Chapter Seventeen - Under Notice

Friday 17^th November 

The old adage that no news is good news is rarely the true of job interviews.  A day had passed since she had left the offices of the Clearwater Housing Group and, as a result, Catherine had dismissed her chances of clinching either the Housing Officer’s post or the Support Worker’s role she had been interviewed for by Wave the day before that.  She had sensed from the start that Clearwater were probably going through the motions, interviewing a couple of token external candidates before appointing internally.  There had been a group exercise for the five candidates, observed by the interviewing panel, during which the internal candidates acted as if they already knew what was coming and what was expected of them.

‘It was like a rigged version of The Apprentice!’ she had complained to Toby and Ash, as they set up the computers ready for a heavily-booked UC clinic.  

‘I hate it when it’s a stitch-up,’ said Ashley.  

‘It was a whole day too, by the time I got there and back.’  A day lost to job applications; a steep bus fare.  

More frustrating, as closer to home, had been the Tenancy Support Worker’s job.  That had felt genuinely open and the panel’s eyes had lit up when she mentioned volunteering at the Solent Welfare Rights Project.  She had felt a fraud when she admitted to having spent only a couple of days there so far.  It must have looked like the worst sort of window-dressing.

‘You shouldn’t give too much away,’ Ashley advised her, when she expressed these thoughts.  ‘As the saying goes, fake it ‘til you make it!’

Catherine looked away and said nothing, wondering if this young woman, who had been the successful candidate pitched against her, had faked anything to get this job.

There was no time to brood on that.  Friday’s clinic was often a hectic one as people desperately tried to iron out problems ahead of the weekend.  Catherine was surprised to find that, although most of them were jobseekers, like herself, there were also several workers on zero-hours or other flexible working arrangements.  

'It's all very well the Government telling people they have to learn to budget,' said Ashley, as she and Catherine took a break together in the café.  'That's easy enough, if you're a civil servant on the same money every month.  These guys get paid weekly, when they get paid at all, and they're used to budgeting weekly.'

'At least they have something to fall back on, without having to make a new claim every time they don't get enough hours,' Catherine answered.  'Switching between Tax Credits and JSA was a recipe for disaster when I was a Housing Officer.  People who did that were always more prone to arrears than those who were long-term unemployed.'

'So you think UC is a good thing?'  

Ashley's tone was quite confrontational.

'I think there are aspects of it that aren't all bad.  Cutting out the need to claim something new every time there's a change in  your circumstances - work to unemployment, sickness to health - seems like a good move.'

'Isn't that just so you don't have an excuse not to do dead end, short-term jobs?'

'Whatever the motivation behind it, the consequence isn't a bad one.  The original work allowances were better too; Hilary said the earnings disregards for the legacy benefits hadn't changed since nineteen eighty-eight!'

'I wasn't born then!'  Ashley got up.  'I'm going outside for a smoke.  See you later.'

Catherine watched her paid colleague cross the room and exit to the back yard.

'She'd better not get fag ash on Tom's garlic,' Paula said, looking over from the counter.  

'I expect she'll steer well clear of it,' laughed a guy in a tatty raincoat, one of two men with battered rucksacks waiting for lunch service to begin.  'She looks like she'd be allergic to it.'

'I doubt if she knows how she looks,' his mate replied.  'They don't show up in mirrors. do they?'

'Okay, you two.  Enough with the vampire jokes,' Paula warned them.  'How Ashley dresses is her choice.  Show respect; get respect.  Right?'

The men agreed.  

Catherine felt that she ought to have been the one to speak up for her colleague.  

'I didn't know there was a garden at the back,' she said, out of genuine interest but also to hide her embarrassment..

'It was set up when Spitfire Housing first launched this as a community café.  John, the bloke in charge of the project, was an old hippy.  He got it all laid out as raised beds and planted up with herbs.  Tom and Father Cornelius keep it going between them, and we have a community allotment as well, so there's usually something fresh for the kitchen and for food parcels.'

'That's lovely,' said Catherine.  'I have an allotment too.'

Paula admitted that she was no gardener.  Catherine finished her tea and went back to the IT room.  Toby was explaining the concept of security questions to a woman who Catherine thought looked as though she should have retired years before.

'Don't pick that one if you aren't going to get it right.  What about the first car you owned?'

'That was the Viva, I think.  Or it might have been a Cortina...'

'Hello, Miss?'  

Catherine's attention was drawn to a young man sitting at another PC nearby.

'Can I help?'

'I think I've done this bit wrong.  I don't understand.'

Catherine was afraid she might not either but, fortunately, it was a question related to his housing situation, so she was on home ground.  

Ashley reappeared shortly afterwards, just in time to help another customer needing to make a new claim.  

'It doesn't really take six weeks to come through, does it?' he asked.  'That's only if something goes wrong, right?  I mean, I've got my P45 here and everything...'

'It's six weeks if everything goes right,' Ashley explained.  'It can be longer.'

'That's the other side of Christmas, love!  I can't be arsed with all this shit.  I'll get another job before then.'

He got up, letting his chair clatter to the floor, and walked out, despite Ashley's entreaties about advance payments.

Catherine thought she looked shaken.

'Are you alright?'

'Yeah.  I don't blame him.  It is crap,' she said.  'What if he doesn't get another job quickly, or if he's got kids?'

'At least they might get some Tax Credits this side of Christmas, if there's a claim running now,' Toby said.  'And even some Housing Benefit.  If he hadn't run off so fast, we might have been able to get those revised up for him as an alternative to a UC claim.'

'I shouldn't have said that about the six weeks,' said Ashley.

'It's not your fault, kiddo,' Toby insisted.  'He started it.  It's the thing everyone knows about it, thanks to the news.'

'Six weeks with no money?' said the lad next to Catherine.

'Not necessarily,' she said gently, wary of provoking a second walk-out.  He lived locally; at least if he was without funds they could help him claim an advance and feed him.

The IT crowd lunched together when the clinic finished at one-thirty.  Toby and Ashley were done for the day.  Catherine too would need to go soon; she had over an hour's journey on the bus back home and wanted to be in when the girls got home.  Her phone rang, while she was telling her colleagues about them.

'Hello!'

It was Clearwater, confirming what she had already guessed.

'Thank you.'  

She put her phone back in her bag and picked up her knife and fork.

'No luck?' asked Toby.

'Not this time.'  She wanted to cry.

'Their loss,' said Ashley.

Catherine looked up.

'I mean it,' Ash continued.  'You were brilliant with that guy this morning.'

'Which one?'  It had been hectic.

'The one with a bit of a learning disability.  I saw him on Tuesday.  He didn't get what the Bedroom Tax was when I explained it but he understood it the way you put it.'

'Understanding it isn't going to make it any easier for him to pay it,' Catherine said.  'He needs more money.'

'Toby and I are doing a PIP appeal for him next week,' Ashley said.  'You could come along - if you'd like to.'

'I would, very much.'  It was all useful experience, whatever Colin might think.

'Don't forget to see Vaughan about your bus fares,' Toby reminded her, when Ashley had finished and gone.  'He's our petty cash guy.  And if you need anything else...'

'I'm okay.'

She had answered too quickly; Toby didn't look totally convinced.

'Did you say Vaughan was a solicitor?'

'During his misspent youth,' Toby replied.  'We rescued him, from the Dark Side.'  He laughed.  'Are you hoping to come in next week?'

'Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings, if I can,' she replied.  'Unless I get a better offer.'

'Then, in the nicest possible way, I hope I don't see you!'

He picked up his bag, shouted a quick farewell to Paula and left the café.

Catherine sat a little longer, finishing her tea and watching the café crew clearing up.  The old priest seemed to have a couple of youths helping him today, carrying boxes in from the storeroom while a group of ladies were emptying them and laying things out along the tables used for the Friday foodbank.  Catherine had done her promised big shop this week, stopping off at the supermarket on her way home after the Clearwater debacle.  She had stocked up on tinned tomatoes, which had been on three for two, she had found some good multi-buy deals on fish and mince and, best of all, a good sized beef joint marked down for quick sale, so there would be a change from cheap chicken this Sunday.  

She had come home by taxi, feeling upbeat despite the disappointment of the interview, to find the girls in their rooms and an unopened letter on the mat.  It was from her landlord, explaining that, despite her efforts to catch up her rent arrears and her generally exemplary conduct, he was adopting a policy of not letting to benefit dependent tenants and proposed not to renew her shorthold when it expired at the end of March.  The tone of the letter suggested he felt he was doing her a great favour by giving her so much notice. 

She was sure the girls hadn't seen the letter or opened it this time.  She put it in her bag.  There would be a time and place to discuss this with her children and, perhaps, if she could change her situation, to talk to her landlord.  She would keep it to herself this side of Christmas, at least.

If she couldn't find work that paid well enough to take her off Universal Credit, Catherine was almost certain that she had no redress against her landlord's action, but she would have been glad of a second opinion from someone with more knowledge of private sector housing law.  She had brought the letter with her, on the off-chance of being able to speak with Vaughan.  Collecting her travel expenses gave her the perfect opportunity to broach the subject.

However, after she had taken her plate and cup back to the counter, Catherine found herself reluctant to waste his time.  She had her return ticket on her, so there was no urgent need for her expenses either.  She waved to Paula and set off to get her bus.