A Piece of the Sky is Missing

‘Exactly. But, Robert, there is a time and a place for everything. And the time for talking about – er —’

‘Bogs and V.D. is not in your office.’

‘Exactly. I’m glad you understand it so well. Not that I thought you wouldn’t. You’re highly intelligent. Highly. And you have a sense of humour, too. A quality sadly lacking at C and B. Mind you, you have – er —’

‘Gone a bit far on occasions.’

‘Exactly. Exactly. Can’t overlook the odd managerial black eye entirely. Failing in my duty if I did. But to turn to this – er – caricature in the non-executive – er – washroom. Quite amusing, in its way, I grant you that. I inspected it and I must admit I had a little chuckle. Quite the talk of the – er – non-executive canteen. But, Robert. But …’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I understand why you did this. Not as unimaginative as I look. I understand that there was genuine irritation behind this, genuine dislike of the – er —’

‘Petty class distinctions.’

‘Of industrial life. Exactly. I’m aware that you aren’t just striving for cheap popularity on the shop floor. But nevertheless, nevertheless, Robert, that is the effect. To make you popular – though not necessarily respected – and to make Tadman-Evans look ridiculous. And you know it was somewhat gratuitous to use his real telephone number. He had fourteen calls over the weekend.’

‘I’m sorry, sir.’

‘So under the circumstances I really feel that I have no – er – er —’

‘Alternative.’

‘Exactly. No hard feelings, eh?’

‘Well, sir, no.’

Sir John stood up. The interview was over.

‘Glad you’re taking it like this. I quite thought I might end up with a black eye. Amuse Lady Barker no end. Huh.’

Sir John extended his hand. Robert took it.

‘Well, Robert, there it is.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘There it is.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Sir John let go of Robert’s hand.

‘There it is.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Robert made his way to the door.

‘Good luck,’ said Sir John Barker.

He walked slowly back to his office. Oh, well, what did it matter? It was time he left anyway. Twelve years was too long with one firm. This was an opportunity, not a setback.

‘Nothing wrong, Mr Bellamy, is there?’ said Julie.

‘No, Julie. Nothing wrong.’

‘Oh, it wasn’t …’

‘The sack. Yes, I rather think it must have been.’

‘Oh, Robert.’

Chapter 2

A London Night

Robert had first met Sonia twelve years previously, in the early December of 1955, at a party given by a friend of a friend of Doreen’s. Doreen shared with Brenda the room above Robert’s, at number 38. They were Yorkshire girls, from Dewsbury. They knew of every party within a six-mile radius of Kentish Town. They were waiting for the arrival of Mr Right. They liked Robert, and often dragged him off to parties, even though he wasn’t Mr Right.

Shortly after their arrival at the party, Robert found himself all alone. He took a second glass of the punch and drank it rapidly. He was twenty. He had just started at Cadman and Bentwhistle. He had never had a girl, and believed that this fact was written on his face. All the girls in the typing pool knew, and he hated it when he had to walk through the typing pool.

The room was dimly-lit, red, stripped for action, crowded. God, I hate parties, he thought.

A girl came in, apparently on her own. He made to move towards her, decided against it, decided in favour of it, did so, said: ‘Can I get you something to drink?’

‘Thank you,’ she said, in a confident upper-class voice.

He fished two butt ends out of the punchbowl and poured out two glasses.

‘What is it?’ she said.

‘Revolting,’ he said. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Polly.’

‘I’m the Maharajah of Inverness.’ She laughed, embarrassingly loudly. ‘My real name’s Robert,’ he said.

‘What do you do?’

‘I work in a firm that makes instruments.’

‘What sort of instruments?’

‘All sorts. Just instruments.’

‘Why aren’t you at the university? You aren’t thick, are you?’

‘No. I didn’t fancy it. I wanted to get out into the real world, and do some work.’ How incredibly pompous. Any minute now she would go. He didn’t want her to go. She was attractive. Dumpy, half-way towards being fat, with big breasts. Her nose was squashed, her mouth big and lazy. She was sexy in the way that Christmas pudding was appetizing. ‘I’m sorry. That sounds rather pompous,’ he said.