Civvy Street (23 page)

He returned to the budget cuts and resisted the temptation to scrawl ‘You’ll be sorry’ across the proposals. Instead he began to work out a way of explaining to these morons, in words of one syllable, what
could
not be cut, what
should
not be cut and what, if it
were
cut, they might just conceivably get away with. He beavered away at the document, trying to implement as much damage limitation as was humanly possible, given the financial constraints.

The phone on his desk rang. ‘Rob here. Can you come and see me?’

Mike looked across the office to Rob’s workstation and hoped he was masking the feelings on his face. The git couldn’t even be bothered to walk across the floor and make the request. ‘Sure. I’ll be over right away.’

At least the summons spared him from working on the finances for a few minutes. He hit the save button. He knew it would be just his luck, if he didn’t, that something would happen and he’d lose the lot. He pushed his chair back and wandered over to Rob’s corner of the office. Shit, he was getting as bad as his co-workers; he should be walking with a purpose, not loafing across like some idle teenager. He lengthened his stride for the last few paces.

‘Rob, what can I do for you?’ It irked him that this twenty-something oik was his boss but Mike was savvy enough to keep that thought hidden too. In fact, the space where he kept his views about the local government offices and his colleagues hidden was getting incredibly crammed.

‘Um... let’s go somewhere more private, shall we?’

At the far end of the big workspace were a couple of private offices for interviews or small meetings. They made their way between the desks to one of them while Mike wondered what the hell Rob had to say to him that ought not be overheard.

Rob shut the door behind them and then turned to face Mike. No ‘have a seat’, he noticed. He felt a faint flicker of apprehension.

‘I’ve had a complaint,’ said Rob.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, what now? ‘Oh, really? I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘You are not in the army now and you can’t just order people around.’

‘I understand but, with all due respect, Rob, I don’t think I do. I am very careful to ask people nicely... say please and thank you.’ He stopped himself from adding, ‘that sort of crap.’

‘It’s your tone.’

‘My
what
?’

‘You see – you’re doing it to me.’

Mike paused for just a beat before he spoke. ‘I am really sorry, Rob,’ he lied. ‘Old habits. I’ll try and do better.’

Rob put his hand on Mike’s shoulder. Mike resisted the urge to shrug it off. Who was this little turd who thought he could be all chummy-chummy?

‘We are all one big, happy team here,’ said Rob. ‘And I know we’re a fair distance from the sea but we don’t want anyone rocking the boat.’ He laughed.

Pathetic, thought Mike.

‘And your brusque tone and rather demanding style is rather alarming to some of the workers – especially the women. The women in the office are our equals, we’re
all
equals and we must respect all the views, genders, ethnicities. I’m sure you understand that, Mike.’

He did, only too well. God, this lot needed to man up. Only he suspected that was yet another phrase he wouldn’t be allowed to say. Too gender-specific, probably.

‘Of course, Rob.’

Rob removed his hand and stared intently into Mike’s eyes. Oh God, he was going to get all caring now. Mike wanted to gag.

‘Thank you, Mike. I really respect the effort you are making to integrate with our team.’

‘No,’ said Mike, ‘thank you for pointing out
my
errors.’ God, his own hypocrisy made him want to vomit.

Rob opened the door and Mike went back to his desk. He glanced at the clock. Twelve thirty. He grabbed his sandwiches from his briefcase and made his way to the lift. It was nice enough to go and sit by the river to eat his lunch today. Besides, even if it hadn’t been he needed to get out of the office before his feelings escaped. He could feel them writhing around inside him like the eponymous Alien and sooner or later they were going to bust out of him and rampage round the office uncontrollably. Jeez, if he heard any more of that politically-correct-caring-blue-sky-thinking-low-hanging-fruit-one-hundred-and-ten-per-cent-outside-the-envelope-buzzword bollocks he might be very tempted to punch someone.

He passed the Red Lion just as a burst of laughter and a waft of beer came out of the open door. He looked at his sandwiches. They’d slip down so much better after a pint. Just one wouldn’t hurt – and he
so
needed it today.

*

Susie was making supper when he got back. He really had only had ‘just the one’ but he still muttered something about ‘needing a slash’ when he got in rather than kissing her. He dashed up to the bathroom where he had a quick swill of mouthwash – just in case – as he took a leak, before returning downstairs. He could hear the twins chatting in Ella’s bedroom as he clattered back to the kitchen.

‘Good day?’ he asked casually as he pulled out a chair and sat at the table.

‘Fine, thanks,’ she replied as she half-filled a saucepan with water. ‘You know, it’s so nice still seeing the old friends. Maddy was in the office again today about the Ladies’ Guest Night and we had such a lovely chat. It was great to catch up on all the gossip from the patch and hear what’s going on in B Company. How about you?’

She had her back to Mike and didn’t see the look of anguish on his face. He longed to be back in his old environment, where it was all safe, he knew his place in the scheme of things and he was respected.

‘Oh, you know...’ Actually, I had a patronising interview with a bloke who is my boss but I wouldn’t have had as an unpaid acting lance-corporal, I was juggling figures that now make no sense because if the balloon
does
go up around here, fuck knows how we’ll cope and I fell off the wagon
again
at lunchtime. ‘Fine.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Want a cuppa?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ said Susie. Mike stood up and went over to the counter where he plugged in the kettle. ‘The girls are still mutinying about Winterspring.’

Mike sighed. He didn’t need any more problems. ‘What’s their gripe now?’

‘Same old,’ said Susie. ‘They don’t like the other kids, they don’t like the tutors, the lessons are boring, breaks are awful because no one wants to be their friends...’ She sighed. ‘I think most of it stems from them being split up. Do you think we ought to ring the school and tell them they’re wrong? Ask them to put them together?’

‘Look,’ said Mike, ‘if we stir up a shit-storm we’ll probably make things even harder for them. They’ll get used to it.’

‘You think?’

‘Eventually.’

The two stared at each other.

‘I hate this,’ said Susie, ‘the girls being miserable. It’s breaking my heart.’

Mike nodded. And it was all his fault. If he hadn’t been made redundant none of this would have happened. ‘It’ll get better, it will.’ He had to hope so, because it was desperate as it stood.

Susie raised an eyebrow. ‘And they’re not yet at the stroppy-teenager stage. Getting there but not fully fledged. Can you imagine what they’ll be like when they are?’

They stopped talking as they heard the twins thumping down the stairs; not that the twins were ‘thumping’ per se but in this house the thin walls made any noise echo and reverberate. Mike sighed as he poured boiling water into a mug and chucked a tea bag in on top. He took his drink to the table and sat down.

They slouched into the kitchen.

‘Darlings, do stand up straight,’ said Susie.

Ella gave her a withering look. ‘Why? No one gives a shit at school about that crap.’

‘Yeah,’ added Katie with a sneer, ‘we’re not
young ladies
any more.’

‘Don’t talk to your mother like that,’ said Mike. Maybe he did raise his voice a little more than he meant to, was more brusque than he intended but he’d had a shit day too.

‘Or what?’ said Ella.

The last straw. ‘Or I’ll take your mobiles off you and ground you,’ he roared. ‘I will
not
be spoken to like that. Understand?’

Ella gave her father a look of loathing. ‘God, I hate you.’ She stormed out of the room.

Katie followed but stopped at the door. ‘Even Mummy thinks you’re crap,’ she flung at him. ‘She says you’re just OIC sandbags – I mean, how rubbish is that?’ Then she flounced out of the door, slamming it hard behind her.

The silence that followed was ghastly and it seemed to drag on for ages as Mike waited for an apology from Susie, or an explanation, anything. He stared at her back view, willing her to say that Katie was being spiteful, that she’d made it up, but nothing. Silence. Eventually he pushed his half-made mug of tea away from him and stood up. ‘I see.’

Susie spun round. ‘Darling... I never meant... I mean...’ She slumped against the counter. ‘Oh God.’

‘Even you think I’m a waste of space, a loser,’ he said quietly.

‘No, no I don’t. I never have.’

‘Really?’ He gave her a long stare before he walked out of the kitchen. Five seconds later she heard the front door slam and the car engine rev. She thought about running after him but knew it was useless. By the time she got to the front door he’d have gone. Miserably she sat in the kitchen and wondered what she’d done to deserve this utter, total, downturn in her life.

Several minutes later she turned the gas off on the stove, abandoned preparing a meal and took herself up to her room. The silence that fell over the house was angry and toxic.

She lay on her bed, dry-eyed, going over and over the might-have-beens and the what-ifs and the if-onlys and examining everything that had happened since that late May morning when Mike had come home and dropped the bombshell about his redundancy. Should she have handled things better, could she have been more supportive, ought she not have taken the job in the mess... The light faded, the room darkened and the answers failed to materialise yet Susie felt sicker and sicker as time passed because over and above everything was the worry that the last row might have pushed her husband to the brink.

By ten Susie was out of her mind with anxiety. Her thoughts began to race with possibilities of things that might have befallen him and each scenario seemed worse than the previous one. She wondered about phoning the local hospitals or the police but knew she was overreacting. No one would be interested in helping trace a grown man who had been missing for just a matter of hours. She told herself to get a grip – not that it helped. Neither did telling herself that no news was good news.

Shit, if only she could turn back the clock and could erase that stupid,
stupid
glib comment about Mike being OIC sandbags. Still feeling sick with anxiety, shame and a host of other awful feelings she rolled over on her bed and sat up. And she hadn’t fed the girls. Part of her thought, angrily, that they didn’t deserve it and going supperless to bed for once in their lives wasn’t going to kill them but she was being unfair. They weren’t to blame for that remark – she was. They were just hitting out because their world had gone tits up and they were in a frightening and unfamiliar place.

She crossed the bedroom and opened the door. Silence still prevailed but the lights were off. She didn’t remember doing that. She went downstairs to find the kitchen had been tidied up; the half-cooked supper had been put into bowls, cling-filmed and put away in the fridge, the saucepans washed and the surfaces mopped. On the table was a note.

Sorry, Mum. We didn’t mean to be so horrible. xx E and K

Susie sagged down onto a seat and began to cry.

Seb, in his role as PMC, popped into the mess office to discuss the calendar of events with Susie... Mrs Collins. When would addressing her so formally come naturally? Maybe they ought to go for a slightly
less
formal approach, maybe he’d been too hasty in trying to erect a Chinese wall between her past association with the mess and her current one.

He knocked on the door and opened it.

‘Susie?’ he exclaimed when he caught sight of her. She looked ghastly. Normally she was so well groomed; her make-up perfect, her hair washed and brushed, her clothes pressed but this morning... ‘What the hell’s the matter?’

Susie shook her head.

‘Susie?’ Fuck protocol.

She fumbled up her sleeve for a hanky and blew her nose.

Seb walked around the desk and hunkered down beside her. ‘It’s not one of the twins, is it?’

Again she shook her head. ‘Not them,’ she sniffed.

‘Mike?’

She nodded. ‘Oh, Seb.’ She turned her stricken face towards him.

‘Come on,’ said Seb. He got to his feet and pulled on her arm until she stood next to him. ‘You’re coming with me.’

Meekly she allowed him to lead her out of the office but when she discovered they were heading to the front door she drew back.

‘Where are we going?’

‘To see Maddy.’

‘Oh.’

She didn’t protest as Seb gripped her arm and walked her through the barracks and along the road to the patch.

He opened the door to his house and called to his wife. ‘Mads, visitor.’

Maddy appeared on the landing and peered over the banister. ‘Susie?’ She disappeared and reappeared two seconds later with a sleepy Rose in her arms and ran down the stairs. ‘Susie, what on
earth
is the matter?’ she asked as she gave Susie a hug with her free arm.

This display of affection was too much for Susie and fat, silent tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Seb backed out of the house mouthing ‘good luck’ to his wife as he bolted. Hopeless, but typical man, thought Maddy.

She pulled Susie into her kitchen, popped Rose into her high chair and put the kettle on.

‘Tea?’ she said as she handed Susie the roll of kitchen towel. Susie nodded, tore off a sheet and blew her nose then sat in miserable silence as Maddy made the tea.

‘So,’ said Maddy, gently, as she handed over the mug, ‘what is it?’

Susie lifted her eyes and stared at Maddy. ‘Mike didn’t come home last night. Or rather, he did, and then... then there was a row and he stormed off. I haven’t seen him since.’