“So, basically you have to do what they say or they stop your benefits,” her dad replied.
“Yes, I don’t know what to do. I mean do I go ahead or do I jump before I’m pushed and say I want to reapply for ESA.”
“Do you think you’ll get ESA this time?” her dad asked. “Now you’ve been diagnosed with degenerative discs, facet joint disease, M.E. and now trochanteric bursitis.”
“God knows, but at least I’d get some money while they thought about it. If I go on the work programme and they think I’m capable of working behind a till at the local supermarket and I disagree they could stop my benefits, and then I’d have nothing.”
“What if the supermarket was to say you couldn’t cope with work, would that mean your benefits were okay?” her dad asked.
“I don’t know, I mean I could get a doctor’s note if necessary, but would that be seen as being unhelpful and obstructive,” Sue replied, the more she thought about it the more confused she became.
“They would have to take your physical problems into account, surely,” her dad said.
“Well you would think so but I’m not sure.”
“There is always the possibility they could find you something, although why the government feels it’s necessary to give private companies millions to deliver these programmes, when it is something the Jobcentre Plus should already doing, is beyond me.”
“I know. I looked them up, TOTENS, once you get past their self-advertisement there are loads of people complaining that all they do is summon you in and make you sit on a chair for an hour using their computers to job search,” Sue said, the internet had done nothing to allay her fears, only magnified them.
“What a waste of your time and public money, anyway you couldn’t do that, sit for that long I mean,” her dad stated.
“I know, but they were also the ones who were revealed on that documentary to park difficult to place customers, because of course they get paid for everyone they get into work. They were also the ones who labelled any clients with physical or mental problems as LTBs, Lying Thieving Bastards.”
“And that’s their version of treating people politely?” her dad said.
“Yep,” Sue nodded as she spoke, different merry-go-round, same threats and treatment. “Besides,” she said, suddenly thinking of the images on the news that morning, “it seems to me a completely irrelevant exercise, sending out the letters when those in work can’t even get into the cities for barricaded streets, and threats of violence.”
Her dad sighed, “Exactly, and god only knows when the situation is going to calm down. Lotties not in work is she?”
“No, she hasn’t been for a while, and Luke’s been told to stay at home today.”
“Just as well, until this thing settles down,” her dad stated.
“I guess so,” Sue agreed, if it settled down. The news continued its remorseless images of those threatening violence and those trying to stop them from being successful. Proust had got his all party agreement on the zero tolerance tactics he’d proposed, and the tanks had rolled onto streets deserted but for rubble, fire and destruction. But the PM’s great plan had failed at the first hurdle, men and women, although mostly the later, had stood just behind the lines of burnt out cars, their arms interlinked and refused to move. The great mechanical monsters had rumbled to a stop, no doubt as furious communiqués flew backward and forward; tough line or not, no-one was going to sanction the mowing down of seemingly defenceless protesters. And so the activists had gained more ground and in places begun to spread outward into suburbia.
*****
Nigel
Even he was beginning to feel the exhaustion now, alongside the euphoria of a civilisation on the edge. Nigel stifled a yawn, he’d always made it a policy to be in work before Andrew and be at his desk when he left for the night. If he was always there then it reaffirmed his position of indispensability, to Andrew’s eyes at least. The rest of the cabinet would see him side lined in a heartbeat. Still, although Sir George hadn’t alluded to it in any way, Nigel sensed that his moment to move on from Andrew was close; it was the certain relaxation of his shoulders that did it, as if the old man was himself easing toward a quieter role. But for now Nigel needed to hold Andrew together, he wondered if he’d miss him once he moved on, the way one did a persistent…he didn’t know what exactly, after all he had been a constant in his life for nearly two decades. It was a long time, it would be understandable if a certain affection had developed, and so he stopped and imagined himself going to work without seeing Andrew’s face or hearing his voice. Within a few seconds he had his answer, he harboured no regard for the man and wouldn’t feel bereft in anyway by his absence from his life. Satisfied with the response he gathered his things and headed into the office.
*****
Andrew
Andrew knelt beside his daughter’s tiny bed and moved the wisps of damp hair from her forehead. She’d always been a hot little body, even though it had been a chilly night. Andrew sighed to himself and then bent down to kiss Elaine. He straightened and turned to see Molly’s silhouette in the doorway.
“Off to work so soon,” she whispered, as they stood together in the hall, her head cradled against his shoulder.
“I’m afraid so, I have a country to try and run,” Andrew shrugged, even at a whisper his voice sounded despondent and hollow. “We escalated our response Mols, just as planned, and they still won.”
“What about tear gas? I saw both France and Germany have used it.”
“I know and I can’t believe I’m going to have to sanction its use on British soil against British people. If some third world or middle-eastern regime were experiencing the tumult we are, we’d be condemning the government for the use of tanks and gas against its own people, we’d be helping the opposition.”
“And would we be justified in doing so?” Molly asked.
“Of course not, this isn’t some fight for justice or civil rights, it’s the result of a benefit’s culture gone mad,” Andrew stated, as he pulled from Molly’s arms.
She reached out to stop him, placing a small cool hand on his back. “And that is the message you need to keep repeating, the vast majority of people in the country are on your side, they want an end to the violence in whatever way is necessary.”
He kept that thought in his head as he headed to his office, as he drank the sub-standard coffee offered to him, and wondered briefly where Nigel was; only to be told he’d been there for an hour and had gone to the press office for some reason. Then he sat down at his desk, pulled a pad of paper toward himself, flicked the pages until he found a blank one and then wrote down the phrase, they want an end to the violence in whatever way is necessary. He underlined it three times.
*****
Sir George
Sir George was restless, the club was no longer accessible and he was being forced to spend time at home with Nancy and he had to say, she hadn’t looked thrilled when he’d told her. She’d asked what on earth he would do with his time, as if it was limited and he possessed no means of entertaining himself. Still, she was correct in one way, his time was limited and now he needed to speak to Nigel.
Sunday 30th November
Sue
Sue looked out of the window, her neighbours were hauling garden furniture, wheelie bins, whatever, down the street and creating a barricade against possible danger. The violence had spread to suburbia, the police and armed forces were outnumbered; they’d even had to call troops back from abroad. And so her neighbours had decided they would defend themselves, like thousands of others around the country, the world even, they would take the law into their own hands as the correct authorities could offer little beyond the directive to stay indoors. She wrapped her arms around Lottie as her daughter came to stand beside her.
“You’ll be alright though, won’t you mam?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” Sue said.
Lottie shrugged, suddenly awkward. “I mean you’re on
benefits, aren’t you, so…” she let the sentence hang.
“Don’t be silly,” Sue said. “Of course we’ll be fine. These are our neighbours, our friends, we’ve lived here for twenty years. They know us, know me, they know I’d never condone this violence, and I hope they know I’m not a fraud.”
She squeezed Lottie once more, but the thought stuck; maybe she was okay for now, but what about the future? What happened if the violence consumed their village, what then? The fear intensified, not just for her but for everyone, Claire, John, Barbara, Jenny, her mam and dad and her darling Lottie, what of them?
*****
Andrew
“I’m sorry mate, I don’t understand,” Andrew said, because everything had just lurched violently sideways and he couldn’t possibly have heard correctly.
Nigel cleared his throat and then quite calmly stated once more, “I’m handing in my resignation Andrew.”
“But…but how…why?You can’t, not now I just…why?” Shit he was going to cry because this couldn’t be happening not now, why would his best mate do this to him, to his country.
“I’m not sure any further explanation would be of benefit. I merely feel it’s time to move on, and have been offered a position as Managing Director for a company” Nigel stated, no emotion, not a shred.
“Now, you feel now is the best time to move on, are you insane, are you…what are you for fucks sake?” Andrew could feel the blind rage, the despair, everything was falling apart.
“I’ll leave you alone, to process the information. Your first meeting is scheduled in half an hour.”
And then he walked out, just left. Andrew wanted to call him back, wanted Nigel to laugh and say it was some, admittedly not at all funny, joke.
But he didn’t, couldn’t, because everything had just stopped.
*****
Nigel
Well, that had been a most interesting start to the day, Nigel thought, Andrew had simply stared at him. The fool had thought he would be by his side forever, that thought made him smile, he revised his opinion, it had been a truly great start to the day.
*****
Sir George
Sir George stood at the drinks cabinet, pouring Nigel a whisky, as the news continued behind them. The narrative was muted, but the whole thing was pretty self-explanatory. An armed officer had mistaken a young child for a subversive with a weapon and had shot her, she wasn’t critically wounded, but it was the final piece; like blowing a damn to release all of that anger and frustration. It was marvellous.
“If only these people realised that they were an unnecessary part of society then it would have been so much easier. Of course we can no longer rely on the Great World Wars to keep their numbers under control, and a purge is required every so often. There is simply no room for the working class in today’s society Nigel, they are a burden, they bleach from the state and contribute nothing in return.”
“I agree Sir George,” Nigel stated.
Yes, Sir George thought, I bet you do, now that you’ve had the call to take over. Still, it was time, he’d either move upwards or sideways into retirement, he had yet to hear.
“Of course there is money to make and power to be gained in peace time, but during unrest the opportunities are without boundaries; and we’re almost there, just a few more, well aimed incentives. That’s all the common man needs, and then we succeed, completely. It all leads to this point Nigel, civil war,” Sir George stated.
“Civil war?”
Sir George saw the tiny flicker across Purser’s face, the acknowledgement that Andrew was only ever the means, and civil war the end.
“Yes, my boy, time to cull the worthless. Civil War,” Sir George replied, and then, because he could put the moment off no longer, was desperate in fact to see the look on Nigel’s face, as it may be the last time he got to wipe that smug exterior off, he continued, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking one of the many you’ll be handling from now on, over for a drink.” Sir George paused, delighted in the slight crease to Nigel’s brow, oh this was going to be tremendous.
“It’s the first time we’ve used a woman you see, but fortunately you are already well acquainted. Come in my dear,” he called.
The door opened and she walked in.
“Hello Nigel,” she said.
An Ordinary Working Man Page 48
