‘You really need this job, don’t you, MrDuncan?’
David Wilson said.
‘You need it alot.’
‘Yes, I do,’ he said quietly.But he thought: Ihate you, Wilson.
You’re enjoying this.
Youlike making people feel small.
I hatepeople like you.
Wilson’s smile grew bigger.He stood up,and held out his hand.
‘OK,’ he said.
Whencan you start?’
‘What?’John was very surprised.
‘What didyou say?’
‘I said, “When can you start?”, Mr Duncan.
We need you in our factory as soon aspossible.
Will Monday be OK?’
‘You mean I got the job?’
‘Of course.Congratulations!’
Wilson shookJohn’s hand.
‘My secretary will tell youabout your pay.
You’ll have your ownoffice, and a company car, of course.
I’dlike you to start work with Mary onMonday.
Is that OK?’
‘I … Yes, yes, of course.That’s fine.
Thankyou, thank you very much.’
2
At home‘Hi, Dad.
Your supper’s in the kitchen.’
John’s sixteen-year-old daughter, Christine,was sitting at the table doing herhomework.His son Andrew, who wasthirteen, was watching television.
‘Thanks, Christine,’ John said.‘I’m sorry I’mlate.
Is everything OK?
¡
‘Fine, thanks.’Christine gave him a quicksmile, then continued with her work.
Johngot his food from the kitchen.
Fried fishand chips.
The food was dry and didn’ttaste very good.
But he didn’t say anythingabout that.
John was not a very good cookhimself and his children were no better.
His wife had been a good cook, heremembered.
John tried to eat the terrible supper andlooked around the small, miserable flat.The furniture was twenty years old, thewallpaper and carpets were cheap anddirty.
The rooms were all small, and hecould see no trees or gardens from thewindows- just the light from hundreds ofother flats.
And there were books, clothes,and newspapers on the floor.
Once, when his wife had been alive, hehad had a fine house.A beautiful bighouse in the country, with a large garden.
They had had lots of new furniture, twocars, expensive holidays- everything theyneeded.
He had had a good job;
theyhadn’t needed to think about money.
Andthen he had started the boat-buildingcompany, and his luck had ended.
When Rachel had died, John had beenterribly unhappy-much too unhappy tothink about business.A few months laterhis company had closed, and he had lostall his money.
John had had to sell hisbeautiful house in the country, and moveto this miserable flat.
And for the last two years, he hadn’t had ajob at all.He was a poor man, and anunlucky one, too.
He had tried for lots ofjobs, and got none of them.
There weretoo many bright young biologists.
But nowthat was all going to change.
He looked athis daughter and smiled.
‘Did you have a good day at school,Christine?’he asked her.
‘Oh, all right, I suppose,’ she said.Shedidn’t look very happy.
‘I’ve got a letter foryou.’
She pushed the letter across the table, andhe opened it.It was from her school.
Oneof the teachers was taking the children ona skiing holiday to the mountains inSwitzerland.
It cost 400 pounds for tendays.
Parents who wanted their children togo had to send the money to the schoolbefore February 25th.
John’s smile grew bigger.Do you want togo on this holiday, Christine?’
he asked.
She looked at him strangely.‘Of course Ido, Dad,’ she said.
‘But I can’t, can I?
Wehaven’t got 400 pounds.’
‘No, I suppose not.’