The Housing Officer
All the banks have had to close because of the economic crisis in 2014. Society ahd been completely reordered. Money no longer exists. There is a work ethic, but what one does, where one lives or goes on holiday is determined by a group of officials who are supposed to be above reproach and thoroughly ethical.
Trevor is a Housing Officer and actually has some housing needs of his own.
“You can see we’ve got a handful here,” said the man. “We really could do with the extra space. We’re all cramped up in the apartment.”
“Don’t you think the garden might be a bit small?” asked Trevor. “Wouldn’t you rather hang on for something else?” The garden of number 53 Cherry Tree Drive looked genteel and tidy, as did all of the gardens in that street.
The youngest of the boys had tipped Trevor’s paperclips over his desk and was busy making a chain with them. The middle boy was sitting on the floor, kicking his father’s chair. The oldest kept whining that he was bored. Trevor could just imagine the chaos that the boys would cause in Cherry Tree Drive. He may have to disappoint them. He went through the motions anyway.
“I should be able to let you know by the end of the afternoon,” said Trevor as the Robinsons left.
Immediately they were out of the office, Nigel showed in the Barrington-Smythes. He was running late now.
They were a young couple. “We both work form home,” said Sally Barrington-Smythe, a pretty girl who looked no older than seventeen. “So we need a study each.”
“Why four bedrooms, though?” asked Trevor.
Tony Barrington-Smyth smiled at his wife who blushed prettily. “There will soon be three of us,” he said.
Sally placed a hand on her abdomen and smiled at Trevor, blushing even redder.
“Are you intending to stop at just one child, then?” asked Trevor. “You know the authorities are allowing up to three these days?” And you might end up with three, he thought, shuddering as he remembered the Robinsons.
Sally exchanged a glance with Tony. Tony shrugged. “We’re… we’re not sure yet,”
“Maybe you need to give it a little more thought, then,” said Trevor. “Opportunities are few and far between.”
Trevor got his breath back over lunch. After he’d given the dogs a twenty-minute walk he sat at his desk and ate the sandwiches he’d made at home. He had another look through the files. So the Robinsons actually had four bedrooms in their apartment. The Barrington-Smythes currently lived in exactly the type of apartment he wanted: two bedrooms and close to the beach at Fromby. He couldn’t quite work out why Alex Johnson and Jacques Letisserot, a gay couple he presumed, wanted to move. They already had a ground-floor flat with four bedrooms. It had a small garden. They had an adopted son and they both worked from home, so they had exactly the right amount of room. They already had a garden. Ah, well, he guessed it would come out in the interview.