Sunburn

TWO

            When Mum had first suggested helping Greg out, I'd assumed it would be a straightforward job. He wasn't the world's most organised bloke, but running the arcade for thirty years was an achievement; he had to have been doing something right. Perhaps there would be a slight backlog where the books had got messy, a few things out of order that'd thrown everything else off, but nothing that couldn't be salvaged.

Unfortunately, the surprise arrived on my first day.

"Now, I know it looks disorganised, but I promise there's order to the chaos," he was saying, pulling down yet another box from the office shelf. Several papers fell out as it hit the desk, which he scrambled to pick up from the floor. "Everything money-related for the past few years, I've put in here. I don't throw away anything, you know, because it might be important later on. But these last few months... well, I've had my mind on other things – you know how it is when it's busy here. I may have got myself into a little bit of a muddle."

He opened the lid of the box, and the wedge of paper inside sprung up instantly, the pressure suddenly released. It looked like a complete mess, and I had plenty of reasons to doubt that there was 'order to the chaos'. My bedroom, with a few clothes strewn across the floor and just one too many unwashed mugs, was organised chaos. This style of bookkeeping, with no conceivable system whatsoever, was not.

"And you want me to—"

"Sort through it, yes," Greg said, like this was the kind of job that would take an afternoon, not all summer. "I did try keeping track on the computer for a while. That was fine, until I lost a fair few numbers and everything past it went a bit pear-shaped. Still, with your fancy degree I don't suppose it'll be a problem!"

I wasn't sure the fanciest degree in the world would be enough to tackle this, but I didn't like to say so. "Right," I said instead, "okay."

"I've cleared you a little space in the office, see," he said, gesturing to the small patch of desk he'd swiped the mess from. There had, of course, been no attempt at tidying – just what looked like a sweep of the arm to move everything to one side. But there was at least some clear space, for which I had to feel grateful. "You can work out back here, come and go as you want. I'm flexible on the hours, see, as long as the job gets done."

The longer I looked at the box, the more doubts I was having that this job would be finished by the end of summer, but it wasn't the kind of concern I wanted to voice on my first day. "Sure," I said. "Sounds good."

"I'll be in and out, anyway, if you've got any burning questions," he continued. "Erin, too. And I should have some new staff coming in for the summer, so you won't find it too lonely."

I forced a smile, one I hoped looked genuine. "Great."

"So I guess I'll leave you to it." He looked up at me, our eyes meeting above the untidy space, and I suddenly felt guilty for all the negative thoughts. There was a genuine gratefulness all over his face, a real relief that somebody was coming in and sorting out what he'd muddling through for so long. I really did want to help, and he was offering a decent wage to do it. So perhaps I had to have a more positive outlook. "Let me know if you need anything, but other than that, you can get started."

"No problem," I said. "Thanks, Greg."

The office felt noticeably quiet once he'd gone, though the faint sounds of arcade games could still be heard through the wall. I pulled out a chair and sunk into it, eyeing up the boxes in front of me with a sense of mild dread. If I'd wanted a challenge, this was certainly it.