Thief of Mind
Page 1
Thief of Mind
Ben Thomas
Copyright © 2019 Ben Thomas
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents
Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
To Holly, Samuel, Zachary and Charlie
Contents
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Acknowledgements
1
I lay in bed, the deep fog of sleep was slowly clearing. I rubbed my eyes, trying to massage them into life. It was 5 am and I asked myself the question, the same question I asked every morning: will today be the day that I break free, that I liberate my life? Every morning I know the answer. I don’t have the strength or resilience to pay the ransom that would set me free. I don’t have the courage or discipline to escape from him.
It’s not that I don’t put up resistance. Oh, I fight him. I fight hard. Sometimes he allows me to fool myself into thinking that I’m beating him, but we both know that any fleeting victories are just a mirage that he allows for his own amusement. Like a cat playing with its quarry he toys with me, he allows me to escape, but just for a moment. He lets me glimpse the sunlight, he lulls me into thinking I’m finally about to break free - and then he extends one of his vicious claws and drags me back into his cruel embrace.
He tells me he protects me, that he keeps me safe and I believe this liar. Yes, I believe him. After all, why else does a free-willed human allow themselves to be controlled unless they believe it’s right? He is my guardian and my guide, my addiction, my affliction, my terror and tormentor. I can’t live without him. I’m not safe without him. So, on I go. On with my life knowing that it is not my life to lead. It’s his.
2
I finally arrived at the offices of Mitchell & Harvey, accountants to the great and the good of Manchester at 09:10. Not too bad, but not great either. A brisk walk through the late winter chill, interspersed with the odd sprint, lessened my tardiness.
Before heading to my desk, I ditched my suit jacket and bag in the men’s toilets and diverted to the archive room where I had pre-prepared a couple of client files that I knew my boss was wanting the team to work on in the week. I rolled up my sleeves to give further evidence of the apparent hard graft I had already put in that morning and nonchalantly strode to my desk with the files tucked under my arm.
“Of all the days that you have to be late, why have you chosen this one, Toby?” fretted Rory. He was pacing behind his desk, perspiration sparkling on his balding head. His sleeves were rolled up and his tie slightly loosened, looking as if he had already done a full day’s work.
“Sorry, boss, I was in early but wanted to get stuck into the Jones and Hawkins files. I knew you wanted to do some work on them this week, so I thought I’d make a start and do some prep on them. Here.” I placed the files on his desk. Behind him, Julie mimed putting her fingers down her throat.
“Oh, yes, well, good work, Toby, but those cases are the least of my concerns right now. They’ve moved the date forward for announcing the redundancies. They’ve got another of their people in today doing one more snoop before making their final decision,” Rory nodded towards his office where a lady was sat at his desk with reams of paper and rafts of files spread before her. “Anyway, just stay professional…Okay, right…back into the lion’s den it is.” Rory said before tentatively heading to his office.
“Jones and Hawkins my arse, Tobes,” said Julie as we sat down at our desks opposite each other, “I must say it’s a gift how you always manage to dupe Rory.” A smile flirted with her lips.
“Coming from the woman who wears Rory wrapped around her little finger,” I retorted. Everyone who met Julie, whether they admitted it or not, must have had a little crush on her. She could be fiery though and this wasn’t just demonstrated by her shoulder length red hair (which she described as strawberry blonde). You couldn’t help but be impressed by her never-ending legs and her blue eyes that melted you. I personally loved the faint smattering of freckles on her face, though I dared not tell her this. Rory though was more impressed by her ability in her job. She was formidable. We had started at the same time about seven years ago and we got on really well. However, whereas I had trodden water she was on an ever upward trajectory. She was spectacular, a shooting star that shone brighter and brighter.
“Ha ha, you’re just so-o-o jealous because you know Rory loves me.”
I laughed at this just as Amber was walking past, “Are you two flirting with each other again, I don’t know why you don’t just admit it.”
“Admit what, Amber?” giggled Julie. I felt myself flush.
“You know what,” she replied as she went to her desk behind Julie.
Julie looked back at Amber and then leant forward and whispered. “What you thinking, Tobes?”
“Thinking about what? Your flirting with me?”
“Erm no. What’re you thinking about what’s going on in there,” she nodded towards Rory’s office.
“I’m thinking this could be our last day working together.”
“Oh Toby, what are you so pessimistic about? We’ve never been busier in our section. They’ll be looking at other departments not ours.”
“Trust me, I have a sixth sense about bad news.” He had been nudging me, only gently though, as I had the not-unpleasant distraction of Julie and I often found that when she was around, he kept quiet, but when I looked over to Rory’s office I saw the executioner stare right at me and it was inevitable that he would have something to say;
You’re losing your job. She’s here to sack you. Humiliate you. Laugh at you.
*
Later on that afternoon Rory called an impromptu team meeting
to inform us that our team of sixteen was to be reduced to twelve, which was a shallower cut than most of the company where a third of the staff would soon be out of work. We would all know our fate by this time next week. Rory defiantly exclaimed that he would fight for us all. What was there to fight for? He knew as well as us that the decision was out of his hands, he wasn’t going to be able to change anything. Rory himself would be okay. He was a safe pair of hands, a company stalwart who had been there for over twenty years. Julie too would be safe; she was surely too good to let go.
The rest of the afternoon dragged nervously on as everybody tried to avoid talking about the redundancies, though like me I doubt they could avoid thinking about them. I took the Hawkins file and went over to the photocopier while I continued my own personal review of our team. I looked over at Steve, the youngest member of our team and the best at avoiding work. He should be sweating a bit, I thought. He didn’t appear to be though as he was partaking in another of his forlorn attempts at flirting with Julie. It wouldn’t be too long until she crushed him with one of her trademark put-downs. I fed the documents through the copier as I turned my attention to Jenny. She was similar to me in that she was considered good at her job but lacked ambition.
I glanced at the next document I was about to copy, a letter written by Rory. As I pressed copy he whispered:
Rory’s losing his job.
No, no, no that’s not right. I just said that he’d be safe.
But what if he’s not? You’ve thought it. You will cause it. What about his young family? How will he support them? It would be DISASTER for them. Who would employ him again at forty-seven? Don’t let it happen. You’ve thought it. You will cause it.
NO! I shouted as loud as my silent mind would allow. He will be okay. Bless, bless, bless.
But what if he’s not? It will be your fault. You thought it while copying the letter he wrote. You have caused it.
Rory was the last person I would want to lose their job. He was one of the nicest and truest guys you could hope to meet.
He will be okay, he has to be okay. Bless, bless.
I turned up the volume on my internal monologue as I pressed copy again on the letter.
What if it happened? His family will starve. You have caused it.
I pressed copy again and again and again and forced my mind to scream louder. Bless, bless, bless. His whisper kept drowning out my cries as I kept pressing copy again and again. I had to cancel out the thought. I had to protect Rory.
“Tobes...Toby!” I turned around. Julie was staring at me, her eyes dancing with concern and curiosity as they moved between me and the floor where copious copies of Rory’s letter lay littered. “How many copies do you need, Toby? If it’s 100 you should be okay but if you need extra you’d better get some more paper in the tray.”
“Erm, yeah, right…erm sorry. I was miles away; you know, this redundancy stuff. Don’t think I’ve saved any jobs by reducing our stationery bill, have I?”
“Everyone’s worried, Toby.” We both knelt down to pick up the profusion of paper round about us. “There’s nothing we can do about it. They’ll already have made their decisions. All we can do is wait for the announcements and more productively go out tonight after work and get shitfaced. That will make things better, don’t you think?” She looked at her watch. “Come on, twenty-five minutes to go then straight down to the Courthouse for Friday night club.”
3
The Courthouse was already rammed, the atmosphere fuelled by the relief and excitement that the weekend had begun. More often than not I actually enjoyed a night out, once I was actually out. What I didn’t enjoy was the thought of it. I was worried by crowds of people that I didn’t know. I liked meeting people, but people and crowds were unpredictable. More often than not, if nights out had been planned in advance I would find a reason to bail out. So I rarely went out and was not a paid-up member of our office Friday night club, but tonight after the news of the impending announcements it felt like an obligation to be with my colleagues.
The Courthouse was indeed a converted courthouse, filled with wooden banqueting tables and benches on one side, with booths along the other side and along the back walls. The long bar took up most of the far side of the pub. The traditions of a Friday night drink were being maintained, but the Courthouse was not keeping order as I made my way past various groups of febrile city workers who were in the process of demonstrating what ‘big swinging dicks’ they were, a term they would accept as a badge of honour. I told myself that the boasting and preening that came naturally to them was anathema to me because such behaviour was not edifying, but really I was simply jealous that they were so comfortable in their own skins and able to be the people they chose to be, whether that be of the ‘big swinging dick’ variety or the non-swinging type.
By the time I got there my colleagues were already well into their second or third drink. They had somehow managed to purloin one of the long tables towards the back of the pub and I found my first and second pints already waiting for me. I was late, as usual, because I needed to go back once, twice and a third time to check my computer had been switched off properly. This was both important and rational, because if anyone managed to get access to my computer they could commit all sorts of fraudulent transactions, and the blame would lie squarely with me. Or they might send an email to Rory’s boss’s boss – aka the big, big boss – on my behalf, calling him a big, big knob, when I don’t actually think that way about him at all. Well, only a little; but I don’t feel the need for him to know it.
There was a good group of us out tonight; there was Julie, Cath, Doug, Ann, Steve, Rory, Clive, Sarah and Amber.
“Oi oi, it’s the Tobester. What kept you? Bit late in proceedings to start doing overtime. They’ll have already decided you’re going,” said Steve, swaying slightly on his stool.
“Shut up, Steve. You’re such an idiot, and don’t talk about overtime when you don’t even know what the word means.” Julie came to my defence, more because she found Steve irritating I thought than because she felt the need to stick up for me. There was no need though as Steve and I were mates. I liked him. I like most people and I knew he was having banter… he was a lazy bastard though and a bit of an idiot, but a good idiot all the same.
“Well, you’ll be glad I’m going, won’t you, Steve? We can keep each other company in the job centre.” I grabbed a spare stool from the table next to us and squeezed in between Steve and Rory.
“Touché, Toby. Anyway, you’re playing catch up and I think that means downing the first one.” Steve waved a pint of cider under my nose.
“How old are we, Stephen?” came the responsible voice of Rory.
“It’s okay, Guv. I’ll take this one for the team,” I said as I took the pint from Steve and duly downed the pint…on the fifth attempt. The cheers which arose on me accepting the pint-downing challenge soon died down as they realised that it was going to take a little bit longer than they thought. On the brighter side, the fact that it takes me five attempts is not due to his influence, it’s simply that I’m a less than accomplished drinker.
“You okay, Toby?” Rory was looking concerned.
“Yeah…cough…cough, I just wanted to savour the first drink.”
“So how come you’re late getting here? Anything I need to know about?” Rory took a sip from his mineral water.
“Don’t tell us,” said Amber, “you went back to check the cabinets were locked.”
THE CABINET!
“The cabinet?” I said. “I’m sure I locked it. I did, didn’t I?”
What if you didn’t?
“Of course you did,” Amber was laughing. “Just like you always do, even though it’s my job. I went to do it, but – surprise, surprise – you’d already done it. It’s a shame you can’t trust me to do it myself.” Relief washed over me.
“I thought I might ha
ve left my computer on so I thought I’d double check. I’m pretty sure it’s off now though.”
“For fuck’s sake, Toby. What does it matter if you’ve turned your computer off?” snapped Julie. “No one’s around the office this time of night. And besides they lock themselves after a couple of minutes anyway. You’re such an old woman sometimes. There’s been loads of times I’ve forgotten to turn mine off when I’ve left for the night and I’ve just thought sod it.” Julie caught the distressed look on Rory’s face. “Oh, sorry boss, I meant to say computer security is very important and should be taken seriously by everyone.”
Laughter came from the table at this. Julie was feisty and funny, and this intervention lightened everyone’s mood, including mine.
As we settled into the evening I was surprised to see how relaxed and jovial the mood was. The drink was flowing and so were the jokes. Everyone was getting involved. There was plenty of gallows humour but no one was showing any obvious signs of worry or concern. I sat back with my fourth pint in my hand nearing its conclusion and observed my colleagues. Rory was rarely out on a Friday these days due to his new family, but ever the leader, he had sensed it was important to be with his team tonight, keeping the spirits high.
Steve was unsurprisingly using the out of office environment and the relaxed mood as an excuse to write another chapter in his manual of how not to chat Julie up. Steve was young and good looking, I guess, in what could be described in a classic way. He had that cool, sophisticated look with a side parting-cum-quiff hairstyle that was apparently de rigueur. He liked to boast that he was the captain of ‘Team Handsome’, whoever they were. He was wearing a garish shirt which only he could make cool, along with short, tight trousers, which back in the day would be described as half-masts, and for some reason he had no socks on. I mean, what’s that all about? I guess it was the type of look that can only be carried off by those who have that golden combination of looks and confidence.