The 4.30pm London to Berkamhead, Return (Berkamhead 1996: Diary Entry 25th November 1996)

Berkamhead 1996

Diary Entry – 25th November 1996

3.00am

As I drove frantically across town around ten tonight, I realised how tired I was becoming running around after other people. I wear a permanent mask of happiness at work. Whether it is trying to explain to a fifty year old why he shouldn’t be smearing his own faeces over the walls; or trying to fend off the unwanted sexual advances of a naked, eighteen stone, downs lady; I stand there with the face of the laughing policeman. It’s not only with the clients, I mean, look at the number of roles I have to play; the cook, the cleaner, the pharmacist, the politician, the magician… even the foreseer at times. I think it’s easy to underestimate just how difficult ‘normal’ life can be sometimes.

Time I get home; I just want to be me, but am never given half the chance. I finished around six and the phone was already ringing off the hook once I was home. I’d doubled booked, and had to be at Katie’s on one side of town and Amanda’s on the other. Never being one to disappoint, I agreed to be at Amanda’s at ten, which gave Katie a few hours and me just a few minutes to get ready. I was shattered and when it came to switching from one boyfriend mask to another as I raced through the back streets of Berkamhead, I think it finally became too much. I had been lucky for so long; I had managed to separate my different worlds and even luckier the village had separated them too. But now I’d realised that they had become confused. Was it Amanda who liked a kiss when I arrived at the door? Katie liked oral, Amanda liked oral, but who would spit and who would swallow? As a kind of irony, they both shared the same birthday, so it was the one thing I was always sure to get right.

And I haven’t even touched on my day, as if it wasn’t complicated enough, and the reason why I am sat up so late writing when I know I have work in the morning. My morning had begun at head office in Gutterford. They had asked me over (as they do all too often these days) to discuss some of the inconsistencies in some of the cheques I had raised. Feeling head strong, I felt it only fair that I explain that I had never received any training in how they work their finances; so the errors lay squarely at the manager and their feet. Sensing an argument, they had quickly changed their agenda and gave me a chance to speak my mind about the situation at Red Brick. They wanted me to ‘tell tales’ and so I duly obliged, but kept my comments on our current manager as professional as possible, knowing that at some point it might come back to bite me if I went too far. At the end of the morning, I was glad to be getting back to work, in the sanctity of my car for the fifteen trip back to Berkamhead.

Having lived in the area a long time, I usually drive around in automatic pilot, rarely taking any notice of my surroundings or the people; but as I came down Gutterford high street, on my way to the B3465 roundabout, a familiar face caught my eye. Of course it was Juliet, but unlike I had seen her before, head down, pale faced; not even her trademark smile. Perhaps I was just surprised to see her there as the majority of Gutterford’s high street is made up of medical services and other health agencies. In fact it is rumoured that the local doctor is also the dentist and even part times round in the health shop. I could have just left it and carried on to work; I have never really had an unusual or inappropriate interest in my employee’s activities, but I don’t know, maybe I just wanted to see her again, so just circled back up from the roundabout. I wish I hadn’t.

I mulled over my course of action for both the car journey and rest of the day at work. I seemed to remember being particularly worried about her medical history at the interview and should have, I’m sure, pushed for more information. But she hadn’t mentioned that. I knew I had to do something; hoping that maybe that it was something as simple as she was meeting a friend, or considering another line of work perhaps. Although the latter would also cause me problems, as Juliet had settled into Red Brick so quickly it would be a major loss.

If it turned out for medical reasons, I was given the opportunity to approach it in two ways; as the caring work colleague or as the concerned, but not overly interested, employer. If it went pear shaped, then my own naivety could of course play it’s part and I could deny my responsibility and pass the issues on to my currently MIA manager.

In the end, I decided that I needed to sleep on it.