The Ascendant

Chapter Seven

Same as yesterday, I was sat on the stairs, impatiently awaiting the postman’s delivery. Only this time the stakes were much higher. And, yet again, the postman was late.

I was aware that he couldn't deliver his mail to all the houses on his round before 8am but to have acknowledged that much at this point would achieve nothing. And anyway, I was the desperate one here, I was the one who was likely to lose his job if the post didn't get here within the next few minutes. Why should someone else gain priority over me? It was 8am: it takes twenty five minutes to walk from here to my workplace. Buses are unreliable and in my case, unaffordable and going to work this morning before the post arrives would be unthinkable.

As the clock ticked round, slowly, I started to do my sums. If the postman were to get here by 8.15 then I could quickly open the letter to confirm everything was OK and then run all the way to work and maybe, ever-so maybe: be situated in working mode for 8.30. At a push. Anything after 8.15 and there would be no question of the outcome of my disciplinary hearing while all my uncertain eggs would remain in one basket.

8.05am. A door opened upstairs and then slammed shut. A man was swearing under his breath as he struggled to get a key into his door lock. Finally, after a great deal of seemingly spiteful resistance, the lock turned and the bloke bounded down the stairs. I crouched over to one side to let him by as he ran past, opened the front door and was gone without another mutter.

I looked up, not to assess the cracked plaster and cobwebs which surrounded the dusty light fitting above me, but for the first time in many years, I turned to God to pray.

‘Please God, if you’re up there, please help me. I know we’ve not been on speaking terms these last few years but please, please give me a chance. Just this one, that’s all I ask.’

I stopped just short of telling him that I’d be his best mate. As I shifted my head, the tension in my shoulders was so great that my neck made a cracking noise. I gave myself a quick massage which had no discernible effect but at least killed a few seconds, so it was not a complete waste of time.

Cars and people passed by outside but there was still no sign of the postman’s distinctive, lopsided gait. 8.15 approached, and with it the death knell of my career as a telephonist or claims handling agent. My long night had turned into an even longer morning, and I needed to take another trip to the toilet.

One short dribble and a couple of droplets. This couldn’t be good for me, I thought as I pulled the toilet chain, though there was nothing visible to flush away.

I wandered back through to the hallway and rested against the banister. Then I checked my watch: 8.18, the point of no return. With a sigh, I returned to my seat on the stairs.

At 8.53 the postman finally appeared and just as he had done yesterday, crammed a gargantuan amount of mail through the letterbox. The only difference was that today I was on the other side of the door, pulling it through.

‘Oi!’, he shouted, as I tugged the bundle from his hands.

‘Sorry,’ I called back, but he was already turning away towards the next house.

I dropped the letters to the ground to scan them as quickly as I could: junk mail, personal letters, bills and a couple of formal letters; one in a large white envelope with my name on it. Near the postage stamp was a familiar looking insignia.

I picked the envelope up and ripped it open, partially tearing the enclosed cover sheet as I did so. I took out the cover sheet and skim read it to glean the information I required: they were offering me the job. I leapt into the air: relief, joy and strictly legal ecstasy pulsing through my veins. An elated noise which started in my throat engulfed the hallway and beyond ...

I was on my knees, staring at the piece of paper in front of me, my hands shaking, my eyes filling with tears.

A door opened nearby and a neighbour (the one whom I met in more miserable circumstances yesterday, was standing in his doorway). Through my fuzzy eyes I could see he was wearing the same old dressing gown and doubtless the same socks.

‘Are you OK?’, he asked.

I rose to my feet and walked over to him before grabbing both sides of his face and kissing him firmly and passionately on his mouth. He pulled back with a look of shock and bewilderment, and I laughed hysterically (barely tasting the Marmite) before turning to pick up my mail and running excitedly back up to my room.

Sat back on my bed, still breathing hard, I read the letter that I hoped would change my life:

Mr B Lagman

13 Clive Street

Grangetown

Cardiff

CF11 7HJ

December 3, 2001

Dear Mr Lagman

We confirm you have been successful in your application for our vacancy for Project Developer, and would like to offer you this position on a permanent basis, subject to satisfactory completion of a three month probationary period.

You will be based in our Camden Town office and will be reporting directly to our regional Project Development Manager, Paul Hobbs.

We enclose a full job description for your perusal, together with a copy of your contract of employment, which you should read thoroughly, before signing both copies. You should retain the copy marked ‘Employee’ for your own records and return the copy marked ‘Employer’ to ourselves, using the enclosed pre-paid envelope.

Your starting salary will be £50,000 per annum. You will also be entitled to join our private health care, company pension, and bonus schemes upon satisfactory completion of your probationary period.

Should you have any queries whatsoever, please do not hesitate to contact the undersigned. We also look forward to hearing from you to discuss a mutually convenient start date.

Yours sincerely,

Tracey Rice

Recruitment Manager

'Fifty thousand pounds a year.' I said it over and over, but it still didn’t sound real. I lay back on my bead, spread-eagled, staring at the inglorious patterns across my ceiling.

‘Fifty thousand pounds,’ I told myself, ‘fifty thousand pounds.’

I checked my watch: 9.20am. Plenty of time before I had to start thinking of heading off for work, but one thing was for sure – I didn’t want to be late for my disciplinary hearing.