I say, standing. ‘I can’t be arsed with this.’
‘Excuse me?’
A horn honking outside startles us, ripping away my sudden confidence to storm out. I sit back down. Derek begins to pace the office and I realise, yeah, he’s only being honest. I am predictable. Nothing I’ve ever done during eight years of working in the toll booths could’ve given Derek any other impression. My timekeeping’s impeccable. My hair’s always a mess. I only drink instant coffee from the machine. I chat to my colleagues, ask after their kids and buy them Mars bars when they’re sick. You see, Derek didn’t know me prior to my toll-booth days. He doesn’t know about my old impulsive nature.
‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘I’m going nowhere. But maybe that’s about to change.’
Derek pulls himself away from the rota and puts his glasses back on, glaring at me.
‘Derek, I won a car.’
‘A car?’
‘Yeah, a car.’
‘A real one?’
‘Yep.’
‘How?’
‘On the radio. On the breakfast show.’
‘Jesus Christ, lad. What sort of car?’
‘BMW.’
‘A BMW?!’
Derek loosens his tie a little further, wipes his brow. ‘Congratulations, lad.’
‘Cheers.’
The passing cars fill the dead air hanging between us, until Derek starts to laugh.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘Oh, lad. I’m just imagining you driving around your neck of the woods in a BMW. I mean, it’s not gonna last five minutes round there.’
The laughing produces tears and Derek removes his glasses again to mop them up with his thumb. He’s got a bloody nerve.
‘That’s out of order, Derek. Out of order.’
But, is it? Maybe Derek has a point. The joy of winning is still boiling hot. I haven’t had a second to think this through, let the cold water splash me in the face. I think about the flat I rent above Wong’s chippy. The living room overlooks a dual carriageway flyover. Below my bathroom is a tiny back yard, just enough space for a wheelie bin. Where the hell am I going to park a BMW out there?
The bubble bursts.
‘Look, Jim. You’re better off selling the bloody thing and going on a spending spree.’
‘What do you reckon it’s worth?’ I ask. I watch cars speed past day in, day out, but I don’t know much about them. As a kid, I preferred my bike and my books. I passed my driving test years ago, like. I’m not soft. But I lost all interest in getting a car because I couldn’t afford one.
Derek blows his lips. ‘Twenty grand. More. I’m not a BMW man myself. More a Merc.’
‘Twenty grand?!’ Shit.
An hour ago, I was trying to read Gene Wilder’s autobiography cocooned in a toll booth. Now, I could be sitting on a small fortune. Derek Higgins’ white office walls are suddenly leaping with rainbows and fucking unicorns.
‘Sell it, Jim,’ Derek tells me. ‘I mean, where would you drive it anyway? You haven’t exactly got anywhere you need to be, have you?’
Twenty thousand pounds. That’s way more than I earn in a whole year. There’s no need to worry about getting sacked. I’ll be okay.
Actually, I won’t just be okay.
I’ll be grand. Twenty fucking grand!
‘Anyway, Jim. Back to my original point.’
My shoulders relax. I take my hands out of my pockets. An intense warmth encases me for the first time in, God, probably over a decade. Since I graduated from uni. Christ, back then I had options, I had hope. But a new car is more solid than an English degree, isn’t it? Holding my hand out, I smile, feeling a tingle of the old Jim Glover returning. I’ll save Derek the pleasure of firing me and call the shots myself. I’ll quit.
Derek doesn’t spot my outreached hand. He opens a drawer beneath his desk.
‘Surprise!’ Derek says, handing over a letter. ‘You’re the Chosen One, Jim!’
‘Y’what?’
I crouch over, resting my elbows on my knees, and skim the words to get the gist.
‘You’re sending me on a training day?’ I ask. ‘For card payments?’
‘Yes, I am, Jim. Yes. I. Am. We have to move with the times. Not everyone wants to buy a Fast Tag for the tunnel and drivers are becoming more and more tired of using coins. You’ll be our representative, learning how to use the card machine. You’re the brainy one out of all the numpties here.’
‘Love how you just described yourself as a numpty, Derek.’
‘Watch it.’
‘Do I get paid extra for going?’
‘Oh, aye.’
This is officially my lucky day. I should go and buy a scratch card. I’ve never been promoted, never done the whole ‘rounds are on me’ down at the Pacific Arms with my