Her assessment was less of an interview and more of an interrogation. Flicking through the file she bombarded him with question after question after question, not just about his background and previous jobs but also on his views on party ideology and sex. In fact, he found himself answering more questions on sex than he ever had in his entire life, and that included the time he found himself testifying before a Senate Sub Committee on Sodomy. Vera also probed him about his upbringing and his family, prying deep, Dick assumed, to find out if there were any subversive skeletons hiding in his cupboard.
The training Taylor and Alice had provided served Dick well and he was able to give responses that were fast, confident and, more importantly, answers he was sure Vera wanted to hear. Despite this, Dick still felt uncomfortable. As Vera was making notes Dick had time to think about the look she’d been giving him. He was quite good at reading people but there was something about Vera that made him anxious. Her body language told him two things. That she knew he was faking it and she would take great pleasure in revealing his true identity as soon as this charade of an interview was over. Or that she was attracted to him. Either scenario filled Dick with dread. Eventually Vera put her pen down and spoke; Dick was extremely relieved to find that his anxiety had been misplaced.
‘Well, Mr. Brunel’, said an unemotional Vera Darling, closing the formidable file, ‘You certainly seems to possess the right experience, aptitude and attitude for this vacancy’.
Dick nodded and smiled. In fact he smiled for two reasons. One because he was relieved that he had survived the interview. And two, because he had just realised what Vera’s initials were.
She continued. ‘It’s almost as though the position here was designed exactly for you’.
Dick smiled again, this time slightly more nervously.
‘There are three more candidates to be interviewed and I will be making a decision within forty-eight hours. If you are successful, Mr. Brunel, then you would start on Monday. I presume that is practical?’. Dick told her that it was.
Vera continued, ‘One thing you should know, is that I am a very demanding boss. In fact, in the department I have a reputation for being a perfectionist and at times, a hard taskmaster. I insist on total devotion to your job and in going beyond the call of duty for the Party. I hope you are prepared for this uncompromising way of working’.
Dick wasn’t, but thought he’d better agree, ‘Of course. I am dedicated to the Party and relish the opportunity of working under you’. Dick wondered if Vera understood this admittedly weak double entendre but her reaction indicated she didn’t.
‘Good. Then that is all for now. Good day Mr. Brunel’.
Dick extended his hand in greeting but realised too late that Vera was not going to reciprocate. By then, he’d gone past the point of no-return and all he could do was change his move from a would-be handshake to a one-armed stretch and a yawn which, to be honest, looked ridiculous. Dick thought he’d just better leave but as he stood up and walked towards the door Vera called out.
‘Mr. Brunel?’
Dick turned and looked at Vera uneasily.
‘Yes, Miss Darling’
‘How is your sister?’
Dick was confused and somewhat alarmed by this seemingly random question. He paused before answering.
‘I don’t have one’, he replied nervously.
But Vera had her formidable file open again. ‘But your records indicate you do. Louise. Five years older’.
Dick hoped his expression concealed his inner panic. ‘I think you’re mistaken’, he said, trying to regain his composure but feeling the onset of a hot flush.
Vera gave Dick an incredibly steely glare. ‘Mr. Brunel’, she said coldly. ‘Surely you could not have forgotten about your sister?’
Dick gulped. There was an uncomfortable silence. He delved deep within his memory to recollect what Taylor had told him. Or was that the problem? Maybe Taylor hadn’t actually mentioned any sister. Was Dick being tested?
‘Are you all right Mr. Brunel?’ Vera enquired. ‘You look, well, a tad worried’.
Dick was worried.
‘Well?’ Vera pressed him for an answer with obvious impatience in her voice. ‘Your sister?’
The more Dick tried to think of a response, the redder and sweatier he became. He looked at the door but Vera was blocking any escape route. Then, after a moment, an expression that was more than a smirk but less than a smile crossed his lips.
‘Louise is my step sister’, he said. ‘She lives in Plymouth and she’s fine, thank you’.
Vera nodded and almost smiled herself. ‘Goodbye Mr. Brunel’.
Dick found his way back to the elevator and punched the button. He hoped the voice had announced ‘Ground floor’ but Dick thought it had warned him, ‘You won’t get away with it!’. It wasn’t until Dick reached the ground floor and walked out into the bustling street that he let out a huge sigh of relief and a rather noisy fart. After all, the interview had been extremely nerve-wracking.
Following the detailed instructions given to him by Taylor, Dick took the Metropolitan subway back home. It was clean, smooth and punctual. ‘What was it about dictatorships that always made the trains run on time?’, thought Dick to himself before realising it was probably the threat of severe physical punishment to the railway managers that inspired this sort of efficiency. A brisk ten-minute walk from the station later, and Dick had reached the sanctuary of Abode 168756, his new home. He’d been over his cover story countless times: he’d just moved into the area from south London and he was renting this furnished apartment from a friend. In reality it had been owned by a previous member of the Resistance who had just moved to Manchester, for both a new job and to transfer to the movement there.
Dick fumbled with his key card, walked through the empty lobby and then took the elevator to his apartment. Closing the door behind him Dick leant against it, shut his eyes and emitted an enormous sigh. For the first time in ages he felt very alone. Up until now he’d been in the constant company of colleagues in the Resistance. Now the job interview was over Dick had time to relax, which was good, but it was also bad because this meant he also had time to reflect. Dick hadn’t experienced loneliness in a long, long time. In constant demand all of his adult life he was virtually always in contact with someone. Of course some of these contacts were more intimate than others but there was always somebody who wanted a piece of him. Now he had no one to talk to. No one to phone. No one to e-mail. Worse, no porn to look at. Dick sighed then threw off his jacket and kicked off his brogues before exploring the apartment in detail.
Off the hallway was a bathroom, a kitchen that opened up on to a living / dining area (dominated by a huge flat screen TV) and a bedroom (dominated by a slightly less huge flat screen TV). Examining the wardrobe and chest of drawers, Dick was pleased to see that the Resistance had kindly provided him with a selection of clothing and accessories he’d need to blend-in; everything that the well-dressed would-be Assistant Communications Under Manager would be wearing this season. They had also supplied him with a small computer terminal. This tour of his new home didn’t take long since it was quite small. In fact, compared to Dick’s condo in 2010 it was absolutely tiny; he reckoned he could fit this whole apartment in his old guest suite. It was, Dick thought, so small that the mice probably had hunchbacks. It was, he thought, so small that you could turn off the bedroom light and jump into bed before it got dark. It was so small that… well that’s enough old jokes for a while.