It's Only Temporary

Acknowledgements.

This is my second book and I hope a vast improvement on ‘Deception’ my first, it is certainly dif
ferent as it is also my first ‘humorous’ book. I had some serious reservations about my ability to write a story that would hopefully make readers laugh or at least smile. However I then looked around at the people in my life and realised I had enough raw material from life experience to write several!

Marcus is a culmination of various people myself included, my Dad, my brother Con, “Mad” Uncle Mitch and my son Ben. Each of us in our own way can lay claim to be part of Marcus.

Also my daughter Sian whose general ‘pottiness’ helped keep me focused on the flavour of the book.

I need to thank my Beta readers Jay Finch and Darren Small.

My proof reading experts Marie Pearson & Niamh Robinson who seemed to be able to turn a chapter from nonsense into English in double quick time.

The wonderful Lesley Eames who has guided me throu
ghout my writing development, without her suggestions and critiques this book would not exist.

To Karen, who puts up with it all and still allows me to flatter myself that I can write!

Finally to you the reader, for taking the time to read my story.

Thank you.

Jamie Pearson is a former Mental
Health Nurse who now works in Further Education initially as a Teacher but more recently as a Project Manager. He has always enjoyed writing and wrote his first Novel “Deception” in 2012, this was treated as an exercise to see if he had the commitment and talent to continue to write novels.

He discovered not only a commitment but a desire to write and spent some time developing his ‘voice’ as well as his story structure skills. Finding he naturally gravitated to a more humorous style of writing  he elected to forgo bring
ing Dan Ryan back to life in a Deception sequel and wrote
It’s Only Temporary
as his second book.

Dan Ryan will undoubtedly make a return as well as further more humorous books, who knows we may even hear from Marcus again?

Jamie currently lives in The South East of England with his wife, two children and ‘Psycho’ cat.

Chapter 1.

I looked at Robert, the Vice principal, across his desk.

‘Your letting me go? That’s wonderful!’

‘It is?’

‘Of course. I’ve been saying for years that what this university needs is to let me go Egypt. Field trips, that’s what will make our Egyptology Department one of the best in the country. In the world even.’

‘We’re not letting you go to Egypt Marcus. We’re letting you go.’

‘Go where?’

‘Anywhere you like.

‘I see,’ but I did not see, not at all.

‘Errr except for anywhere here,’ Robert added.

None of this made sense. I had an IQ of 160 but whatever point Robert was trying make was eluding me. I was a pivotal figure at The London University for Cultural Investigation or “Luci” to those of us in the know. I was also “the” Egyptology department and although I was supported by an ever changing cast of minions, without me there was no Egyptology department.

‘You see there is not going to be an Egyptology department anymore.’

‘Ah. So you’re merging it?’

‘I mean we’re murdering it. Closing it. Ending it. Hence the term “letting you go”. It’s a nice way of saying “go away”.’

“Go away” were two words I had not expected to hear. I had just returned from my annual trip to Egypt where I undertake field based research in my own time and at my own expense, all for the benefit of Luci.

‘So my Professorship is…?’

‘Closed and ended too.’

I had the strange sensation of not being able to process the information I was receiving, almost as if my brain refused to accept the reality of the situation. Then like a computer my cognitive processor caught up.

Oh god, I was being fired!

‘You’re making me redundant?’

‘Hallelujah!’ Robert threw up his hands. ’That’s what “letting go” means Marcus. At least in this day and age, you would know that if you surfaced every now and again and focussed on today instead of two thousand years ago.’

‘Five actually.’

‘Five what?’

‘Thousand years ago.’ I was not sure what was more shocking, what Robert was tel
ling me or the fact that he as Vice Principal didn’t even know what period the ancient Egyptians lived in. This made me realise that Luci desperately needed a man of my calibre. Quite clearly this was potentially a colossal mistake on the board’s part. Poor old Robert was obviously lined up as the scape goat for when the ramifications of this mind boggling decision came to fruition.

If only there was a way to save Robert and the board from themselves? Maybe some gentle prompting to enable them to see the error of their ways.

‘Don’t be such an imbecile,’ I said.

He visibly blanched at this, seeing his reaction bolstered my confidence and I pressed home my advantage.

‘An institution with the reputation that Luci has needs to strive to maintain its position within the elite of academia. Make no mistake if we let our standards drop even a fraction other lesser universities will be ready to pounce and lure our students away.’

‘Well we, actually you, don’t in fact have any students.’

‘That is because they all go to Sunderland, with their artefacts and field trips. If, as I have suggested we run a field based extended module on site in Cairo we will attract the crème de la crème of those students interested in Ancient Egyptian research.’

‘There aren’t any.’

‘Any what?’

‘Students.
Sunderland don’t have any either. We have to accept that in today’s economic climate students want real courses that lead to real jobs. Understanding the complexity of the Egyptians relationship with the cat does not help them in that.’

‘The cat is symbolic, it represents…’

‘I don’t care about the bloody cat! It’s over Marcus, OK?’

I was momentarily unable to respond, my mind frantically searched for any argument which I could put forward. However I ended up with a rather pathetic, ‘But I have been here fifteen years, three as a Student, two as an Intern, eight as a Lecturer and the rest as a Professor. I live on campus, I have never worked anywhere else, it’s my home.’

‘Yes, about that, your apartment above the cloisters. How long have you been there?’

‘My whole time on staff, twelve years.’

‘You have until the end of the week to vacate and hand over the keys.’

‘What? Where am I supposed to go?’

‘Well if I may be so bold, a good place to start would be the local job centre and the “To Let” adverts in the free papers. Failing that there is always the local housing association.’

‘Hang on, one week? Surely my redundancy, not to mention my tenancy agreement allows for longer than that?’

‘Yes the tenancy does,’ he said as he unfolded a copy of it in front of him.

‘One month to be exact.’

‘Ha! Well then I have a month,’ I said the sense of triumph clearly evident in my voice. If I could win this small battle then I could buy myself more time to potentially win the war.

‘Afraid not. You were issued with a notice to quit three weeks ago. Registered letter it seems.’

‘I was in Egypt three weeks ago!’

‘Ah, well that was unfortunate.’

‘Who signed for this letter, I certainly didn’t.’

‘Actually, I did,’ he said and for the first time since I had sat down he looked uncomfortable.

‘You did?’ I asked incredulous.

‘Err, yes. It’s on your desk, did you not see it?’

‘No, of course I didn’t! I only got back this morning; I saw your note on my apartment door to meet with you urgently. I have not even unpacked.’

‘I shouldn’t bother if I was you.’

‘Well that still leaves the terms of my redundancy to be sorted out.’

‘Well no actually. You see when I said “letting you go” and you used the term “redundant” I really should have corrected you. Sorry.’

‘Corrected me how?’

‘You are not being made redundant.’

Confusion and relief washed over me.

‘You said I was.’

‘No actually you said it. I just didn’t correct you.’

‘So what is happening to me?
’

‘Your contract isn’t being renewed.’

‘What? What’s the difference?’

‘Well you may recall that last year the board elected to transfer a portion of the academic staff onto on-going temporary contracts? One of which was yourself and you received an attractive financial inducement.’

‘Well yes.’

I had used the financial inducement and every penny I had for that matter to pay for a dig at an unexplored site in
Egypt. There had been no finds yet but the dig was registered to me and I hoped that once I had saved enough money I could return next summer and continue.

‘So,’ Robert continued. ‘What that means is that there are no redundancy terms.’

‘Well when does my contract end?’

‘Three weeks ago.’

‘Oh, so how much money do I get to tied me over?’

‘None Marcus, your last monthly wage was in fact literally your last monthly wage.’

‘But I have spent that!’

‘That’s unfortunate.’

As I made my way back to my apartment, or as I realised soon to be someone else’s apartment it dawned on me that I had spent the past three weeks blissfully unaware that I was working through not only my accommodation notice but also my professional one as well.