On Tuesday morning Ian bumped into Julie at Cyma Tower – the 22 story relict of 1970s modernity that was hell to live in – just as she was leaving. “Are you coming Friday evening?” she asked in her bright and cheerful ‘Julie’ manner. She was probably the longest serving member of what had become a great team to work with. Her enthusiasm and compassion appeared to be boundless – and was most definitely contagious.
“What’s happening on Friday?”
“It’s on the invitation. It’s a reception at ‘The Bull’s Head’ and most of us are going. You’ve got to come along.”
“You know I don’t like things like that. I’ve got better things to do with my time than stand around exchanging pointless conversation with people as they become more and more childish under the influence of whatever they are drinking”. There was an edge to his voice that made Julie mentally back off.
“Fine”, she said as she shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, by the way, the lift won’t go above the 19th floor. An engineer has been called the notice says. Take care.”
With that she went on her way while Ian mentally fumed about the lift. Mrs Peterson had enough difficulty with her claustrophobia in the lift without the added problem of two flights of stairs. With that he mentally straightened his back and got on with his life.
‘I’ll make her a cup of tea when I get up there,’ he thought, ‘then we’ll look out of the window across the town where she has lived all her life.’ That’s a big plus for her living up here. She can see for miles and loves talking about her childhood beyond the town centre in the Wellworth area. From this height it appears to have hardly changed but down at ground level it is a real problem area – but there is no reason to upset her memories with modern-day truths.