From the Shadows of My Mind

By Mike Hoare

From the Shadows of my Mind’ is a novel about the meaning of life, set against the issues of class in society and never giving up on what you desire.



Rick Marshall, after leaving school in the 1960s, joins a company based in Deenbridge, his local town, offering work in protecting the natural environment. Disadvantaged by a working-class background, he doubts whether he can ever have a relationship with the classy daughter of one of the firm’s wealthy directors. Will his indecision cost him the woman he wants and will a mistake from the past come back to haunt him?

Sometimes fate and the future have their own plans to shape and control your destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Conrad Press
• Release date: Jul 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781839783128

Book preview

Introduction

I always knew when dawn was approaching. I didn’t need an alarm clock nor did I need to open my eyes. The back wall of the house overlooking the garden was covered in a thick cloak of ivy, layer upon layer of broad gnarled branches and intertwined smaller twigs and leaves which, when we bought the house nearly nine months ago, we noticed, but never gave it a second thought.

Over the intervening period we had tried to do something about it but had given up the unequal contest. It was used by the local sparrows, I assumed, as an overnight roost. Every morning one would start with an opening chirp, soft at first as if he or she was afraid to awake the rest and test the waters. Soon more would join in, the noise gathering momentum until it became a cacophony followed by a whirring of wings and then silence.

In the depths of winter this activity was in accord with my own biological clock but with the lengthening daylight hours, I started to realise that this could be a problem.

Now it was May and their activity started at some time after four for the twenty or so minutes of dawn rousing. With time I was starting to get used to and accepting it before falling asleep soon after. Our bedroom at the back of the house and against the outside ivy-clad wall looked out over the garden to the cliffs and sea beyond. For that reason, we had not wanted to change to one at the front. After all, that was mainly why we had bought the place, for the views and enjoying the spectacular sunsets.

However, today was a special one for us because as I lay awake, she lay beside me fast asleep.

I had been restless all night. As the first glimmers of sun appeared, I got up and put a jumper on to fend off the chill. May, late in the month as well, I thought to myself and still chilly in the early morning.

The last month of spring with the summer months ahead. And the family all here to celebrate our special event. I tiptoed down the stairs, creaking slightly to the weight of my footsteps, passing the lounge where my elder daughter and her husband were fast asleep huddled up on the settee and my younger one and her other half at odd angles on a mattress on the floor, their kids on the floor in sleeping bags. Upstairs, my sister and her husband had a room to themselves as did our son and his pregnant wife next door in bunk beds.

Six o’clock came as I looked at the clock on the kitchen wall and with a cup of tea, I opened the back door and ventured outside. The sun, by now above the top of the opposite headland had, as yet, little heat in it but it was a magical time to be up and about… Not really about I suppose because I wasn’t doing anything other than just sitting down, but still magical.

The sea was unusually calm with gentle waves lapping on the shingle and sand below. So very different from the day we moved in when I feared that the raging elements might have blown the house away. From the chalk headland to my left, I could look across the bay to the little harbour and pier to my right and the headland rising in the distance. And beyond that, there was the race of two opposing currents perpetually crashing into one another every hour of the day.

I was deep in concentration, just taking everything in when I heard the door open behind me and she came out with a sweater on. Even in her late fifties she still looked good. She was of medium height, slim and not really showing her age. Plus, she had always kept herself fit even after her accident.

‘What are you doing now? What time is it anyhow?’ I asked.

‘Just before seven. I heard you get up, went back to sleep and then woke up again and got myself up.’

‘Coffee or tea, can I get you?’

‘No thanks.’

‘Nobody awake yet, I trust?’

‘Alan is up and getting a cup of tea for Claire.’

‘The longer they all sleep, the better.’

‘Rick love, I want to show you something, that’s why I’m here now. I’d like you to read it as it helps to explain what has happened. I’ve had it for three years and today is the first time I wanted and needed to show you. You’ll see why and hopefully understand.’

‘What do you mean?’

She started to get what appeared to be a light grey envelope out of her pocket in readiness to pass to me. Suddenly I caught a glimpse of the writing.

And then I froze.

PART ONE

ONE

Monday, the eleventh of October 1965. I’m approaching the glass-doored entrance to the building for an interview at ten prompt. Wearing a shirt and tie for a start is a bit of a novelty, together with a suit an almost unheard-of experience. I’ve polished my shoes to perfection and brushed my teeth till they glow, all for a job that I think I might want. It definitely appeals to my interests. I think to myself; if this fails and I was better looking, I could turn my hand to modelling suits in a fashion mag.

After introducing myself at reception, an older woman appears from the lift and takes me up to what, if my counting is correct, the third floor. She knocks on a door to our right and I go in. There are three people on a panel; a personnel bod, a scientist and a technical advisor who introduce themselves as such, although the scientist seems to be the senior of the three. Funnily enough, the personnel chap was one and the same who I had spoken to a week earlier.

Amazingly, the interview started off swimmingly well.

‘Welcome, nice to meet you!’ said the scientist. ‘May I first of all clear up a slight problem due to an oversight on our behalf. When you were recently rejected for a temporary placement, the letter should have stated that you would be shortly considered for a permanent position when they come up. For some reason that was missing and hence the confusion. I do apologise.’

‘No problem!’ I respond, attempting to convince myself that I meant it. The next five minutes are spent trawling through my academic achievements. Geology attracted a fair bit of interest.

‘Can you tell us a bit about the local area?’ the scientist asks. I spend five minutes or so rambling on while the scientist chap nods away like a metronome. A few more questions more varied in nature about water I am able to answer more directly.

And then it all went swimmingly downhill when the personnel bod asked a question. Until that point, he had looked singularly disinterested in anything being discussed, almost as if he was an accessory and shouldn’t really have been there. This was comeback time.

‘What do you think you can offer the company should your application be successful?’

I felt like saying what sort of a daft question is that, but I guessed that if I had, the interview would have ended prematurely. And this is where panic set in. I tried not to look too blankly at him whilst racking my brains for inspiration and an answer.

‘Well have you any ideas?’ he quietly said.

‘I think so. Obviously, one cannot expect immediate results. Long term however, hopefully with training, learning and understanding the way the work is done, then maybe alternative solutions may be found that may be more productive in terms of resources and therefore income to the company.’

‘Can you be more precise about anything specific?’

‘I can’t because I’m not yet involved. Only when one does the job will one know. Bluntly, at present all I can do is turn up and be very willing to learn.’

If I hadn’t been looking directly at the scientist, I would have missed the fleeting smile that crossed his face. Personnel man had a few more questions to which I attempted answers, but how well I did only he knew. The scientist, I suspect, realised that I was sinking pretty fast and all I wanted to do was leave the room as quickly as possible.

‘One more question. The job will in all probability require fieldwork, mainly in this country, but there may be the odd occasion when working abroad is required. How do you feel about that?’

‘Sounds very interesting.’

Personnel man pops up again. ‘Can you drive and do you have your own car?’

‘Neither I’m afraid but I am learning. I hope to pass my test shortly.’

‘Well thank you for attending. Have you returned the information pack with your preferences for a section and, if appointed, when could you start?’

I looked rather blank again, this expression becoming more the norm as the interview progressed.

‘What information pack are you referring to?’

‘It should have been included with your interview letter.’

‘All I have is this letter,’ I said, withdrawing it from my inside jacket pocket and passing it across to the personnel bod. ‘That’s all I was sent.’

‘Well our apologies again. We seem to be failing badly here.’

‘Please bear with me,’ said personnel bod, whilst exchanging glances with the others on the panel.

‘No problems.’

An amicable silence descended on the three of us before he returned holding a brochure containing the information I needed. ‘Could you please return it completed as soon as possible but no later than the end of the week. If you could drop it in it would help.’

‘Sure.’

As I stood up to shake hands the scientist thanked me and as an afterthought added, ‘A very interesting and unusual interview.’

I just smiled weakly in return.

Having reached the reception area and deep in thought I hadn’t really noticed that I had followed a young woman out who held the door open for me. Tall, slim, attractive with shoulder length hair, I thanked her as she turned around.

‘Been for an interview then?’

‘Is it that obvious?’

‘How did it go?’

‘Don’t ask.’

‘That bad?’

‘Pretty awful, yes. I’ll have to rethink the strategy for another job.’

‘You never know you may have impressed them.’

‘I doubt that very much. Thanks anyhow.’ I watched as she turned towards the car park my eyes following a nice rhythmic swing from her hips, her glossy hair flowing like an ethereal mane as she turned her head.

The pub beckoned for a quick pint or more.

That evening at home over dinner Mum and Dad asked how things had gone.

‘In a couple of words, three to be precise, not very well.’ Dad looking rather alarmed asked, ‘Why?’

‘Well for starters, I should have been sent a folder of information about the company with my interview letter but that had been omitted. I also, based on that, should have already chosen my preferred working section, which I haven’t done. And then there was a jumped-up personnel twit who asked stupid questions.’

‘Richard,’ Mum spoke, ‘They are trying to find out more about you, not what you know.’

‘Mum, this idiot asked what I could bring to the company. I haven’t bloody started yet for Christ’s sake and I suggested as much.’

‘So, you are not very hopeful in a nutshell?’ Dad’s only other contribution.

‘Not really and do I really want a job there anyhow. Probably not after this.’

That night, sleep proved elusive. Lying in bed I just wondered how I had got myself into this mess, without it seemed really trying too hard. And what about other issues that needed to be looked at, those which affected my day to day existence. If anything, at this precise point in time, they were more important.

I suppose first off I should introduce myself. My name is Richard Marshall, in full Richard Alan Marshall. I was born in October 1947 and I am a couple of months short of nineteen years of age. I am a shade over six-foot-tall, of slim build with what I am told is a pleasant-looking face, an engaging smile, bright brown eyes and all capped by a mat of curly, straw-brown coloured hair. From my very early teenage years my name, well part of it anyhow, has bothered me. The Marshall bit I can do nothing about but my Christian name is altogether another matter. Why I was called Richard I haven’t a clue, maybe my parents had ideas of regality in mind. What they didn’t anticipate was the plethora of alternatives presented by the name; some offensive, others less so. From an early time, Dick came into the equation often prefixed with a small or big to highlight the degree of antipathy towards me. I agonised for a considerable period of time over what to do about this. Dick or any of its derivatives was rejected immediately for obvious reasons which left the simpler Rick, Riki, or indeed Richard. After much soul searching, I settled on Rick which I gradually was able to instil in my friends. People I meet from new I introduce myself to as that and gradually I have become universally known as such. My parents still call me by my given name even though I have tried to convince them otherwise.

I live on the periphery of a small town in west Kent called Deenbridge. The town itself is pretty unremarkable, really just one long high street with shops either side and a narrow bridge at the southern end over the river giving the town its name. My parents have lived there since they got married twenty-five years ago and we have a typical three bedroomed semi-detached house, one in a row of six to which a small conservatory has been added to the kitchen which overlooks a small rectangular shaped garden. Located as it is on the edge of town, we have extensive views from the front of the house, south over the adjacent fields and on towards the elevated ridge of Ashdown Forest in the distance. Mum works part-time in the pharmacy in town whilst Dad commutes to Tonbridge where he works as an engineer for the post office.

To complete the family I have a sister, Larissa, shortened by all to Lara, two and a something years older than me and known for obvious reasons as Sis. She was given that name after Dad read Boris Pasternak’s novel Dr Zhivago and had become so taken by the heroine that there was likely to be only one outcome should they have been blessed with having a daughter. She is average in height, slim, and I am told very attractive in an unusual way, whatever that might mean.

Family resemblances are evident when we are seen together, particularly in facial looks, eye and hair colour. At school she was, I was always told, hardworking and diligent and coupled with a flair for learning she did well academically. After leaving school she trained for and eventually became a staff nurse at Pembury Hospital where she works long and changeable hours. As kids growing up, we had very little in common and argued a lot although I don’t think that ever descended into physical confrontation. Later on through our teenage years we had the odd violent disagreement, but by and large, with time and age, these have tended to disappear and we now successfully tolerate one another. A series of boyfriends have come and gone. All, I believe from the environs of the hospital, none of which I have been particularly impressed with. Still I’m not the one doing the choosing am I!

The day my ‘A’ levels finished I and several of my classmates descended on the pub and spent a lot of the afternoon there until we got kicked out. It was a strange experience because I was totally free of everything, no restrictions or commitments to meet and the summer stretched out in front of me; a glorious thought. Of course, all this would come to a shuddering halt when my results came out. But even before I had finished at school and through the following summer Mum, and more particularly Dad, had suggested that I should be giving some thought to what I wanted to do, the word career was even mentioned. Surely, shouldn’t I be given time to enjoy myself free of such horrendous thoughts. I had only just finished exploring my mental limits and here I was already being tackled, albeit gently, about the future. I know it was kind of meant in the best of ways but it all the same grated on me. Why couldn’t I be left alone for a while to enjoy the fruits of what summer offered? And yet I knew in my heart of hearts that they were trying to help, no doubt based on their own experiences and what pitfalls lay ahead.

Plus, I had already discovered that there are always issues in life. One, more pressing in a way as I was a sporty type, was to try and keep fit and be able to maintain that level through the summer months. I had played a lot of football whilst at school and had been invited to have a trial with Deenbridge Town, the local senior team whose ground was down by the river. Soon after, I joined them and started to play regularly, often for the school in the morning and in the afternoon for them. Serious stuff requiring serious training usually commenced in earnest the first week of September, although most of the team would play knockabouts through the summer period just to keep fit. Training took place every Wednesday for two hours on an outdoor pitch with fairly rudimentary lighting which sometimes, for some inexplicable reason, would dim or go out completely. One of our team, an electrician, would then disappear to sort the problem out if he could. Training is then followed by a trip to the pub and a walk home, unless I can get a lift. There was, as far as I knew, no previous sporting ability recognised within my family so where mine came from will always remain a mystery. I have also been told that I have a good footballing brain, although exactly what that means I have no idea.

There were two other issues as well, one of which impinged on my life substantially. The other, well I hadn’t really started yet. My financial state always left a lot to be desired as I was constantly broke. Odd jobs I did never really paid much and even though I thought I had a pretty limited and inexpensive lifestyle, there was never enough to go around.

The other and most pressing issue was those rather alluring creatures called girls, otherwise known to me as the opposite sex. I suppose until my mid-teens they were just there. I noticed them and then forgot them but they never really went away. However, my maker was a clever bugger. Whilst he seemed to accept that I played a lot of football, went down the pub and left in various states of merriment and did a thousand other things, he had very cunningly programmed me to undertake one other very specific role. And that, unless I had a leaning which I didn’t think I had, would require some involvement with a member, or members, of the opposite sex. And so progressing through my teens, girls were there with increasing interest and occupied more of my thoughts than seemed rational at the time. I had already noticed that several students in my class had paired off, although if that led to anything, I didn’t have a clue. Various rumours abounded as to who was with whom. Me, well I hadn’t explored in any shape or form the other sex so I was stuffed.

Strangely though on Valentine’s Day this year, I had received a card through the post with a heart and an arrow through it from an admirer in the lower sixth. The writing was neat and straight. Now that year had three or four absolute crackers in it and if it was one of those then I would be riding off into the sunset guns blazing. Realistically, whenever I saw them, they were continually surrounded by enough admiring lads to fill a classroom, so these girls were unlikely to be dropping to my level.

Of course, Sis had a different take on all this by saying that whoever wrote the card would in all likelihood get a sister to write it for her to avoid the obvious, something that had never even occurred to me. And if I ever reached that position how do you ask a girl out. Apart from being a bundle of nerves, how do you start such a conversation. Are there any clues there that help, the way she looks at you, might she even help by making it fairly obvious? And then to make matters worse, supposing she says no thanks and rejects you. More than once I think that would probably finish me off for good, the end of the road before you properly start. To me a total minefield of utter confusion.

And then rather suddenly my results were due at the beginning of the next week.

TWO

Three ‘A’ levels all Grade B in scientific subjects was far better than even I, in my wildest dreams, had expected. I suppose therefore it was a natural progression for me to apply for a job at one of the town’s larger employers, a company called Envirotech.

They occupied a large three-storey complex to the north of the town and undertook environmentally based work, as I understood it, both for government and private concerns. You couldn’t miss the building either from the main road, which passed right outside, or from the railway which passed along one side on an embankment, because of the large white printing on each wall.

At seemingly random periods they would advertise for a number of what they termed introductory placements for a six-month period and if, after that, you were any good you would then be invited to interview for a permanent position when they became available. If you were deemed unsuitable you were axed. Clearly you would only apply if you had at the very least an interest in the work and therefore, I applied as soon as my exam results were through at the end of August.

I was surprised and annoyed when I applied for a placement position, which I was then rejected for. As far as I knew this was a first because I assumed the weeding out of the unsuitable element had already been done. This was a severe jolt to my world expectations and my ego, or what little of it was left, went into meltdown. I can understand how some people subjected to this regularly can find things spiralling out of control and go awol.

For a week or so I just drifted and only a pretty severe talking from Dad made me realise that this could not go on. It’s funny how certain events out of the blue are life changers. I was in limbo and thinking about what to do when a letter arrived asking if I was interested in applying for a job, believe it or not for the same company again.

I visited Envirotech and explained that I had already been rejected so what exactly was the point of the letter. The reception desk seemed stumped and I was asked to wait until a suited individual appeared and asked if I could join him upstairs. The letter, apparently, was an invitation to apply for a permanent post and so avoiding any initial placement posts. A phone call, a few days later, confirmed the interview date.

For four days I still had done nothing, the information pack on my bedside table reminded me of its presence but remained unopened. Interest was non-existent. I suppose reluctantly on Friday morning I realised that I should grow up and at least look at what was being offered. Opening the enclosing folder produced a strong whiff of beer and also memories of a very bad day. I guess one should have been deferential even conciliatory but the personnel guy had really annoyed me with his ridiculous questions.

A lesson learnt and never to be repeated. It was a shame that I hadn’t referred to the pack before the interview because I could have prepared using the information within. It went into some detail about the company, the various sections and what they did, salary structures and general working conditions. I suppose I justified it to myself that nothing ventured, nothing gained and decided to go for the Water Management section and delivered the return by hand that afternoon.

Tuesday of the following week a rather officious looking envelope arrived in the morning post which I had started to open without considering what it might have contained. Only when I saw the company heading did I go cold:

Dear Mr Marshall,

We are pleased to be able to offer you a position in the Water Management section starting next Monday. The attached sheet outlines your conditions of employment within the company…

Wow bloody wow. Part of the package was an enrolment for a degree course as well. I suppose starting a new job, even one’s first is a big thing, a change of lifestyle and the beginning of what one calls a career, ascending the slippery ladder before you stop, slide, are pushed or fall down again.

The following Monday week I entered the building just before eight thirty, spoke to reception and was told to go up to the first floor where my new section was based. It occupied about a third of the floor, largely open plan with dividers between the desks. I was met by the section head, Mr Brown, who was responsible for a staff of fifteen or so, covering every conceivable aspect of freshwater from its basic quality, to pollution control and advice on how to use it wisely as a resource.

He had his own office with walls of opaque glass. I had a desk in one corner overlooking the car park off to one side and the main road at the front. My colleagues, as I got to know them over the first week, were a friendly group six or so of similar age to me, the rest either slightly older or in their twilight years. Lunch, allowed an hour, could be taken at an in-house very ordinary cafeteria-cum-restaurant serving a limited range of hot food, which was good or a wide range of sandwiches.

It was here that I met one of my geology classmates having joined earlier on a placement and he introduced me to colleagues of his in the section he worked in, Land Quality, which occupied most of the floor above and with about fifteen members in the section.

I also renewed my acquaintance with Mark Holmes, who was the next level up in the same section, over lunch at the end of that week. We had had dealings together over football when I was at school as he was responsible for team selection and advancement. With him was Amanda, a member of his support staff and Alison, a technical specialist, both of whom he introduced me to. Halfway through lunch a fairly tall girl, age indeterminate, but anywhere I guessed from her very late teens, came in, quickly indicated Mark was needed and smiled at us as she left. She was also, I thought, the same girl who I had followed out after my interview.

‘Who’s that?’ I asked Mark.

‘That’s Melissa who works for me. She assesses data received from our investigations, but also helps when required in water quality fieldwork for your section now and again. Perversely her strengths are water quality orientated.’

‘I see. Sounds very interesting.’

‘Don’t get any ideas either Rick, she is hot stuff and has a lot of admirers, who, incidentally, include me.’

‘Just admirers?’

‘There are probably serious boyfriends as well. We are not sure and she doesn’t say. She is also untouchable.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘You’ll learn in time don’t worry.’

It became very clear very quickly that starting work would cause my social scene to change, although the extent of that I didn’t really appreciate until I sat down and thought about it. In fact, the more I thought about it, I realised just how catastrophic the change would be and it had come about already.

At school, even in the sixth form, there was an unwritten rule that you would attend where you could although with a little bit of flexibility written in. As soon as I started working, I realised from the moment I entered the building that you worked your contracted hours given no quarter and unless there had been a nearby earthquake, you were at your desk at the allotted time. I also soon learnt that you never left exactly on closing time, you gradually sauntered out when senior staff started moving.

Plus, I had further complications as I had been enrolled on a degree course with day release with two extra evenings a week at London University. The strange thing was this was part of the package I was offered, really a take it or leave it deal. Initially I thought this a great idea, a day off paid by the firm. But by now towards the end of the first term I was beginning to realise that this was going to be no stroll in the park on a summer evening. The two evening classes were the worst. But I could leave just before we stopped work, ensuring I arrived in London by the start of classes. Allied to this was the amount of extra work I had to put in to keep up, mainly at the weekend.

Into the mix I still wanted to play football and train midweek so really my only weekday evening free was Friday when I was so knackered, I stayed at home or went down the pub late. Of course, all this had a knock-on effect on seeing my group of old friends, six or seven of us who I had spent most of my spare time with and were largely all from school. We were, I think, a fairly tight-knit little group who got on very well with each other. Spare time involved socialising at pubs, going to the cinema if we could afford it and long walks to keep fit.

However, it became increasingly clear that as we went our separate ways keeping in contact was becoming more difficult, particularly so with my increasing involvement in socialising with my work colleagues. About a month or so at my new job, Mark Holmes casually asked if I was interested in joining him and some of his colleagues on a Friday evening after work, where they would spend a couple of hours in the Deen chewing the cud over work or anything else that took their fancy. Once a month that was extended to a meal in the small restaurant followed by a musical evening.

The first opportunity arose early December when Mark had asked the day before when, or if, I wanted to come. They met at six o’clock with a kitty supplying the cash for the drinks consumed. I arrived about twenty minutes after that and was introduced to those there.

I had met both Alison and Amanda previously who I knew worked for Mark. There was four other chaps who I guessed were older than me, speaking in a tongue that could have been Mongolian. I was introduced to each of them and then to a man named Craig who I was told was the boss. He was very friendly with a deep and broad Scottish accent. I learnt that he and his team had been drafted down south to help with some monitoring of trout populations in a large reservoir in west Kent where they were experiencing problems. They all hoped to be back in Scotland by Christmas. It took a while for me to feel easy with the dialect but after twenty minutes or so it was all virtually decipherable. For my naivety I never knew the firm had an outpost just outside of Glasgow serving as the Scottish office. ‘How many are based in Glasgow?’ I asked.

‘Well it’s near Loch Lomond really, we say Glasgow as everybody has heard of the city. To answer your question just under twenty-five.’

‘How long have you been there?’

‘Just under four years, the office opened I think three years before that. The trouble is we are very specialised in what we do there, mainly salmon and trout work and I have a feeling the firm are looking at reducing numbers, or possibly closure of the building. Where that might leave us, who knows.’

‘You wouldn’t come down south to live?’

‘I couldn’t stand it, so busy and there are no lochs or hills.’

‘We have the South Downs, what’s wrong with them?’

‘I’m talking about mountains not little hillocks that don’t get any snow except for the odd year.’

‘What would happen if push came to shove?’

‘I don’t really want to think about it. The trouble is I think the whole business is overstaffed. There are specialists hanging around that are hardly used, so what do they do when they ain’t working. Probably bugger all and costing a lot. By employing them, the firm offers a wide range of skills, but I wouldn’t mind reading the balance sheet at the end of the year and drawing my own conclusions. To answer your question, I suppose I would have to move, sod it, I don’t know.’

‘What about yourself?’

‘Water Management is where I belong, or have done for nearly two and a half months now.’

‘Is it ok?’

‘Well everything’s new and therefore interesting. It’s varied as well so too early to say.’

‘How do you know Mark?’

‘We played football together at school. He’s a couple of years older than me and now of course, we’re working together. Are these the usual numbers for an evening?’

‘Pretty much. The only notable absentee is Melissa who was off to some family do. Have you met her?’

‘Once I have spoken to her, that’s all.’

‘Well I can’t work her out. Cracking looking bit of stuff but reserved, almost icy at times. Polite but aloof.’

‘Maybe she can’t understand you.’

‘Hadn’t considered that I must admit. But the girls here tonight can and they speak the same lingo so it must be something else. She’s ok.’

That same evening, I spent a short while talking to Amanda as we moved places.

‘So how are you finding it?’ she asked, ‘The work that is.’

I had wondered whether I should have bought one of those new fancy tape machines and played a pre-recorded answer to that question. It would now have paid for itself.

‘Interesting I suppose, I would like to get out and do some site work.’

‘You might change your mind when it’s howling a gale and the rain is freezing and driving at you horizontally and you could be in here instead. It’s not all milk and honey rest assured. Even in the summer you only need a really wet day and you wonder about it all.’

‘Do you get involved in much site work anyhow? I thought you were more support stuff.’

‘That phrase can have a very elastic interpretation, believe you me. I am a Jack of all… sorry, Amanda of all trades, but a master of very few, probably none if truth were known. But I can, as a result, turn my hand to most with a degree of some idea. It works both ways.’

‘And of course, working for my friend, the boss, could you want for more.’

‘I won’t, no, I refuse to answer that question. For a start it will be incriminating.’

‘Not that bad surely.’

‘He is all right by and large. With drink, it’s another matter.’

Spending a little bit of time with her I realised she had quite a chirpy character. She had a beautifully modulated voice, very expressive when required to emphasise a point and she used her hands to help explain things. I suspected that she was intelligent and the job she had did not extend her capabilities to the fullest. Her line of questioning suggested as such, nothing direct, just carefully searching for answers. She was certainly not in the Melissa league of beauty, I suspect very few were, but there was something there that made you look twice. Tallish, slim with a rounded face, expressive brown eyes and a superb figure added to the effect.

I asked, ‘Where’s your colleague in crime tonight?’

‘Her parents are giving a party and has been told to attend, although I get the impression that was the last thing she wanted to do. That’s all I know.’

‘How do you find her, good to work with?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Well I don’t know her at all other than saying hello once. Any help?’

‘I see. Yes, she is very friendly by and large, certainly doesn’t suffer fools gladly and can be very direct.’

‘Not any harm in that though. Certainly stands out from the crowd that’s for sure.’

‘Haven’t you heard the saying that beauty is only skin deep. There’s more to her than just that.’

‘You’re defending her here aren’t you.’

‘I am because most of the blokes here look at her beauty and just, I don’t know, forget that underneath that she is a woman like all of us here. They all get swept away by her looks and forget the rest.’

‘No, I understand that. Does it annoy her?’

‘You bet it does. If you want to rile her just comment on her looks. You will soon find out.’

‘I will remember that, don’t worry.’

THREE

Having only been working there for little more than a couple of months, I thought I might give the work Christmas party a miss. I had nobody to go with, or even ask from my colleagues so I had largely abandoned the whole idea. I did even consider asking Sis but I wondered if that might give the wrong impression. It was only when a spare ticket was passed across my desk did I contemplate changing my mind. The other problem was that I knew that most of my colleagues had partners, either in the form of wives or girlfriends. To add further to my discomfort the Scottish lot had already left for home so if everybody from the section came there would probably be less than twenty and I would stand out like Billy no-mates. But the ticket was free.

The party was held in the local school hall, a palatial, mainly glass-built structure, with a low brick-built wall supporting the whole thing. I knew it well as I had spent my junior years there before moving on and I remembered the school with fondness and many happy memories.

As I entered, it felt like going back in time. In fact, all eight or so years of it. I could still vividly remember the day I left and passed through the barred gate onto the road for the last time. The location of all the classrooms and their relationship to one another came readily to mind as did my class teacher, Mrs Groves, who as I passed my own classroom I could still imagine being there, turning and looking at the class and smiling.

The hall had been decked out with a vast array of Christmas decorations with a huge star on the far wall. Tables were arranged around the outside near the wall, each with a glowing candle. At the far end on the stage a band was up and running belting out a string of tunes, some pop, some more classical with couples dancing in the centre. A side room adjacent to the stage acted as the bar for drinks.

I had been told that each section would generally try and secure a couple of tables as a base before possibly mixing afterwards and it took me almost a circuit before I found ours.

As I anticipated, most of my colleagues were there with their other halves in whichever guise they came. In fact, Craig from the Scottish contingent was around which surprised me as I thought he had left for the wilds of Scotland, but his girlfriend was working in London and she hoped to come sometime during the evening. There were three of us as singles, me, Roger and Andy and we tended to spend the time, initially at least, just chatting over a pint and looking at what was around, mainly the female element of the staff. The trouble was I soon got bored because I knew that I would probably drink more than I should if I just sat there.

I would have enjoyed a dance but there was nobody around to ask within the section. Over on the other side, Land Quality had what looked like three tables as I picked out Mark, Amanda, Alison and possibly Melissa with a tall and rather suave companion.

‘That’s Melissa is it?’ I asked. ‘And with whom. Do you know?’

‘It’s Melissa for sure,’ answered Andy. ‘Certainly doesn’t work here. Probably her upmarket boyfriend.’

‘Upmarket?’

‘Comes from a wealthy background that’s why.’

‘Is she not popular with everybody?’

‘She’s fine generally but sometimes, I don’t know, aloof.’

‘She works for us at times, doesn’t she?’

‘Now and again. She’s been away for a month on some project in the West Country. Don’t start getting any ideas Rick anyhow, she’s way above our little station in life. Access will require a fast car, probably a sports model of some description, a large bank balance and a lifestyle to match. Her bloke looks fairly posh too. I tell you what we’ll have a little bet that you won’t this evening have a dance with her, a shilling either way. In fact, we will ask around and see who might like to join in.’

‘No, if I ask her and have a dance with her then you owe me a bob each. Agreed?’

‘Well, keep it to the four of us then.’

I wandered over to where they were gathered, greeting Mark as I did so.

‘Hi Rick, you came after all. The other day when I asked you said it was unlikely.’

‘Well Thursday I acquired a ticket free of charge so I thought why not.’

‘Do you know everybody here?’

‘Most I’ve met and spoken to,’ I said, looking around and smiling at everybody.

‘What do you think of the party? They seem to put on a good display.’ There was a slight slur in his voice at times, otherwise it seemed normal.

‘Yes, it’s very good and the beers are good as well,’ I answered.

‘Do you dance at all?’ queried Mark.

‘Well I haven’t got anybody to dance with for a start, we are womanless over there. The best I can do is Andy and I don’t think he is any good.’

‘Right Amanda, here’s your chance, ask Rick. Amanda is desperate for one… a dance that is.’

I turned towards her. With such a blunt and crass invitation, I could see Amanda rapidly colouring with embarrassment.

‘Well can I ask you for one please?’

With that she stepped forward, reached for my hand and I led her on to the floor.

‘Sorry about the introduction.’

‘Well Mark is getting drunk and manners go out the window when he is like this, I’m afraid.’

And so, for the next four minutes or so we waltzed around the floor chatting about anything and everything until the music stopped and we returned to a rather bleary-eyed Mark, I think aware now of his initial error. Amanda was a good dancer with a figure that looked inviting and very interesting. Her eyes I suspect missed nothing, accompanied with a lovely natural smile to melt me away.

As we returned to her table, I happened to notice that I was being carefully watched, even scrutinised, by Melissa, sitting next to the rather well-groomed guy whom we had noticed earlier. What made me do it I will never know. Buoyed up with a pint and with a nothing to lose, everything to gain mentality, I approached Melissa.

Looking at her I said, ‘Can I invite you for a dance if you would like to?’

The next moment she was standing right beside me with a rather self-conscious smile on her face.

‘I didn’t expect this,’ she said, waiting for the music to start.

‘You’re not alone, neither did I, rest assured.’

‘So why did you then, ask me for a dance?’

I decided not to mention the bet.

‘No reason really. You were there so I asked.’

‘Am I to call you Rick or Richard or anything else?’

‘Rick will do fine. I hope your boyfriend doesn’t mind. I thought he might be jumping up and down by now.’

‘Well for a start that’s for me to worry about.’

‘I hope you’re right. He looks like a fairly well-built chap to me.’

‘Don’t worry I can handle him.’

I took her hand, long slim fingers grasping mine as we moved away for our dance. I knew she was a good dancer as I had seen her earlier moving around the floor with effortless ease. And so it proved as we started a waltz, well balanced with her feet following mine and well-coordinated.

‘So contrary to what you thought, you got the job. You must have impressed somebody.’

‘Luck probably.’

‘Believe you me nothing is based on luck regarding interviews. You also seem very confident in what you do,’ she said as we danced.

‘The truth is very different if you want to know. It’s an illusion really. For the dancing bit you either can or cannot and providing you know the steps and movements then that’s all required. I don’t know how I got the courage to ask you for a dance.’

‘Why?’

‘Well you might have refused for a start making me feel like a right idiot in front of everyone.’

‘That would have been rude and I wanted to anyway.’

‘Right, I wish I had known that.’

‘That’s the chance you take.’

As we danced I started to take notice, as best I could, of details about her. She was fairly tall as in heels the top of her head reached to my nose and most of the time, I was surrounded by a heady waft of hair spray, or whatever else had been used. Her hair was a gorgeous silky light brown in colour and reached the top of her shoulders where it curled up. My inspection was interrupted by her speaking.

‘Do you like working for the company?’

‘Yes, it’s all right. It’s too soon to say until I’m more into it. I think after Christmas I am involved in some fieldwork, which I’m looking forward to. Give me another six months and I will have a better idea.’

The music had just stopped as we reached this point and we started to move back towards her table when out of the blue she halted and said, ‘Shall we have another dance?’

‘Sure, if you wish.’

‘You might like to know I have, for the first time, broken one of my golden rules.’

‘What, in the asking?’

‘Yes. I have always believed that I should be asked. I might try and make it obvious that I want to, but that’s all.’

‘I feel quite honoured. You didn’t make it obvious, did you? If so, I’m missing something.’

‘No, I didn’t at all. I just thought, why not?’

It was clear that the band was having a short break so we stood together and talked.

‘On reflection I must seem like an interloper barging in on your little group, the young kid on the block causing problems.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Look, how many dances have you had so far?’

‘Six, maybe seven at most.’

‘And who have they been with?’

‘Well, Guy, who I brought along, Mark, Ronnie, and a couple of the others.’

‘And where are they all from?’

‘Apart from Guy who’s a friend, yes I see what you mean, they are all from my section.’

‘I was told that this was how it always happens. There is very little mixing, it’s as if you’re guarded and the property of the group. I was lucky as Mark in his unfit state gave me, unintentionally, the opportunity to ask Amanda.’

‘You didn’t really have to ask did you, she was just offered and I wouldn’t mind betting that she gave Mark one hell of a rollicking. I would have gone completely ape.’

‘And then you followed so it was straightforward. I had access. Mind you a few questions might be asked later.’

‘Does that bother you?’

‘In a way, yes. Look, I’m bottom of the pile here, the lowest of the low just above floor level. I suspect there is, for the want of a better word or words, an understanding of what is and what isn’t acceptable and I’ve broken every rule in the book. You can imagine words spoken can’t you, who is he, who the hell does he think he is and probably more? That’s why.’

‘Would you rather not have another dance? I’ve rather forced your hand haven’t I.’

‘No, no problems. I want to.’

Just then the band started up and drawing her to me, we had our last dance together. We said nothing to one another just enjoying what the music offered. Once I looked down and met her glance, a neutral look on her face. At the end, as we drew apart she said with a slight smile, ‘Amanda had told me you were interesting to talk to and very different. I can now see why on both accounts.’

‘Thanks for the dance.’

Arriving back I said, ‘You lot owe me six bob.’

‘Why?’

‘I had two dances with her. Double the stakes.’

‘That’s not what we agreed.’

‘It is now.’

And it got even stranger when towards the end of the evening they had a girls’ invitational dance. I’m not sure whether the embarrassment levels increase a notch or two for both the individuals involved. I was quite happily talking to my colleagues when Melissa seemed to appear out of nowhere and asked me to join her.

‘Well this is a surprise again,’ as I stood up and linked hands.

‘I want to really see how good a dancer you are. A medley of Latin American dances is next up so can you cope?’

‘Ok. I’ll try my best. Might be a bit rusty.’

‘Well I’m on a bet that you’re probably the best here, so don’t let me down.’

‘Puts me under a lot of stress. What sort of bet anyhow?’

‘Amanda reckons that Guy, who I brought along, is a good dancer. I reckon you’re better.’

‘No pressure then!’

‘Who decides the outcome?’

‘The group around the table are judging.’

‘You sure this is wise?’ I said as the first bars of a samba struck up.

‘Oh yes. Too late now anyhow.’

For the next five minutes or so we moved across the floor mainly in a coordinated fashion, getting better as the dancing progressed. She was a very impressive dancer indeed with, as I already knew, a good natural rhythm and balance and followed in step all the time even in the more difficult moves. I once caught her eye before she looked away towards the end, just before the music stopped.

‘How did I do then?’ I asked as we stopped dancing, still linking hands.

‘Initially nine out of ten. Towards the end, top marks.’

‘Thank goodness for that. To return the compliment, where did you learn to dance?’

‘Mid-teens Mum took me off to a dancing school in London somewhere. Went every week for six months or so. Reckoned it was socially a good thing to be able to do.’

‘Well it paid off didn’t it.’

‘That’s where I met Guy and that’s why we came together.’

‘Is he your boyfriend then?’

‘You’re nosy.’

‘I didn’t mean to be, rest assured.’

‘No, he is just a friend who I bring along. My boyfriend wouldn’t be seen dead at something like this. It’s not his scene anyhow plus his days are numbered.’

‘Why? I know I’m being nosy before you say anything.’

She looked up, a very quizzical look on her face.

‘Very nosy in fact. He just is. He’s run his course.’

‘Has he any idea of his fate?’

‘I think he knows. Anyhow, there might be more interesting and appealing alternatives available soon. Let’s find out how we did, shall we?’

The Tuesday after I joined Mark for lunch in the restaurant sitting there on his own having arrived just before me.

‘Enjoy the party?’ he asked.

‘Yes it was ok, good beer and well organised.’

‘You created quite a stir.’

Not letting on, I said, ‘Why?’

‘Well for starters Amanda thinks you’re interesting and cute which in my book means you’re not really a man’s man, really just a second-rate wimp.’

‘Thanks a lot. How do you know this?’

‘Her and Melissa, they were talking about the party and your name was mentioned as I arrived.’

‘What’s that about Rick?’ I asked. ‘Both said nothing and then Amanda piped up with what I have just told you when we were on our own. Actually, you can take that as a compliment because she is very picky over her choice of men, believe you me. Also, I’ve got to keep in her good books because she gave me a right mouthful after I suggested she have a dance with you. Thanks for obliging. I also thought Melissa was going to wade in as well in support of her, but she didn’t. Talking of which, you really pushed your luck with Melissa asking her for a dance.’

‘Why?’

‘Well if Amanda is picky Melissa is a couple of stages above that in her likes and dislikes. I just couldn’t believe what you did in front of everybody. What made you do it?’

‘Well she was not doing anything so why not. She didn’t say no did she.’

‘We were all gobsmacked by your audacity. What was all the talking about when the band stopped for a few minutes?’

‘Well, when we had finished the first dance and were just about to walk back to your tables she asked if we could have another dance together.’

‘Hang on. She invited you for another dance after the first one?’

‘Yes, except we didn’t realise that there would be a short break so we started talking until the next dance.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘Why all the questioning, surely that’s between her and me. As it happens nothing of importance. She said I was a very confident dancer and I explained that it doesn’t amount to very much provided you know the steps.’

‘Look maybe I’m missing something here. She never asks; it’s one of her golden rules.’

‘Yes, she admitted that, I felt quite honoured in fact.’

‘Amazing. Rick there is something however that you ought to know.’

‘Sounds ominous.’

‘You do know that each section is effectively run by a director and that for Land Quality is a Dr Paul Hargreaves.’

‘No I didn’t.’

‘Do you know Melissa’s surname?’

‘No.’

‘Well it so happens to be Hargreaves.’

‘This isn’t a coincidence is it?’

‘No.’

‘Oh shit. I’ve rather put my big foot in it and made a fool of myself, haven’t I?

‘Questions were asked rest assured, but put it down to experience. Just don’t make the same mistake again.’

‘I won’t, don’t worry. Hence Amanda’s untouchable title?’

‘Yes. Anyhow it would seem you have a potential admirer in Amanda, a lot less risky a proposition with no connections.’

‘No way! I had a friend who went out with a work colleague from the same section once. When it fell apart the problems really started at work and in the end he had to leave. There were two distinct camps one for her and one for him and it got quite tasty in the end. I will remain exceptionally cute and totally unattached.’

The Christmas period was largely an at home affair although Christmas Eve was spent down the pub until closing time with, unusually, some old friends from school. The day itself was as usual fairly predictable with a lovely turkey, which Mum had prepared together with the trimmings for dinner; presents exchanged during the afternoon and then one or other of us falling asleep. It was good also because Sis had the whole period off for the first time in a long while and didn’t have to go back until early in the New Year.

On Boxing Day, we all travelled over to Mum’s younger sister Jenny and her husband John who live in Sevenoaks in what I called a posh house on a private road. Carol, Mum’s eldest sister had been invited up from Cornwall to stay with them so it was a really good get-together. I had always wondered what the three sisters felt about what life had each given them. Carol had lost her husband fairly early on in life and ran a small bed-and-breakfast place in St Ives, near the western tip of Cornwall. She had never remarried and seemed happy with her lot although from what she said it was hard work during the season. Jenny on the other hand struck it rich from the word go with her husband, who had his own business in marketing, although exactly what I had never really understood. Time for a family had never materialised although whether that was due to their wish not to have one, or their inability to achieve that I never knew. Whatever, they lived a life full of social engagements, continental holidays and a holiday place somewhere in France to which we as a family had never been invited. And then Rachel, Mum to me and the middle of the three siblings. I had always thought that she had probably had the best deal of the lot. Mum had been, as far as I knew, happily married to Dad and had the two of us who thought the world of them both. But I often wondered whether Dad had been, in a way, not ambitious enough to meet her aspirations. She loved him with all her heart and the family to boot but I sensed when we visited Jenny’s she realised what could have been if he had been more motivated. At the same time, he has provided for us all as we grew up and we lacked for nothing. But did a lot of material things and a big house mean success and happiness?

John, when I saw him a couple of times a year, was sociable and liked a tipple; mainly gin or whisky. Dad who hardly drank at all, if offered one would tend to gulp it down and then drift off which was pretty embarrassing to all of us. I got the impression that Sis had very little time for both of them sensing a falseness, a pretentious air of