Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
We sound as dejected as each other as we say goodbye. Rick’s lost his job too, after all. “Shit,” I say to no one, although Poppy – our cat – looks up from where she’s now folded like a loaf on the other side of the table. This is it. As of Friday, I’ll be officially unemployed for the first time in my life, and it feels even scarier than I thought it would.
Driving is as big a part of my job as the electrics. Being a large company, we service, soon to be serviced, customers all over the North West, and even beyond if the job is big enough. Now, though, as I’m heading towards Prestbury, I realise another impact losing my job is going to have on my life. I’m driving a company van right now. A van I’ve been fortunate enough to keep at home for personal use outside work hours. Becca’s car is a company vehicle, too, meaning I’m not insured to use it.
So, come Friday, not only will I have no job, I’ll have no transport either.
"Fuck’s sake.”
I shake my head as I approach the exit lane for my best customer. I say my best customer because we do a lot of work for this guy and he’s asked for me, personally, since the first job I did for him over three years ago. He’s an older man, early sixties perhaps, who lives out in the golden circle of Cheshire with his much-younger wife, amongst the footballers and musicians, where houses sell for millions. To this day, I’m not entirely sure what he does for work, although I suspect it’s something behind the scenes of the rich and famous faces we see on the telly. He’s not one to talk business, but I’ve overheard conversations, seen awards on his shelves, photos on his walls of him posing with various celebrities.
When I reach the house, the gates are already open, allowing me to drive straight onto the ample in-and-out driveway. As I start unloading my tools, the customer, Mr Cobbe, greets me by the back of my van.
“William!” he almost sings, clapping me on the back as if we’re old chums.
I strain my neck to make eye contact and offer a little nod. “Mr Cobbe.”
“How many times? It’s Andrew, please.” He wafts the air to accentuate his point. “Can I get you anything?” he asks as we make our way into the house. We’re welcomed immediately by a twenty-foot reception hall with tiled floors and a high ceiling. “Tea? Coffee?”
“Tea, two sugars, easy on the milk would be great, thanks.”
“Coming up. You know where you’re going, right?”
I’m already heading towards the stairs that lead to the floor below as I salute him. I’m working on a new cinema room for Andrew Cobbe today. Apparently, the old one that housed eight leather recliners across two rows wasn’t big enough. It’s changed since I came to weigh up the job last month. The re-modellers have finished and the decorators have been. I step into plastic caps before entering to make sure I don’t smudge the newly laid carpet before I begin measuring up for the wall sconces. I reckon I’ll have most of them put up by the time Rick arrives, then we can work together on the spotlights and projection screen.
Once the lights are unpacked and my tools are ready, I pop on the radio, thankful I remembered to change the backup batteries last night as I’ll have to disconnect the power soon. Smooth Radio is my station of choice, and I’m hoping the hits of decades gone by will distract me while I work. I keep thinking about Becca and whether I should update her about my job situation, or lack of it, but decide it’s best to wait until tonight. No point in us both struggling through our workday under the weight of it. Still, I could really use the sound of her voice right now.
“Brought you some biscuits!” Andrew’s voice grows louder as he descends the stairs. He enters the room shortly after, mug of tea in one hand, plate of biscuits in the other. “Malted Milk and Rich Tea,” he adds. “My mother, God rest her, used to have them with butter.”
Eww. “Thanks,” I say, taking them from him before setting them down atop an unopened box. “Once I’ve drilled some access points, I’m going to need to turn your electric off. Is there anything you need to do before then?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll be heading out shortly anyway. Do whatever you need.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
Andrew turns to leave, pauses, and then raises a finger. “Before I go, with summer approaching, we’re sprucing up the garden. I’d like new lights fitting around the decking. Don’t see the point faffing around going through the office when you’re standing right here. Can you take a look before you leave?”