Robert Whitaker was on his way to the class reunion, the first time hed seen his old schoolmates in three decades. After finishing secondary school hed packed his bags for university in Cambridge, then drifted off to a job in Birmingham, and later set up his own tech startup in Manchester. The road to the £45,000ayear business had its fair share of peaks and troughs.
Every now and then he felt a pang of nostalgia, scrolling through Instagram and Facebook for snapshots of the gang, while occasionally posting his own glossy shots of the new office. Above all, he wanted to catch up with Emily Clarke. Back in the late 90s hed been smitten, but Emily barely gave him a glance. She found his nerdy, bookish demeanor about as exciting as watching paint dry. The last time he mustered the courage to hand her a bouquet, she hopped onto the back of James Doyles motorbike, revved off without even looking at the flowers, and left a cloud of dust in her wake. Robert never bothered to try again; he watched her disappear down the road, thinking about asking her to join him on a ride, about helping her out but he never did.
Robert hadnt kept many close friends from school; most of his time was spent buried in textbooks. He only stuck with a handful of mates who attended extra maths tutorials with him, grinding for the university entrance exams. He arrived at the reunion in high spirits, clutching a small present for each former classmate not a single name left off the list.
They gathered in a cosy café in the heart of Leeds, laughing, swapping anecdotes about teachers and corridors. Roberts gaze kept drifting toward Emily, who was perched at the far end, eyes glued to her phone. After school Emily had indeed married James, but as Robert later discovered theyd long since stopped living under the same roof. She was now a single mother, caring for a chronically ill son.
Determined to chat, Robert approached her, only to be met with a sharp retort.
You live in that posh townhouse and have no clue about real problems! she snapped. Ive seen your house. Your wife never works, she spends all day at the salon. You must have a legion of staff, yet you never post them online. Your kids are studying abroad, while Im juggling a sick boy. What could we possibly discuss? You wouldnt understand.
Emily, am I to blame for your troubles? he asked, trying to keep the tone light.
In this country theres never enough money for sick children, and people like you sit on piles of cash and act greedy! she shot back.
Roberts cheeks flushed. He didnt like the subject being tossed around, but he had his own point of view.
How many sick children have you helped, Emily?
My own son is ill! And sometimes I send a text offering help.
I regularly donate sizeable sums to charities, quietly. So whos doing more good?
Its simple, she replied, you dont feel poorer after handing over an extra hundred grand. My help counts more because what I give comes straight from my own pocket. How do I earn money? I hop on two buses each morning and collect the odd change!
A few onlookers whispered, some siding with Emily, others staying silent.
When the evening wound down, Robert slipped his gifts onto the table and asked the waiter to pass a sealed envelope to Emily. He walked out, mulling over the fact that theyd all started from the same playing field. Many of his classmates had the same talent, but hed chosen books over beers in the back garden, maths over cigarette breaks on the corner, and occasional discos for the occasional night out. Hed picked a university he was genuinely interested in, not the local vocational college. Hed taken the risk of stepping out of his comfort zone to launch his own firm.
Hed fought his way, learned new tricks, stumbled, and lost a few things along the way. It wasnt his fault that his former peers now led lives theyd chosen, and now pointed fingers at his success. He hadnt stolen anyones money; hed earned his own.
How many of you know people like Emily and the other mates of Roberts class who love tallying other peoples pounds? Sure, some were lucky enough to be born into comfortable families and obtain a solid education, but there are countless stories of folks from modest backgrounds, children of parents without degrees, who clawed their way to the top. Everything rests in our own hands, and each of us decides what path to take.
