a few moments.
‘He’s in early,’ said Marcus slowly.
‘And there was a directors meeting last night,’ sighed Dan getting to his feet. ‘Well, it was nice to have worked with you guys.’
‘Oh come on,’ said Sophie, wide-eyed and uncertain, ‘It’s not that bad... is it?’
Ten minutes later, Sophie and Marcus were stood awkwardly watching Dan packing his personal stuff from his desk into a cardboard box.
‘Oh mate, I’m sorry,’ said Marcus for the fourth time, ‘I can’t believe it. You’re a really good surveyor. Why are they letting you go? It should be me.’
‘Don’t talk like that,’ said Dan, trying to be rational and businesslike even though he was dazed, going through the motions in a dreamlike state.
Sophie was silent, out of a mixture of sadness, shock and embarrassment, Dan surmised.
‘Look it happens,’ he said, ‘The work has just dried up. Things look pretty bleak. We know that the recovery's years off. It’s nothing personal against me, it could have been any of us.’
‘Yeah but I thought they’d think you’d been through enough. What with…’ Marcus’s voice trailed off. He obviously thought he was making things worse.
‘What will you do?’ asked Sophie quietly.
‘I dunno. Don’t think I’ll stay down in London. I might go back to Manchester. I have a friend from Uni who’s got a firm up there. He used to pester me to join him. Or I might take a break, write that novel that’s supposed to be in everyone. Who knows?’
And that was it. A few handshakes and hugs later, a few more grimaces of sympathy from people who could see their own future reflected in Dan’s departure and then he found himself out on the street; unemployed, in debt, marriage in ruins, homeless.
And it had started to rain heavily.
*
@fear_me_now Twitter Account
Tweets: 40
Followers: 77
@fear_me_now: Scum. Mental pygmies. I shouldn't have to work with such inferior intellects. Partners? Professionals? I could crush them
Chapter Three
*
@fear_me_now Twitter Account
Tweets: 70
Followers: 133
@fear_me_now: I was out tonight. Watching. Those so called 'professionals' in short tight skirts. Well we all know what kind of pro's they really are
@_______ : WTF? Are you saying what I think you're saying?
@fear_me_now: I take it from your attitude that you are one of these so-called 'ladies'? A 'professional'?
@_______ : Yeah I'm a lawyer. What of it?
@fear_me_now: I hope I meet you out one dark, quiet night.
@_______: What? You threatening me you misogynist pig? Why don't you join the 21st century?
@fear_me_now: Oh I do hope we meet. Until then keep looking over your shoulder. You'll never know when I'll be there.
@______2: Yeah mate, do her the stuck up bitch
Wednesday Night, Six Months Ago
Dan flicked through the channels on the TV in the vague hope of finding something to watch.
It was past midnight and, deep down, he knew he should just go to bed but he could not raise the enthusiasm to even take that step. There was nothing for him there anyway, just the empty pain of memory and the torments of alcohol induced indigestion that he knew would keep him awake for hours. So the slightest flicker of interest in something from the TV would keep him planted on his rented sofa in his rented flat, an easy arms reach away from the wine bottle.
Wine.
Now there was a good thought. Time for another glass. Dan didn’t so much decide as go with the flow. He reached for the bottle. It was empty
He had promised himself tonight that he would stop at half a bottle, save the rest for another night, save his liver from himself. That would have been much better for him. Trouble is he had got watching an episode of ‘Top Gear’ that he had only seen twice before and had reached the half-bottle stage some 40 minutes before.
He decided he would have to do something about his drinking.
In the meantime he would have a whisky.
He weaved slightly when he got up and wandered over to the kitchen, dropping the bottle in the bin. He felt a pang of guilt; when he had lived with Alice everything had been recycled; everything had its own separate bin - glass, plastic, paper, cardboard. Now not doing it was not an act of laziness, nor rebellion. It was another full stop on his life, his previous life. He should move on but try as he might he couldn’t stop the painful memories and the brooding thoughts from starting.
And that led to more drinking and more brooding.
The bottles clanked against the others in the bin. Dan tried to ignore them and