Lifting the Lid(4)

The whole decision-making process had taken months of what Imelda would have called “anally retentive faffing”, but which Trevor preferred to consider as an essential prerequisite to “getting it right”. In his defence, he would have argued that it wasn’t just about buying a van. There had been much greater life choices involved, such as whether to pack in his job at Dreamhome Megastores.

As it turned out, that particular decision had almost made itself for him. The company was in a bit of financial bother and was having to make cutbacks, so he and several of his colleagues had been offered voluntary redundancy. Although not exactly generous, the severance package was certainly tempting enough to cause Trevor a run of sleepless nights. But it wasn’t until his annual staff appraisal that he’d finally made up his mind.

He had sat across the desk from the store manager and studied the thin wisps of hair on top of the man’s head while he read out a litany of shortcomings and misdemeanours from the form in front of him.

‘This simply won’t do, Trevor. Really it won’t,’ Mr Webber had said, finally looking up and removing his glasses. ‘I mean, there have been more customer complaints about you than any other member of staff.’

‘I don’t know why. I’m always polite. Always try and give advice whenever I—’

‘But that’s exactly the problem, Trevor. More often than not, the complaints are about your advice. We’ve had more goods returned because of you than… than…’ The manager had slumped back in his chair. ‘Good God, man, have you learned nothing about home maintenance and improvement in all the… What is it? Fourteen years since you’ve been here?’

‘Fifteen.’ And in all those long years, he’d never once heard Webber use the phrase “do-it-yourself”, let alone its dreaded acronym.

‘Quite honestly, I’m at a loss as to know what to—’

This time, it was Trevor who had interrupted. He couldn’t be sure that he was about to be sacked, but he’d already had his quota of verbal and written warnings and thought he’d get in first with: ‘About this voluntary redundancy thing…’

And that was that. Decision made and not a bad little payout. Added to what he’d squirreled away over the last couple of years or so, he could buy the van and still have enough left to live on for a few months as long as he was careful. He’d have to look for another job when the money did run out of course, but he was determined not to worry about that until the time came. At least, he was determined to try not to worry about it.

‘What the hell, eh, Milly? This is it,’ he said and shoved a tape into the cassette player.

He caught sight of the dog in the rear-view mirror. She briefly raised an eyebrow when the opening bars of Steppenwolf’s Born to be Wild bellowed from the speakers above her head. Then she went back to sleep.

Trevor tapped the steering wheel almost in time with the music and hummed along when the lyrics kicked in. A song about hitting the open road and just seeing where it took you seemed particularly appropriate for the occasion, and when it got to the chorus, he’d begun to lose all sense of inhibition and joined in at the top of his voice.

Moments later, the van’s engine spluttered and then abruptly died.





CHAPTER FOUR



Carrot and Lenny hauled the Suit to his feet and, with an arm slung around each of their shoulders, half carried and half dragged him up to the first floor landing. As Carrot had predicted, Lenny’s contribution amounted to little more than providing a largely ineffectual counterbalance, and by the time they’d lurched and staggered to the top of the second flight of steps, every muscle in his neck and back was screaming at him to stop whatever he was doing.

‘I’m gonna have to… have a break for a minute,’ he said, fighting for breath as he altered his grip and lowered the Suit to the ground.

‘Come on, mate. We’re nearly there now,’ said Lenny, but his words of encouragement were meaningless, given that he did nothing to prevent the Suit’s descent.

Carrot groaned as he sat him down against the frame of the fire door and so did the Suit.

‘’Ang on a sec. He’s not coming round, is he?’ Lenny squatted like a jockey at the start gate and brought his face to within a few inches of the Suit’s. ‘He is, you know.’

The muscles in Carrot’s back grumbled as he crouched down to take a closer look and spotted the faintest flicker of the eyelids.

‘You can’t have given him enough,’ said Lenny.

‘What?’

‘The injection.’