The office was abuzz with the rumour that a new post had been created with a hefty salary attached. Clearly the lucky candidate could be assured of a seat on the board and many other perks.

‘Hi John, heard the rumour?’ said Pete, John’s closest friend and confidant.

‘No one seems to be talking about anything else. Are you applying?’

‘Depends what it involves, it may not be my field of expertise,’ said Pete.

‘Get away Pete; you could put your hand to absolutely anything.’

‘Yeh, yeh. How about you?’

‘Might not be my field of expertise.’ Pete landed him a friendly punch on the arm.

John and Pete parted to their respective offices to begin the day’s transactions. Around eleven John received a call from the boss telling him to meet in the boardroom.

‘John come in,’ said Paul Rankin, a jovial guy in his mid-forties, stocky but fit. He stretched out a hand which John shook; it was a firm vice like grip. ‘Sit down John, we need to talk. No doubt you’ve heard the rumours.’ John was about to reply but Paul waved his hand to silence him. ‘It’s really only a two horse race yourself and Pete and I know who my moneys on. You’re buddies so you’ll know the problems he’s going through. The board needs someone really focused to run with this portfolio; it will require late nights to get it established. What do you say?’

‘It sounds exciting.’

‘There’s a but,’ queried Paul.

‘You said it was a two horse race – are you even going to give Pete a chance?’

‘John, John, of course I am. He’s got to feel he’s given it his best shot but if I’m honest I don’t think he’s up to the pressure right now. Problems!’ he said tapping the side of his squat nose.

‘I need some time.’

‘You take as long as you need.’


An hour later John found himself standing at the washbasins in the cloakroom contemplating the offer from PR; Pete emerged from one of the cubicles.

‘Had your chat with PR yet?’

‘Yes,’ said John trying not to give anything away.

‘How did you get on?’

‘Not bad I suppose. Pete can I ask? Are you having some problems?’ Pete’s boyish charm disappeared; he avoided John’s gaze. ‘Come on we’re buddies,’ he insisted.

Pete glanced in the direction of the cubicles checking the stalls were empty. ‘It’s my youngest.’

‘Emily?’

‘Yes. She’s been poorly of recent so Dawn took her to the doctor’s. It’s not good. She has leukaemia.’

‘Pete, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say?’ he said patting him on the back.

‘I thought could handle it on my own. Didn’t want to bring domestic problems to work,’ he said near to tears.

‘Pete this is not a domestic problem. This is your daughter we’re talking about.’

‘Don’t you think I know?’

‘If there is anything I can do? Anything?’ insisted John.

‘Short of paying for all her treatment! I have to handle this by myself thanks.’ He slammed the door after him.

John slammed his hand down on the washbasin. ‘Well you really handled that well John Griffin.’



The church clock struck six when John cleared his desk and switched off his computer. He saw PR hovering near the reception there was no avoiding him.

‘Well John – had plenty of time?’ he laughed as he clapped him on the back.

‘You said it was a two horse race, well this horse just got lame. Good night.’