It's Only Temporary (10 page)

‘Will it get me onto the internet?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘That’s great.’

There was another email from Hank.

Hi Marcus,

How is it going? I am currently somewhere over the Atlantic and have just read your email again, this response won’t be sent to you until I land back in the US but I just wanted to let you know that I have just made my way from 1
st
class back into coach and discussed you with the students.

The simple thing is partner, the kids loved you! It’s the whole ‘English Professor’ thing you have going on and of course the way you helped us all out.

To cut to the chase Marcus, I think we can do business. I know the University of Rockwell is probably not high on your list of choices right now, but if you felt that we might be worth a try then I can promise you that you won’t regret it.

Let me know if there is any mileage in this? Maybe we can set up an interview with the board and a tour etc? (Travel on us of course).

What do you think?

Your Friend.

Hank

What did I think? I wanted to get up and run around the Library shouting, that is what I thought.

At last! My salvation! Was it really only a week ago that I had been having dinner with Hank and his students at their Hotel? Yes it was, that seemed quite amazing considering how much my world had changed in seven days. Last Saturday Hank had insisted I have dinner with them as a way of saying “thank you” for my guidance. To be honest I had spent most of the meal wishing I could simply go back to my own hotel. The following day I had packed and caught a late flight to
London eventually arriving in Roberts’s office where my “week from hell” had begun.

I made several attempts at responding to Hank but as I read each one through they seemed to sound either too needy or too stand offish. Eventually I managed to produce one that I was happy with, subtly letting Hank know that I would be unable to respond to any further emails until Monday but suggesting that he might like to go ahead and organise an interview anyway.

I printed two copies of both Hanks’ email and my response, as well as manage to procure an envelope from Brian in order to take them home (did I really think of it as home?) without folding them. Whilst Brian was finding me an envelope I pinched some blu-tack from his desk.

When I had walked into Luci a short while before I had experienced strong feelings of nostalgia.
Taking my time to visually soak up the surroundings and strolling slowly in the sunshine through the Campus. With the envelope in my hand I departed without a sideways glance, moving at the pace of an Olympic speed walker. I did not stop to consider why I was rushing, or even where I was rushing too. I was simply moving, moving towards my future it felt like. Hank’s response proved to me that all was not lost; this would just be the first of many I told myself.

With a hundred thoughts competing for space inside my mind I subconsciously made my way back to my room. Once inside I carefully attached a copy of both Hank’s email and my response side b
y side to the wall with the blu-tack, I kept the remaining copies in the envelope.

Having read them through again several times I still felt the need to do something, anything. So once again I ventured outside, as I left I picked up the envelope and carried it with me.

I found myself wandering aimlessly considering what had happened.

If Hank was true to his word and there was no reason not to think he was not I reassured myself, then what he had told me about his University was positive. Yes it was apparently small but obviously well-funded and as Head of Faculty Hank was in agreement with me regarding the value of field based study.

Of course it would mean spending time in America, with Americans but they could not be any worse than Kurt and his crew could they? The students I had met all seemed bright enough, a little brash but what could you expect as it had been a case of the blind leading the blind until I had given them the benefit of my expertise. They were keen enough that was for sure and Hank was affable if a little clueless.

No it was not id
eal, but it was a darned sight better than my current situation. I did some calculations in my head; Hank had told me that his local time was six hours behind London. So in theory he would get my response at about three pm London time on Monday. I made a mental note to make sure I checked my emails before I left at five pm.

I looked at my watch, it was
eleven am, so that meant fifty three hours until I was going to check, as I walked I calculated that this equated to three thousand, one hundred and eighty minutes. Saying it like that made it seem even less for some reason. Converting that into seconds was One hundred and ninety thousand and eight hundred. No that did not work as well…..I elected to stay with three thousand one hundred and eighty minutes, actually one hundred and seventy eight now.

I sat on a bench for a short time and again read the emails; I was only jolted from my revere when I was joined by a tramp.

‘Got any spare change Govner?’

I genuinely did not.

‘I’m sorry I don’t I am afraid.’

He looked at my suspiciously.

‘Honestly, I’m unemployed. In fact you’ve probably got more than me!’

‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘I bet you’ve got more than two pounds in your pocket?’

‘Alas I haven’t,’ I said.

‘If you have more n’ me I get to keep it, if I’ve got more n’ you get it. A bet like.’

‘I don’t gamble.’

‘Well let’s call it a sporting wager between two gentlemen down on their luck?’ With that he produced some change from his pocket. ‘One pound ninety seven,’ he announced. ‘Now C’mon, your turn. Be honest though, all of it.’

I produced my change; I knew exactly how much was there as it was supposed to last me until Thursday. Five whole days away.

‘One pound twenty three,’ I said.

‘Turn your pockets out,’ he demanded.

I did so, all of them until he accepted I only had one pound twenty three.

‘A bet’s a bet,’ he said handing me his money.

‘That’s ok,’ I said. ‘It was an interesting wager which provided a small modicum of entertainment. You keep it.’

‘Well obliged to ya Govner,’ he said.

‘It’s fine. I’m going to
America anyway!’ I said smiling as I rose from the bench and walked away.

‘Be careful of them Yanks!’ he shouted. ‘Nothing but layabouts and criminals the lot of em!’

‘Well in that case I might choose to go somewhere else!’ I called back. After all I was sure I was going to be spoiled for choice.

Chapter 7.

I spent the rest of the day in a state of agitation, in my euphoria I had neglected to spend any time looking at the Rockwell University website. I would not have gained much more information I was sure but it would have given me a “feel” for the place. At the very least it would have allowed me to see what it looked like as well as offering an activity to channel my enthusiastic energy, an opportunity that was now denied to me.

Eventually I returned to my room and having once again read the emails attached to the wall settled down to have a drink and something to eat. What I needed was a radio I realised, not that I could afford one at the moment but maybe once Thursday’s benefits had been paid. This train of thought brought me back down to earth, how was I ever going to survive until Thursday on one pound twenty three? There was enough food to last the weekend, during weekday’s breakfast and lunch could be had at the centre but this still left the three evening meals to consider, how did people live like this?

My only source of entertainment was to read the magazine I had bought again, as I flicked through it I became aware of Alfie moving about in his flat above me. Sure enough I heard the sounds that I had come to recognise as indicating his descent onto the landing. I was anticipating hearing him leaving via the front of the building but to my horror he stopped and knocked on my door.

‘Marcus mate? You in there?’

My light was still off as it was not yet dark, if I kept very quiet he might just go away.

‘Marcus? You asleep?’

This would be very unlikely with him hollering through my door.

‘I could have sworn I heard you mate. Listen if you are in there and get this message I am going to a party across at the Star. Just wanna let you know you can come too if you like. Hopefully you will get this message.’

Message? What was he some kind of verbal answering machine? I could not think of anything worse than voluntarily surrounding myself with Alfie and his social circle. But now I was trapped I realised, I could not turn on my light or draw my curtains without risking him knowing I had pretended to not be in. Feigning sleep would not work as he had been shouting loud enough to wake the dead.

No, I was stuck. I continued to read my magazine until it was too dark. The ambient light from the street lamps was not powerful enough to read by and the sounds of merriment coming from the Star were proving to be too distracting.

Risking a look I peered out of my window and could see the bar was full of people all of whom seemed to be enjoying themselves. I had a pang of jealously, Alfie was able to enjoy an impromptu party with his friends but my peers had elected to mark my departure not with a send-off but by pointedly ignoring it. Well I was sure that this would not be the case in America,
if
I went to America I cautioned myself. There was no guarantee yet.

I sat there for a while longer and formed a plan in my head to help me out of my immediate predicament. Leaving my room I crossed the street and entered the bar of the Star. I was anticipating a Wild West scene where everyone stops, even the piano player, to stare at the stranger however no one actually noticed me enter. I squeezed through the throng and eventually spotted Alfie, he had his back to me talking to a large Hell’s Angel type character who was wearing mirror wraparound sunglasses. It occurred to me that Alfie’s companion looked like the main character in those awful films about killer robots from the future.

‘Alfie?’ I said, no response. The noise was too loud for him to hear me.

‘Alfie!’ I tried again louder.

The android he was talking to failed to give him any indication I was there so I tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Marcus mate!’ Alfie beamed as he turned around and saw me. ‘You got the message!’

The thought of having some kind of surreal conversation about ‘the message’ he had left me was something I could not countenance.

‘Err, yeah. I did. Listen I don’t want to be rude here but I don’t have any money, that’s why I can’t come.’

‘But you’re here mate?’ he said looking very confused.

‘Yeah, I know that. I just wanted to tell you in person that I won’t be coming and why that was. That is why I came.’

The look on his face told me that he had no idea what I meant and he confirmed it by saying, ‘You wanna drink then?’

‘No Alfie, I am broke. I can’t afford one.’

‘Ah it’s on me mate,’ he said guiding me towards the bar. ‘Oh this is Dave,’ he inclined his head towards the android. Dave might of reacted to the introduction but I could not be sure, his lower facial features did not give any indication of this and his eyes where hidden from view. ‘Dave will get you the next one.’

I was also not convinced that Dave either wanted to, would appreciate having to or even understood the need to buy me a drink.

As we reached the bar Alfie managed to get the barman’s attention, ‘Ronnie, this is Marcus. Just moved in and is skint. Get him a Bitter on me, Dave’s getting the next one and…. Oi Tony!’ he shouted at a man standing near us. Tony turned to look, ‘Alright mate,’ Alfie said. ‘You’re alright for standing our new mate Marcus here for a pint in a bit aren’t ya?’

‘Yeah whatever,’ Tony replied and turned away from us.

‘Sorted,’ Alfie declared.

I had come into the pub with no intention of drinking anything, let alone Bitter and I suspected a glass of red wine was fairly unlikely. I merely wanted to be able to turn my light on without causing offence, yet I found myself socially committed to three drinks.

Ronnie handed me a pint glass filled with some form of beer, I had a moments panic as I realised that despite Alfie “buying” me the drink he had in fact wandered off without paying for it. Ronnie saw my discomfort and said ‘Don’t worry pal, it’ll go on his tab.’ I had no idea what a tab was but deduced it was possible some form of running account.

‘Thank you,’ I said and tentatively took a sip. It was not too dissimilar to the tea Stacy had inflicted upon me before I
had bought some Earl Grey. In the unlikely event that there was a pot plant to hand in the bar I would have been unable to find it due to the mass of people.

I caught Ronnie’s eye, ‘Excuse me, where’s the toilet?’

‘The Bog?’

He must have misheard me, ‘No the toilet?’