Add start of the association of income and other affinities novel.

association-of-income-and-other-affinities/chapters/04-the-queue.md

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+# Chapter Four: The Queue
+
+The queue at the Crown Office on Sutherland Road, on the fourteenth of March, 1984, was not, in the strictest sense, a *queue*. It was a *collection of people*, arranged in a *roughly linear* configuration, in the ground-floor foyer, and the linearity was *aspirational* rather than *actual*, in the way that a line of ducks in a pond is linear in *intention* but *organic* in *execution*. There were, at any given time, between six and fourteen people in the collection, and they stood, or sat, or in one memorable case *knelt* (a man from the Valuation Office who had dropped his pen and had been unable, for reasons that were not entirely clear, to pick it up), in a state of low, patient, *institutional* waiting, and the waiting was, Gerald had come to believe, not a *punishment* but a *medium*, the way that the dark was a medium for the cabbage, and the queue was the *becoming*, the process by which a *concern* was transformed, slowly, painfully, *irreversibly*, into a *resolution*.
+
+Gerald stood in the queue at 2:15 p.m., waiting to see Mr. Pemberton. He had, in the intervening three hours, read the Mrs. Underwood file four times. He had cross-referenced the pension figures with the Teachers' Superannuation Scheme records, which were held in a separate office on the second floor and which required a form, a *very specific* form, Form IR57B, which was, Gerald had noted, a form that was *not* beige but a sort of institutional *pink*, which he found *deeply* unsettling, as though the building had developed, in addition to its beige, a *secondary colour*, a *condition*, a *disease* that was *spreading* from the second floor to the third floor and, if left unchecked, would eventually *consume* the entire structure.
+
+The pension figures checked out. £487.50 per annum, from the Teachers' Superannuation Scheme, commencing in September 1979. The reclassification from "earned" to "non-earned" was, Gerald had to admit, *technically* correct. Mrs. Underwood was not *earning* the pension. She was *receiving* it. The distinction was, in the language of the ICTA 1970, *real*, and it had *consequences*, and the consequences were that the pension, as non-earned income, was subject to a different (and in this case, *lower*) rate of tax, and that the *threshold* for assessment was, for non-earned income, *higher*, and that, at £487.50, Mrs. Underwood was, in fact, *below* the threshold for non-earned income, and therefore, in the strictest, most *literal* reading of the statute, she owed *nothing*.
+
+Gerald had to admit this. He had to admit it *to himself*, which was, in his experience, more difficult than admitting it to a file, because the file did not *judge*, and his own mind did, and the judgement was not *harsh*, exactly, but it was *persistent*, the way that a small, persistent *drip* from a tap is not *loud* but is *relentless*, and after a long enough time, the drip has *worn* a small, specific *groove* in the surface of the sink, and the groove is *real*, and the groove is *permanent*, and the groove is, in a sense, *the point*.
+
+The interest income was also, he had to admit, *correctly* classified. Section 322 of the ICTA 1970 was, as Vivienne Ashworth had said, a *valid* reading. The interest was *incidental* to the holding of a *personal* investment. The building society account was not a *trading* account. It was not a *business* account. It was a *personal* account, in a *building society*, and the interest was *incidental*, and the word *incidental* was, in the statute, a *real* word, with *real* meaning, and Vivienne Ashworth had *used* it, and the *use* was *correct*, and the *correctness* was, in a sense, *the point*, and Gerald was, in the queue, in the beige foyer, in the low, patient, *institutional* waiting, *admitting* it.
+
+The property in Epsom was, as Vivienne had said, her *primary residence*. It was *exempt*. It was *not a capital asset*. It was *not assessable*. The *private residence allowance* was, in this case, *absolute*, and there was no *further* query, and there was no *further* action, and the file could, in the language of the Inland Revenue, be *closed*, and the *closing* was, in a sense, *the point*.
+
+And yet.
+
+And yet there was the *structure*. The *way* the three elements fit together. The *interlocking*. The *precision*. It was not the work of a *casual* hand. It was not the work of a woman who had sat down at her kitchen table with a cup of tea and a copy of the *Sunday Times* and *filled in the form*. It was the work of a *system*. A *method*. A *school*. And the *school* was *Vivienne Ashworth*, and the *school* was *good*, and the *goodness* was, in a sense, *the problem*, because a *good* school was not a *single* return. It was a *pattern*. It was a *repetition*. It was a *signature*, and the *signature* was in the file, and the *signature* was *Ashworth & Dale*, and the *signature* was, in a sense, *the thing that Gerald could not put in the drawer*, because the *drawer* was for *single* cases, for *single* returns, for *single* *instances*, and the *signature* was *plurality*, was *repetition*, was *pattern*, and the *pattern* did not *fit* in the drawer, and the *pattern* was, in a sense, *the point*.
+
+Mr. Pemberton's office was on the third floor. Gerald took the lift. The lift was not beige. The lift was a sort of institutional *green*, the same green as Mr. Pemberton's office, and Gerald stood in the lift and watched the numbers change, 4, 3, and he thought: *the building is* spreading. *The beige is* spreading. *The green is* spreading. *The pink is* spreading. *The building is a* patient, *and the colours are* symptoms, *and the* diagnosis *is* unknown, *and the* prognosis *is* uncertain, *and the* treatment *is* not yet *available.
+
+Mr. Pemberton was in his green office. He was a large man, not in the way of *weight* but in the way of *presence*, as though he had, at some point in his early career, been *moulded* to the shape of a man and the *mould* had *set*, and the *shape* was *permanent*, and the *shape* was *large*, and the *largeness* was not *aggressive* but was *architectural*, the way that a *column* is *large*, and the *column* is not *angry*, it is *structural*.
+
+"Firth," Mr. Pemberton said. "Sit down. What is it?"
+
+Gerald sat down. The chair was green. The desk was green. The walls were green. The teacup on the desk was green. The *entire room* was *green*, and Gerald sat in the green and felt, for the first time in his professional life, a small, specific, *irritable* sensation in the back of his neck, as though the *green* was *looking* at him, as though the *green* was *measuring* him, as though the *green* was a *woman in a purple skirt suit* who was *holding him up to a ruler*.
+
+"The Ashworth & Dale file," Gerald said. "The Underwood return. I've reviewed it. The reclassification is correct. The interest exemption is valid. The property is primary residence. The return is, in the strictest sense, *correct*."
+
+Mr. Pemberton nodded. He picked up his teacup. He took a sip. He set the cup down. The cup made a small, *definite* sound on the green desk, and the sound was, in the green silence, *very* specific, and Gerald thought: *the sound of the cup on the desk is the sound of the* file *being* closed.
+
+"So?" Mr. Pemberton said.
+
+"So the file can be closed."
+
+"It can."
+
+"However."
+
+Mr. Pemberton looked at him. The look was not *unpleasant*. It was *structural*. It was the look of a *column* at a *beam*, the look of a *load-bearing* element at a *non-load-bearing* element, the look that said, in effect, *I am* here, *and you are* here, *and the* relationship *between us is* structural, *and the* structure *is* sound, *and the* soundness *is* the* point.
+
+"However," Gerald said. "The *structure* of the return suggests a *method*. A *system*. A *repetition*. I would like to look at the other returns that Ashworth & Dale has filed in the last three years. Not to *query* them. Not to *investigate* them. Simply to *understand* the *pattern*. To see if the *method* is *consistent*. To see if the *signature* is *repeated*."
+
+Mr. Pemberton was quiet for a long time. The telex machine in the next room was clicking. The *metallic teeth* were *chattering*. The sound was, in the green silence, *very* specific.
+
+"Firth," he said, eventually. "You are a *competent* inspector. You are a *thorough* inspector. You are, in the language of the department, a *very good* inspector. And I am going to tell you something, and I am going to tell you *once*, and I am going to tell you in the *green*, and you are going to *sit* in the *green* and you are going to *listen*. The Ashworth & Dale file has been *opened* before. In 1981. It was *looked at*. It was *reviewed*. And it was *closed*. The *closing* was *correct*. The *closing* was *sound*. The *closing* was the *point*. And I am telling you, in the *green*, in the *column*, in the *structure*, that the *point* is *closed*, and the *file* is *closed*, and the *drawer* is *closed*, and the *drawer* is *beige*, and the *beige* is *the colour of the* office, *and the* office *is the* colour of the* building, *and the* building *is the* colour of the* state, *and the* state *is the* colour of the* law, *and the* law *is the* colour of the* point, *and the* point *is* closed."
+
+Gerald sat in the green. He listened. He did not *argue*. He did not *push*. He *nodded*.
+
+"All right, sir," he said.
+
+"Good," Mr. Pemberton said. "And Firth."
+
+"Yes, sir?"
+
+"The roses in the front garden of 14 Wellington Road. Are they *roses*?"
+
+Gerald blinked. "They're *Rosa canina*, sir. Dog roses."
+
+"I know they're *Rosa canina*, Firth. I *know*. I'm *asking* if they're *roses*."
+
+Gerald was quiet. He thought about cabbages. He thought about the *dark*. He thought about the *becoming*.
+
+"They're in the *genus*, sir," he said.
+
+Mr. Pemberton nodded. He picked up his teacup. He took another sip. He set the cup down. The sound was *definite*. The sound was *the point*.
+
+"Right then, Firth. Off you go. Close the file. Make your tea. And for the *love of God*, stop *noticing* the cabbages."
+
+Gerald stood up. He walked to the door. He put his hand on the handle. He turned back.
+
+"Sir. The *structure*. The *method*. If I can't look at the *other* returns, can I at least make a *note*? A *small* note. In the *file*. Just a *note*. *Query re: structural consistency of Ashworth & Dale filings, FY 81-84. To be revisited if further returns filed in Croydon.*"
+
+Mr. Pemberton looked at him. The look was *structural*. The look was *architectural*. The look was the look of a *column* at a *beam*.
+
+"Make your note, Firth," he said. "And *close* the file."
+
+Gerald closed the file. He made his note. He went back to the fourth floor. He made a fresh pot of tea. He sat at his desk. He opened his leather notebook. He wrote, on a fresh page: *Savoy, continued. The heart is* white. *The white is not the* absence *of colour. The white is the* presence *of the* becoming. *The cabbage is* becoming *in the white. The white is the* medium. *The medium is the* point.
+
+He closed the notebook. He went to his drawer. He put the Mrs. Underwood file in. He closed the drawer. The drawer made a small, *definite* sound, and the sound was, in the beige silence, *very* specific, and the sound was, in a sense, *the point*.
+
+He made another cup of tea. He drank it standing up. He looked out of the window. The March sky was *grey*. The March light was *thin*. The March air was *cold*, and the *cold* was *the medium*, and the *medium* was *the becoming*, and the *becoming* was *the point*, and Gerald Firth, Senior Inspector, Personal Income Tax Division, Croydon, Inland Revenue, stood at the window and *became*, in the thin, cold, *grey* March light, *a little bit less beige*, and the *little bit less beige* was, in a sense, *the point*.