Hey, so you know how weve all got that one mate whos suddenly become a big shot? Robert Thompson was finally heading to his class reunion after thirty years. He hadnt seen any of the gang since they all left school right after the GCSEs he packed his bags for university in Manchester, then landed a job in London, and later launched his own tech firm. The business had its highs and lows, but hed made a decent fortune, enough to be called the rich one from the old crew.
Whenever he had a spare moment hed scroll through the old WhatsApp groups, looking at everyones holiday snaps and chuckling at the memes. He was especially keen to catch up with Emma Clarke. Back in secondary school hed had a massive crush on her, but Emma never gave him the time of day she thought he was just another bookworm. The last time he tried to win her over with a bunch of flowers, she hopped onto James Morgans motorbike, barely glanced at the bouquet and sped off, kicking up dust. He never tried again. Hed have liked to ask her for a ride, to help her out, but he just walked away.
Robert hadnt kept many close friends from school because he spent most of his time hitting the books. The only lads he hung out with were a few who did extra maths tuition together, prepping for the university entrance exams.
So he showed up to the reunion in cracking spirits, armed with little presents for each old classmate nothing forgotten, not even the quiet ones. They tucked themselves into a cosy coffee shop in Brighton, laughed, swapped stories about teachers and school trips. Robert kept glancing over at Emma, who was slumped at the far end, glued to her phone. Turns out shed married James after school, but theyd split years ago. Robert learned she was now raising a sick little boy on her own.
He tried to strike up a chat, but Emma snapped back:
Do you even know what its like living in a cottage in the countryside, pretending youve got no idea about our problems? Ive seen your house your wife just hops from one salon to another, no work at all. Youve got a slew of staff you never show off, kids studying abroad, and Im stuck caring for a chronically ill son. What are we even talking about? You wouldnt understand.
Emma, am I the cause of your troubles? Robert asked, trying to keep his cool.
In this country theres never enough money for sick kids, yet you lot sit on piles of cash and act greedy! she shot back.
Robert felt his blood boil he hated that subject. He gathered his thoughts and replied, Emma, how many sick kids have you helped?
My own, she snapped. I send a few texts offering help when I can.
And I regularly donate big sums to charity, but I never shout about it. So whos actually helping more?
She retorted, Its easy for you, you dont feel poorer giving away an extra hundred grand. My help is more personal I literally give from my own mouth. Do you know how I make money? I hop on two buses every morning and scrape together pennies!
A few people nearby stared, some nodded in Emmas favour, the rest just fell silent.
Robert stood up, left his little gifts on the table, and asked the waiter to slip an envelope into Emmas hand. As he walked out, he kept thinking theyd all had the same chances, the same talent. The only difference was that he chose to stay in school instead of downing pints in the yard, to study instead of smoking behind the corner shop, to go to university rather than a local furthereducation college. He took the risk, left his comfort zone, and built his own business.
Hed stumbled, learned a lot, faced setbacks and losses, but he didnt steal anyones money he earned it. And how many of us know people like Emma or the other lads who count on other folks cash? Yeah, some were born into wealth and got good schooling, but there are plenty who come from modest backgrounds, with parents who never finished school, and still make it on their own. Its all in our hands; everyone picks their own path. Cheers.
