Free Falling Over by James Everington Page A

match.
    “Yeah, I mean they both have... had, that grungy hair, that slacker look,” the other was saying, “but Jay was taller, and paler...”
    “I don’t care,” the manager said, opening his eyes. The problem didn’t matter so much, only the solution. “I don’t care. Get rid of him. Call the agency. Or I’ll do it myself.”
    “But we can’t for no reason , he’s still in training...” one said; “He’s as good as any of the others, the agency will want to know why ...” the other said. It was like he had come back to the wrong company, like this wasn’t his office at all. He reached behind him to put a steadying hand against the wall, and almost shrieked as his hand seemed to pass through the wall and he felt himself falling... But all that had happened was that he had put his hand on the blind, whose slats had shifted and his palm had fallen against the vibrating window.
    “Don’t just ignore what I say,” he said. “I’m in charge here, I set the agenda.”
    The two sub-managers took a step backwards, and he felt like he had reasserted something. Not just his higher rank, but something more – his view of the world perhaps, of the way things were, and should be. But then he saw them look at each other again, that little, confidence boosting, insubordinate look that they had developed in his absence. They never let him forget that in fact he had been at the company less time than they had.
    “It was found that it wasn’t my fault,” he said suddenly. “That’s what the inquiry found. That I was without blame.”
    There was no knock – the door to his office just opened and someone else pressed into its narrow confines. For a second, in the new light, he was sure it was Jay, or the ‘new boy’, come for him...
    “Should you all be in here?” his manager said. “None of you outside looking after them?” She was looking at him coldly, her personality as smoothed-down and professional as her suit.
    “We were discussing them ,” he said quickly. “Firing one of them. We could hardly discuss that out there.” He noticed the two sub-managers glance at each other again.
    “What’s to discuss?” his manager said. “I won’t ask who, I won’t know them, but what have they done?”
    “Nothing” – one of them, chipping in before he could speak. His manager looked away from him, turned her cool regard to them. He had a sense of things slipping , the feeling that if he closed his eyes and then opened them again things would be subtly, horribly different; the world would be tilted at a slightly different angle...
    ~
    That feeling had started two weeks ago.
    There had been a fire alarm – a shrill routine. His staff trudged dutifully down the fire escapes and then stood in clusters, smoking. He wore a fluorescent jacket and carried a clipboard with all their names on. He called the names out, and sometimes was surprised at the face that answered, for he had thought that face belonged to someone else. The manager ticked them off as he went down the list. At the end, one name was still unaccounted for.
    He repeated the name once, twice, three times – he lost count. As he repeated it the syllables seemed to become more and more meaningless: “Jay Neuworth? Jay Neuworth? Jay New Worth?” Everyone just ignored him.
    He was sure that Jay, or someone, was playing a trick in him, and he resolved to make sure that the boy’s agency received a call to say that his services were no longer needed... But he was equally sure that there was no joke, and as he repeated the missing boy’s name he felt his anxiety grow. He shook his head, like hitting a television set to restore the picture, and looked up at the building. The dull office block was reassuringly stable, with no smoke billowing out of its windows into the clear blue sky. Fireman had arrived but they were standing around with the security guards, discussing what had happened: had workmen accidentally cut the wrong wire, had one of the