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For part 1 click here part 2 click here and part 3 click here.
“Ladies and
Gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, Castleton’s business man of the year,
the one and only, Mr. Barry Corby.” The assembled guests got to their feet and
starting clapping, but Barry didn’t move. The whoops and cheers continued, but
still Barry remained motionless. “Mr. Barry Corby,” the compere repeated. This
time Barry looked up, realized that his name had been called and slowly rose to
his feet. He walked to the stage aware of the clapping and the smiles but not
feeling the love. Barry knew every one of the people here by name, he knew who
was cheering out of love, out of respect, out of duty and out of fear. Three
hundred people, but who would be cheering if he didn’t have money, if he wasn’t
married to the most beautiful woman in the whole county?
He smiled his famous smile and
tried to summon the bravado he’d felt earlier in the day. But that was easier
said than done. Earlier in the day, he hadn’t been rejected sexually by his own
wife, and he hadn’t received the email that was weighing down his phone in his
trouser pocket.
He smiled at the audience who were
just beginning to retake their seats. He was trying to summon the spirit of
Barry Corby. He looked around. Fuck them, fuck the lot of them. He thought of
the speech he’d written, but he couldn’t be bothered to read it. He’d wing it.
“Friends,” he said. There it was,
there was his voice. “Thank you so
much for this wonderful recognition. This is now the sixth year in a row that I
have won this award, but I know that each and every one of you in here has the
potential to win it. But potential is one thing, do you have the balls? Do you
have the Barry Corby kahunas? Everyone of us can be successful, but only a few
of us can be great. I don’t want to win this next year. Next year I want one of
you to take this prize from me. Do you have the balls to rise to the
challenge?”
Barry smiled his Barry Corby smile. “Thank you friends.
Thank you.”
People
looked a bit embarrassed, then broke into applause. Barry stepped down from
the stage. But he didn’t make his way back to his seat. He ignored outstretched
hands and the cheeks to kiss. He even ignored his wife’s advances. Instead, as
he heard the band strike up, he headed straight into the peace and quiet of the toilets. He chose the
first cubicle and snapped the lock shut.
Barry
rested his head on the cool wooden door. The feint hum of the band bled through
the walls. He touched the phone in his trouser pocket. The phone, the email. He
smashed his fist against the toilet door.
“Barry, you
okay mate?” It was Arthur Macintosh, ArtyMac to his friends and probably the
one man in the world that Barry could trust with his life.
“Fine,
Arty, just think the Salmon disagreed with me.”
“Okay, let
me know if you need anything.”
“Will do
fella, will do.”
Barry knew
he had to go back into the main room. He knew that people wanted to shake his hand
and slap his back and promise him they’d be holding the award next year. But
first he had to take one more look at the email, just to prove he’d not been
dreaming. He slowly got his phone out of his pocket, keyed in the unlock code
and looked at his emails. Much to his disappointment, the offending item was
still there.
For part five click here
For part five click here
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