CHAPTER 3
The office was quiet. Not the sort of quietness that comes from having little to do. There was plenty of work still. No, this was a different quietness, the sort that arose from uncertainty. Work there may have been, but it was obviously drifting away. It was anyone’s guess as to what would happen next.
Catriona didn’t have to guess for very long. She was called in to see Mr. Fisher late one afternoon. With a sinking heart, she knocked on his door and entered the room.
‘Ah, Miss Foster. Please sit down,’ he said.
Well at least it wasn’t likely to be a roasting. She looked at her employer expectantly. He returned her gaze steadily and steepled his fingers.
‘Rumours have been spreading in the office, I know. No doubt you have heard them,’ he said.
‘Which rumours would they be, Mr. Fisher? I’ve heard several. Some, I know can’t be true. Others, well, I’m not so sure about them.’
He gave a thin smile. ‘Redundancies, Miss Foster. Job losses. I’m sorry, but that one is true for certain. We live in difficult times. At the moment, the services we offer are needed, but who knows for how much longer. Our last big job came in last week, and there is no sign of any other following it. I regret that savings have to be made.’
‘You mean I’m being sacked?’
‘I might have put it more kindly, but yes, that is the broad idea.’
‘I see,’ said Catriona. ‘That time you criticised my work, you can’t forgive me for that, I suppose?’
‘If you will allow me to be candid, the incident didn’t do your career prospects a great deal of good. Nor are you, even now, the most careful worker I have had. However, it is not for that reason that I am obliged to let you go. You were the last one in, so you are the first one out. Add to that the fact that you are the only unmarried person on the staff. You have no family to support. I’m sorry, but others would find unemployment much harder. You will not, I may assure you, be the last one to leave. More redundancies are on the way. In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you saw me behind you in the unemployment queue before very long. Nobody wants our skills any more.’
‘I thought this was supposed to a booming industry,’ said Catriona. ‘It was presented as work with unlimited opportunity. What happened?’
‘What happened?’ asked Mr. Fisher. ‘Well may you ask. I’ll tell you. We looked to the new computer industry, but I think perhaps we placed too many eggs into one basket. It’s because of computers that we are going downhill.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Catriona. ‘You see computers coming in everywhere.’
‘Nowhere near the amount you are going to see,’ he replied. ‘We are victims of a success story. The big clumsy monsters you can see nowadays are going to be superseded by something table top size and considerably more powerful. They won’t need punched cards. They won’t need long lists of numbers. Well, I suppose they will, but all that will be done in a different way. How it will be done I can’t say, but one thing is certain. Your job is lost. Nobody needs your skills. Anyone who can use a typewriter keyboard will be able to use one of the new computers. And it’s going to happen much faster than you can imagine. Look on the positive side, though. By releasing you now, you have a chance to find something else before the market is flooded with redundant skills.’
Catriona stared at him in incomprehension.
‘Get yourself trained in something,’ he said, more kindly. ‘Go to night school, or day release classes. You can use a typewriter, of course.’
‘Yes. Not very well though.’
‘There should always be room for people who can type, and do shorthand. Although to judge by my record in picking a winning future,’ he added bitterly, ‘I wouldn’t place too much reliance on any forecast I make.’
‘I see,’ said Catriona. The loss of the job didn’t worry her as such, but it was work, and gave her independence of a sort. It was the thought of starting again that filled her with dismay.
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘I’d have kept you on if it was at all possible, but I doubt if I’ll be able to keep myself on. Six months from now... who knows? Anyway, if you don’t wish to work your week out, I won’t stand in your way. You’ll get paid just the same. That’s the best I can do for you.’
It was a bad day, a day that became worse. Shortly after reaching her flat, the telephone rang. Tempted at first to leave it unanswered, she gave vent to an unladylike expression and picked up the receiver. It was her brother John with a report that their mother had been taken ill, and that it was serious. Rapidly Catriona packed a few things in a small case, and drove late into the night in a northwards direction.
She was met at the door by a sombre looking John.
‘How is she?’ Catriona asked.
‘Not well,’ said John. ‘The ambulance took her away some time ago. I’d have stayed, but they wouldn’t let me in the room, and I thought it better to be here when you arrived. They were about to operate just as I left the hospital.’
‘When was that?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Four or five hours ago. Something like that. I’ve lost track of time.’
Catriona glanced at her watch. ‘Well, hospitals are open twenty four hours in the day. I’m going there now to see what the news is. Coming?’
‘Of course. I doubt if you can see her though.’
John was wrong. They were allowed to see her. It was a sight that frightened them more than a little. It didn’t look like their mother. It didn’t look like anyone they knew at all. She was pale, almost bloodless, the bandage wrapped around her head accentuating her age and sickness. A doctor had talked to them, assuring them of the best possible care, but not to hold out too much hope. She was in a coma, and unlikely to come out of it.
Back home, John’s home, Catriona faced her brother and demanded to know the full story.
‘There’s not a lot to tell,’ said John. ‘She came home this afternoon, after she’d been visiting a friend, Mrs. Carter. You know her.’
Catriona nodded impatiently.
‘She was watching television when she said she didn’t feel well, and asked me to turn the TV off. She said the bright light hurt her eyes. She wanted the curtains closed as well. Then she was sick and fell unconscious. I rang for the doctor, and he came straight away. He called for the ambulance and that’s when I rang you. I’m glad you’re here, Catriona, because I don’t think we’ll see her again.’
Catriona nodded. She had become convinced of that herself already. There was an ache deep inside her, an ache like a lump of undigested dough. She felt like crying but couldn’t. She felt that it was possible that she would never cry again.
Less than a week later, she became convinced of the fact. The funeral had left her outwardly unmoved, though having a powerful effect deep down where it didn’t show. The will was read, and it would take only a short time for its provisions to come into effect. Catriona had been left a fair amount of money, exactly half the estate, apart from the shops which were in John’s ownership already. She couldn’t afford to retire, far from it, but she could take her time over finding a means of support. The fact pleased her.
John had something to say to her on that account before she left.
‘I know what you’ve got, Catriona. At least, I have a pretty good idea. You might be well fixed for some time, but it won’t last you for ever. How is your job? I mean, does it pay all right?’
She shook her head grimly. ‘Not any more. I was sacked a few days ago.’
‘Sacked?’ said John, horrified.
‘Yes, sacked. Oh, the boss called it redundancy, lack of work, all the trite phrases you see trotted out, but the fact remains that I was sacked. Sugaring a pill doesn’t really make it any sweeter. I could have guessed it would happen, of course. He never really liked me.’
‘But that’s awful, Catriona. He can’t do that.’
‘Well, he did. I can’t say I much care. It wasn’t so much of a job. I’m well rid of it.’
‘But what are you going to do?’
‘I’m going back to night school to learn shorthand and typing. Well, I can type already, but it needs polishing up a bit. Quite a lot, if I’m to be honest. Shorthand I don’t know at all. With those under my belt I can pick and choose. Don’t you worry, I’ll manage.’
‘I’m sure you will, Catriona. You always did. You know, there’s always a job in one of the shops for you if you ever need.’
She smiled at him. ‘Thanks John. I appreciate the thought, but it’s not for me.’
‘Yes, well, the offer’s there if you ever want to take it up. You know, to tell the truth, you’d probably do a better job of running the business than I do.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ said Catriona. ‘I never had much interest in shop work.’
‘I don’t mean shop work, I’m talking about running a business.’
‘Why?’ she said, curious. ‘I thought things must be going well.’
He pursed his lips and sighed. ‘It could be better. Oh, I’m not going bankrupt or anything like that, but I’m losing quite a lot of trade.’
‘Why is that?’ she asked.
‘Hard to say, really. I mean, people need food, don’t they? It seems that too many are going to these newfangled self service shops, and I think that’s the cause of the damage. Of course, there’s a novelty value, it’s just a flash in the pan, really, but it hurts a bit just the same, I don’t mind admitting. Give it a few months, and people will come back. There’s always a place for personal service, given by someone who really understands his stock.’
‘Can’t you match them on price?’
He shook his head. ‘I try, but it’s not easy. They buy in greater bulk than I can, and get reductions that way. Price isn’t everything though. I think most people prefer personal service.’
‘You hadn’t thought of going self service yourself?’
‘Certainly not.’ He looked shocked. ‘Let people help themselves? I’d lose more stock in a week than I could replace in a year. It’s bad enough with shoplifters as it is without encouraging them.’