working for Derek, Paul had learnt that the company was nowhere near the size his boss liked to pretend – indeed as far as he was aware there was just the two of them. He also knew that as well as being obsessed with good manners and politeness, Derek kept himself to himself, never went out socially and appeared to have no mates. He seemed to live for his work, and was meticulously clean and tidy to ridiculous lengths. Some days Paul felt he’d done nothing but clear up. Derek also liked to work in silence, only breaking it to explain something about the job, or to deliver a lecture. Lectures included the youth of today, lack of respect, the lowlife scum who stole from decent folk, and noise pollution – the latter delivered after Paul had naïvely asked if they could have the radio on as they worked.
‘If clients wanted a radio blaring out all day they’d have one switched on, wouldn’t they? It would be intrusive for them to have to listen to our radio just because we want it on. An infringement of their personal space. Never forget we are tradesmen in these people’s homes, here simply to do the job they are paying us for, so don’t overstep the line into familiarity.’ Paul had been sorry he’d asked.
But his boss’s work ethos seemed to be successful, for he received so many requests for quotations that he could pick and choose the jobs he wanted. After visiting some premises he didn’t send an estimate, but an email apologizing that his work schedule was full, which seemed odd to Paul as some days they’d finished by lunchtime. Paul had no idea what the criteria were for accepting or declining a job. He’d asked Derek but he’d been vague and as an apprentice he couldn’t press him for an explanation. Paul was never allowed to go with Derek when he went to estimate. Derek said it would be an unnecessary inconvenience to the clients to have them both there, but added that if he took Paul on permanently he would train him in estimating. For various reasons Paul doubted that would happen.
At eleven o’clock they accepted the coffee Mrs Williams offered and drank it in the garage. Paul was also allowed to eat two of the biscuits she’d arranged on the plate; to eat them all would have appeared greedy, Derek said. It was then Paul’s job to return the tray with their empty mugs and the plate to the kitchen, remembering to knock on the door before he went in, even if it was open.
At one o’clock they had their lunch break sitting in the van to eat their packed lunches. Paul found it uncomfortable sitting so close to Derek who often had tuna and mayo in his sandwiches, made by his mother. He had the radio on low and always tuned to Classic FM. Paul ate his sandwiches quickly and then left the van to use his phone.
At half past five, the job was done. Derek checked the place was clean and tidy and that all their tools were packed in the van and then told Paul he could go. All that remained was for Derek to talk the clients through operating the system, and he never left until the clients felt confident using it.
‘I’m glad you’re pleased with the quality of the images,’ Derek said an hour later as he and Mr and Mrs Williams stood in front of their monitor in the hall. He’d shown them how to navigate the screen with the mouse, rewind to a specified date and time, download information, zoom in and out, and decide which images to display. They were now looking at their children in the living room watching television.
‘Stop picking your nose, Jack,’ his father called from the hall. They laughed as Jack looked up startled, wondering how he’d been caught.
‘I’ve changed the default password along the lines your husband suggested so you can remember it,’ Derek said, winding up. ‘It’s now rujuwi10.’
‘I won’t remember that!’ Julie exclaimed.
‘Yes, you will,’ Russ said. ‘It’s the first two letters of our names and 10.’
‘Of course.’ She laughed, tapping her forehead at having not realized.
‘Change it again if you want,’ Derek said. ‘But please tell me if you do. I’m maintaining your system – free for five years – so if there is a technical problem I’ll need to be able to log in to sort it out.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Russ said.
‘Now, I’ve loaded the website to both your phones; are you sure you don’t want me to do the same with your tablets and laptops?’
‘No, that’s fine, I’ll do it,’ Russ said. ‘Thanks for everything. I’ll certainly recommend you.’
‘Thank you. Please don’t hesitate to phone or email me if there is anything further I can help you with.’
‘We will,’ Russ said. They shook hands.
Derek turned to Mrs Williams. ‘Nice seeing you again. You’ll sleep easier in your bed now you’re all protected.’
‘We will indeed.’
‘You’re late,’ Elsie Flint hissed the moment Derek walked in. ‘Your dinner’s ruined again. I had mine over an hour ago. It’s thoughtless. But why do I expect any different? Like father, like son.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Derek said, going to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. ‘But you know I can’t leave a client until the job is complete.’ He ran the hot water, squirted antibacterial soap onto his palms and washed them well.
Tutting, his mother took his plated dinner from the oven. She set it at the place she’d laid on the small Formica dining table covered by a faded tablecloth in the recess of the kitchen.
‘Thank you,’ he said, drying his hands.
She humphed and returned to the living room, sitting in her usual chair in front of the television to watch the soap he’d interrupted.
She was a bitter woman, Derek acknowledged, and watched soaps most of the day to alleviate the boredom of her own life. And who could blame her? Her life was meaningless, shallow and without purpose but there was nothing he could do about it.
He crossed to the table, and drawing out a chair sat down. He picked up his knife and fork, wiped it on his napkin and looked at the congealed ready meal on his plate.
‘I’ve told you not to bother cooking my meal,’ he called through to her with a stab of irritation. ‘I never know what time I’ll be back.’
‘And I’ve told you it’s a waste of electricity to cook our meals separately,’ she returned, and upped the volume on the television to stop further discussion.
In the past he’d suggested buying a microwave but she’d refused on the grounds they were unsafe, and, anyway, she’d never learn to use one.
‘I could teach you,’ he’d offered.
‘No, thank you,’ she’d said in a tone that left no room for negotiation. ‘We don’t need a microwave.’
He took a mouthful of the cottage pie and chewed slowly. Another stab of irritation. He resented having to eat her overcooked processed meals nearly as much as he resented being put in the position his father had left him in. When he’d abandoned them, Derek had become solely responsible for his mother. He’d been just eighteen and his own life had stopped. He doubted it would ever get going again while she was alive. He’d had to leave school to get a job to support them both, and had become his mother’s emotional
