Chapter 26 - Jim, Thursday

I’d gone into work early, to get a head start on some stuff that needed doing . We were having clients in for a meeting, and I needed to go over our history with them before they arrived to make sure we were going in the right direction with things. But it’s tricky to get that kind of work done when there’s an office full of people about and phones ringing all the time. I guess I really should have taken it home with me to look over in peace, but it never occurred to me until I actually got home, so getting in early was the next best thing.
The office was eerily quiet - I was in at 7am, and there probably wouldn’t be anyone else in for another hour. It almost felt like I was burgling the place, and certainly felt like I shouldn’t have been there. I put on the coffee machine, flung open a few blinds and turned on the computer, trying to make it look as much like normal as possible. Except there were no people and no noise.
I spread the file across the desk and spent a good hour poring over it, taking notes as I went and covering the documents in Post-it notes where there were bits I wanted to copy or quote. I must have been about three-quarters of the way through it when the first few people started arriving in the office. A few shouted, “hi”, as they went past, one or two looked slightly surprised to see me in so early, and then one of the PA’s brought me coffee and it was just like any other day. I sent her off with a pile of things to copy, and a list of other things I needed to find, then phoned one of my colleagues to check the meeting room and catering had all been arranged.
I’d finally got back to the last pages of the file when the phone rang. I let it ring, not wanting to be disturbed until I was finished, so one of the guys next door picked it up. Next thing I know he’s standing in the doorway.
“Uh, Jim, there’s a call for you, I think you might want to take it, it’s the police.”
My first thought was that something had happened to Maria, although it pretty soon occurred to me that I’d probably be the last person she’d want the police to contact. Unless she’d completely over-reacted about that letter. Oh fuck.
“Mr Masters?”
“Yes, can I help you?”
“I believe you are a friend of Simon Hall?”
“Yes I am, is he okay?”
“”He’s in our station at the moment, he asked us to call you and get you to come down and pick him up. Can you do that?”
“Yes of course, what’s happened?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, but I’m sure he’ll explain it to you when you get here.”
“Okay, I’m on my way.”
Fuck.

I grabbed my jacket, raced out of the office, popping my head round the Manager’s door on the way out to tell him I had an emergency but would be back in time for the meeting. I left so quickly he didn’t have time to disagree with me. I started to run along the High Street, until I managed to find a cab, then sat back, getting my breath back and wondering what on earth was up. He’d been fed up lately, and the redundancy was a bit of a blow, but I can’t imagine he’d ever do anything stupid. Something must have happened to him, he sometimes seems like he has ‘victim’ written all over him, I wonder if he got mugged? I wonder why they wouldn’t tell me? I wonder why he didn’t phone Nick?
I paid for the cab and went into the police station. The reception area wouldn’t have looked out of place in a business type of hotel, apart from the lino on the floor instead of thick carpet. And the fact that the people sitting round waiting all looked miserable or slightly battered. I went up to the desk and a young woman who hardly seemed old enough to work for the police told me to take a seat and someone would come out and find me in a few minutes. While I waited I phoned Dave, just to keep him in the picture. He was just as confused as I was, and couldn’t imagine what on earth Simon could have done to end up in a police station. He was going to ring Nick, but I thought it might not be a good idea until we knew what had happened - he’d only tell their Mum, and the last thing I needed was her coming down here screaming and shouting at the police.
I ended up waiting over half an hour, getting increasingly nervous as a succession of people came in and were impatient with the woman behind the desk. I felt overdressed in my suit and fully expected someone to turn on me at any moment. Then I realised I’d never been in a police station before, and it was exactly like ‘The Bill’ only more boring. Eventually Simon was led out by a policeman. God he looked rough. He was wearing a suit, with his tie undone round his neck, which would either mean he’d only been in since this morning or he’d been in all night. Judging by the look of him it was hard to tell - he certainly looked like he’d been crying, but other than that he seemed to have no injuries. He was clutching an envelope and was looking very sheepish.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, lets get out of here.”
So we left, although once we got outside Simon didn’t really know what to do and just stopped where he was.
“What do you want to do? Go home? Go to work? You feel like telling me what happened?”
“No, not now, not in the street, I need to ring work and I need to get home.”
So we found a call box, as neither of us bother with mobile phones, and he phoned work whilst I hovered on the pavement trying to work out what he’d done. It couldn’t be anything to do with work or there’d have been no need for him to phone him. What’s he been up to?
We walked for a bit, then decided to get a bus back to Simon’s. I was in danger of missing my meeting and would have to phone them as soon as I got there. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, the rest of the team could take the meeting - I was only there to make up the numbers I guess - but it looked a bit bad, so I’d need a bloody good reason.
The bus finally arrived, and we travelled back to Simon’s in silence. Clearly he didn’t want to discuss whatever had gone on in public, so I sat there trying to work out what on earth had gone on. Burglary? I wouldn’t have though he’d have needed to go to the police station. Fighting? He didn’t look like he’d been fighting. Accident? Ditto. I guess I’d have to wait, it really wasn’t the place to ask.

We finally got back to his, and the first thing I did was ring work and tell them I was going to be delayed. They were cool about it as soon as I mentioned the police, but I need to get back as soon as I can. I’ll get Simon settled then get someone else to come and stay with him, if he needs it. I did that stupid English thing of going and putting the kettle on, because tea always makes it better. Simon slumped on the sofa, staring into space, clinging onto his envelope as if there was something precious in it.
“So, you ready to talk about it?”
“Oh Jim, I don’t know, I just want to forget the whole thing happened!”
“I don’t mean to sound pushy, but you ought to tell someone - you can’t just phone up from a police station and then not tell people why you were there! They’ll be worried! I’m worried! What happened to you? Were you mugged? Are you in trouble?”
“It’s all so stupid, I just can’t believe it happened, what was I thinking?”
I went into the kitchen - this was clearly going to come out in his own good time and not before.
“I got caught shoplifting.”
“Shoplifting? Where? What did you steal? And why?”
“It was in the shop across the road, just a couple of bars of chocolate.”
“You been in the police station all morning for stealing chocolate? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, you see it wasn’t the first time, it’s been going on for ages.”
“What were you thinking Simon? You can afford chocolate can’t you? Why on earth would you steal it? Is everything okay, I know things have been a bit stressful lately, you okay?”
“I don’t know, it’s a long story.”
So I went and poured the tea and came back to here him tell me all about what had happened - how he’d been casually stealing chocolate most days for months; how it had started out of boredom and then once he’d started how he’d got hooked on it and couldn’t stop; how hated his life and felt like everyone hated him; how he felt like he’d never be in love; how he was worried he might be gay; how he hated his job. Honestly it all came flooding out, and along with it came more tears and more tea. He was in a right mess.
Then we opened the envelope. It was a copy of statement he’d made admitting stealing on a regular basis for months; a charge sheet; and a letter advising him that he would be summoned to a Magistrates Court at a date to be decided. Oh shit, this was going to get worse before it got better.