interior hadn't been redecorated since at least the building had been opened and, as the elevator opened, he couldn’t help but inhale that too familiar aroma of disinfectant and ammonia that seemed to be of places like this and that would have been more appropriate for a public convenience.
The smell notwithstanding, Harry was soon standing outside of the door for flat number on the second floor, which was the one he’d come to view. He rang the doorbell and after a couple of minutes a tall black man opened the door.
“Colin?” Harry asked of the man when he looked at Harry with querying eyes wondering who he was. “I'm Harry; I'm here to see the room?” And for a moment or two Harry wondered whether he had the right place or whether he had actually written down the wrong address by accident.
“Oh yeah, sure, come in,” the man said in an unexpectedly very English accent that seemed to be typically very London, without being too cockney. As the man, Colin Baptiste, suggested Harry then followed him in to the flat and Harry found himself in a very narrow hallway. A few feet in and on the left there was a bathroom and on the right there were two doors that Colin said were spare rooms. At end of the corridor ther
e was door leading to the kitchen and one just to the right of it that was in fact Colin’s room.
“This is the room here,” Colin said, indicating he what was effectively the middle of the three bedrooms and Harry entered the room just behind Colin. Fuck, Harry exclaimed to himself when he saw how small the room and tried to work out whether it was bigger than the two had already seen, and if it was it couldn’t have been larger by much.
“What do you think?” Colin asked with that same expectation that Harry would instantly love it and without hesitation take there on the spot that Harry was sure he had seen in the eyes of the other two landlords he had met the day before. Are you serious? Harry thought but managed to stop himself from actually saying anything.
“It's, it's,” Harry said wondering whether he should say what he really thought or not. “It's nice,” was all that Harry could think of saying as it was at least clean. Well that’s not saying much about it, Harry thought taking another look around the room itself before Colin ushered him into the kitchen and then showed him the bathroom. Well at least I could make a quick dash for a shower in morning, Harry thought trying to hide an amused smile that had appeared on his lips at the thought of his bashfulness of his own body.
“So what do you do?” Colin asked when they had settled back in the kitchen.
“I'm starting as an office manager for a bank in October,” Harry started to say as he wondered whether he had brought that letter from the bank confirming his appointment. “Which is why I need it from 1st October,” Harry then added as he fumbled around in his pockets.
“Ah,” Colin said as that answered his next question about why Harry was moving. “Isn’t it a bad time to be a banker?” Colin then asked half remembering things he’d read in the papers recently about the credit crunch and various scandals about banker excesses.
“I guess no,” Harry said, “but then I’ve only just joined them.” Harry didn’t add that he’d never worked for a bank before and had been a little surprised that he’d even gotten to the interview stage let alone offered to job. But then he must’ve put on quite a show at the interview.
“Oh ok,” Colin sad and then went on to run down how much the rent and deposit were, and what the rent included which turned out to be all the bills as the advert had stated. Harry nodded and agreed where he thought was appropriate as tried to look as though he was at least interested in what Colin was saying.
“So are you interested?” Colin eventually asked and almost caught Harry off guard. Not really, Harry thought to himself but then he probably didn’t have much.
“Well I've got another couple of appointments this afternoon,” Harry lied, “and I think that it's only fair to them that I make those.” Harry added the same line he’d used the day before, but which then wasn’t entirely untrue, but now was a bit of a fib as he’d not lined up anything else.
“Oh yeah, yeah,” Colin said. “So you’ll let me know? I mean I've got other interested people coming to view the room later and I really need to know soonest,” he then added and trying to pressure Harry into making a decision.
“Oh yeah, I’ll let you know later today,” Harry said all but having made up his mind already, but not wanting Colin to in case he saw somewhere better later when he looked online again later that day and couldn’t then take it as he’d already committed himself to this room .
“Oh ok, no problem,” Colin replied and Harry was on his way a couple of minutes later.