The Glass Partition

By Clive Carr

The Glass Partition is the story of an unassuming young man working within the civil service. who, within the space of a week, goes from complete obscurity to being named as the most despicable man in the country by the daily press. But is he really as terrible as he seems? Or is he just that unlucky?
And the answer is: 'he's just that unlucky'. Mainly because he has been chosen to be the scapegoat for someone else much higher up in the government who has committed a much more serious crime of theft and fraud than himself.
Yet none of what eventually happens to him would have ever occurred, if for just once in his life, he had bothered to take even a small amount of responsibility for his own actions. However and as per usual, instead of confronting his situation like he should have, he stupidly allows his imagination to invent another perfect life for himself that runs parallel with the one that is gradually spiralling completely out of control. Until eventually he ends up, as had been stated previously: 'Named as the most despicable man in the country!' The kind of person who would happily take the sweets from the mouths of babies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clive Carr
• Release date: Jan 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466004245

Clive Carr

English, born in 1963.

Book preview

The Glass Partition

by

Clive William Carr

Smashwords Edition

*****

The Glass Partition

Copyright © 2016 by Clive William Carr

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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This book was originally published as ‘A Week and Two Days’.

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

Chapter twenty

Chapter twenty one

Chapter twenty two

Chapter twenty three

Chapter twenty four

Chapter twenty five

Chapter twenty six

Chapter twenty seven

Chapter twenty eight

Chapter twenty nine

Chapter thirty

Chapter thirty one

Chapter thirty two

Chapter thirty three

The Glass Partition

Monday

Chapter one

Staring at his distorted reflection in the curved glass, Employee Rod Steiger impatiently waited for the Tube train’s door to slide open. Even though the moment it did, he knew he would be rudely shoved to one side by all the other commuters eager to get off before him. However, due to some poor positioning on his behalf, he not only found himself unexpectedly swept up by the crowd, but actually running at the very head of it. Not that that was necessarily a problem for him. Or at least it wouldn’t have been, if it had occurred about three hours later in the day, and he’d been given at least a week’s notice to train for it beforehand. But being it wasn’t, and he hadn’t, he could already tell by the time he’d reached the first flight of stairs, that he needed a safe place to stop and catch his breath. Otherwise, there was more than just a good chance, (as far as he was concerned at any rate,) that his inability to keep up the pace would lead to him being rather abruptly and unceremoniously trampled to death by all those coming up behind him. Thankfully though, just before that happened, Rod remembered a gap in the handrails just up ahead, that he could slip into and with any luck save his life. However, once he reached it, he realised it wasn’t as deep as he imagined it was. But that still didn’t mean that if he pushed himself very tight against the wall and turned his head to one side, it wouldn’t do. ‘Sorry, sorry. I’m terribly sorry. I do apologise.’ he kept obsequiously mumbling until the main body of the crowd had finally pushed by him. Then, once that had happened, he stepped out to breathe a much needed sigh of relief whilst casually readjusting his waistband. During which time he gave some, not too serious thought to his own health and well-being as he stood there, motionless in-between the city’s heartbeats. Then, when he finally felt ready to continue his journey, he grabbed the handrail and started off up the stairs again. But this time at a much more relaxed pace.

The concrete block that Rodney worked in was only a couple of minutes walk from the tube station’s entrance, yet very easy to miss considering its size, mainly because it was so bland.

‘You know it’s often said that this building is a classic of its time.’ smiled Rod to himself as he ran his fingers lightly over its grey, texture-less walls. ‘But I think, it’s just plain fucking ugly.’ he whispered to himself just before he turned down a narrow path to the ‘employee’s’ entrance. Where, he was immediately greeted by two security guards attired entirely in grey from their skin to their hair. A detail he had plenty of time to note as they both stood there and patiently waited for him to find his Pass so they could finally allow him in.

‘There, it wasn’t so hard now, was it Rod?’

‘No, I suppose it wasn’t.’ he replied with an absent, almost foolish smile on his face as he turned his head to take one last look up into the bright, silver-grey sky of the outside world and wonder: if it was still too late to just turn round and call in sick.

‘Come on Rod, we’ve seen you now.’ joked one of the guards in an Irish accent.

‘It’s much too late to have second thoughts now, you know?’ added the other like they could both read his mind.

‘You know you should have thought about that before you got out of your bed this morning. Don’t you Rod?’

‘You’re right.’ he agreed regretfully just before he went to walk off.

‘And just where do you think you’re going young man?’ enquired one of the guards with an unexpectedly officious tone.

‘Through there.’ Pointed Rodney stupidly.

‘Not without your Pass, you don’t.’ the guard then smiled as he held out his hand for Rodney to collect it.

‘Oh, give it here Pat!’ snatched the other guard irritably. ‘As now you’ve made a bit of a fuss about it, I suppose we ought to do our job properly and just check if it really is him.’

‘Just in case he’s an impostor or something.’ laughed the other before adding. ‘Especially as he does seem to be acting somewhat suspiciously this morning, don’t you think?’

‘He does that Mickey, you’re right. What was I thinking?’ he joked before calling Rodney back over with a beckoning finger. ‘It’s ok Michael, you can stand down. I’ve managed to detain the subject without any problem.’ The two men gave each other the nod. ‘Now, if you would just be so kind as to describe his picture as you see it. I’ll check if he fits the bill.’ Rodney rolled his eyes.

‘Blond.’

‘Check.’

‘Blue eyes.’

‘Come here Rodney, let me check.’ The guard comically looked about his face. ‘It’s a bit hard to tell as they’re a bit squinty. I know, I’ll ask the subject to roll his eyes again like he did a moment ago and perhaps we’ll see.’ Rod gave a begrudging smile.

‘It’s alright, we’ll forget that one. Has the subject got a big mouth?’

‘Yes, he’s definitely got one of those.’

‘Well that’s it then. It’s definitely him.’ The other guard smiled. ‘A positive identification.’

‘So shall I give him his Pass back then?’

‘Of course, but don’t forget to note it.’

‘Right away.’ smiled the other as he pretended to write a note in thin air. ‘Irresponsible employee almost mislaid government ‘I.D’ again.’ ‘There you are Rodney. Your picture doesn’t do you justice you know.’

‘Thanks.’ smiled Rodney happy to be teased.

‘There, now that’s what your photo was missing. No wonder we didn’t recognise you. It was missing your nice smile. Hasn’t he got a nice smile Pat?’

‘Yes, you’ve got a lovely smile Rod. Now have you ever thought of using it on the girls for a change?’

‘I hadn’t up to then, but now you’ve mentioned it, I think I’ll give it a go. Anyway, it’s gotta work better than what I was doing before.’

‘And what was that, Rodney?’

‘Don’t ask.’ Rod dismissed with a laugh just before the guards looked to each other with raised eyebrows and began to laugh, which was his cue to clip his Pass to his tie and disappear into the building.

Sitting at his desk waiting for the day to start and already feeling like he wouldn’t be able to make it to the end, Rodney tried his best to psyche himself up.

‘God I just feel so fucking fed up and tired already. I fucking hate this job. Please, somebody fucking shoot me!’ he begged as he restlessly slumped himself across his desk. ‘God this is Hell.’ he whispered to himself irritably as he immediately forced himself to sit back upright again. ‘A thousand times this morning I will hear the words ‘Good Morning’ ring with its sister bell ‘Nice Weekend?’ like they were the verbal keys that everyone in this building uses to unlock the door to social acceptance. More to the point, I know that if I fail to reply to any of them in anything else but one of pre-prescribed phrases given on the short list of correct replies. They will forever mark me down as a troublemaker, a domino that refuses to fall, a tossed coin that lands on its edge. Someone no longer regarded simply as an oddity to be overlooked, but instead…’

Only fifteen minutes had passed since his workday had begun. Yet Rodney already knew that he and his ‘rebellious spirit’ had already been crushed. Simply because, for the first time in a long time, he had forgotten to pick up with his keys, that little cardboard box that not only contained all that he usually needed to help him get through another working day. But also, what he had recently been using to anaesthetise himself to all the pain he would otherwise have to suffer as another nail was hammered into his regulation 262 crucifix (the standard issue crucifix for his grade). A thing he had only just received, brand spanking new from the Stationary Department as a replacement for the one he had accidentally mislaid, possibly on a bus (the 97) well over a month ago.

Saying that, it was whilst he had been there at the Stationary Department waiting patiently for one of the other clerks to fetch the afore mentioned replacement crucifix, that he had ‘accidentally’ been made privy to some, if not all, of his future. Or to put it another way: he had taken a sneak peek in the file marked ‘Rodney Stieger’s Future’ when no one else was looking. The only problem was, all the information he was looking for, had very cleverly been encrypted into the image of a painting he had seen ages ago whilst on a school visit to the National Art Gallery. At first, he could not figure it out at all, as the only thing that stuck him about the painting, was that it was very large, huge even. But whether it was actually any good? He didn’t think he could say, either now or then. Whereas what he felt he definitely could say now as he looked at it, was even if the artwork itself was of some merit, his particular part in it clearly wasn’t.

‘Still,’ he remembered telling himself with the voice of a person with a sensible head on their shoulders. ‘I’ve come this far to glimpse my future, I might as well familiarise myself with the more important aspects of it, just in case it isn’t as dishwater dull as it looks like it’s going to be. As you know what they say: ‘fore armed is fore warned’ and all that other crap that means much the same thing.’ And so, he let the painting by an artist whose name he could not recall, yield what he had finally grown up enough to understand. ‘No.’ he shook his head despondently as he gazed unappreciatively at the painters skilful rendering of a hundred or so naked people clinging to a rock in a stormy sea. ‘How fucking typical is that? Why the fuck is it that the picture that has to say so much about me, has to be one of those that only the old farts look at? Why couldn’t it have been an ‘Impressionist’ painting or something a bit more modern? D’you know, now I come to think about it, I don’t think I would have even minded if it had just been a crappy sketch for something great like ‘Guernica’ or something.’

But worst was to come, for the longer Rodney concentrated on the work the more certain he became that even if the painting itself was attempting to illustrate something grand and noble, like the strength and will of man (and woman) over adversity. He still had to accept that the figure he identified with most, was the one that could just barely be made out, lying below the waves. A person who, a second before, might have also been bravely clinging to the same rock as all the others as they prayed to survive. But now with their fingers cut and bleeding, they were completely lost in the storm ravaged sea. ‘But a sea of what? What did all those crashing waves represent?’ wondered Rodney as he stared into space and sucked thoughtfully on the chewed cap of that day’s ‘Bic’ pen, as if the act of wondering in itself was worth some sort of merit. ‘What does it all mean?’ he again asked himself as he watched half interestedly as the rest of his work colleagues busied themselves all about him.

A good hour had passed since Rodney had last asked himself ‘What does it all mean?’ and in that time he had done little more than get on with what he was paid to do. Not that he was complaining and why should he, as nobody ever took any notice of him even if he did. So instead, he just did his best to keep his head down and pray for a sign that someone out there cared. However, what he actually got was a fellow employee of questionable integrity sitting down at the desk opposite him so he could thoughtfully lay his hands on the desk like he was contemplating something important he needed to say, which amused Rodney no end. Mainly because, as far as Rodney was concerned, he had the look of a ‘village idiot’ about him with his wide eyes and full, wet lips. However, because Rodney knew that type of description didn’t appeal to everyone, he often preferred to describe him to others as a man who was never going to grow up, no matter how long he lived. And to prove it, Jason then sprawled himself across the width of his desk, just so he could hoarsely whisper with all the subtlety of an actor from ‘Eastenders’:

‘ 'ere Rod, I’ve got a little proposition, I’d like to run past you if I may?’

‘Yeah, of course Jay, anytime.’ sniggered Rodney in a gruff voice. ‘What is it: a blag? Or a bit of G.B.H? Or just a bit of good old-fashioned extortion?’

‘What?’ recoiled Jason warily. ‘What you going on about?’

‘Oh, sorry Jay, I’m sorry if I misconstrued what you were saying there.’ Rod opened both his hands in a receptive gesture. ‘It’s just the way you were acting then, I thought you’d suddenly been initiated into the criminal underworld over the Weekend, and I was trying to relate to you.’

‘What me? No way mate. You know that’s not my kind-a scene.’ replied Jason with arched bushy eyebrows, just before he sucked in his breath and glanced momentarily to the floor like he was thinking to himself: ‘How could anyone be so fucking dumb?’

‘No, no, I didn’t really think you had. I was just joking. You know, trying to get down on your level.’ overemphasised Rodney with a dumb voice, like he was trying to communicate with a moron.

‘Oh, I see. And to think I was only doing that in the first place, because I thought that was the only kind of talk you understood.’ Jason joked back using the same dumb voice, but with the addition of some rather unnecessary and excessive gesticulations like he was trying to communicate with a deaf person.

‘Oh really.’ Rod pretended to ‘sign’ back just before they both burst out laughing at how childish they were both being. Then just when their sniggering had all but petered out, Rodney lent himself forward and half out of his seat so he could coarsely whisper to Jason from the corner of his mouth: ‘Well whatever you wanted to ask me, I suggest you ask me later, as right now I’m going for my midmorning break. And being I can see a certain someone you know very well is coming up behind you, I would suggest that you do the same.’ he smiled knowingly as he raised himself up fully and made ready to quit the room. But just before he did and because he always liked to think of himself as a bit of a ‘character’ in the office, he stretched out his arms and loudly proclaimed to the rest of his fellow workers like he was talking to the five thousand: ‘In case anyone is vaguely interested, I’ve decided to finally get it over with and make the ultimate sacrifice. Yes, that’s right,’ he smiled to the few who had bothered to raise their heads to listen. ‘I’m going for my first legally entitled tea-break of the day: If that’s ok with everyone else? Course it is.’ he added absently as he momentarily rested his sorrowful gaze upon the ‘one of his flock’ who despite being warned, still appeared totally ignorant of what was rapidly heading his way. Then as Rodney slowly moved around him, his friend finally got the gist of what Rodney had been hinting at, and with just seconds to spare, he too hastily rose to his feet so he too might also avoid a futile clash of personalities and position. Whereas the officer concerned, would have most probably preferred to have described the act of petty vindictiveness that she had hoped to reign down on him, as one of: ‘Endeavouring to instil within him the importance of complying with office policy’. But by then neither Jason or Rodney gave a fucking toss what she thought she was doing, as they were already at least half a world away from their desks, silent computers and other workers’ blank minds and blank expressions.

For the last ten minutes the two unfunny comedians had been sitting around a white table in an empty room applauding their own individual acts with the spasmodic stamping of feet, clapping of hands and crying of tears. As again and again each one laughed at what they were thinking and never at what the other was saying. When, all of a sudden, a packet of cigarettes was thrown into the centre of the table, causing both of them to stop what they were doing and stare up at the person who had did it.

‘Oh, hello Dave, I didn’t see you there.’ Smiled Rod as he looked at the slim man who was standing before them like a palm tree on a windy beach with a hair style to match. ‘What can we do for you, young man?’ he sort of joked being the man was at least ten years his senior.

‘Nothing really.’ Replied Dave as he quite unexpectedly pulled out a chair to join them. Though why he did, Rodney couldn’t quite understand as they were never particularly friendly to one another and there were plenty of other empty tables in the room. However, the moment the man spoke his next sentence, he knew. ‘So how long a break have you two just had eh?’

‘Oh, don’t be like that Dave. Especially as I was just saying to my friend Mr Watson here, how lucky we both would be if ‘Mr Mirth’ himself was to enter this chamber and deem it satisfactory to his own requirements to join us at our table?’

‘That you did Sherlock. And now he’s here, I can’t help but wonder why that was?’

‘Me neither.’

‘‘Mr Mirth’, I like it.’ smiled the man unperturbed just before he took a long drag from the cigarette he had just lit. After which, he then slowly lent himself back in the chair to make himself more comfortable and them both patently aware he could neither be intimidated or insulted. A point that he neatly underlined by then taking an even longer drag from his smoke, together with any remaining pleasantness that might have still been left in the room. Just so he could replace it a second later with an equal amount of smoke and misery, when he again asked: ‘so tell me again, just how long have you two been out here?’ but this time when he said it, both of them could sense that Dave’s tone had become a lot more accusatory.

‘What are you trying to say here Dave? That you don’t think that we both do our fair share? And we are skivers... are skiving right now in fact! Well, I can tell you that just isn’t the case. And to prove it, just recently, I’ve even been doing other people’s ‘fair shares’ as well! Not that I’m boasting or anything, you understand. As that’s not really my thing. But I’ve been told that in some of the other departments they’ve actually