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Back Life at the Top
Chapters (30)
  1. Introduction
  2. LIFE AT THE TOP
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. About the Author
  30. About the Cover

It was as if she were beside me, the wind from the open window rippling her close-cut curls, her hand carelessly on my knee. If I wanted her then it wasn’t possible for me not to have her; desire is catching if it’s strong enough. It was time for a change, time for my life to take a new shape. Mark had hit the nail on the head: I was envious of him. I could hear the mockery in his voice. Is there no one else? No one else you fancy? And what are you going to do about it?

And then, slowing down to cross the river at the humpbacked bridge which led into Squirrel Road I knew what I was going to do about it. I had been using the direct logic of my bachelor days. I had been wishing the last ten years away. I fancied Norah, if that weren’t too mild a word: but I wasn’t going to do anything about it, just as, when it came to the point, I hadn’t really done anything about Jean.

In one minute I’d reach Market Street, in two minutes St. Clair Road, and in five minutes I’d be home and my wife would be making supper. And after supper I’d have a whisky and go to bed; I’d be able to imagine then that the woman beside me was Norah. I wasn’t Mark, I never could be Mark; but there at least I had it over him.

11

11

As I walked along the corridor to my office, Hillington, who had recently been put in charge of the computer room, was very much in my mind. He was a pale young man with brilliantined hair parted in the middle and a breast-pocket crammed with pens and pencils, who always wore unfashionably high collars and a rather raffish tie-clip in the shape of a hunting-crop. For some reason he never failed to depress me and I went to some effort to keep out of his way. I rarely had much success in doing so; I felt gloomily certain that he would buttonhole me very soon. There was never any legitimate reason why he should; he was Middridge’s appointment, not mine. In fact, I reminded my­self sharply, everything connected with the computer was Mid­dridge’s responsibility. And that was something for me to trea­sure. Middridge had spent his whole life passing on the can: now at last he was carrying it and it was full of trouble.