Father of the Man by Stephen Benatar Read Free Book Online Page A

they didn’t exchanged a single word; even avoided looking at one another to the extent that Ephraim became aware of eyestrain—the same which he experienced when he and Jean were being mutually aloof. (Eyestrain at home; eyestrain now at work.) Fortunately, though, he had to spend the latter part of the afternoon out of the office: had a pair of potential clients to interview. Potential , however, was the key word. The first was Wendy Cooper, who had ticked the ‘yes’ box on the questionnaire she’d filled in when Ephraim had been manning a stand at Texas—“Would you like more information about the services Columbia has to offer?”—thinking no doubt she’d then have a better chance of winning the prize draw, a luxury hamper worth upward of fifty pounds. But she had twice failed to turn up for an appointment at the office, although on both occasions Ephraim had confirmed it just an hour or so beforehand. Wendy now turned out to be a single parent living in a squalid maisonette, its back entrance boarded up by rotting planks—heaven help her, Ephraim had thought at first it was the front entrance. Her child was a stolid two-year-old: Amber Jade: at present repeatedly clambering over and tumbling off the possibly sperm-stained sofa, and wearing only a grubby vest that exposed an unsavoury, brown-streaked bottom. Sometimes she stumbled across to scrutinize Ephraim more closely, unsmiling, unblinking—“For heaven’s sake, Amber Jade, just show the world you’re glad to be a part of it!”—her fat little hands implanted stickily on the knees of Ephraim’s best dark suit, only dark suit…he was petrified she might be wanting him to take her on his lap and that the mother would dispassionately expect him to comply. But Amber Jade at least displayed some curiosity. Wendy on the other hand was not simply husbandless and unmadeup and uncombed…she seemed apathetic. She was also unemployed. Nor had she much prospect of finding employment, perhaps didn’t even want it; my God, he sounded like a Tory—or like Abby and Oscar when they were trying to wind him up! She was so evidently unable to afford even the smallest savings or protection plan that Ephraim didn’t bother to fill in the fact-finding sheet. He reasoned she wouldn’t know about fact-finding sheets, therefore wouldn’t feel herself slighted. But she did ask—twice—when the results of the prize draw were due to be announced; and Ephraim determined secretly that if the draw could possibly be rigged then he would truly do his damnedest. In fact merely being with Wendy and her stolid, smeary-bummed daughter made him suddenly more positive. Sod everything, he thought. Sod Barney, sod the bank, sod Swan International. Come to that—why not?—sod Oscar and Abby too. Even Jean? (But domestic troubles would soon drop into place. He could already feel it happening.) And sod Shane as well—yes, that, most definitely. Shane worked at Kentucky Fried Chicken and was supposed to be doing business with him today, i.e. handing him a cheque. But Shane, who had told him that this time there was really no need to reconfirm—yes, honest to God, cross my heart!—and who had seemed like a decent, serious lad the one time Ephraim had actually managed to run him to earth; Shane, of course, had changed onto a different shift and had forgotten—forgotten?—to let Ephraim know. “Tell him, then, I’ll telephone on Thursday,” he said to the woman who had gone to check the duty roster. He smiled at her and tried to keep his disappointment, his anxiety , from appearing obvious. Was the boy actually serious or did he just not have the bottle to say no? It was demoralizing, demeaning, to have to pursue and pander to these types of people. Generic term…all those who proved themselves so unreliable: the ones who surprised you as much as the ones who didn’t: the middle-aged school teachers or borough engineers or community workers; the woman who had sounded so very