The Paradise Stain. Nick Glade-Wright

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      Kant pressed two numbers on the in house intercom to the front desk.

      ‘Yis?’

      ‘Hello Janine, Mister Kant here. Could you possibly bring Mister Mackelroy and me a couple of strong blacks? And Janine, that’s coffee, not rugby players.’

      The girl giggled. ‘You wanna coupla buscuts too, Muster Kant?’

      Kant looked at Mackelroy, who smiled back and put both his hands in the air, palms up like an Italian chef maintaining tight lips about a secret ingredient.

      ‘That would be lovely. We’ll be in my office.’

      Kant looked back at Mackelroy, shaking his head as a father might when told by his fourteen year old daughter that she is in love, wants to go on the pill and is moving out of home to marry the local butcher’s apprentice on Bruny Island.

      ‘Yes, I know what you’re thinking,’ Mackelroy said.

      ‘No, you don’t.’

      ‘She turned up when you were lounging around sipping camparis and nibbling nuts in the noonday sun, while the rest of us beavers were busting our balls trying to restore some decorum around here so the bloody dam didn’t burst.’

      ‘I did notice that the floors are still dry, so you must have done something right. Anyway, young Janine comes across as a bit … inexperienced.’

      ‘Let’s just call her a work in progress. Her old man was a cleaner here but had a bad stroke. Poor sod was only fifty and now he sits around at her flat most days struggling to even open cans of beer with his one good hand. The other half of him went all paralysed or something. I put in a good word for her, that’s all.’

      ‘Never known anyone with such a big heart, James,’ Kant replied.

      ‘Look, I know she seems a pixel short in the computer room but … ’

      ‘I’m sure she’s not, I’m just thinking it might be a good idea to get Dorothy to have a quiet word in her ear about dress codes for receptionists. Kid looks as if her … attributes could burst through her shirt at any time. I’m sure she’s got a heart of gold, but … you know … first impressions.’

      Dorothy West was the technical wizard at Nerve Two with anything to do with digital equipment. Her placement had initially got up the noses of a few of the younger breed of male techies, more than likely because she was old enough to be their mother, and old people, female at that, weren’t supposed to be clued up about all that technical stuff, let alone your mum.

      Kant was quietly pleased for another reason that Dorothy was still on the staff. It was because she was two years older than he. But her main attribute, amongst her multitasking abilities, as far as he and Mackelroy were concerned, was the monthly management of the younger female staff, pacifying them when fractious and mothering them when they became emotional.

      ‘So, how was your break?’

      Kant puffed air. ‘Oh, I could have done more with my time. Seeing my granddaughter was what I enjoyed most. It restores my faith in the future of this crumbling planet knowing she’ll be in charge one day. And by the way she rules the roost at home it won’t be that far away.’ Kant paused, lifted an eyebrow. ‘Did I just have a holiday?’

      But Mackelroy’s perfunctory curiosity had been satisfied after Kant’s first sentence and his thoughts were already speeding down the programming fast lane . He rushed back to his own office to fetch a file he’d forgotten.

      As Kant settled in his chair, a wave of melancholy washed over him as he looked around at the accumulated belongings in his office, all overflowing with nostalgia.

      ‘Muster Kant … Muster Kant.’

      Kant looked up. ‘Oh thanks, Janine.’

      ‘Couldn’t find any buscuts though. I’ll get some in.’

      ‘Thanks.’

      The girl pirouetted self importantly and left.

      ‘Okay, moving on,’ Mackelroy said as he scurried back in, settling himself next to Kant in an armchair. ‘Format the same as before. Except now I want to present to you my little piece of resistance, namely … ’ he paused theatrically, ‘the prize money has doubled to one hundred thou.’

      Mackelroy waited with a self gratulatory smirk, knowing Kant would be surprised, shocked even. So now he would linger patiently for Kant’s reaction so that he could revel in the triumphant coup that he had pulled off whilst Kant was off having a good time. Mackelroy watched his main man even as he sipped at his coffee, eyes peering out of the top of the rim of his mug. He didn’t want to miss a second. Kant sipped too, looked up and held Mackelroy’s gaze.

      Mackelroy could restrain himself no more. ‘Well?’ he burst out.

      ‘Oh, you want me to comment on the deal you made with that pommy Network to broadcast BKS up over? Sorry, Vince filled me in on Sunday morning. We really need to get him a desk job; poor fellow never seems to sleep.’

      Inside, Kant chided himself for not pretending ignorance and giving Mackelroy his moment of glory. He suspected he sometimes used his feelings of grief over his wife’s death as an excuse to be ungracious to others.

      Mackelroy began to hiss. ‘You’re a canny bastard.’

      Kant shrugged, looked down at the floor, imitating a forlorn spaniel.

      ‘What’s up? Am I detecting a little reticence about being back?’

      Kant looked at his director, unable to shift the hang dog expression. ‘Probably. No, it’s not that. And sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. Let’s just get on. It’s nothing.’

      ‘No, go on. We can easily postpone interviews for a day if you like. Ease back in.’

      ‘It’s nothing, really.’

      Mackelroy waited.

      ‘Okay, well, it’s just that when I came in just now I felt all the old … heartache, around Sarah, just bubble up again. It’ll go. I just have to get stuck into these other people’s lives again. They’ve got far more to complain about than me.’

      His colleague’s use of the word heartache had come out as if it was a profanity. Mackelroy grinned, but to Kant’s surprise not reassuringly; it was more a lascivious leer.

      ‘Jesus, mate, I know what’s wrong with you,’ Mackelroy laughed, tapping his forehead with the palm of his hand as if he’d just had a Dr Julius Sumner Miller moment of scientific breakthrough.

      ‘I didn’t say there was anything wrong with me,’ Kant replied defensively.

      ‘You didn’t have to. I can see the signs.’

      ‘Signs? Look, let’s just get on with it. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Tell me about who we’ve got on the list.’

      ‘No, BK, you’re not going СКАЧАТЬ