The Dinner Guest by B Walter (best short books to read txt) 📕
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- Author: B Walter
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‘Well, OK, I just wanted to check. In that case, I’ve got a question you could help with: a few weeks ago you were selling those little palm-tree ornaments that you could put tea lights in and I bought one and Otis, my labrador, had one of his tempers and sent the thing flying and I wanted to get another, only now I see the display has been taken down…’
I tried to stand still while she told me all this, even though I could feel myself swaying a little. ‘Yes, well, that was a summer display. We’re now putting in Christmas things, so…’
The woman’s face remained blank. ‘Christmas?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, Christmas.’ I looked down at my phone screen. Over an hour until I could go home. How I hated being tied into shift work like this. I longed to be a free spirit again. My own boss. Do what I wanted. Go where I wanted. Not clock in, clock out, remember to be deferential to a boss who I also paid rent to. I’d been feeling trapped for months, and now, this silly woman spoiling what should be an important life-changing moment, was causing it all to rush to the surface. All the frustration, all the anger, all the pain.
‘I’m sorry, but it’s still August,’ she said, looking at me now like I was an alien. ‘I really don’t think we need to worry about Christmas just yet, do we?’
On another day I may have agreed with her, but on this day it was the wrong thing to say to me. I felt hot and a bit shaky, I glanced around, to see if I could pass her on to someone else, but the only other staff member I could see was Ruth at the other side of the building near the pet section helping an elderly man choose a dog lead.
‘Hello?’ the woman said. ‘Am I boring you?’
That was the thing that made me snap. Am I boring you? I mean, she was kind of asking for it. ‘Yes, you are boring me. In fact, all of this bores me.’ I swept a hand around, gesturing at our surroundings. ‘And if I’m being honest, not everyone can afford to get all their Christmas shopping in December with a few days to spare and load it into their Range Rover in one big haul. Some people have to spread it out because they’re living paycheque to fucking paycheque with no hope of any lines of credit. So the next time you see some Christmas cards or chocolates or decorations for sale a little bit too early for you, just think, “Well, at least I’m lucky enough not to have to save up the pennies for a tub of Cadbury fucking Heroes.”’
I finished my diatribe slightly out of breath. The woman looked stunned. Seconds passed that felt like lifetimes. The rain tap, tap, tapped on the glass ceiling above us. Then, at last, once the impact of my words had sunk in, she grabbed at the only line someone like her has to fall back on.
‘I’d like to make a formal complaint.’
I kept very still, staring at her, trying to steady my breathing. After a few seconds, she continued.
‘May I have your name? I’ll need it for when I speak to your supervisor. Could you please send for him? I’d like to make my complaint straight away.’
The fact she presumed my supervisor was a man riled me even more. But before I could respond with a biting comeback, a voice behind me said, ‘There’s no need to send for me. I’m here.’
The normally kind voice of my manager, Allen, had a hard edge to it. More managerial than normal. ‘Rachel, could you please wait for me in my office. I’ll be with you in a moment.’
I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. I was embarrassed and angry, with both the woman and myself. I left through the doors at the wall to my right and let myself into his little office. Only once I was sitting on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs inside did I unlock my phone and stare down again at the photo that had started it all.
The photo of him.
And I knew nothing Allen could do – no reprimand, no disciplinary action, no firing – could match the earth-shattering power of seeing that photo. From that day on, everything else in my life became background noise. Noise to be turned off, so I could start from scratch and refocus my life with one clear goal in mind.
As soon as Allen walked in and lowered his overweight frame down behind the desk, I had made my decision. ‘I’d like to hand in my notice. I’m resigning.’
His eyes widened a little. ‘Rachel, I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever all this is about…’
‘It’s about nothing. I’d like to resign. And I’m going to move out of my room, too.’
He looked more and more puzzled. ‘But … where are you going to go?’
I took a deep breath, then said with conviction, ‘London. I’m moving to London.’
Chapter Three Rachel
Twelve months to go
I cleared my flat in under an hour. That’s how long it took to scoop up my main possessions into my travel case and rucksack. The rest went in the recycling. I left a pile of food and an unopened bottle of skimmed milk at Allen’s front door. He was more baffled than angry that I was going so quickly, and he was a good man really, so I thought he could have these.
I got a taxi to my dad’s house – my old family home – and dragged the bags from the pavement to
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