“Keep in touch?”
“I will.”
I gather everything and leave the building for the last time. At least the sun is still shining. While I wait for the bus to go home, I get an email with details of my redundancy package. I’m getting a month’s full pay, which, the email stresses, is above and beyond statutory redundancy. Does that mean I should be happy? Still, a month’s pay is better than a slap in the face. Not getting made redundant would be even better, but whatever. I send texts to my parents.
I’ve been made redundant.
My phone rings.
“Hi, Mum.”
“Oh, sweetheart, are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
I tell her what Clive told us and about my redundancy package. She doesn’t speak until I’ve finished.
“A month’s pay is good.”
“Yeah, I guess. It doesn’t give me long to find a new job.”
“Come home.”
“What?”
“Come home. Then you can take as long as you need to find a job where they’ll treat you better.”
“Mum, I—”
Do I have a reason to refuse? I only need to give a month’s notice on my flat. I could return to Leeds. Financially, it would be the most sensible thing to do, so why does it feel like I’d be a failure if I ran home to my parents’ house?
“What are you thinking? I can hear the cogs whirring from here.”
I laugh at Mum’s joke. Trust her to be able to make me feel a little better. “Coming home would feel like a step backwards. No offence.”
“None taken, sweetheart. I know. You’ve fled the nest and want to stand on two feet. But this is a setback you couldn’t have foreseen or planned for. There’s no shame in accepting a little help. Think about it. You don’t need to decide right now.”
“Thanks, Mum. The bus is here.”
“Call me later when you’ve had a chance to think things through?”
“I will. Love you.”
“We love you too, sweetheart.”
I get on the bus with my sad collection of belongings. I’m juggling too much to venture upstairs, so I take the first non-priority seat downstairs. Why do I want to message Kyle? He’ll be working, and it’s not as if he can stride in and chase the badness away. I’m not being bullied. I’ve lost my job. But he was my hero eleven years ago, and part of me wants him to be my hero again, so I take a photo of Arthur at the top of the box containing the things I cleared out of my desk and send it to him.
CHAPTER2
KYLE
My team and I have made good progress during the morning. We’re building a new school serving inner-city kids in Leeds. Currently, two year groups are housed in porta-cabins on the grounds of another school in the same academy chain. Our task is to get the school built so it can open to three year groups in September. Me and the other brickies will be long gone by then.
We sit on piles of bricks to have our lunch. Most of us bring our own. A few of the lads wander into town to the nearest shop to buy something. I use the quiet time to check my phone. I have a message from Mum with photos of two dresses. She wants me to pick which one she should wear to the gala on Saturday night. I roll my eyes. Like I’d have a clue. I’ll ask Haru. Speaking of which, I have a message from him too, which is odd. It’s normally radio silence from him until the end of the working day.
His message is accompanied by a photo of his cactus nestled amongst pens and things.
