could get access to the back door. What he was delivering was not
recalled, but only because Tony never bothered to find out in the first place -
the joys of a total lack of responsibility. The backdoor bell rang and fists
pounded the steel door, but without Bob the caretaker’s keys, that delivery was
not coming in. He had searched the staff room, the kitchen, and swept
throughout the central aisle of the shop on the lookout for Bob before making
his way to the main office. Bob the caretaker was unlikely to be there but a
call could be made to track him down and provide the elusive key.
The office lay
in the corner of the shop accessed by a door many customers had aimlessly
wandered through with expressions as blank as the door itself. It must have
been quite late in the afternoon as one of the few memories of that moment that
struck Tony now was the yawn and the pause he took before opening the door. He
stared down at his feet, stifling the yawn with one hand on the handle. Just as
he pushed it open he looked up and saw Bob approaching the office and let the
door instantly fall shut. But as it did he glanced into the office, and made
eye contact with Emma. The door opened and shut in half a second. It was at
shutter speed and it caught the connection forever. She was there for an
interview and three weeks later she had the job. Maybe if they hadn’t have made
eye contact he never would have made that bond. Maybe if the delivery had been
twenty minutes earlier she would have just been another employee in the
revolving door of teenage staff at Hamiltons Posslingford. And maybe if Bob had
been where he was supposed to be, and seen to the delivery, then Tony would not
be standing in his kitchen now, hoping his heart rate would calm whilst kicking
pieces of broken crockery, picturing that photograph of a memory he would
treasure forever.
As was the way
most evenings panned out these days, he had been playing his video game when
the phone rang. It was the landline, which often got ignored. But occasionally
Tony felt the need to justify the £70 he’d spent on the cordless device by
answering it. With the game paused, he had headed to the phone which lay in its
cradle by the lounge door, a clear sign it wasn’t used too often. Regularly
used cordless phones like this were never on the cradle when it rang.
‘Hello,’ he
said, answering the phone whilst walking over to the lounge window to close the
blind. It overlooked the street where late night joggers passed, kitted out in
black and yellow Nike gear. He dropped the blinds to hide any chance of seeing
a Repeat Other. It was as he did this that he realised he hadn’t seen any for
at least three days. Perhaps ignoring things and hoping they would go away
really was the correct course of action. ‘Hello,’ he said again, there had been
no response.
‘Oh, hi, is
that Tony?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Hi Tony, it’s
Terry here.’
The name struck
a nerve. Terry; sounded familiar in a far off kind of way. Whoever it was, the
tone in which they were talking indicated that who this person was might not be
as important as what he was about to say. There was a pause as Tony
contemplated how to respond without sounding rude.
‘Terry, Emma’s
dad.’
‘Of course,’
said Tony. ‘I was miles away there for a second. All ok?’
There was a
choked pause as though he had moved the phone away to cough or emit some sound
he didn’t want Tony to hear.
‘I thought you
should know.’ He spoke slowly and sounded drained, nothing like the eager
viewer who had poked his head continually around Emma’s lounge door the other
night in hope of seeing some slasher film violence. ‘Also, please know that I
have phoned you first. Before Trevor.’
‘What’s the
matter?’
‘I know you and
Emma were close.’
‘What’s the
matter?’ Tony’s heart was already beginning to beat in an erratic movement and
the more Terry delayed assuring him that there was no problem only
recalled, but only because Tony never bothered to find out in the first place -
the joys of a total lack of responsibility. The backdoor bell rang and fists
pounded the steel door, but without Bob the caretaker’s keys, that delivery was
not coming in. He had searched the staff room, the kitchen, and swept
throughout the central aisle of the shop on the lookout for Bob before making
his way to the main office. Bob the caretaker was unlikely to be there but a
call could be made to track him down and provide the elusive key.
The office lay
in the corner of the shop accessed by a door many customers had aimlessly
wandered through with expressions as blank as the door itself. It must have
been quite late in the afternoon as one of the few memories of that moment that
struck Tony now was the yawn and the pause he took before opening the door. He
stared down at his feet, stifling the yawn with one hand on the handle. Just as
he pushed it open he looked up and saw Bob approaching the office and let the
door instantly fall shut. But as it did he glanced into the office, and made
eye contact with Emma. The door opened and shut in half a second. It was at
shutter speed and it caught the connection forever. She was there for an
interview and three weeks later she had the job. Maybe if they hadn’t have made
eye contact he never would have made that bond. Maybe if the delivery had been
twenty minutes earlier she would have just been another employee in the
revolving door of teenage staff at Hamiltons Posslingford. And maybe if Bob had
been where he was supposed to be, and seen to the delivery, then Tony would not
be standing in his kitchen now, hoping his heart rate would calm whilst kicking
pieces of broken crockery, picturing that photograph of a memory he would
treasure forever.
As was the way
most evenings panned out these days, he had been playing his video game when
the phone rang. It was the landline, which often got ignored. But occasionally
Tony felt the need to justify the £70 he’d spent on the cordless device by
answering it. With the game paused, he had headed to the phone which lay in its
cradle by the lounge door, a clear sign it wasn’t used too often. Regularly
used cordless phones like this were never on the cradle when it rang.
‘Hello,’ he
said, answering the phone whilst walking over to the lounge window to close the
blind. It overlooked the street where late night joggers passed, kitted out in
black and yellow Nike gear. He dropped the blinds to hide any chance of seeing
a Repeat Other. It was as he did this that he realised he hadn’t seen any for
at least three days. Perhaps ignoring things and hoping they would go away
really was the correct course of action. ‘Hello,’ he said again, there had been
no response.
‘Oh, hi, is
that Tony?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Hi Tony, it’s
Terry here.’
The name struck
a nerve. Terry; sounded familiar in a far off kind of way. Whoever it was, the
tone in which they were talking indicated that who this person was might not be
as important as what he was about to say. There was a pause as Tony
contemplated how to respond without sounding rude.
‘Terry, Emma’s
dad.’
‘Of course,’
said Tony. ‘I was miles away there for a second. All ok?’
There was a
choked pause as though he had moved the phone away to cough or emit some sound
he didn’t want Tony to hear.
‘I thought you
should know.’ He spoke slowly and sounded drained, nothing like the eager
viewer who had poked his head continually around Emma’s lounge door the other
night in hope of seeing some slasher film violence. ‘Also, please know that I
have phoned you first. Before Trevor.’
‘What’s the
matter?’
‘I know you and
Emma were close.’
‘What’s the
matter?’ Tony’s heart was already beginning to beat in an erratic movement and
the more Terry delayed assuring him that there was no problem only
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