Robert is on his way to the class reunion. He hasnt seen his old mates in thirty years. After leaving secondary school he immediately moved to Leeds for university, then took a job in Birmingham. Later he wanted to earn more, so he set up his own firm in London. The venture has had its highs and lows.
From time to time he misses the lads from his school days. In his spare minutes he scrolls through their pictures on social media and uploads a few of his own. He is especially eager to spot Milly. Robert liked her a lot back at grammar school, but Milly never gave him the time of day. The quiet, bookish type didnt appeal to her. The last time he handed her a bunch of flowers, she hopped onto the back of Adams motorbike, barely glancing at the bouquet, and roared off, kicking up dust. He never approached her again. He drifted away, wishing he could have asked her to ride together, to help her, but he never did.
Robert never formed close friendships within his class; he spent most of his time hitting the books. He only kept in touch with a handful of boys who joined him for extra maths lessons and crammed for the entrance exams.
He arrives at the reunion in high spirits, having prepared a small present for every old classmate, making sure nobody is forgotten. They settle into a cosy café on Regent Street, laughing and swapping stories about school. Robert watches the group, his gaze lingering on Milly. She sits at the far end, glued to her phone. After school Milly married Adam, but, as Robert learns, they havent lived together for years; she now raises a sick child on her own.
Robert decides to speak to her, but she meets him with sharp words.
You live in your grand house and have no idea what we go through! Ive seen your Instagram your wife never works, only goes to salons. You must have a huge staff, yet you never show it. Your kids are studying abroad, and Im caring for a sick son. What are we to discuss? You wouldnt understand.
Milly, am I responsible for your troubles?
In this country theres barely any funding for sick children, and people like you sit on money and are greedy!
Robert feels his temper rise; he dislikes the topic. He has something to say.
Milly, how many sick kids have you helped?
I have a sick child myself! And I sometimes send texts offering help.
I regularly donate large sums to charity, but I never brag about it. So, who is more helpful?
Its simple you dont get poorer by giving away an extra hundred thousand. My help counts more because what I give literally comes out of my own mouth. Do you know how I earn my money? Every morning I catch two buses to work and earn a few pennies!
Other patrons watch. Some side with Milly, the rest stay silent.
Robert leaves the café, placing the gifts he brought for his old mates on the table and asking the waiter to hand Milly an envelope.
He walks away thinking. They had the same chances, the same abilities. He, Robert, chose studying instead of drinking lager in the back garden, chose books over smoking at the corner, chose education over the local trade college. He took risks, stepped out of his comfort zone, and launched his own business.
He struggled, learned, faced setbacks and losses. It isnt his fault that his classmates now lead the lives they lead and accuse him of wealth and privilege. He didnt steal their money; he earned it himself.
How many of you know people like Milly and the others from Roberts class, who count other peoples cash? Sure, some were lucky enough to be born into affluent families and get a good education. But there are countless stories of folks from modest backgrounds, children of uneducated parents, who make it on their own. Everything is in our own hands, and each of us decides our path.
