Michael

358 Words
Michael Book-keeping and accounts… I bloody hate the job. I have someone in for a few hours a week to do the day-to-day work; booking in receipts, sending out invoices and quotes, all that stuff. But once a month, like it or not, I go over the figures. It’s the only way to be sure I have my finger on the pulse. And now having both the spa hotel and the City centre, there’s twice the work. *sigh* The accounts software does most of the heavy lifting of course, but I still prefer to do some parts of it manually, ensuring the numbers pass through my brain, not just my eyes. So, I check the ratios: overheads cost per client, number of staff per client, mark-up on purchases versus sales in the restaurant… Feet up on the settee by the fire, laptop propped on my knees, I work through it all. And, if I’m honest, there’s worse ways to work. Warmth. Comfort. My own home. My own boss… I take a sip of the excellent malt which sits on the small table by my side. Calculator… “Calculator. Calculator…” I sit up, spin, repeating the word as though it’s some feat of magic that will conjure up the object if I say it often enough. Damn! Must have left back at the office… James’ll have one… I pad through to James’ study; a quick scan of the visible… No calculator. Desk… Top drawer… I scratch through stapler, note pads, hole punch, pins, memory keys, assorted computer cables and connectors, a couple of old floppy discs that can’t be useful these days for much more than cup mats… Gotcha… The calculator is jammed at the back of the drawer between a scrum of sticky notes, erasers and pencil stubs, and something flattish trapped underneath. Prising the whole mess backwards, I free the calculator and am about to slam the drawer shut on my pilfering… … when I see what the flattish object is. James had a photo of Georgie; old, poor quality and blown-up beyond any sensible quality, but that photo followed him, in his wallet and on his desk for years; all the time I have known him And now, here it is, face-down, tucked away and out of sight. He's buried his daughter. Crap… *****
Free reading for new users
Scan code to download app
download_iosApp Store
google icon
Google Play
Facebookexpand_more
  • author-avatar
    Writer
  • chap_listContents
  • likeADD