A Debt of Honour – Episode 10
A Debt Of Honour
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The train was already squealing to a stop at the northbound platform when she ran to the entrance and stopped to catch her breath.
He looked so down, she thought, as he queued to feed his ticket into the gate barrier.
No wonder: it did nothing for your confidence when you had been to four job interviews in a row, and missed out on all of them.
“Bad luck,” she said, as he reached her. “Come on and wash away the dust of Edinburgh with a big mug of coffee at the Bistro.”
The Bistro had been a second home to generations of students.
These tables had heard everything from esoteric disputes on Philosophy to the latest racing tip at Ladbrokes.
They were the most educated tables – and chairs – in the world.
Pushing Calum into a seat at the quieter but gloomy back of the premises, Ellie decided that a beer might do him more good than a coffee.
She brought it back, with a half pint of lager for herself, and set it down in front of him.
“Well?” she asked. “How did it go? What went wrong?”
Calum looked up.
“That’s just it,” Calum said. “I thought it went well – or at least better than usual. I had a slow start, then managed to get into my stride.
“In fact, I thought I had a real chance of that one. Maybe so did everybody else.
“Then the usual . . . a secretary looked into the waiting room where we were all chewing our nails and called out someone else’s name.
“They thanked us for our interest and said what a high-quality field it had been, and how difficult it was to make a choice.”
Calum picked up his drink dispiritedly.
“They must buy in that hard luck speech. It’s the same every time, no matter where you go.”
Ellie watched him regrouping.
“How about your mum?” Calum asked, trying to change the subject.
“Off to distant Blantyre,” Ellie said. “In a rented car that’s scaring her to death.
“It’s so new and spotless. We always have big, battered cars at home.”
Calum forced a smile.
“Blantyre? Where David Livingstone the African explorer came from? Why?”
“She’s on a mission,” Ellie said.
Calum raised his eyebrows quizzically.
“She wants to try to find . . . a friend,” Ellie added.
There was no need to go into detail.
“Somebody she knew, before she set off for Australia with my dad.”
“Oh,” Calum replied, sipping. Then he set down his glass and grimaced.
“Ellie, I’m no good at the interview thing for fancy jobs, in IT or anywhere else. I’m thinking of lowering my sights.
“My contract as student flat warden is winding down, now that the semester has finished – and I can’t apply next year, because I won’t be a student any more.”
Ellie bit her lip.
“Don’t be so negative,” she told him.
“I bet there are half a dozen other guys feeling just as sorry for themselves right now. There will be other jobs.”
“I know,” Calum said sadly. “But I just don’t seem to have what it takes to impress interviewers.
“It’s not just academic qualifications they’re looking for.
“It’s someone who can come in and maybe make a difference for them. They’re looking for potential.”
“And you’ve got that,” she argued. “Don’t give up.
“There are graduates who go through twenty interviews before they get a proper job to start their lives.”
With his index finger, Calum slowly spread the wet mark on their table.
“What about you, Ellie?” he asked. “What are you thinking of doing?”
“Not quite sure,” Ellie replied honestly.
“What I’d like is to go on and do a Masters. Trouble is, I don’t want to keep drawing on the profits of Mum’s shop for ever.”
Calum picked up his glass.
“To the future,” he said. “May a good fairy appear in a puff of smoke and sort out jobs for both of us!”
“I’ll drink to that!” Ellie smiled and they touched glasses.
As they left, on impulse she turned round and hugged him briefly.
“What was that for?” he asked, surprised.
“Just to show solidarity,” Ellie replied, blushing. “Don’t get any ideas.”
A slow smile spread across Calum’s face.
“If that’s solidarity, it’s nice,” he said. “Makes losing the job worthwhile.”