I let my thoughts trail off as I sit back on the bed and put my head in my hands. Whatever happened last night, whatever feelings exist between us, it’s over now.
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘Everyone, this is Nick. Nick, meet everyone.’
I raise my hand and greet my new colleagues, feeling horribly overdressed in my dark blue suit. Even my boss, Joseph, is wearing Converse.
He takes me around the room, introducing me to at least thirty people I won’t remember the names of in half an hour, except for office manager Sigita, a Lithuanian woman with pink hair tips who was incredibly helpful when it came to short-notice flat hunting and sorting out my contract.
‘So, this is the main hub,’ he informs me, ‘but we also have quieter offices to work from at your disposal, just through the doors to the right of reception. We prefer to work as a team here – hierarchy and closed-door policies in this type of environment can be counterproductive. Meeting rooms at the back here, as well as the kitchen. Coffee?’
‘Please,’ I reply, my head spinning slightly as I try to absorb everything. I’m not used to the people I work with being this approachable, especially management. Please don’t let there be some weird catch, I’m almost looking forward to wearing jeans to work tomorrow.
Coffees in hand, Joseph takes me into meeting room two and begins my induction.
‘So. . . I know we ran through the job spec at your interview,’ he says, gesturing for me to sit, ‘but I wanted to dive a bit deeper into what we do here.’
‘Of course,’ I reply.
‘A home isn’t a luxury,’ he begins, taking the lid off his coffee. ‘It’s a basic human need. We work with a diverse group of people, from rough sleepers to people in shelters to families being threatened with eviction, and everything in between. We deal with landlords, the local council, the police, social workers, the Addictions Advisory Service, the NHS, and many other organisations who specialise in dealing with the homelessness crisis we have in Oxford.’
‘Sounds like something I can really get my teeth into,’ I reply. ‘I’m excited to get started.’
‘Glad you said that,’ he says, handing me two files. ‘It’s all hands on deck at all times. While you’ll mainly be working with Martin Goodwin, our main charities’ legal adviser here, it’s important you get to grips with the meat and the bones of what we do.’
Taking a sip of my coffee, I open the first file. Maria Cooper, twenty-nine, two kids. Eviction notice from her landlord.
‘Landlord is a real piece of work,’ Joseph informs me. ‘I think her rental agreement is worth having a look over, as well as his dodgy letting practices.’
I nod and open the next file. John Parker, seventeen.
‘This kid needs help,’ Joseph says, before I’ve even begun to read through. ‘Both parents are addicts, and he’s been crashing on floors for the past year. Got caught with a tiny amount of weed, an amount that they wouldn’t bat an eyelid at if it was a student carrying it, but they still arrested him. Due in court on Wednesday.’
My face drops. I’m not a barrister. Does he expect me to go to court? Fuck, I think I’m way out of my depth here.
‘Don’t stress too much,’ Joseph says, obviously noticing my expression. ‘Christina and Gordon, who you just met, have about fifty years of court experience between them – everything from criminal to civil cases and beyond. Use them, learn from them, pick their brains. They’ll do the same to you, believe me.’
I breathe a small sigh of relief and smile.
‘No two clients are the same here, Nick, and we need everyone to pull together to make this work. It’s the most challenging, affecting, mentally draining job you will ever do, and I guarantee the most rewarding. So. . . you ready to help change some lives?’
I smile and nod enthusiastically. Goddamn, his speech was impressive. I feel like a superhero. Alfie would be proud.
Chapter Thirty-Five
‘Nick, I have a Matt Buckley for you.’
‘Thanks, Briony,’ I reply, placing my phone on speaker. I’m in the back office, halfway through my lunch, and I’m ravenous. I haven’t stopped since I got in at 8am.
‘Hey, mate,’ I say, biting into my BLT. ‘You well?’
‘Why aren’t you answering your phone?’ he asks sternly. ‘I’ve been texting and calling.’
‘Calm down, Dad,’ I reply, chuckling. ‘I’ve been in a meeting all morning. What’s up?’
‘It’s Alfie’s birthday next week and he’s insisting that we go to that farm you told him about. Do we need to book tickets or anything? I don’t want to leave it too late.’
‘What farm? I don’t remember telling him. . .’
