A Matter Of Appearences

Each day her thoughts were driven by the need to present a positive message starting at 8:30 am, regardless of her mood. She might wake up as she liked, sleep as she may but Monday to Friday her smile was obliged to convey an impersonal welcome to those placed under her charge.

Roger was one of the new candidates who passed by her desk each day on their way to training at the financial services firm where they both worked. One morning she could not prevent herself asking him, “Is that shirt ironed?” noting his crumpled appearance, before he replied “ “Some of it is!”

The previous evening he had moved up to her at the reception marking his and other’s welcome to the firm saying, glass in hand “ There is always light you know? ” and smiling at her in a way which said, “No one has the answer,” before walking off towards his fellow candidates. His presence stayed with her throughout the evening, leaving her wondering how such a man had managed to get through her company’s rigorous selection process. Whatever the mystery, there was something about him which spoke of the world beyond planning

Was his thought an assault or a revelation: the words made more impact than she wished but she fought her response to them. Her father had been an unpublished poet, largely unrecognised, who struggled to protect himself and his family while asking questions all his life without regard for self-advancement. She had loved the tender heart within him though those dependent on him lived with material uncertainty!

Somehow this man seemed an echo of her unworldly father, recalling that time before she achieved maturity and independence. She remembered moments in her childhood, running in the park, or sitting on her father’s lap as a small child and hearing his unpublished yet magical stories which always filled her with wonder . She had not felt that since his early passing

Later in the day and alone at her desk, a wave of emotion flowed through her as she realised there is nothing more unsettling than to discover you are understood. “We cross many lives but are touched by few of them,” her father told her once but. When Roger came up to her at the lunch break she could not stop herself raising her eyes to his.

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