Southend U3A

A Christmas tale – Peter Rogers

December 2010

It was that time of year again and everyone in the department was looking forward to the Christmas party that Wednesday afternoon – everyone except Jim that is.

He felt guilty about his lack of enthusiasm, since, for his colleagues, it was the highlight of the firm’s social calendar. But when he thought back to a previous social event, he knew just what was in store for him personally.

This previous event was a day at the races, organised by the company, in which all the employees had free travel and entry to the racecourse and £50.00 to spend there on bets. If you decided not to go, you were still entitled to the afternoon off, but not the £50.00.

So Jim decided to go along and place just one bet, then surreptitiously make his exit with the balance of the £50.00 in his pocket. Knowing his fellow workers, he wouldn’t be missed.

Anyway this was why Jim found himself on the train with six people probably as indifferent to his company as he was to theirs. He had been seduced by filthy lucre, in the form of a free £50.00.

Things didn’t exactly get off to a good start on the train journey there. The train was fairly crowded, but not overwhelmingly so and he attempted to sit opposite his boss, Helen, only for her to tell him that Neil, the department’s coordinator (whatever that was) was sitting there. Then, when Jim went to sit next to Helen, she told him that Paula should sit there, otherwise, as the carriage was filling up by this time, she’d have to sit on her own. So, rather than cause a scene in the carriage, Jim sat on his own!

Presently, hidden in the corner, Jim noticed to his surprise that the train was approaching a station called Comberton Magna, where Jim’s friends lived. He felt strongly tempted to terminate his journey there. Who would notice if he slipped off here? However, it is said that he who hesitates is lost, and while he was still contemplating the consequences, the train pulled out.

Probably just as well, all things considered, as the ensuing flak the next morning would outweigh the gain.

That was Jim’s dilemma: damned if he went along with the others, damned if he didn’t. Or to put it another way his young colleagues didn’t really want him along but perversely would condemn him unmercifully to his face and behind his back, if he didn’t come to a social gathering outside work.

When they eventually arrived at the racecourse, Jim soon realised exactly where he stood. After each race two of the girls would ask each of the rest of the team whether they had won or lost, but didn’t ask Jim.

Before the first race, he had indicated a desire to see the horses in their enclosure, but no one seemed particularly keen on accompanying him. Really, he might have expected it.

Nevertheless, after a few races the others wanted to do this very thing. Here was his chance, he could make his escape without too much of an inquest afterwards this time. But fate wasn’t that kind. All the girls left their handbags where the department had selected their unofficial picnic site and asked Jim to keep an eye on them.

Though once again an opportunity to exit discretely seemed to offer itself; a girl called Sue from the accounts department had apparently attached herself to the group and so she could look after the handbags!

Jim therefore let the others go on the walk about and was about to broach the subject of his own imminent retreat to Sue, requesting her to pass on the message that he had gone to the others, when he realised she’d fallen asleep! He could hardly go now and leave their handbags at the mercy of racecourse sneak thieves.

So, as fate evidently decreed, he spent the rest of the afternoon and the return train journey with his ‘chums.’

Thus it was that six months later Jim was contemplating how he could get out of the false bonhomie of the Christmas party without making himself look a complete pariah.

The party was in full swing by 3.00 pm when someone realized Jim wasn’t there. What could have happened to him.

Next morning, Helen bombarded Jim with a barrage of questions when he came into work.

‘What happened to you yesterday? We tried to get you on your mobile; didn’t you have it switched on? You knew that it was at the Cross Keys, didn’t you?’

‘My battery was dead.’ Jim replied, which of course wasn’t true; he had turned the phone off. ‘I went to the Cross Keys, but didn’t see any of you there, though it was pretty packed, so I assumed you’d gone somewhere else.’ Another lie, ‘But as my phone was dead, I couldn’t contact you.’

‘You were actually in the Cross Keys in Elm Street?’ queried Helen.

‘No, I thought you were going to the one in Malvern Avenue.’ returned Jim, ‘Oh well, I’ll have to make sure I get the right place next time.’

But of course there was no next time, as Jim went to pastures new shortly after.