Jack is thirty-two and had managed a little self dignity; eText.com made a profit. He’s even regained a little cash from the stock exchange. Mingling with the rich draws prospective suitors and Jack leaps at an opportunity to increase his wealth through marriage and a hefty dowry. He courts an unlikely woman fifteen years his senior who is filthy rich, but unpleasing to the eye. Her family own a large percentage of Wilkinson Sword and she lives in Mayfair with her poodle called snoodle. Later on in the year they marry and Grace turns up at the wedding with their nine year old son, and her mother. Jack orders their removal saying he has no idea who they are. His eyes meet the boys and for a moment, he sees himself. The momentous stare is cut short by Grace’s mother who struggles with the best man – Jack’s chauffeur. The boy cries.
Jack is in a backstreet Soho club. He is down to the last bet. All of his wealth placed on one hand. He cups his shaking hands blaming the alcohol and prays to God for a win. Jack is not religious. One player shows a hand of two nines; Jack has two fours. The dealer reveals two tens and stays with the fortune. They all huff and puff, but Jack seems locked in his own world. He has lost all his ‘new fortune’ and also his wife’s Mayfair apartment. He feels sorry for nobody but himself, and at this point the only thought dancing on his mind is his father’s smirk. While in deep contemplation and self pity, a fire breaks out in the back of the club. He smiles, it worked he says. Despite all the shouting and screaming, Jack lowers his head to the green velvet table as things couldn’t get any worse. He moves for nothing and for nobody. His mouth is dry and his adrenaline is pushing his heart rate to new limits but all for the wrong reasons.