‘They say there’s no need to panic,’ he says, ‘but everyone’s tarting up their CVs and rediscovering LinkedIn. Fuck, Jo.’ He refills his whisky glass.
‘They’ll keep some people on,’ I say, ‘surely, even if the merger goes ahead. The project will still need finishing.’
‘I don’t know. Andy’s not giving anyone straight answers.’ Andy is his boss, the project manager. ‘He probably doesn’t know himself,’ he adds, still anxious to be fair, even though he might be getting shafted. ‘It’s an awful time to be looking for jobs.’
‘It might not come to that. We’ll manage,’ I say.
‘How? On what you earn? On bloody benefits?’
‘We’ll have to,’ I say. ‘People do.’ I’m being optimistic. I’ve seen families at school go through the mill, plunged into free school dinners, shocked at the reality of life on the welfare system. And others who, despite all their efforts, have never been able to escape from it, now shamed and hounded by the rhetoric of blaming the poor for poverty. But I’m determined to remain positive, ignore the way my stomach dropped when he announced the risk of redundancy.
‘Besides,’ I say, ‘you’ll get some money.’
‘Yes,’ Nick says, ‘twenty grand.’
‘Breathing space. Then you could look for-’
He holds up his hands, he doesn’t need any more blithe reassurances.
A week later I get a call from Sunita, Isaac’s teacher. Can I come to the classroom?
She sounds strained, or am I imagining it?
The rest of the class are playing out. Isaac is there and his best friend Sebastian. Sebastian is in tears.
‘What’s the matter?’ I say.
‘I’m afraid Isaac bit Sebastian,’ Sunita says.
‘I didn’t,’ Isaac says.
Crouching down so I’m level with the two boys, I say to Isaac, ‘What happened?’
His face is tight, a scowl scored deep on his brow. ‘He’s stupid,’ Isaac says.
‘Calling people names is naughty. What happened, Sebastian?’ I say.
Sebastian’s lower lip is quivering and his eyes well up again. He talks in hiccups. ‘He bit me.’ He shows me the evidence, tooth-marks on his forearm.
‘You need to say sorry,’ I tell Isaac, ‘and you’ll have to go to time-out.’
Isaac looks murderous. If he could bite me too, he would.
‘He said Benji was a pig,’ Isaac says.
‘I did not,’ Sebastian retorts. ‘I said he was big. You didn’t listen.’
‘It doesn’t matter what he said,’ Sunita tells Isaac. ‘You do not hurt other people. If someone is mean to you, you tell a teacher.’
Thank God it was Sebastian, I think. His mum, Freya, won’t make a big deal of it. I hope the boys’ friendship will last. Isaac needs all the friends he can get.
