15

Tuesday 23 July 1985

Good turns sour; out of evil comes forth good.

Chaite was having to find a new job because of the objectionable behaviour of Kevin Toker. Chaite had not wanted to work with him — let alone for him — she had quite enough to do looking after her own side of the business.

Now, with the decreasing movement in sheep and cattle, and the increasing demand for sales of bygones — some would call it junk — James wanted to start a regular auction: ‘go domestic’ as he said.

Serendipity came into play; it was at tea in the vicarage garden on the day of the Rusham village fête that James Sellis had enthused about his plans to a beautiful girl in a floral tent.

‘You ought to talk to my sister ... [Cepha had said] ... she’s got a first in history and fine arts, and she and her husband have been doing up a cottage for the last year. I think she may be looking for a job ...’

James Sellis was fascinated:

‘I’d certainly like to meet her. We can’t afford to pay much, you know ... [like hell you can’t, thought Cepha] ... but ... well, let’s see’

So Chaite had seen; had seen an opportunity for learning, for turning her considerable knowledge to good use, perhaps for indulging her love for collecting; for finding out about the trade from the inside; maybe, one day she’d ...

That was in the future. Chaite joined Sellis & Co, and threw herself intensively into market research, visiting as many sales as she could, antique/bric-à-brac/junk shops ... until the week when James Sellis was asked if he could clear no fewer than three houses. He held a hurried conference with Chaite, who gave him the confidence to say ‘yes’.

They had a marquee erected over the old cattle pens, and got the old sheds beside the pens patched up in a remarkably short space of time. Chaite started to classify and catalogue all the items as they stood so that they could be taken to the makeshift salerooms in order.

They held two sales — the first of furniture; the second of more esoteric items. From then on, that side of the business was made; Chaite virtually took it over, advertised a regular monthly sale; people started to bring lots in; the business thrived. Thus was James Sellis’s dream realised.

As far as business was concerned, Chaite’s accident had been an unfortunate hiccough. She had an excellent assistant in Claire, and she recovered so robustly that she missed only two sales. Far more devastating to her saleroom career was the arrival of Kevin Toker.

repellent; clearly competent from the sorts of questions he asked, and the suggestions he made.

It was not until he joined the firm that he started to reveal himself in his true colours — though Chaite could never quite bring herself to believe that he was really like that.

James had asked her to help Kevin find his feet. But it was then that he’d started to niggle and twit away at her, insinuating that she couldn’t be much good at her job because she had only one hand and must therefore be half-witted. His extension of this was that James must have had some dark motive for taking her back after the accident. True, Chaite and James had built up a very close working relationship, and were very dependent upon one another’s work, but their relationship seemed to be something that Kevin couldn’t comprehend.

Chaite was competent and efficient, and saw herself as part of the firm, helping James to build up the saleroom; make it successful. Kevin could not understand this relationship based on mutual trust and respect — he was convinced that there must be something more sinister going on, but was puzzled that he could never (of course) find any evidence to support his conviction.

The seeds of Chaite’s downfall were sowed thus. It was late one Monday evening; Chaite stayed on to type an urgent letter for Kevin — although it wasn’t her job — then took it to him, with stamped envelope at the ready, for him to sign. The letter — and the document to which it referred — had to arrive the following morning if the transaction to which it referred was to proceed. Chaite had wanted to suggest that some other means of delivery might be preferable, but Kevin’s look shut her up. She didn’t know why she bothered.

‘OK, Fatima — you can go now’

Chaite left quickly; retired to the fastness of the ladies loo to cry her eyes out. She could not know for certain, but she was pretty sure that Kevin called her Fatima in some tortuous reference to the penalty of Shariah law ... and since she was neither a shoplifter, nor a Muslim, it was hyper-cruel, as well as being grossly unfair ... and as for ‘you can go now’ ... who did he think he was? A prime candidate for the Rub‘ al Khali. But she’d have to fight her own battles; it was no good burdening James Sellis with this one — he wouldn’t have a clue what to do.

 caught last night’s post ... I prepared it myself — yes, I’ll put you through’

She can hear Kevin in his office: ‘... is that what she said? Well, I’m very sorry. Actually, the silly bitch has only got one arm, so I’m not surprised ... Hello?’

Chaite sees red. With tears of rage, she cuts off the call and storms into Kevin’s office. She feels as angry now as she did on that Cup Final Saturday. Kevin freezes when he sees the look on her face, stands up quickly, not knowing what’s going to happen. He laughs nervously:

‘Look, Chaite ... I didn’t mean ...’

In her rage, Chaite forgets that she is no longer left-handed; she steps forward and slaps Kevin’s face, sees him reel away and fall as the solidity of her artifical arm catches him across the side of the head.

As happened on that previous occasion, her victim lies quietly on the floor, not daring to move for fear of what might happen next, Kevin’s coat hangs on the back of the door; acting on a hunch which proves to be correct, Chaite finds the missing document — along with some other items which ought to have been posted — in the inside pocket. She pulls everything out; throws it down on his desk. Still he doesn’t stir. She picks up the important envelope, and goes back to her office. She rings the client — who is covered with confusion — apologises for their having been cut off, and promises to send the envelope by messenger.

Having arranged that, she feels much calmer; she goes in to James’s office: ‘I’ve come to give you my resignation’

‘Nonsense ... why?’

Reluctantly, she explains what happened, and the innuendoes leading up to it. One of them has to go, and she’s the one. She doesn’t mind now; if James Sellis, whom she respected, thinks Kevin Toker fit to join the firm, there must be something wrong with his judgement.

James, who knows exactly what to do as long as everything is going smoothly, and is all at sea if it isn’t, can only agree with Chaite — yes, he can quite see the problem — but he can’t think what to do for the best.

All her respect for him has by now evaporated; the fact that he is not entreating her to stay strengthens her resolve to leave; her pent-up rage blanks from her mind the perfection and excitement of her job, in which she once saw such a limitless future; makes it easier for her to leave.

leaves a few treasury tags, paperclips, spent pens and other trivia in the drawers; to clear them properly would be to stamp her personality upon them; now, they are like ‘empty’ drawers in a million other desks.