Touched - By Malcolm Havard Page 0,3

timed; Dan had shifted his weight away from garlic man and was off-balance. He half fell and buried his nose in the armpit of a dreadlocked student. He tried to recover, stepping back slightly and felt something under his foot. There was a muffled but angry yell of pain. Dan turned to apologise but his hand brushed the breasts of the girl next to him who glared and spat the word ‘pervert’ at him.

With relief he saw that the train was pulling into Green Park. Experience had taught him that it was neither worth apologising or getting into an argument. Personal space did not really exist on the Underground at rush hour. Actually that was not true - the personal space was there but it stopped at the skin. That was why everyone who was a regular commuter kept the uneasy act up of being alone within the crowd, never speaking, avoiding eye contact, avoiding running the risk of appearing to challenge or argue. We’re apes, Dan had decided during one of these interminable commutes that allowed so much introspective musing, that’s all we are, troupes of anthropoids forced together unnaturally with no clear definition of the pecking order, no idea who the alpha male or the dominant females are. No wonder this was such an uncomfortable feeling for everyone; for all the generations of civilised veneer we might pretend to have we still had the instincts of the savanna.

Whatever, he gladly joined the crush out of the carriage and onto the platform, all sweeping together towards the exits with the rest of the West End workers.

The street still held the same damp grey chill that it had when he had left his friends flat an hour before. It did not improve his mood, the dismal malaise that seemed to sit with him all the time now.

He realised how tired he was. He had leave due but had neither the money or the inclination to actually go anywhere on a proper holiday. Instead he had gone up to Manchester for a few days but, instead of being a break, it had taken it out of him, both physically and mentally.

He wasn't even entirely sure why he had driven up there. He had a vague idea that going back to his old haunts would lift his mood but instead the ghosts of the past seemed to haunt him. He wanted to be reminded of happy memories of his carefree student days but all he he got where reminders of Alice at every turn – the restaurant that was their place, the pub were they played pool and flirted, the park where...no, that was enough. Those memories hurt, he had to stop dwelling on them, he had to stop torturing himself with them. All they did was drive him to drink more, and the drink just led to more brooding and more drinking.

He had to stop.

He pushed open the plate glass doors which had the company name and logo etched into it and walked up to the reception desk.

‘Morning Marta,’ he said as cheerily as he could muster. For all his problems, Dan didn’t see a reason for anyone else around him to suffer. ‘Any mess…’he continued, but stopped as she raised her hand up to him. She was wearing a headset and was obviously on the switchboard as well as on reception.

‘Wilberforce Watts?’ she said in a sing-song voice. Dan often wondered what clients actually felt about these greetings; they were so obviously false and not reserved for them alone, yet the pretence on all sides continued.

‘Thank you. Just trying his line for you.’

She typed a number into the keyboard in front of her as she looked up at Dan questioningly.

‘Er..any messages for me?’ he managed to get out as she answered the phone again.

‘Wilberforce Watts? Thank you. Putting you through to his secretary.’

She reached behind her into Dan’s pigeon-hole and passed a few handwritten message chits to him just as she said ‘Wilberforce Watts?’ again.

Dan nodded his thanks though Marta was not paying attention. He reflected that he had been here 5 years and they had hardly passed any conversation between them more than the one they had just had. He was just another surveyor to her, first as a graduate then a bit more senior, a bit more tired, a few more lines, but just another face. And he knew nothing about her. Not that he was that interested but it just didn’t feel right not to know, it