The Door That Led to Where Read Free

not with one GCSE.’
    â€˜Aiden.’ Morton Black stuck his head out of Mr Groat’s office. ‘Would you come back in?’
    AJ had so successfully persuaded himself that he was unemployable that for a moment he couldn’t work out what Mr Groat was saying.
    â€˜We would like to offer you a three-month trial period as a baby clerk,’ he said.
    â€˜It’s a glorified way of saying you will be an office boy,’ said Morton. ‘Your job will be to assist Stephen, the first clerk, and myself, maintaining the stock of stationery and chambers’ brochures, updating the chambers’ library, collecting and delivering documents.’
    â€˜Will I be paid?’ asked AJ, hearing the red reptile breathing down his neck.
    â€˜Most certainly,’ said Mr Groat. ‘Not much to begin with but if you prove yourself you will be put on a salary, and if you work hard, one day you might even become like Morton, a senior clerk, thinking he’ll retire at fifty-three. You will prove yourself, won’t you, Aiden?’
    There it was again. That incredible name. Could it really belong to him?
    â€˜Yes, sir. I will do my best, my very best.’
    Had he heard them right? They were offering him a job, for real.
    â€˜Good. Welcome to Baldwin Groat, Aiden.’
    The minute Morton and AJ were out of Mr Groat’s office, Morton turned to him, not in an unpleasant manner, but firm, as if he meant business.
    â€˜You start on Monday and I want to see you suited and booted. No brothel creepers, no cowboy shirt.’
    AJ nodded.
    â€˜Eight-thirty sharp, and I don’t tolerate lateness.’
    AJ stood on the pavement staring up at 4 Raymond Buildings, still unable to take in what had just happened. He wondered if by going through the door that led to Baldwin Groat’s chambers he had altered everything. He had gone in jobless, hopeless and nameless, and come out with a job, a glimmer of hope and a name he’d never heard before.
    All his life his mum had made no bones about telling him that A and J were just initials, nothing more. Those two meaningless letters had been a problem at school. He had stood out when all he wanted was to fit in.
    â€˜It’s not a proper name,’ his teacher had told him.
    She had insisted he spelled it out: A-J-A-Y, until his mum had said with the subtlety of a cement mixer, ‘No, he’s just an A and a J.’
    What she wouldn’t tell the teacher was what those two stunted initials stood for, and she definitely wasn’t going to tell AJ. By the time he reached secondary school he’d given up asking her. The question of his name belonged with numerous other unanswered questions, like who his father was, or even what had happened to his father. That much she eventually told him.
    She had said, without a trace of emotion, ‘Dead.’
    AJ had assumed that the letter J must be the first letter of his father’s surname. He’d imagined it to be something like Jones – certainly nothing as exotic as Jobey. He said it over and over again. Jobey. Aiden Jobey. It felt as if it was a password to a future. In Aiden Jobey there was space to grow. AJ had always felt like a dead end. As he arrived back in Stoke Newington the name was beginning to fit him, although the mystery of why he had never been told it before hung over him in a black cloud.

Chapter Three
    It was a mild September day, that time of year when the seasons haven’t yet made up their minds whether it’s still summer or the beginning of autumn. While Clissold Park smelled of dried leaves and overheated grass that had long forgotten the colour green, the chestnut trees braced themselves for the annual conker bashing. AJ was desperate to share the news of his job with someone other than his mum, whose reaction had been predictable to say the least.
    â€˜You can start paying for your board and keep,’ she said. ‘Don’t think I’m a