Margins

This story was originally published back in March, due to a glitch in Blogger when you edit stories they sometimes go to the top of the pile. 
The reason I edited this story was because of this article
For today’s story click here.

Gerwyn didn’t have a clue why he’d been called into the boss’s office but he had a funny feeling it wasn’t good news. His stomach felt heavy as he knocked the door and entered the stuffy room. Lewis nodded at him to sit. He settled in opposite Mr Lewis trying to read the look on his boss’s face while the clock ticked on the wall filling the loneliness of the office.

Lewis looked at Gerwyn and then began.

‘As you know there’s a recession on.’

Gerwyn hated that express, a recession on, it sounded like a sale or a circus, like someone had planned it, for three weeks only.

‘And times are hard, our orders are down for the next quarter and things do not look promising.We don’t know what’s coming next.’ 

Gerwyn knew exactly what was coming, his P45.

‘That means the company needs to make some changes and we are restructuring.’

Lovely thought Gerwyn, they’re restructuring, it used to be called being ‘made redundant’ but now it’s ‘being restructured out’.

‘Because of this we have to let someone go, after much consideration and soul searching…’

Gerwyn was pleased they had at least put in some thought and not picked a name from a hat,

‘we have decided that unfortunately we will have to offer you redundancy.’

Offer that was a joke, what if he didn’t accept?

Gerwyn composed himself. To be honest he didn’t mind, the job was shit, the pay off should be okay and he should be able to find something sooner or later. But something trouble him, what he didn’t know was why him? His results were as good as the others, he was punctual, smart, maybe they had picked his name out of a hat.

‘Mr Lewis, can I ask why me? Why not one of  the others.’

Lewis shifted uncomfortably; he hadn’t been expecting such a direct question.

‘Was it something I did? Were you unhappy with my work?’

‘I’ll be honest with you Gerwyn, it’s your name.’

‘My name?’ Gerwyn couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

‘Yes, in hard times like these we are always looking for those extra 1 percents.’

Lewis was back in management speak.

‘Those little things add up to make a lot of difference. and quite frankly Gerwyn Whatkins-Roberts your name gets in the way.’

‘My name gets in the way?’

‘Yes, I mean for a start we have to pay extra for your business cards, such a long name, they charge per letter you know and then there's all the misdirected emails because of that damn ‘H’, who the hell spells Watkins with an H?’

Gerwyn crossed his arms and let the boss continue with his rant.

‘And then there is the waste of time. I’ve seen you spend time on the phone spelling it out to customers, let alone the time you spend signing it. Small margins Gerwyn, small margins, that time you spend spelling and signing could be time spent selling.’

‘So you’re firing me because my name is too long.’

‘Yes, sorry Gerwyn that’s about the long and the short of it.’ 

Molly

Molly was without doubt the love of my life, I couldn’t help but smile when I saw her, couldn’t help but get the same shiver down my spine that I’d first had all those years ago when she’d first flashed her pretty smile in my direction. She’d snatched my heart that day and had kept it in a safe place ever since. Her voice, her laugh, her smell, her wonderfully cute nose that wrinkled as she smiled, had all contributed to my weak knees and dry mouth, and even after all this time I still couldn’t help but devour her with my eyes any chance I got. But don’t write me off as being shallow, I may have fallen for her beauty but I’d been held captive by her brain; eloquent, opinionated, funny, witty she could spellbind a room with her wit and charm or divide it with her forthright views, passionately argued, sending opponents flying like skittles using her words as the bowling ball.  She was then, still is and always will be the perfect woman.  

I looked at her now as another New Year’s Eve party drew to a close. Slumped drunkly on the sofa, her skirt ridden up revealing the dark material at the top of her stockings. Josh’s hand was on her thigh and his lips clamped passionately to hers. Don’t looked shocked, I said she was the love of my life, I never mentioned anything about me being the love of hers.

The argument to end all arguments

It’s strange, but I think if it hadn’t been for that argument I think we might have split up. The relationship had lost its sparkle, its dazzle, its je ne sais quoi. We were going through the motions, arguing about petty little things, getting upset over things we once ignored. We took each other for granted while both of us were trying to find the escape clause in the contract.

The argument that saved us was one of the dumbest we’d ever had. I wanted to take the tram, she wanted to walk, so we stood at the tram stop yelling at each other for the world to see. I was calling her selfish, self-centred, self obsessed, she was saying I was a lazy, fat pig. Then the silence, the staring, eyeball to eyeball like boxers at the weigh-in; only this wasn’t for show, this was for real.

Then she turned on her heel and walked away. She stepped into the road without looking just desperate to get away from me. The tram going down the hill hid the tram coming up it. I could see it, the onlookers could see it but she couldn’t. I called out but she just thought I was telling her to come back not yelling a warning. She was walking straight into the path of a number 22.

Our life together flashed before my eyes, the kisses and cuddles, the smiles and laughs, the hot water bottles and holiday snaps. In those few milliseconds the realisation that I loved her hit me in the face with the force that the tram was going to hit her.

Luckily the driver of the tram saw the mad woman and rang his bell frantically.  Luckily she hadn’t put her headphones in and heard the bell. Luckily she had time to jump back out of the path of the tram. It whistled passed her, her hair whooshing in the turbulence. She stood still for a couple of seconds not knowing what had hit her or not as the case maybe. I stepped into the road and put my arms round her. We stood there for some seconds, her head buried in my chest. It was only when another tram sounded its bell that we moved from the road, still holding each other, tears staining both of our faces.

I whispered I love you into her ear and knew we’d just had the argument to end all arguments. 

New Year’s Flames

I stood on my balcony and watched the fire fighters packing away their hoses and packing up their trucks, one team was still dampening down, but there was no need for the other crews. What was left of the church still smouldered but there were no flames now, just smoke and steam and senseless destruction.

All through the night the fire fighters had been fighting hard to control the fire, the wind had whipped the flames into the air, making them dance like giant candles in a draughty room. Water and foam had seemed such weak adversaries for such a strong force but eventually you could see the momentum changing. Such was the force of the flames that despite the freezing temperature I had been on the balcony in jeans and a T-shirt for most of the night but now the flames were gone I was wearing my big coat and clutching a hot cup of tea.

The church had stood in the middle of a square with flats all around, the grassy park in front of it had been the launch pad for a million fireworks on this New Year’s Eve, it was an accident waiting to happen, an accident that finally did happen.

The firework had burst through the glass window of the church and then discharged its sparkle. The wooden pews had proved a tinderbox, willing fuel for the fire. Then it all happened so quickly, leaping flames, blaring sirens, screams, shouts and flashing blue lights.

Now it was all but over, I decided, like the fire crews, that enough was enough, it was time to get some sleep. A tragic accident they would say, a rogue firework, a crying shame.  I closed my eyes and smiled, I knew differently and I also knew that I would never be woken up by those bells again.

Gunshot or Fireworks?

Gunshot or fireworks? Clem lay in bed his heart beating, he’d been ripped violently from his sweet dreams by a bang that the word bang did not do justice to. He lay still listening in the darkness, listening to what? Listening for what? He imagined other people in the block laying awake also torn from their dreams by the violent noise. Dark rooms, whispered voices, duvets pulled up and around for protection. Couples asking each other what that was, kids crying and creeping into parents' beds upset by the noise, cats hiding beneath sofas, dogs whimpering in the corner. Clem wondered if anyone would be brave enough to go have a look or if they would, like him, just lie in the darkness and wonder. Clem's heartbeat returned to normal and the night was still, no follow up rocket, no retaliatory gunshot, just the feint hum of the night.
Vinny loved this time of year, you could hide in broad daylight, or at least under the cover of darkness. Gunshots sounded like fireworks, they might wake up but wouldn't attract prying eyes. Vinny knew that most people would assume it was a firework, those who didn't would be too scared to peak out of their drawn curtains. As he stood over the figure oozing life at his feet, Vinny looked around at the flats, not one light on, not one flicker of curtains, a perfect, witnessless crime, with a very public body. The woman with two faceswould be pleased.