183 Times a Year (19 page)

Simon raises his eyes in mock disapproval. ‘You're really going for that dowdy librarian look then?' He looks me up and down and I recoil a little, not really sure whether to laugh or feel offended.

Well, you heard what Cassie thinks of your fashion sense – that's right, you have none!

I pull my red and grey striped jumper over my head and smooth it across my grey fitted trousers, before slipping on every librarian's basic requirement, sensible shoes.

‘Smart casual,' I say defensively, smoothing my hands across my thighs, as I turn from left to right, slowly moving both hands across my reasonably flat stomach.

Simon comes up behind me envelopes me in his strong arms.

‘You look great babe,' he says, kissing the top of my head.
I
turn and wrap my arms around his neck, and smile. We rub noses.

‘So, what's happening with Cassie today?' he suddenly asks. ‘What do you mean?' I reply somewhat confused.

‘Well, it's been a few weeks now since she finished school. She starts sixth form in September which actually means fewer subjects to study which equates to more time …'

‘And?' I ask, pretty sure I know where this is going.

‘Well, isn't it about time Cassie got herself a part time job? You know, so she can help out a bit, buy a few of her own things? Money is a bit tight at the moment. Besides, the work experience will do her good.'

My good mood has swiftly disappeared. And not because I disagree with a word Simon has just said but because of the hypocrisy of those words.

Here we go again
.

As a blended family (
who the hell came up with that ridiculous label anyway – sounds like one of those bloody coffee adverts?
) we're still on a learning curve. The boundaries for the kids are discussed, agreed and set, and then moved, usually by Simon and often without my knowledge.

‘Oh I see,' I snap. ‘You mean you don't want Cassie swanning around doing sod all for the summer like your daughter did last year? The same daughter that freeloaded and contributed nothing? The very one who started college for a couple of months only to drop out without telling us? The one that
I,
me,' I emphasise with a raised finger and raised voice, ‘had to threaten with the withdrawal of all privileges and any financial help until she started to look for work with barely any back-up from you.'

Simon frowns defensively. ‘I did back you up. When I could. I can't help it that I work away a lot.'

‘Yes! Leaving me to do all the disciplining on issues
we've
agreed
on. Only to find because Maisy, or Cassie for that matter, have phoned you in floods of tears,
you
change the bloody rules.'

He smiles a wry smile, as if I've just given him a compliment, which only serves to infuriate me more. ‘You do realise Maisy blames me for everything?' I yell. ‘And I mean, everything!' I cross my arms defiantly.

‘Yeah, well, she's been a bit lost,' Simon replies.

‘Ohhhhhhh okay,' I hiss, feeling the anger rise within me. ‘Your daughter is permitted to, to, just drift, because bless her, she's a bit lost but my daughter has to knuckle down does she?'

It isn't what Simon means and I know it but I'm really pissed off now.

Simon wears an expression of irritation. ‘Keep your voice down please,' he hisses back at me.

‘Why?' I snap, ‘so the kids don't hear what an absolute prick you are? Well perhaps they should hear what you've got to say eh? See the other side of good old Simon?'

‘No,' he replies through gritted teeth, ‘it's just we always said if we had any problems with the kids we'd talk about it – together – and agree a solution – together. Maisy did, if you remember, try and get some work, eventually, after some persuasion.'

I shoot him a look that screams disbelief. ‘There is no problem with
my
daughter,' I reply, ‘and persuasion you call it? It was a huge kick up the backside, mainly from me,' I reply, jabbing my finger hard into my chest.

Ouch, don't be so rough!

‘Meeeeeeee,' I repeat, ‘you know, the big bad step-monster!!!!'

‘Look,' Simon replies clearly exasperated, ‘you've got me all wrong. This has all come out … well … wrong. It's just that well …'

‘Well? What?'

Simon sighs heavily. ‘I dunno. It just seemed easier to give in
to
Maisy sometimes than deal with her moods.'

‘Oh, okay! You mean the moods I deal with on a daily basis because you're not here most of the time?'

‘Fair enough,' he replies attempting a laugh until he sees my stony expression. ‘I'm not laughing,' I say chastising him in the same way I so often do the school children that visit the library and think it's fun to throw the books around.

There's an awkward silence between us both before Simon eventually breaks it. ‘Look,' he says, slightly deflated. ‘I just don't think it's a good idea for Cassie to mooch around the house all summer is all I'm saying.' He attempts to put his arm around me but I shrug it off.

‘Then you tell Cassie,' I say, struggling to keep my voice down. ‘I'm sick to death of playing the bad cop and you always coming across as the good cop all the time. You stay at home and deal with the fall out and I'll piss off for a change.' Simon looks hurt but I'm too angry to care right now. ‘I'm late for work, I have to go.'

Simon's face hardens. ‘Yeah, well, don't forget it's my works do tonight.' His response is palpable and now equally cold. He throws several notes of mixed currency on the bed. ‘And for god's sake,' he continues, looking me up and down again. ‘Get yourself something decent to wear will you.' Then with a slam of the bedroom door he's gone.

Arrggghh!!! Self-righteous bastard.

I grab the money, throw my jacket on and leave the house in the same manner as everyone else, with a SLAM of the door.

I'm seething and muttering madly to myself all the way to work. I stab a text message on my phone to Ruby.

Can
you meet me at lunch today? Urgently need to buy something new for this stupid do tonight? Xxxx

I've got a good bloody mind not to bother.

How dare he? And going on about Cassie like that; one bloody rule for his daughter, a complete bloody nother for mine. He's right though, you know that? It's not good for Cassie to be mooching around day after day.

‘I know, I know,' I say out loud.

I don't know what happened at that party Cassie went to but she hasn't been the same since? Hasn't left the house, hasn't seen Chelsea, or Pheebs for that matter?

And that Joe boy hasn't been round anymore.

Maybe you scared him off
?

‘Maybe,' I say bumping into a woman in the street.

‘Yes?' she replies, stopping and looking at me, slightly confused.

‘I'm sorry, what?' I ask her.

‘Mary,' she says, ‘you just said my name – Mary – but I don't think I know you?' She looks at me suspiciously.

‘Did I?'

You really must stop talking to yourself out loud.

‘First sign of madness!'

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘What no,' I reply, ‘not you. I was talking to myself out loud.'

I try and explain that I actually said
maybe,
not
Mary
. The woman continues to look at me warily before shaking her head and moving on.

Oh well.

I cross the road and head for the library. Once inside I swipe my security card at the door marked “staff only” and let myself into the staff room, proceeding straight to my locker to put my bag away. Joan is in, quietly sipping a cup of tea, attempting to
read.
She looks at me, smiles and nods her head towards Raj, who is pacing the long thin room like a rabid dog. Joan raises her eyes, her expression one of resigned exasperation.

Raj looks at me. ‘Has you heard?' he says.

‘Heard what?'

‘They're bloody bastards innit.'

‘Who are?'

Raj thrusts an angry finger upwards. ‘They are innit. They're doing it again, another bloody restructure.'

My heart sinks. Not another one. ‘How do you know?'

‘We got a meeting today innit, at 12 and let's just say a little bird from the HR Office. Actually she's a bit of a big birdie.' Raj winks at me. ‘Fond of cake, if yoos get my drift? Anyway, yeah, she said there's a meeting planned.'

There is indeed a meeting at 12pm and it takes place upstairs in the unfinished Shark Aquarium above the library. The very same aquarium that some bright spark had the idea for in the first place and the council budget actually approved. The same budget used to erode and continually hack away at what little library service we have left, including its hacked off employees. The objective of building such an exhibit was to bring something new and exciting to the city – apparently. Thousands of pounds were found and spent before the logistics of an inner city Shark Aquarium – above a library – were properly considered. The idea was thus abandoned part way through construction and we are now left with a half completed room of glass devoid of any and all aquatic life. All our meetings now take place in this eerily strange and sharkless wall-to-wall chamber of glass while the rest of the time the Council tries to rent it out as a Function Room.

Our
irksome MD delivers, yet again, another artificially heartfelt speech. His voice is loud and full of conviction but the content of his speech is purposefully vague. The council have asked for savings without reducing the library opening hours. The savings will, yet again, come in the form of a reduction of posts, five in this instance. We are asked once again; to study the new timetables and indicate which roles we would like to be considered for. They have however, we're told we'll be pleased to know, managed to create a couple of posts with zero hour contracts.

Why for one moment does this buffoon of a man think this news is pleasing? Whom exactly does it please? It certainly isn't those of us who have partners who already work in unstable industries. It certainly isn't the mortgage or credit companies or even those wishing to rent a property.

To say the mood amongst all is sombre would perhaps be an understatement. Raj is incensed and voices his anger back in the staff room.

‘What,' he says, slapping the back of one hand onto the palm of his other, ‘is wrong with wanting decent, secure employment?' Mumbles of empathy with his statement ricochet across the staff room walls.

Raj raises is hands questioningly, too furious to sit, prowling amongst us, restless, looking for solace but finding none amongst his workmates today.

‘Arrggghh man,' he says, anger permeating his every pore, ‘this aint right. We need to fight or somink innit.' He pauses for a moment; the low disposition among the library collective has now plunged to new depths. I personally welcome this hiatus and judging by the faces of my colleagues, so do they. No one disagrees with Raj but his angry, passionate words are merely rubbing salt into a very raw, open wound.

‘Cornish pasty anyone?' Trevor says attempting to bring a
semblance
of normality back to the rundown staffroom and it's equally dejected occupants. ‘They're homemade,' he begins to say before Raj cuts him off.

‘And…' O
h god he's off again
. ‘Don't even get me started on these zero hour contracts,' he continues, ‘and yoos all know I'm right.'

I look at my watch. I need to meet Ruby in five minutes. Raj is in his stride, rallying support among his oppressed work colleagues. Slipping away isn't going to be easy.

‘You know what those contracts encourage?' Raj continues, his ranting becoming more animated by the minute. ‘I'll tell yoos,' he persists, waving his right index finger at no-one in particular. I can hear the inward sighs of everyone willing him to stop, and yet at the same time, compelled to listen to this angry young man. ‘It means a disposable, throwaway workforce. This is the future of the yoof of today innit. And that's exactly where they want us, cap in hand, subservient and grateful. Master and servant eh? Master and servant.'