TAKING THE PLUNGE  (Part 1 of 2)                                             

by Richard Banks                   
            

Danny lost the will to live on the 07.21 train to Liverpool Street station. This was not the fault of the train or the company responsible for its operation. Indeed the train was almost on time and doing a passable imitation of an intercity express. Nor was it the fault of the mobile phone which texted him the information that he had been sacked. The cause of his unhappiness was clearly Global, or to be precise, The Global Equity Investment Corporation who despite making an annual profit of one point three billion dollars had embarked on a round of staff cuts. That these cuts were described as efficiency savings was no consolation to Danny who was told to report to reception and that under no circumstances was he to seek admittance to his office on the thirty-third floor.

         He wondered how much redundancy money he would receive and long it would pay the mortgage on the Docklands apartment he had bought for himself and his fiancée, Tanya. She would not be pleased to hear the news of his dismissal. As the daughter of a Russian oligarch she was used to having money and spending it with a liberality that was especially pleasing to the high fashion couturiers of Regent Street. So far the money she had been spending was Danny's but once certain administrative difficulties had been resolved concerning the transfer of her father's allowance her income would be several times larger than that of her intended husband. Indeed she was hopeful that on their marriage her father, being a particularly affectionate and indulgent parent, would double, or maybe treble what she had previously received. After all she was her father's only child and it made no sense for him to be less than generous when on his demise she would inherit the entirety of his vast estate.

         Danny reflected on his good fortune on finding a wife whose voluptuous good looks were even more important to him than her undoubted wealth. Nevertheless it was comforting to know that another source of income would shortly be available to make good the substantial expenditure of recent months. He decided to text Tanya with the news of his dismissal and on doing so received the message: 'Very funny, ha ha', followed, almost immediately, by another, reading: 'You are joking aren't you?' He replied to the effect that he was not joking and that this was the most unfunny thing ever to happen to him. He had a mortgage and wedding to pay for, mega debts on credit cards and less than two grand in the bank. Would she contact her father and get him to send some of the money he had been promising.

         The rapid interchange of texts paused and Danny witnessed the coming and going of several stations. He imagined Tanya emailing or phoning her father and making the necessary arrangements that would save him from bankruptcy. Her reply came as the train was pulling into Liverpool Street; for a moment he thought it had hit the buffers. In less than one hundred words and the capital T that ended her text, Tanya exploded what was left of Danny's life. How, she asked, had he allowed such a 'ghastly thing' to happen. Had she known he was nothing more than a financial chancer she would never have consented to be his wife. Their engagement was over. She would, if he insisted, return the ring but as the apartment was registered in their joint names she would expect half of whatever it was sold for. Her solicitor was Grimdyke & Downward to whom all future communications should be sent.

         At first he could not believe what he was reading but the words on the screen showed no sign of changing. Tanya was no more a part of his life than his fellow commuters who had deserted the train for their desks in the City. With the uncertain instinct of a dazed lemming he followed the last stragglers through the ticket barriers. From there it was only a short walk to his office in the high rise building known as the Beanstalk. On entry his identity card was scanned and cancelled by a security guard who ensured that he join a queue of discarded humanity shuffling towards a help desk. Large envelopes were being handed out and the recipients escorted through the nearest exit by black suited bouncers normally found in local clubs. The news was filtering back along the queue that the company was offering severance pay of one week's salary for every year worked. 

         Danny calculated what would be coming to him and found it to be no more than a splash in the ocean of debt he was surely going to drown in. The hopelessness of his situation overwhelmed him, his body shivering with cold on a summer's day. He was a winner, a go-getter. This shouldn't be happening to him, but it was. Somehow he had lost everything that mattered. His confusion turned to anger, anger at the company, anger at Tanya, anger at the world and everyone in it. How dare they do this to him. His life was over, not worth living. Well, so be it. If he was no better than a dead man his death would be his revenge. He was a lion; he would go out with a roar.

         His plan was a simple one. First of all he had to run as fast as he had ever run. There were forty, maybe fifty yards between him and the executive lift that provided the Company elite with an uninterrupted journey to their offices at the top of the building on the forty-third floor. The doors to the lift were open. If they were still open when he reached them he could ascend rapidly to the forty-third floor and from there onto the roof where he would end his life. His descent would take only seconds. After that his pain would be over. The bad publicity for Global would be their pain, one they would have to live with. As for Tanya – no he dare not think of her.

         Breaking ranks he ran towards the staff lifts. The regulars on security would be expecting that. It had happened before, former staff returning to their offices to download client details. The  guards by the lifts were reinforced by other guards who abandoned their allocated positions to form a defensive shield. They braced themselves for Danny's charge. Instead he swerved away from them and raced full tilt towards the executive lift. On reaching it he pressed the up button and watched the doors close in the face of the one guard able to run as fast as himself. He wondered if there would also be guards on the forty-third floor but, when the doors opened, the corridor outside was empty. He hurried along it and up the two flights of steps that led to the roof. All that was left was for him to hurdle the low balustrade wall on the front elevation of the building and let gravity do the rest.

There was no place in Danny's plan for Sid but as he ran towards the edge of the building he realised he was heading towards Global's longest serving maintenance worker who was sitting astride the wall. He cantered to a halt and not knowing what to say announced his presence with a cough. The trance like gaze of the maintenance man shifted from the urban landscape beneath him onto Danny. On finding the suited figure of a middle ranking trader he adopted an expression appropriate to the continuance of the class struggle.

         “Oh, it's you,” he said recognising Danny as an occasional drinking partner at The Magpie. “What do you want?”

         “Sorry Sid. Didn't mean to disturb you but you're in my line of fire so to speak. Would you mind moving over a bit?”

         Sid replied that if Danny was also intending to throw himself off the top he had three other sides on which to do so. This was his side. He had got here first and would not be leaving it until he was good and ready.

         Danny considered the other elevations and found them unsuited to his purpose. Beneath them were only narrow streets. Few would see him go down there. No, if he was to do this thing properly it had to be off the front of the building into the windswept piazza known as Global Square. At its centre was a statue of Global's founder, O J Stilkenburg. With any luck he would hit the ground in front of it. The significance of his action would be clear to everyone. The stain he made would be scrubbed clean but never forgotten. But if this was to happen it was necessary to jump from the spot now occupied by Sid.

         Danny glanced impatiently at his watch. Security would be on their way up. He could feel them coming. If he was going to jump it had to be now. In an attempt to expedite matters to their mutual satisfaction he approached Sid and sat down beside him. He addressed him in the brisk no-nonsense way he closed stock market trades.

         “Look here mate we ain't got much time. Give me your arm. We'll go over together. You and me, together. Are you ready? Yeah? On the count of three.  One..two..”

         Sid responded by wrenching his arm from the loop Danny had made. To make his intentions    even clearer he stepped away from the wall towards the storeroom that occupied the centre of the roof.

         “What's the matter, mate?” Danny's voice expressed surprise then anger. “Lost your nerve?”

         “So if I have. That's my business not yours. You do what you want, I'm off to the boozer. I've got a cheque to spend.”

         “That won't last you long. Then what?” Danny answered his own question. “The dole. That's what you got coming. You'll never find another job, not at your age.”

         Sid tried to snap back but the only words he had were of loss and humiliation. He would keep those to himself, his emotions he could not. He had been in the Company's employ for thirty seven years, risen to the grade of Senior Maintenance Officer with authority over others. His job told him who he was, what he was, separated him from those who had no work and no prospect of work, people he despised. Now he was no better than them. He should be angry, defiant, instead he was crying. For the first time since primary school he was crying.

         Danny had no tears but was troubled by those he had helped bring about. His last moments should surely be better than this.

         “Sorry mate, I was out of order, way wrong. Here's a tenner. Have a drink on me. In fact have the whole damn wallet. Just do me a favour, will you?”

         “What's that?”

“Watch me go will you. Say a prayer while I'm falling. Can you do that, mate?”

 

Copyright Richard Banks