The Porter

The Porter

by Elizabeth Challinor

You're pathetic!

The words were out

I beg your pardon?

(He did look rather old fashioned)

I'm so sorry!

That wasn't directed at you!

We carried on walking

down the corridor together

What else could I do?

We reached the office door

He knocked

Opened it wide

And smiled

(He was a gentleman too).

Whist I edged my way inside

Good luck he whispered

And left me

To my interview

How did it go?

He called out

As I slipped casually by

Not so well, I replied

There was no need to lie


A number of heads turned to look

He hesitated

Waved a pen in the air

I think you may have dropped this

On the way in?

I gave him a complicit grin

What else could I do?

And approached him with trepidation

It's my lunch break, he muttered

A date with a porter?

I could be his daughter!

Don't get me wrong

He said reading my mind

I heard you back there

My face turned red

I lowered my head

Come on, let's go, he said

We went for a walk in the park

I've lived with that voice

Every day of my life

I glanced up at him in despair

It cost me my job and then my wife

So I turned on the voice

To see who was really in there.

When I opened the door...

The porter paused for a while

And a cheeky smile

Spread across his face

I followed his gaze

to the ducks in the pond

Felt a pat on the back

And that was that

Just open that door

He called back.

Elizabeth Challinor