bought a copy of the Manchester Echo from a stand outside and started to look at jobs advertised in the Manchester area. It was forty miles from home and a much bigger city than I was used to. I could live here, I mused. I could live wherever I wanted to. I was ready for a change.
I waited until just before four o’clock, feeling increasingly irritated. Surely he should have the courtesy to call me? I stood to go and a group of businesspeople standing nearby pushed through and took over my table.
I asked for help at the reception desk but the guy working there didn’t have details of any individuals, just organizations who’d booked in. Given that Alan Walker’s business was so small, I wasn’t surprised that the name wasn’t on his list. He checked the meeting rooms, but there wasn’t anything booked in Walker’s name.
“Sometimes people book a room at the last minute,” he said. “It’s first come, first served. Maybe he thought he’d wait until you met up?”
“I suppose so.” But he’d said he would book it in advance. Why hadn’t he done that?
Now the large reception area was full of people coming down from their meetings. I stood by the desk, holding my newspaper and feeling like a fool, but didn’t see him among the crowds. Certainly nobody was lingering; they were all chatting and hurrying for the exits.
Just then my phone beeped. I sighed with relief. It wasn’t the guy about the interview, though; it was Oliver, my neighbor from home.
Hey, Ruby, how’re things? Haven’t seen you for a while. Are you at your mum’s? x
All I wanted right then was someone to talk to. A friend. I called Oliver’s number but it rang out. Within seconds I got another text: Sorry, just waiting for a client and can’t speak just now. Are you OK?
I realized he didn’t know I’d left home. I wasn’t going to tell him just now. I had to focus on this interview. I’m OK, I replied. Turned up for a job interview but it looks like the guy hasn’t shown up.
It was a few minutes before he replied and I thought his client must have appeared, but then a message came through:
That’s terrible. Sounds like someone you wouldn’t want to work for anyway. Have to run, will be in touch soon x
He was right, I thought. I’d waited well over an hour for him and he hadn’t even had the decency to call me. Did I really want to work for someone like that? I sent Alan Walker an e-mail:
Is our meeting still on? Happy to wait if you’re running late.
There was no reply and five minutes later, I called his number. I had no idea what I would say. I was raging, but knew I’d have to keep calm. The call rang out but didn’t go to voice mail. I frowned. Why hadn’t he got voice mail? How was anyone supposed to get in touch with him? I tried again a couple more times, but still no one answered. I sent another text saying that I’d have to leave soon, but again there was no reply.
By then the place was almost empty and the guy on reception kept staring at me. It was obvious I was wasting my time. Slowly I headed back to the car park. On the ground floor I scrabbled in my bag for the parking ticket and fed it into the machine. The fee was fifteen pounds. Furiously I looked through my purse; I hadn’t enough cash. I took out my credit card, completely fed up.
When I got back to my car I saw I had a missed call. My phone had been in my bag since I left the conference center and the call was made ten or fifteen minutes before. The number wasn’t the one I’d been calling but I assumed it was Alan. I returned the call immediately, but as soon as I said, “Hello?” I was cut off.
I thought maybe I’d caught him in a meeting and he couldn’t talk freely. I wondered whether to wait, but knew I had to leave the car park within five minutes or pay for another ticket,