‘ABOVE ONE’S STATION?…

Feeling very much an outsider, he had tried to avoid the Christmas party at the Lundy Estate Office. Miss Symons – they were not even on first name terms after all these months – had spotted him leaving via the back stairs.

‘Mr Morris, the dedicated always working Mr Ian Morris, where are you going? You must join us.’

‘Sorry, I’ve got much still to do.’

‘Nonsense, I insist, for one night, you can give it a miss. For goodness sake, it’s Christmas Eve, or do you want to live up to your nickname?’

‘What do you mean?’ He had no idea what she was talking about.

‘Oh, I thought you knew, you must surely, the typing pool refers to you as ‘the monk of St Johns’. They say you must be terrified of women, or worse still, a queer. Come on, show them what you’re made of.’

Before he could protest, she had steered him into the hot noisy room and marched him straight to a group of young women circled around a young man of his own age, Bryl creamed hair and a sheen on his face, still the unmistakable bully he remembered.

‘Alistair, you remember Ian Morris, you used to play together. Now he’s back working all hours of the day and night to save us from financial ruin.’

‘Ah yes, the housekeeper’s boy. Hello Morris, I must say you’ve come up in the world.’ Ian felt Fiona’s hand tighten its grip on his arm.

Another extract from chapter forty eight of – ‘Go Swift and Far – a Tale of Bath’ The first book of The Westcott Chronicles