12

Monday 26 & Tuesday 27 August 1985

Monday morning; the events of the previous Saturday were locked in a

safe-deposit box; there would be no need to refer to them ever again.

It was Chaite’s dream to be able to walk to work ... and here she was, living it on her first morning with a new job, making a new start. The walk took twenty minutes. As she entered the vestibule at WEL, she had a severe attack of the déjà vus, as though she had arrived there every morning since time immemorial. But this was a friendly feeling; it was not as if she was in a rut — she belonged here.

Jinny gave her a receptionists’ smile.

‘Is Ted Crowe in yet?’

‘No, he’s not in today ... [Chaite wondered if this were usual] ... but he’s left you a long message in your office’

‘Ah, yes ... my office. I’ve got an office?’

The feeling of belonging strengthened.

‘Yes, and what’s more, you’ve got plenty of work waiting for you’

‘Well, that’s what I’m here for. I only hope I’ll be able to find out what to do’

‘The only thing you’ll have difficulty with is who’s who, and that’s where I can help you. Here’s a telephone list, and here’s a map of the offices. Now I’ll give Dawn a ring and get her to show you where to go. She’s Colley’s secretary’

‘Colley? Who’s Colley?’

‘The research director. He’s very nice. You’ll have a lot to do with him’

‘Oohh ... I’ll look forward to that ... [Chaite’s heart beat erratically] ... is he in yet?’

‘No; he’s on holiday for another week. I’m sure he’ll want to see you when he gets back’

‘I’m sure he will’

Dawn arrived; there were introductions. Chaite followed her up the main corridor. The light through the high windows was joyous at that time of the morning. Chaite wanted to ask how the light changed in the corridor as the days and seasons progressed, but decided it was too difficult to frame the question. Dawn was pointing out the loo, and explaining about coffee machines, lunch breaks and so on.

At last they came to Chaite’s office — next door to Ted’s, with a connecting door.

‘Here’s your office’

‘I’d never have found it myself’

Chaite reflected that it wouldn’t be long before she could find her way around the whole of WEL all by herself. She hoped.

Chaite sat at the desk — her desk — feeling even more that she belonged, and opened the drawers. They were not empty or untidy; they seemed to contain everything she might need. With mock importance, she said to Dawn: ‘Take a seat, please’

Dawn laughed; explained time sheets and stores requisitions to her; then: ‘But I’ll confuse you if I go on much longer ... [Chaite thought to herself that she’d have to start putting a book of house rules together] ... And here’s Ted’s note, and here are the files he wants you to deal with. If there’s anything at all you want to ask, just call me. I’m on the telephone list — here ... [Dawn pointed] ... You’d better deal with this one first: she’s a wiring girl, coming for an interview at eleven o’clock — talk to Grace about her: that’s the head girl; I’ll take you to see her’

Colley, Dawn, Ted, Jinny, Grace ... I went on my holidays, and I took a toothbrush, and a comb, and a clock ... Talk about being thrown in at the deep end.

‘Talk about being thrown in at the deep end’ said Grace.

Dawn withdrew.

‘We can only do our best ... [Chaite involving Grace with the Foxworth "we"] ... What do you normally do about interviewing wiring girls?’

‘Well, normally, we give them a test. We’ve got some standard test circuit boards; for this particular job they’ve got to be able to pick the right components, get the diodes the right way round and so on. I know Ethel. She used to work for me at my last place. Before she had a family. I’d like to have her here’

‘We ought to give her the standard test. From what you say, she should pass with flying colours, and if she can’t we ought to find that out too. We must start the way we mean to go on’

‘I agree. I wouldn’t like anyone to think Ethel’d got the job because she knows me. And if she’s lost her touch ... If you come through to the shop, I’ll show you the things. I’ve got a bench ready for interview tests. Or I could bring them in here’

‘I’ll come through ... [Chaite stood up] ... and I can get a cup of coffee as well’

‘It’s not too foul this morning; the machine’s just been done. Normally, I don’t drink that stuff’

‘Surely it’s just as easy to make good coffee as bad coffee if the basic ingredients are OK?’

‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you?’

‘Perhaps that’s one thing I could get sorted out’ said Chaite, feeling very important. She referred to a file Ted had left her; she discussed Ethel’s rates of pay and conditions of employment with Grace.

She got back to her desk at about quarter-past ten, confident about Ethel’s interview. Last week the interviewee; this week, the interviewer. She read Ethel’s application form, which didn’t tell her a lot except that she was 39 and couldn’t spell much. A late starter, Ethel had left work eight years before to have a family — triplets, Grace had said — and her mother would look after them now. Chaite tried to think of a few questions which would advance her task of assessment, and to which she professionally wanted to know the answers, and scribbled them down in the margin of the form.

Prepared for the interview, she now turned her attention to the detail of the desk drawers. She opened them carefully in turn, noting the contents; then rearranged them with the things she thought she’d need most in the right-hand drawers. She arranged her telephone, and slipped an elastic band on to her desk diary — ‘never been used, and the year two-thirds gone’, she observed to herself.

She turned to the file containing her defeated competitors. Ted had left a list of the names in the front of the file; beside her own was YES!!! written in red. She knew he’d written it since her interview. She started to draft what would become her first standard letter, but the telephone interrupted.

‘Double two double two’

It was an internal call; Bill Martin from the machine shop: ‘Can I come and see you for a minute?’

‘Of course — come now’

as soon as she saw him, she remembered — a short, florid man with greying hair, wearing a white coat, his hands surprisingly clean and delicate.

‘Sit down, Bill’

‘Thanks — I can call you Chaite, can I?’

‘Of course’

‘I’ve come to tell you we need another toolmaker’

Chaite put aside her draft letter, and started to make a note. The telephone rang again.

‘Double two double two’

It was Jinny: ‘I’ve got a Mr Lee on the line. He’s just moved to the area, and he wonders if we have any vacancies for toolmakers’

Chaite couldn’t believe it.

‘I’ll talk to him ... [Chaite made a signal at Bill which he couldn’t interpret] ... Mr Lee?’

‘Hello ... it’s Mr Lee here. I’ve just moved to the area, and I wonder if you have any vacancies for toolmakers’

‘You’re a toolmaker? ... [she spoke elaborately, to give Bill the message; Bill’s face broke into a wide grin] ... May I have your address please? ... [Bill was indicating that he’d like Mr Lee to come in that afternoon] ... Can you come in this afternoon? About two thirty? … [Bill was nodding frantically] … I’ll leave an application form in reception; get here about two, and fill it in for me, will you? ... Yes ... Good bye, and thank you for calling’

Hearing herself saying it, she almost added: ‘Have a nice day’

Bill was looking at her admiringly. What a stroke of luck. It had been nothing but pure coincidence (hadn’t it?) but she knew that the story would get round; perhaps from now on people would view her as some sort of miracle worker, disregarding every occurrence that didn’t fit that view and attaching disproportionate importance and reinforcement to those that did. She looked at Bill:

‘Do you want me to advertise as well?’

‘A day or two won’t make much difference — let’s see this bloke, and decide after that’

The telephone rang again. Ethel had arrived.

Chaite’s first interview went well, with Grace in attendance to supervise the wiring test; an offer made — and accepted; more gratitude.

everything was happening because it was her first day. She managed to finish drafting her letter; she gave it to Dawn with the list of names and addresses; Dawn arranged for it to be printed out; Chaite signed them; they caught the post; Chaite felt tremendously virtuous. She started to sort out the other files and began to find out how little she really knew about this job.

In came Dawn: ‘It’s nearly quarter to six. Coming a-Woning? — that’s to say, coming for a drink?’

Even as she said it, Dawn wondered if Chaite would get the impression that they were always going to the pub.

‘Just over the road? OK. It’ll help me to wind down’

‘Are you wound up?’

‘Not really, but I’ve got through an awful lot, considering how little I know, and it really does feel like the end of a day’

They went across to the Woning; Dawn showed her the Dutch woodcut (‘Rembrandt’s Woning’) from which the Golden Lion took its WEL name. There were a few people in the bar, mostly from WEL. Dawn introduced Chaite; no one minded talking shop (for it assuaged their consciences) and she pursued several trains relating to her new job. She also learned that there was an open-all-hours supermarket on her way home. The WEL party seemed inclined to disperse at about quarter to seven, so she set out to buy herself something special to round off her first day at work.

She finally chose a ready-cooked chicken and a selection of salad vegetables which would last her a few days, and a bottle of ‘that delicious pink stuff we had at Margaret’s’ as the Queen was reported to have described it.

She got home in time to listen to a prom as she prepared and ate her meal. It was not until she had cleared everything up and settled back in the most amazingly easy chair that the excitement of the day gave way to consideration of the totally unreal events of ... when was it?

After the experience of her first day, Chaite looked forward to her second even more. Ted was back in the office today — anyone else would have been looking forward to impressing him with all the things she’d done, but Chaite expected to be efficient; one of her faults was expecting everyone else to be as efficient as she was.

‘Morning Chaite. How’d it go yesterday?’

‘Swimmingly ... I interviewed a wiring girl — Ethel Craxton — and took her on — with Grace’s help; found a possible toolmaker for Bill Martin ...’

‘Ah! You want to watch out for Bill — he’s always complaining that he needs another pair of hands ... [Chaite smiled as Ted flustered] ... and I’m not surprised he tried to take advantage of you — being new. You’ll really have to check with Colley on that one. When he comes back. How have you left it?’

Chaite explained how the appointment came to be made and: ‘Bill’s seen him — I’ve got his notes here with the form’

‘Right ... so if he seems suitable, you can tell him it was a preliminary interview, and you’ll be reporting to the research director when he returns next Monday. And if he’s not suitable, there’s nothing to worry about. But I should have a word with Bill Martin ... and hold that advert till Colley comes back. What else?’

‘I got off the letters to my rivals ... my erstwhile rivals ... with Dawn’s help. And organised my desk. And looked through those files you left for me. Anything special you’d like me to do today?’

‘We’ve got a group of engineers coming in for interview next Wednesday — a week tomorrow. Colley’s back on Monday — as you know ...’

Ted went to his filing cabinet and pulled out a file; took it to his desk and sat turning over the papers ruminatively.

Chaite waited: ‘Yes?’

‘Oh ... memories. This is the group interviewing programme we’ve rather sunk into ... [he passed her a sheet of paper] ... They arrive about eleven o’clock; you give them coffee and get them to make their expenses claims — this gives a bit of time for stragglers to catch up. Then you go into a spiel about the company — it’s a good thing to talk to people in groups ...’

‘... because you don’t have to keep saying the same thing to everyone separately ...’

‘Precisely. And they can spark one another off asking questions. Then one of the engineers takes them on a tour before lunch’

‘And do you learn much at lunch time?’

‘Isn’t it rather an artificial situation? After all, they don’t know one another ... yes, I see ... Who comes to lunch?’

‘Probably the engineer who shows them round, you, Colley, perhaps another engineer ... that’s all. Usually. You’re there to make sure it all goes smoothly — to anticipate anything that might go wrong if you didn’t’

‘It all seems a bit daunting before I’ve tried it ... but I expect it’ll all fall into place’

‘Oh yes. Always remember — they don’t know what ought to be happening (except within the broad limits of the programme) so they don’t know if something’s going wrong, somebody’s away ... it’s up to you to improvise as necessary. I know you can do it — I wouldn’t’ve taken you on otherwise’

‘Thanks for your faith. Is there anything in particular you want me to do now?’

‘Yes ... I’d like you to think about this programme as a complete outsider and see if we’re necessarily doing the best thing. Colley and I keep meaning to discuss it ...’

Chaite thought for a little. She had a few ideas, but decided to keep them to herself until she’d thought them through — it’d look more impressive if she waited and developed her own thoughts into a report than if she discussed them off the top of her head and risked their getting lost — or appropriated by someone else ... unwittingly, of course.

Ted handed her the file: ‘You’ll find some background in here — you can either read it first, or approach the problem with a completely open mind ...’

Chaite took the file: ‘Thanks. I’ll go and do this, then. See you later’

She went back to her desk. She decided not to look at the file just yet. She pulled out the programme Ted had been discussing and went through it carefully. Then she lifted the phone and called Jinny:

‘Have we got an engineer who’s been here a couple of months or so?’

As she said it, she realised the need to get together some personnel records — people papers — so that she could answer questions like that.

‘Yes — well, about ten weeks — no, twelve — that’s three months isn’t it? — cos he came when I was on holiday and it took me ages to remember his name’

‘Go on — what is his name?’

‘Seb Thornhill. 2494. Er ... you want to watch him’

‘Oh ... why’s that?’

‘Nothing ... just watch’

Chaite keyed 2494.

‘Seb Thornhill’

‘Hi, I’m Chaite, your new people person. I wonder if you could come and see me for a few minutes?’

‘Sure — Chaite people person — where are you?’

‘In the office next to Ted Crowe’s’

‘Yeah ... I know it. I’ll be right there’

In no time at all, Seb Thornhill filled the doorway, stooped over Chaite, shook hands. He sat down: ‘Chaite. That’s an unusual name. Do you eat ethnic food?’

‘Ye-es ... why?’

‘Well, I’m going to an ethnic food party to-night, and you’d like to come’

Chaite was breathtaken. Not ‘you might like to come’ or even ‘I wondered if you might like to come’ — more of a command performance ... no wonder Jinny had warned her.

Chaite sat watching and thinking: ‘Of course I would ... [what would Seb think of her?] ... where and when?’

‘Where do you live?’

‘In Foxworth. Market Square — Primrose Cottage — opposite the church’

‘Right. I’ll pick you up about seven thirty. Now, why did you want to see me?’

Chaite slammed her social compartment shut: ‘As you know, I’m new here, so I’m having a look at WEL practices. You came here for interview quite recently, so I wondered if we could go through the day’s programme and see if you’ve got any comments — ways of improving it. Not that I want to meddle with it if it’s all right ...’

She passed the fast worker a copy of the programme. He looked at it:

‘I’ve not seen this before’

‘No?’

‘No ... I think it might be a good idea if interviewees were sent a copy of it beforehand’

Chaite was writing notes: ‘Mmm?’

‘I didn’t think much of the map you sent’

Chaite felt unecessarily defensive: ‘I didn’t send it ... [she wished she hadn’t said that] ... Good. And ...?’

‘The expenses claim forms are pretty crap for a go-ahead firm ... Apart from that ... let’s think. Jinny’s very welcoming’

‘Did you ask her out?’

Chaite’s tongue running away again — she’s unnerved.

‘She was wearing a wedding ring. You’re not wearing any rings’

‘No. And I’m coming out with you. So ... anything else?’

‘The welcome was good ... the chat was good ... I’ve been to quite a lot of interviews where either they don’t tell you anything or they lecture you about how wonderful it all is. WEL tells it like it is, and wants you to make up your own mind’

‘Who told you about WEL?’

‘I saw an advert in the Guardian’

‘No — I mean when you were here — who told you about the company?’

‘Colley, mainly. Ted joined us at lunch time. That’s another thing — it’s a good lunch’

Chaite, who had experienced but two lunches, agreed. As is the way with such interviews, now that it seemed to be over, Seb opened up:

‘It’d’ve been a good thing if we’d been given name cards — you know, to stand in front of us, so we knew who we all were. And the same for the WEL people — perhaps potted CVs so we’d known what specialties people were. I did feel that the technical interviews were a bit sausage machiney. Perhaps you can’t do much about that’

‘Perhaps not. If you’ve got four or five people to be seen by two or three people for half an hour or so each, it’s got to be a bit of a conveyor belt — otherwise it gets a bit out of hand ... [As she speaks, Chaite can hear herself taking a somewhat defensive managerial viewpoint] ... But we ... [have I caught the Foxworth "we"?] ... can certainly try to tone down the sausage machine aspect’

‘The thing I must say about it is that it was hard. And fair’

‘You’re comparing it with other interviews?’

‘Yes ... but it’s incomparable, really. I’d advise anyone to apply here. If they get in, they’ll know they’re somebody’

Chaite had got in. She felt like somebody: ‘So you feel like somebody?’

‘I certainly do’

‘Right. Thank you very much, Seb ... [Chaite could hear officialdom in her voice] ... you’ve been most helpful’

Seb could hear it too: ‘Thanks, Ma’am. I’m pleased to have been of assistance ... [he grinned] ... see you tonight. Primrose Cottage. Half-past seven’

He left the room.

Time for a walk; out of the office, and down to Jinny: ‘I thought I’d come and see how the workers are doing. And whether they’d like a coffee’

‘Thanks — Rule One — no coffee at the board. But don’t worry — Pat’s coming on in a minute so I can have my break. Then I have my coffee, and do the post round and various other things until lunch time, and then go back on the board till Pat relieves me for the afternoon break’

‘I see. And what does Pat do for the rest of the time?’

‘Oh ... running out Mailmerge letters — she did yours yesterday, didn’t you know? — and photocopying, and telexing ... very technical, is our Pat. Ah, there you are. I was just telling Chaite how technical you are’

‘Mmmm — all the latest machines. I’m the only person who knows where to kick them when they go wrong’

‘Do they often go wrong?’

‘No ... my sandals are too flimsy’

Jinny passed on some work in progress to Pat, and slipped out of her chair: ‘Come on, Chaite, let’s go for a coffee’

They walked up the corridor. Chaite remembered her pledge:

‘I promised Grace that I’d see if I could improve the coffee’

‘Really? How could you do that?’

‘Well ... first, look into the cleaning schedule — I haven’t caught up with who does it yet, by the way’

‘Oh — Maria in the kitchen looks after it — one of her girls — she’s very defensive about it’

‘I’ll bet’

They reached the machine and conmanded it to produce two cups of white without.

‘There’s another machine in the workshop ... [said Jinny] ... Have you explored yet?’

‘There’s still masses I don’t know. But it’s only my second day, after all. Grace gave me one from the workshop machine — she said it’d just been cleaned so it was better’

‘That’s it. I often use it on some pretext or other. How d’you get on with Seb, by the way?’

‘Get on with him? Fine — he got off with me’

‘He’s a right Noggin the Bonce. I told you he needed watching’

‘You have to watch carefully — he goes so fast you could miss it. Anyway, I’m going out with him tonight. Ethnic food. I didn’t ask what’

Jinny vanished.

Chaite walked towards the kitchens for an exploration with Maria.

Maria the irrepressible: ‘Hello Chaite. This is where it all happens. Come to see how it’s done?’

‘Yes. At the moment, I’m interested in coffee machines’

Maria’s hackles rose: ‘Oh, what about my coffee machines? Spotless, they are. My girls keep them spotless’

‘Of course they do. Only it says on my list of things that coffee machines come under welfare, and I look after welfare — among other things — so I thought I’d find out how it’s done’

Maria relaxed slightly: ‘We clean them every other day — Monday, Wednesday and Friday — first thing in the morning. Lou usually does it. Mind you, we do have a spot of trouble with the mixers, sometimes’

Chaite became sympathetic: ‘Oh? Can you show me?’

Maria picked up a great bunch of keys and they went to the coffee machine. She opened the door and showed Chaite how the powder was released into the mixer funnel: ‘You see — sometimes a bit of powder gets stuck there, and gets washed down next time. It’s all right if the next drink is the same as the last one. If it isn’t, they complain that the coffee tastes like tea, or whatever it is’

‘Have you contacted the makers?’

‘They keep sending a man when I complain, but the difference never seems to last’

‘Ah. When did they last come?’

‘Oh ... about a couple of weeks ago’

Chaite was studying the mechanism intently; elaborately polite, she asked: ‘May I touch it?’

‘Go ahead’

‘Look — this bit here’s out of alignment. It needs screwing round so that the lip here comes under the nozzle’

She turned it. Maria was secretly pleased: ‘Oh yes. Those two marks ought to line up. Let’s try it again’

They did so. Every bit of powder was washed out.

‘You see? ... [Chaite turned on the charm] ... You’ve solved it’

‘It’s that Lou — I’ll ave er guts for garters. Thanks for sorting it out’

‘Oh, me? I’m just a catalyst. What’s for lunch?’

‘Chicken pieces today, in mushroom sauce’

‘Great! I’m looking forward to that’

Chaite went back to her office. As she settled into her chair, the phone rang.

It was Pat: ‘I’ve got a Cindy Best on the line wanting a secretarial job’

‘Oh ... do we happen to need any secretaries, I wonder? Let me have a word with Dawn’

She got through to Dawn: ‘Do we need any secretaries? I’ve got one on the line’

‘It’s always worth taking their details. I like to keep a pool of possibles’

Chaite got back to Pat: ‘Can I speak to Cindy now?’

‘Putting you through’

Chaite arranged for Cindy to complete an application form and come in for a chat; then rang Dawn: ‘Could you get together a sample swatch of WEL forms for me please? One of each’

Sure, I’ll get Lou Two to bring them asap’

‘Who?’

‘Lou Two. Lou One’s in the kitchen — you’ve met her — we call her just Lou cos she was here first. Lou Two looks after stationery — among other things’

‘Thanks’

Chaite started to sketch out her report. It suddenly occurred to her that it might be a good idea if she had a word processor at her disposal. Judging from the absence of noise, Ted was either out or asleep. She knocked on the dividing door: ‘Come in, Chaite’

She went in, taking the bull by the horns: ‘I wonder if I might have a word processor in my room? It could save an awful lot of time, and if I had a database program as well I could get all the personnel records on to it, and it would all help to make me — WEL — more efficient’

Ted was quite taken aback:

‘Yes ... I should think so ... Are you sure ...?’

‘Well, I’d like to try — I had one at my last job ... it can be easier than handwriting’

Ted raised the phone and called Dawn: ‘What happened to the IBM PC David Paul used to have? ... Mmmm ... So it’s spare? ... Well, could you get someone to bring it along to Chaite’s room? ... Oh, as soon as you like ... Thanks ... [he put down the phone] ... There, that’s fixed’

Chaite was impressed: ‘Thank you, kind sir. What it is to have friends in high places’

‘Don’t mention it’

Chaite was no sooner at her desk again than Jinny popped her head round the door: ‘Time for lunch ... if you want any’

‘Oh, good. By the way ... if it’s not a silly question ... why are you wearing a plastic glove?’

She doesn’t realise.

‘You haven’t noticed? ... It’s an artificial arm’

‘What? Good heavens ... is it? But you’re wearing all those bangles’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’

‘Well ... How ...?’

‘It doesn’t matter ... I like compliments ... I’ll tell you sometime’

They went to the dining room; Jinny surreptitiouly helped Chaite to collect the various things they needed and take them to their table; at last they were settled. Chaite sighed before taking up her fork:

‘The morning seems to have flown by’

‘Don’t tell me — it’s been crawling for me — every time I look at the clock it seems to have gone backwards. It must be because I’m on hol next week’

‘How does the clock know that?’

‘Silly — it’s me, not the clock’

‘Sorry’

Chaite looked serious.

After the chicken, fruit salad or chocolate pudding; Chaite had no objection to sitting while Jinny fetched for her.

‘It’s really good here, isn’t it?’

‘Mmmm. Yes. At my last place, everybody used to complain — I used to take sarnies and a flask. And before that, we all used to go out to the pub. It used to make lunch hours awfully long — when it was crowded, I mean. Everybody getting there early to beat the rush, you know, and then staying on. Still, there wasn’t much to do there, so it didn’t matter too much. Not like here’

‘Where were you before?’

‘Oh, I used to work up the Furniture — I was the Girl Friday. Used to have a job a bit like yours — interviewing young hopefuls every day — and not so young. We used to get lots of applicants, but never enough good ones. That was why we had to interview them all’

‘What did they have to do?’

‘Trimming. You need strong wrists and a straight eye. I could usually tell before giving them a trial. Like — you’ve got a straight eye, and ... ummm’

‘I get about four a day ... [said Chaite] ... Don’t worry’

‘Sorry — I still can’t believe it ...’

Lunch drew to a pleasant close.

They sauntered out into the warm September air, and into the arboretum. Chaite looked up and around:

‘These really are magnificent trees. Do you know what they all are?’

‘No idea ... Wish I did. I love trees’

‘I’ve got a tree book at home — I’ll bring it in. However ... that’s a Stone Pine ... and that’s a Black Poplar — quite rare, I think ... Where did they all come from?’

‘Lord Someone-or-Other, who used to live here. I’ve got a little notice in reception, but it’s fallen down, so I keep it in my cupboard’

Chaite resolved to make more of the history of the house and grounds. Never mind that WEL was a high-tech company; high tech didn’t spring out of somebody’s head with its arms full — it was based on what had gone before, and Lord Someone-or-Other’s house and grounds had gone before WEL — well before.

It was time to go back. As Chaite went into her room, she was delighted to see that there was an IBM PC on her side table, with the cursor blinking on the screen, all ready for her to process words, should she so wish.

She did wish. She had a look at the book of words, and then thought she’d short-circuit the learning process by getting a few tips from Dawn; after that she was away, and her report on the engineers’ interview days began to take shape.

So the afternoon passed until once more there was a tap on the door.

‘Came the Dawn’ thought Chaite, but it was Jinny: ‘Got time to come a-Woning before going out with Mr Universe?’

‘Why not?’

She saved her work, switched off, tidied her desk and was ready.

There was quite a crowd in the Woning that evening. Chaite looked around: ‘Are we celebrating something?’

‘No, I don’t think so. Not unless it’s Charlie’s four cycles’

‘What?’

‘Charlie Ford. In the stores. He’s got this idea that he ought to be able to win a seaside talent contest by juggling a bowler hat, an umbrella and a briefcase’

They were joined by Pat and an engineer called Nick Wells. There were introductions.

Chaite wanted to know more:

‘He’s been trying for three years to my knowledge ... in between bouts of morphology’

‘Morphology?’

‘The study of form’

‘Oh ... Ha’

‘If he can do four cycles after three years, he should be able to do eight after ... six years’

‘Possibly enough to work into an act’

‘Does it work like that? It could be a square law’

‘Sixteen cycles after six years?’

‘Something like that. Or there may be a breakthrough point where if you can do it for n you can do it for ever’

‘The theory of juggling. I wonder if anyone’s done a thesis on it?’

‘Wouldn’t be surprised’

Nick turned to Chaite: ‘Can you juggle?’

Chaite flipped up a beer mat and caught it: ‘That’s about it’

Pat kicked Nick under the table; he suddenly realised and became confused: ‘Oh ... sorry ...’

Chaite twinkled at him: ‘I take it as a compliment really. What else is Charlie going to put in his act?’

‘I’m not sure if he’s thought of that’

‘He couldn’t go far on the City Gent theme. The borderline between ineptness and monotony is very unclear. Indeed — they may even overlap’

‘Probably at the wenge point’

‘Can he sing?’

‘Never heard him ... do you think he should have a song in the act?’

‘Why not? He could do the juggling, then sing the song, then juggle and sing together as a finale. He’d get first prize, and then he could finance a monocycle for the next time’

‘I’d forgotten the monocycle’

‘What about it?’

‘Charlie gave it up when he thought of the juggling act. Thought it would be too monotonous’

Chaite thinks that the whole thing is in danger of becoming monotonous — there’ll be plenty of time to explore WEL characters; she ought to go and get ready for her outing. She excuses herself and makes her way home.

She’s told herself she wants to develop a social life, and this is as good a start as any. She is taking some trouble with her appearance — a blossoming blouse, a swirling skirt, shining matching shoes. She applies a light touch of make-up. She eschews earrings, partly because they’re a bit difficult, and partly because her coppery hair, sphinx-like, covers her ears anyway. She looks out of the window, and sees Seb arriving, driving slowly round the Market Square with the air of one seeking an uncertain destination.

She dons a jacket straight from the dry cleaner’s packet, slings her bag over her right shoulder and pushes her left arm into the deep pocket — as much to support its weight as to hide it. She checks her keys, and appears on the pavement just as Seb decides where to stop: ‘Hi’

‘Hi’

‘Put your things on the back seat’

Chaite unwinds herself again — it’s a warm evening.

‘Take your coat off too, if you like. Best to do it before we start’

Chaite decides to have no inhibitions; she takes off her jacket again, and lays it on the back seat. She gets in and belts up: ‘Are we going far?’

‘It’s on this side of Frettleborough. About forty minutes — but worth it’

‘And what is it?’

‘It’s sort of ethnic ... Eats at the Eagle, they call it’

‘Oh ... alliterative’

‘What? Yes. Last month, it was Polynesian; the month before it was Korean’

‘And this month?’

‘Chinese — hope that’s OK’

‘Yes. And the Eagle’s a pub?’

‘Yes. They’ve got a large room at the back they set aside on the first Tuesday of the month for ethnic eats. They hire in an appropriate cook’

They’d hardly hire in an inappropriate one, thinks Chaite.

‘And do you go there often?’

‘Every month I possibly can. And I cook a lot at home. You must come and try it’

‘You are a fast worker’

‘Do you think so? Just showing a new girl the sights ... [he sees the double meaning] ... new to WEL, that is’

‘And new to you. Don’t you have a girl friend?’

‘Er ... I’m trying to give them up’

‘Well, you’re not making a very good job of it, are you?’

lap, right over left. Seb is hoping that the evening will be a success; he and Yvonne have just split; Chaite (who does not know this) bears some slight resemblance to Yvonne (so slight that only Seb can see it) and seems to be available. And she’s new to the area, so he can show her the ropes without getting involved. Unless he wants to.

Seb’s got to know something: ‘What happened to your hand?’

Chaite runs through her stock of answers ... should she tell everyone at WEL the same tale, or spread a lot of different ones to keep them guessing?

‘It was a coach crash in Spain. As a matter of fact, I was lucky to get out alive ... several of the party ... I’d rather ... [her voice quavers] ... not talk about it’

‘Doesn’t it give you nightmares?’

Chaite could very easily work herself into a state: ‘Yes ... yes ... even after two years ... more than two years’

That’s answered that question.

‘Only two years? You seem to manage very well’

‘Yes, thank you. I can manage very well’

Another silence falls.

‘We’ll be there soon’

‘Good. I’m ravenous — I had a good lunch, but I’ve worked jolly hard too’

‘Me too. How are you enjoying it at WEL?’

‘It’s a bit early to say, but judging by first impressions, I’d say it’s ... fabulous. Very exciting. A challenge. Lots to do. Never a dull moment’

They see a string of coloured lights down in a dip as they come over the brow of a hill.

‘That’s it’

‘Wonderful’

The thought of eating ethnic food — any food — off paper plates has been appalling Chaite. But as soon as they enter the welcoming room she feels her perception of the event flip — china plates, proper cutlery, tables at which to sit. It’s obviously well organised; Chaite is glad she’s come.

Lettice comes bouncing up: ‘Hi, Seb, have you got a ticket? They’re four fifty — each. Is this your new friend?’

Chaite wonders at this manifestation of The French Maid; Lettice wonders what’s happened to Yvonne. Lettice keeps her mouth shut. Seb gives her a tenner: ‘Cheap at half the price’

Lettice gives him one pound change and two pieces of purple pasteboard. ‘Slick tickets’

‘Glad you like them; designed them myself. Now, plates are there, food all along there, sauces and chopsticks and napkins at the other end — or forks if you prefer — wine’s there too’

Seb picks up a tray; Chaite places two plates on it. They slowly move along, loading their plates, exchanging banter with girls on the serving side of the table, all of whom seem to know Seb, all of whom eye Chaite curiously.

‘Bed of rice ... sweet and sour prawns ... pork ... chicken ... water chestnuts .... egg noodles ... spring rolls ... prawn crackers ...’

The plates fill; at last Chaite gathers the napkins and cutlery and follows Seb over to an empty table: ‘It gets quite full, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes. Very gratifying for the old man’

‘Which old man?’

‘Lettice’s old man. He owns this pub as well’

‘Ah’

And Seb goes to get some wine, and Chaite sets out the table, and settles warmly into a comfortable chair preparing for an interesting evening.

After the meal, and seconds, and banana fritters, and coffee, and Seb introducing Chaite to some of his friends who continue to talk among themselves, they drive back in silence — but a reasonably comfortable silence; Chaite dozes most of the way. She awakes as they reach Foxworth: ‘Oh, sorry. Not very good company, I’m afraid’

‘Don’t worry ... it’s good to assist the sleep of the innocent’

What does that mean?

‘Would you like to come in for a coffee?’

She feels quite warm towards Seb, and wants him to see her luxurious flat.

‘Yes. Yes please. I’d like that’

They draw up and get out; Chaite runs up the steps and opens the door; ushers Seb in and up to her sitting room. She goes into the kitchen to put on the kettle; Seb stands in the middle of the floor taking it all in. Chaite returns. Seb indicates a jungle scene somewhat reminiscent of Le Douanier: ‘That’s a very striking picture. Who’s XS?’

‘Me — that’s a Greek Chi for Chaite ... as in Christmas’

‘No, Chi-mas.

‘When did you do that?’

‘About three years ago. As a matter of fact, I haven’t done one since’

‘Have you tried?’

‘No ... I was left handed. But I keep telling myself ... the freedom of oils ...’

‘What else don’t you do ... now?’

‘Play the guitar ... the piano. I was quite a good guitarist ... used to take part in college recitals’

‘You could take up the trumpet’

The kettle turns itself off. Chaite goes to make the coffee, rattled. She returns with the tray: ‘Just because you can play one instrument doesn’t mean you can play any instrument’

‘I didn’t think it did’

‘Why did you suggest the trumpet, then?’

‘Because ... How about the electronic organ then? You can get automatic rhythm, and it fills in the chords ...’

Chaite is becoming angry: ‘Why not just put on a record and have done with it? I don’t need to be reminded of my ... shortcomings ... Seb. I have to live with it — for ever more. Think about it’

But Seb is incredibly insensitive: ‘You really ought to try these things — not let yourself be beaten ...’

‘Beaten? BEATEN? What the hell do you think I’ve been doing for the last two years ... [she goes over to the door, and holds it open] ... OUT!’

‘What? Chaite, let me ...’

‘OUT!’

Seb still can‘t grasp what’s happened: ‘If that’s what you want ...’

‘That — is — what — I — want’

‘Well, thank you very much for coming out with me. I’ll ... see you around’

Seb slinks out.

Chaite hears him leave the house.

She stands, weeping.

She removes her arm and, with the care demanded by symbolism — as it were flinging a Military Cross into the foam — she casts it on to her sea of troubles and, by opposing, ends them.

She throws the coffees, untouched, away.