Tom left work, knowing he wouldn’t be going back.  Not to that job anyway.  Leaving wasn’t his choice, but the firm’s future business strategy, or “streamlining” as the Managing Director had preferred to term it, meant that several people were now being laid off.  Tom didn’t care why, he just knew that it was yet another crisis in his personal nightmare.    

He was a skilled worker, but he knew he wasn’t getting any younger, and with his financial responsibilities he needed a larger salary than was likely to be offered by other employers these days.  They all seemed to prefer younger men who wouldn’t cost them so much to pay.  Tom bought a local paper, and trudged to his usual café for a coffee while he scoured the ads for a new job. 

Two hours later he threw down his pen and heaved a long sigh.  His coffee was only half drunk and cold.  His mobile’s battery had been full but was now too low to try and make any more pointless calls to companies that suddenly realised they’d filled their vacancy when they heard how old he was.  Tom knew it was unlawful for them to discriminate but he didn’t have the heart, or the money, to fight against it.  Everyone knew there were loopholes in the law that employers would jump on.  He was only in his early forties and briefly wondered how his friend Bill, who was over 50, would fare.   He checked the time and left to pick his son up from the after-school club. 

“Hi!” cried Jem, “we learnt about Kings today!”  At 7 Jem was still at an age where he was happy to share his day at school with his dad.  Tom knew this was a precious but finite stage before it became uncool to be so open and sharing of his day-to-day life with any grown-ups and smiled indulgently down at his boy. 

They walked along the road with Jem chattering away, Tom providing the right noises in the right places, but his mind was calculating ways of getting back into work before finances got too tight.  “How would you like to stay at Grandma’s for a few days?  Without me?”   

“Yeah!  Can I?  Really?” said Jem with glee.  Tom knew it wouldn’t be a problem for his mother to have Jem for a while.  She’d been so supportive in the last few months, the number of times he'd rung her when Jem had had nightmares - he didn’t know what he’d have done without her.  However old he was he was still grateful to have her there for him.  She didn’t interfere, but would help when asked, without questions.   A few hours later he left his mother’s house, giving Jem a big hug and saying he’d be back soon.  Tom was glad to know he was in good hands, that Jem was happy there.  That took a weight off Tom’s shoulders as he went home preparing for the long slog of finding a new job.  He’d do anything, as long as the money was right.  He’d heard that refuse lorry workers got a good wage, he’d start with the council the next day.  

Three days later Tom was close to breaking point.  All he got was “we’ll let you know”,  “we’ll send you an application form to fill and send back by the end of the week”, or the blunt “we’re not hiring right now, come back next month.”    Tom had been brought up to provide for his family, he'd do anything - even be a traffic warden if the money was right (though maybe that was a step too far he told himself with a small grin to himself).  That night Tom drank far more than usual, and crashed out on the sofa in front of the television, falling asleep in the early hours, with the film channel playing a back-to-back series of Cagney movies.  

The next day he woke with a hangover.  Tom groaned.  Must be getting old if he couldn’t survive a few drinks anymore!  He decided to go for a walk, anywhere, just to clear his head, and try to forget the last few months in which he’d lost his wife and baby daughter.  He walked for hours, not noticing the drizzle or where he went.  He had no idea what was going to happen to him and Jem.  Tom was glad it was raining, it covered up the occasional tear falling from his grey eyes. 

Suddenly he heard a high-pitched bark followed by the squeal of brakes and a scream a short way ahead of him.  He looked up sharply to see a car stationary in the road, the driver running to the front of his vehicle.  Tom ran forwards to see if anyone was hurt, though his mind registered that he hadn’t heard any thud.  A small girl stood in the middle of the road inches away from the car with a stunned look on her face, and holding a wriggling puppy.  

“Kelly!” came a shriek from the house to Tom’s left.  “Kelly - what’s happened?  Where’s Bobby?”  The owner of the voice sprinted down the path towards the girl in the road, pushing past Tom as she went.   He had frozen when he’d suddenly realised that he’d unconsciously ended up outside the house he’d lived in with his wife and family until only a few months ago, next door to where the child and puppy lived.   They obviously hadn’t lived there long as Tom didn’t know them.  He just stood and stared at his old house, now boarded up, the red brick wall showing extensive smoke damage and tarpaulins still covered the holes in the roof.  He eventually realised that the child’s mother was talking to him.

“Did you see what happened?  Was it the driver’s fault?”

“Er, no, I only heard the brakes, but I don’t think the car hit her.  She ran out after the dog but she got lucky.  With this rain the car could have slid into her.”  

He watched as the woman gathered the girl up in her arms.  Tom could see the relief on her face as she knew her child was safe.   He wasn’t needed, so he turned, and with one last look at the burnt-out house he walked away.   He knew that feeling of relief only too well.  Every time he saw Jem he was grateful to still have him, knowing he’d nearly stopped the boy going on his first sleep-over that fateful night.  The hard part was accepting why he’d had to lose the others, and why he couldn’t have died with them.  He'd only been gone 20 minutes to get the lottery tickets but had come back to find the place in flames. Having seen another child come within inches of losing her life, and where it had happened, he knew he had to do his best for Jem.   He still had a reason to keep going, had to be strong.   He would find a way through the fog currently surrounding their lives and one day it would thin out and they would breathe easily again.  He started walking back to his mother's house, suddenly desperate to see his son.