Read Online The Zoo by Jamie Mollart - Free Book Online Page B

He’s crying silently, shoulders shaking, rising and falling. The room waits for him to stop.
    â€˜Sorry, everyone.’ There’s a quiver in his voice.
    I try not to think of my boy, aware of the parallels. Push him down. Push him down.
    â€˜When it started getting hard I tried to keep myself away from them. Was worried what would happen.’
    He takes a passport photo from his pocket and hands it to the person next to him. It’s passed around the group. When it gets to me I meet Mark’s eyes and smile. He manages the tiniest quiver of his lips back at me. I’m surprised at how pleased I am about this. The picture is of Mark and his daughter. His hair is shorter, a ring in his eyebrow. His daughter is dimples and smiles and straw-coloured hair. I reach back across the table and put it in front of him.
    â€˜She’s beautiful.’
    â€˜Thanks, mate.’ He puts the picture back in his pocket.
    â€˜Are you okay to go on?’ asks the nurse, voice warm and gentle and passive-aggressive insistent.
    â€˜Yes,’ he says, takes two deep breaths and then continues. ‘When I lost my job I began to resent them. I couldn’t help it. They needed me and I failed them. I know now it was my failure that was hurting me, but at the time I thought they were blaming me. I didn’t know what to do. I’d always worked at the same car factory. I thought I was going to lose my job before when they automated stuff. Thought I was going to lose my job to a robot. They retrained me then. But they just let me go this time.’
    I know who he’s talking about. They had some serious problems with the brakes, recalled thousands of cars. People died. Brakes failed. Smashed through the central reservation and into oncoming traffic. People got trapped in their cars. Whole families burned to death. Never good for sales, that. Nothing puts the consumer off more than the chance of a violent death and the smell of burning flesh. No amount of fancy seats and good stereos can make up for that. Recalls we can deal with. News pictures of burned corpses are an entirely different matter. Once the doubt is there in the public’s mind it’s very hard to get rid of. We got the chance to pitch for their account – turned it down, no chance, too risky.
    â€˜I went to work for six weeks. Or pretended to. I just sat in the car in a lay-by. I took the sandwiches my wife made me and sat in a lay-by.’
    Someone sniggers. I scan the group and see Newbie smothering his mouth. I scowl at him. He’s still got his briefcase on his lap, his arms wrapped around it.
    â€˜Something funny?’ I ask,
    He looks at the table. The person next to me puts their hand on my arm.
    â€˜It’s okay,’ I say to them, a little too much aggression in my voice, and they take their hand away.
    Â 
    In my room. I’m thinking about another room from the past: an oak table with chairs that cost more than a month’s salary. A salesman from one of our suppliers. I remember the smell of his aftershave. Sharp. Lemony.
    â€˜I can guarantee you 20,000 visits. Guarantee,’ he assures me. Freckled skin and eyes that can look only to the close of the sale. His top button is undone under his tie. His neck is fat and sweaty.
    â€˜Can you geo-target it to the North-East?’ I ask him.
    â€˜No, I wouldn’t do it if I had to narrow it that much. I can say North of England. But no more than that. If I have to reduce to North-East I would have to do too many sends and, to be frank with you, I feel I have to be honest at this stage, it just wouldn’t be worth my while.’
    â€˜Whose lists are you planning to get the names from?’
    I know I have to buy this data. I have promised I’ll increase visitors to my client’s site by fifty percent in eight weeks, but he’s putting me off. My gaze is drawn to my cufflinks. Sterling silver, a ring of diamonds. A present from Sally