Sue swore her mother’s memory was better than her own.
“Yes, that’s the one. I’m hoping it’ll be a different person by now.”
“Well let’s hope so,” her mam agreed with her. “Anyway, I thought I’d pop up this afternoon, tidy your garden up for you.”
“It’s not that bad,” Sue said.
“I know, but if I keep doing a little bit now and again it’ll keep it nice,” her mam stated.
Sue knew it was hopeless to object, her mother’s innate inability to stay still for a second meant if she wasn’t doing ‘jobs’ at her house, she’d find some to do at Sue’s.
“Okay, see you soon, bye.”
“Bye.”
Sue hung up and looked at the page of information she had on the adult access to work grant, she clicked on the printer icon. The more information she had, the better, especially if she encountered the same woman once more. For the life of her Sue couldn’t recall what her name was, but she was pretty sure she’d recognise it if she heard it.
So much now seemed to rest upon being able to retrain because if she couldn’t all that she saw ahead of her was the same old fight with the benefits system. No, she corrected her thoughts, it wouldn’t be the same old fight, it would become harder and increasingly more desperate, if their wondrous PM had his way. Oh Proust made sympathetic noises and talked about the most vulnerable in society being protected during his reforms to the welfare state, but the reality was that they were all treated in exactly the same way. The default position was that they were all sponging off the state therefore the government was entirely justified in slashing the numbers of people in receipt of benefits. Sue could completely understand Barbara not wanting to tell people she received state help because, as a group they were judged and found wanting by increasing numbers in society.
Sue had watched an interesting piece on the news a few days previously, members of the public had been interviewed about their view of the welfare state. Each one had said that it needed reforming, and that there were too many people claiming, slowing the economic recovery, indeed had contributed to the triple dip in the first place. When asked what they would do about someone claiming ESA, their voice was unanimous, forced them back into work. But, when the interviewer then asked what should happen to someone who had worked for thirty odd years, and had become ill or compromised physically, through no fault of his or her own, the interviewees faltered in their resolve; in that case they decided, they should be supported by the state. The problem was, as far as Sue could work out, there seemed to be no distinction being made between the two groups, either in the public’s mind or in parliament; they were all demonised.
Chapter forty-seven
It was the same woman and unmistakably so. Sue had been reminded of a cartoon from her youth, Crystal Tips and Alistair, because she had exactly the same hair; a mass of glorious red waves that stood like a triangular frame around her face. She was rather on the large side, with round rosy cheeks that provided a ledge for glasses too small for her build.
She stood as Sue entered her cubicle and put out a hand. “Hello, I’m Joanne and I work for the Work Introduction Programme.”
“Yes, I know,” Sue replied, shaking her hand, which was unpleasantly moist and very warm. “I’ve been to see you before, about a year ago.”
Joanne showed no sign of recognising Sue, no sign of discomfort at having failed to deliver on any of her promises. Maybe Sue was being too hard on her, she could have been new to the job back then and maybe, just maybe, the bundle of information she’d sent to Sue had actually gotten lost in the post, twice.
“I have a note here that says you want to know about funding to retrain as a bookkeeper.”
“Yes, that’s right; I want to find a new career that I can work in around my physical problems.”
“So, you’ll be looking to work from home?” Joanne asked, as she did a sort of upward wriggle with her cheeks, embedding her glasses even further into her fat.
“That’s right, I want to become self-employed and just take it from there really.” Sue shrugged as she answered.
“I see, and how did you want me to help?”
Oh crap, Sue thought, this is going to be just like last time. She decided on a change of tract, she would take the lead in the conversation or they would end up going round in circles. “Well, as you said, I want to know about any available funding that I could access to pay the course fees.”
“Some of the colleges do offer the courses for free, if you’re on certain benefits.”
“Yes, I know, but I’ve already looked at Meadow College and it’s a full fees course.”
“Right.” Joanne began tapping on the keyboard, her fingers surprisingly fast.
“Here we are, this is the prospectus for Meadow College.”
“Yes, I know, I’ve already checked it,” Sue’s impatience was mounting. The woman obviously hadn’t been new to the job last time, she was just hopeless at it. It annoyed Sue, that other people held jobs, despite being totally incompetent, when she herself could no longer re-join the work force.
“I’ll just get onto the right bit,” Joanne continued, as if Sue hadn’t spoken.
So, Sue told her what to click on to find the relevant section, it was like when you say to someone the photocopier or television or anything isn’t working, but they still have to press the button themselves, just in case you were somehow incapable of performing such a basic function.
“Ah, well that is strange.” Another hitch of the cheeks. “It’s a full fees course.”
Sue resisted the urge for sarcasm. “I know, I’ve already looked.”
“It shouldn’t be, I wonder if there’s a way to check?”
“There is, I phoned and spoke to the guy in charge of funding, he confirmed it was a full fees course. He did say they were hoping to fund the level three in accounting, next year.”
“That’s good, at least you could enrol on that.”
Christ, what planet was this woman on?
“I need to do my level one and two first. Anyway the guy gave me some charities that do offer funding, but when I checked them out I didn’t qualify.”
“Good idea, I was about to suggest looking at some charities.”
Yeah, right.
Sue braved on. “I’ve also checked out student loans and funding to do the course remotely, but as I’ve already accessed further education, I didn’t qualify for help.”
“I see,” Joanne said, and then turned to frown at her computer screen. Sue wanted to sit, say nothing, force her hand, but after watching the blank face across from her, she relented.
“I did find a source of money, called the Access to Education grant, which said you have to go through your Work Introduction adviser, in order to qualify.” Sue placed the print outs on the table. Joanne shuffled them to her side, and began to read slowly. It was painfully obvious she had never heard of the Access to Education grant, and had no idea what the hell she should do next.
She finished reading. “That’s just another name for funding which is available dependent upon certain benefits. Like at Meadow college, so I can’t understand why it’s-”
“So you’re saying there is no extra money?” Sue interrupted her, resisting the urge to add, are you really sure about that? But whether it was true or not, Joanne had decided upon her answer and was sticking to it.
“No, it’s just the same pot of money.”
Sue nodded, time to wrap things up, another monumental waste of her energy. “Well, that’s it, thank you.” She stood up and put on her jacket, Joanne seemed slightly surprised at her sudden action, maybe she felt it was her role to terminate the interview.
“I’ll ask my colleagues if they know of any other funding and e-mail you anything I find.”
Sue scrutinised her for a moment, trying to decide if there was any truth in her suggestion or was this just the way she finished off every session. Finally she pulled some paper from her bag, wrote her
e-mail address and her name, underlining both. There was no way this information was getting lost in the post. Sue handed over the slip of paper, smiled and left the room.
She never heard from the adviser, and wasn’t even remotely surprised.
*****
Once home Sue was trying to find the positive angle from her interview with the Work Introduction Programme adviser, it was not proving to be easy. It was something she did, a coping mechanism really and rooted in her flourishing Buddhist beliefs; after all there was always someone worse off than you. Whenever something happened she turned it around to reveal a more palatable side. She saw that, if she’d never been forced to finish work, she would never have tried writing as career, she wouldn’t have reconnected with several old friends and wouldn’t have become more relaxed about life; her philosophy being, she couldn’t afford to buy much food, re-decorate the house, get someone to sort out the damp seeping into several rooms, so why bother worrying about it? But Joanne had left her stumped, in the end she decided to view it as another option ticked off the list, meaning she could surely only be getting nearer to her goal, becoming a bookkeeper. That said, she was running out of ideas.
The sound of a car beeping roused her from her ponderings; she grabbed a plate of freshly made scones, and headed outside. Truth be told she would have rather headed straight to bed, her meeting with Joanne had left her exhausted mentally and physically. Sue found her body could only cope with her very limited life style and anything beyond often meant several days in bed recovering. But this she couldn’t miss and forced a smile upon her face. Instead of meeting with her pain management group at the local coffee shop, Claire had invited them all to her new bungalow. Sue was curious to have a look at one of the, so-called, benefit’s estates, there had been so much press about them and she was anxious to see how Claire and Fred had settled in. The more right-wing press bemoaned the fact that, in a time of economic difficulty, those scrounging their way through life should be given a brand new home, they claimed that whole areas of the housing project had been taken over by drug dealers and alcoholics, a slap in the face for those who’d tried to help them. There were dire warning of anarchic behaviour, and in some streets, it was said, the police would not venture because of fears for their safety. The People’s Party hadn’t gone quite that far, but neither had it tried to defend their grass roots supporters. Instead they talked about low income families receiving the help they so desperately needed in order to avoid the bedroom tax; they did not mention those on benefits, there was no saviour coming to their aid.
“Hi,” Sue said as she lowered herself gently into Barbara’s car. “Thanks for picking me up.”
“That’s fine, I’d rather not go on my own anyway. I’m frightened I’ll get lost,” Barbara replied. Sue smiled, Barbara had become so much more confident within their little group, but she would always remain that little bit unsure of herself and her surroundings.
“Oh I’m sure we’ll cope,” Sue replied. “How are you anyway?”
“I’m fine, thanks. And you?”
“Yep, me too.”
It was something they always did, whether the pain was visible upon their face or not, they all tended to give the standard, ‘I’m fine,’ reply.
“Have you baked?” Barbara asked. “Something smells nice.”
“I just made a few cheese scones.”
“I love cheese scones, I’ve made some raspberry cupcakes.”
“They sound lovely,” Sue replied.
“How did it go this morning, it was today you were going to see the Work Introduction adviser wasn’t it?”
Sue groaned.
“That good?” Barbara’s shoulders noticeably slumped in disappointment for her friend.
“Yep, same woman as last time and still clueless; I knew more than she did, a complete waste of time,” Sue responded, irritation spiking her words once more.
“So did she have nothing to offer, no funding?”
“Nope.”
“Isn’t it ridiculous?” Barbara asked. “There you are, wanting to retrain, but instead of helping you to do that, they’d rather just carry on issuing your benefits.”
“Exactly, I mean it’s got to be in their best interests to get me off JSA. Christ knows they’re always trying to throw us off the damn things, while they waffle on about the money we’re costing them,” Sue replied.
“I don’t think the government thinks that far ahead, do you?” Barbara said.
“No, probably not, especially with this lot; I mean how many knee jerk policies have they declared and then had to do a U-turn and give them up. They’re like kids playing at running the country without any real idea of the harm their policies cause,” Sue stated.
The conversation turned to the weather, a second week of sun having drawn everyone out in their summer best, and Sue wound down the window as they travelled along the road that led to the benefit’s estate. They turned right at T-junction and rounded a sharp corner to see a long straight road heading off in front of them, every so often it was punctuated with a turn in on the right. Facing the houses on the other side of the divide were fields full of cows and sheep. And, although it must be a pleasant aspect for those who lived directly opposite the animals, Sue couldn’t help but think the contrast between the developed land and the rural idyll only served to make the estate seem even more soulless; because the houses to the front were regimented and uniform and, if it used to be true you could identify social housing by the door, then the style, the window frames, the entranceway, everything screamed council estate.
“Which is our turn in?” Barbara asked. The development was not yet recognised by the GPS, it was a child’s strategy, if you couldn’t see it or chose to look away, then it didn’t exist.
“Claire said it was the fourth turn in, just up ahead I think,” Sue replied. She checked her scrambled instructions. “Yes, we turn in on Kyle Road and then it’s the tenth turn on the right, into Norton Drive.” Sue gazed out of the window, counting down the turn offs. Identical Terraced houses, with a strip of garden to the front. It was a lovely day and the green was strewn with children’s play things; Sue heard laughter from a paddling pool, as adults sat together in the sun. It didn’t seem that bad, Sue thought, so much for all the unfavourable press.
“Right, this is it just here. Then Claire said you’re almost at the end of the road when there’s a turn off onto Cowell Drive.”
“Bit of a strange mix, Kyle Road, Norton Drive and Cowell street,” Barbara remarked.
“Apparently they’re supposed to be named after inspirational people, ones that those of us at the bottom of the gene pool can identify with. There’s also an Ant and Dec Road, a Sugar Street and a Cole cul-de-sac; cheeky sods. Ah…here we are just there, that’s it, now Claire’s house is one hundred and thirty-six.”
“I had no idea how huge this place is,” Barbara said. “It’s just as well you did come, I’d never have found it on my own.”
“It’s like an inner city sprawl, with a bit of greenery to keep the natives happy. Hang on, Claire’s is this one on the left.”
“Do you think it’s alright for me to pull onto the drive?” Barbara asked.
“I don’t see why not, Claire and Fred don’t have a car and if you park there then it leaves more room for John and Jenny.”
Barbara turned onto the drive, just as Claire opened the door of her new home. Sue tried to see, detect the emotion behind the façade, while she was unaware she was being scrutinised. But there was nothing, she stood waiting for them, a smile on her face, looking exactly the same as she had when they’d waved her off from her old home. Sue exhaled audibly.
“Is everything okay?” Barbara asked, as she undid her seat belt.
Sue smiled at her and picked up the scones. “Everything seems to be.”
Barbara frowned slightly but Sue was already climbing out of the car, Claire walked to meet her, arms outstretched; and there it was, the pain in eyes that had shed tears
only recently, the quiver at the end of her lips that suggested maintaining a happy expression was not coming naturally.
Sue held the plate of scones in one hand and hugged Claire with the other, she felt her own eyes sting as her chest became heavy.
“Honestly, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Claire said, as she wiped her tears across her face, leaving desolate streaks in her foundation. “Here you are, come to see our new home and I’m blubbering like a baby. Hi Barbara.”
The two hugged just as Fred came out to greet them; Sue had heard the expression used, that someone had seemed to age overnight and it was that thought that jolted through her system as she looked at her friend’s husband. He seemed smaller than he had before, more stooped and grey, and it wasn’t his clothing that gave that effect, he just seemed to be a grey man. His face muscles made all the right moves, but no emotion was apparent within them.
“Hello ladies, nice to see you again,” he said. Sue felt relieved that it was at least still his voice, low and smooth; she’d expected it to be smaller, frail, the voice of a man twenty years his senior.
Sue hugged him just as John pulled up, Jenny in the passenger’s seat beside him. The greeting ritual started all over again.
Jenny limped over to Claire, handing her a small bouquet of flowers. “From me and John.”
“They’re lovely, aren’t they Fred?”
“They are indeed, thank you both. Anyway, in you come and Claire can give you the grand tour; there’s not enough room for us both to show you around.” Fred gave a half shrug, as he tried on a smile to enliven his remark.
“Yes, yes of course, come in,” Claire repeated her husband’s instructions.
They filed in, a relatively short, unobtrusive line of people, each one embattled with the state, each one with their lives, their wellbeing and economic status, controlled by those other than themselves.
“Hey, look at you,” Sue remarked, smiling at Jenny as she did so. “You’ve left one of your crutches at home.”
Jenny grinned back before answering. “Yes, for the last few days I’ve managed with just one, the gym and aqua-aerobics have really helped.” She was a modest, warm hearted young woman, and as such would never have claimed the attention as they’d all arrived. But, as everyone echoed Sue’s comments, as they squeezed around each other in the hallway, Jenny couldn’t help but look pleased with her own progress; it had been painful and desperately slow, but at least it was there.
An Ordinary Working Man Page 34
