The Burn

A situation

Different incisions seemed to have been cut into the wall and from inside one of them an insect was peering at him. The insect reminded him of a flea, the curved part of its body, even down to its blood tan colour. The middle finger of his right hand began to drum on the edge of the table, he was frowning. What if for every incision one such insect was lodged? Mind you, they were so minute, these insects, that he was not afraid. He could ignore them easily. Or else he could get a spray gun and blast them all to smithereens. But what was the use of fantasising. He was not going to do anything. He couldnt do anything. He was stuck fast on this wooden chair, surrounded by everything hostile you could possibly conceive of in the universe. And as well as that it was like he could hear a scraping noise coming from somewhere too so no wonder he couldnt concentrate. Or was it just his ears? The finger drumming stopped but he continued frowning at the insect. Its toty brain would be working overtime. Who is this giant staring at me? Is he going to kill me? Somebody as big as him could squash me in a tick! Will he leave me alone? Forget all about me? Because if he does then I can continue crawling up the wall. Or down the wall; maybe it was going down the wall. Or else burrowing deeper into the hole, the incision. Maybe it and its relations, its ancestors — bearing in mind that each day is probably a lifetime and thus you have a state of affairs where four weeks ago is prehistoricity:

the world of the insect is of an eternity undreamt by man.

He shook his head to clear the brains into some sort of order, some sort of cohesion, so that he could think properly, he had to think properly. Life wasnt as good as all that just now. Not at present. But he couldnt afford to get more panic stricken than he currently was. On top of all the studying he had to meet the girlfriend in next to no time and he had had sex with her sister less than four hours ago. It was the sort of factual statement you had to present so coldly to yourself, so coldly. What was that bloody insect doing? Maybe burrowing deeper, trying to find a way of escaping out through the damn wall. That reminded him of himself. He spoke aloud: Make it big enough for the both of us, me as well as you. He could imagine hearing the insect’s voice in answer. It would of course be squeaky, in keeping with its size. Unless it was an ironic bass baritone. Why ironic? Because of its size obviously. And what was that scraping noise, was it the actual burrowing sound? Surely no. But where was it coming from? He stared hard at the wall. It was just a wall. As walls go it was simply one of them. It was neither up nor down. Walls are walls, the prison bars make them. That was a line from somewhere, a poem or a song. Prison bars make them. Prisons do not a prison make, walls and bars, cells. He had never been in a cell, a jail; it was an experience he hadnt had. And didnt want. Not at all, why should he? Why should he want to end up in a cell? He had never done anything remotely worthy of such a crime, charge, jail, that sort of castigation.

Nor do insects have heads wherein brains are tick-tocking thus they do not worry about minor tragedies, only the major ones such as food and sex, the impetus for survival.

He sighed so loudly he glanced immediately over his shoulder to see if he had been heard, sitting there alone, in his poky wee room, feeling oh so tired, drained and exhausted. It wasnt his fault he had slept with Jeanette. He was up in her flat to give her some advice on something and she just more or less offered herself. She did. She offered herself to him. Probably the pair of them had had a big fight or argument or something, her and Deborah. Mind you, as far as he had been given to understand they were always the best of pals. They seemed to get on fine the gether. He gazed at the wall. It was actually covered in these incisions. Tiny toty wee holes. Oh Lord. Lordie Lordie. Lordie Lordie Lordie.

The A4 folders. Ah dear. All the A4 folders, and the trade brochures.

A4 folders and trade brochures. Life was a series of A4 folders and trade brochures. Cardboard and glossy paper. Pens and pencils. Stamped addressed envelopes and gummed labels, invoices.

His eyes had just about closed there. God. But he was knackered. He was. He was drained and exhausted, feeling like a quick forty winks. He needed it. Plus it was a good way out of a problem, to sleep on it.

But this was a genuine tired feeling with a genuine real cause. There had been no time for rest and recuperation after the Jeanette performance because her own boyfriend was coming home and he had had to get out fast, fast. Which was not as bad and decadent as it sounds. She was wanting to dump the bloke, she really was — she just didnt fancy him any more, but found it difficult saying the magic words of release. He was hell of a clingy Benny — Benny being her boyfriend’s name. Poor old Benny. The two males had met on a couple of occasions, plus they had gone out on a foursome once with the sisters, to a pub up the town. It hadnt been a great success because the two females had had an awful lot to speak about — family stuff and that kind of thing — whereas the two men had had nothing at all, they had just sat there, not even any music to listen to, having to discuss football and general things about society. Except later on when the women went off to the Ladies, Benny had confided. Insecurity and an inferiority complex with women. These were the guy’s problems. Imagine confiding in somebody who was a stranger to you! My God. Even the insect was laughing at that one. He could see it poking its napper out the incision on the wall again. He put his thumb up and squashed it. It made him wince. It was awful. His stomach felt queasy. It was just an insect and he had squashed it with his thumb. Why worry? But why do it why did he do it, why did he do it? Why did he do it, in the first place, take away its life? The stain of it on his thumb, a brown brackeny coloured substance. Here he was having just had illicit sex with his girlfriend’s sister

fiancée’s sister. She was his fiancée’s sister. Deborah was his fiancée:

and now into the bargain he had squashed a living creature. And God would rightly be angry. Nobody likes their creations getting killed.

And what was that when you come to think about it but blasphemy, talking about God like that, in that tone of voice.

So here was now the third mark against him this day.

But he was a male and the sexual needs of the male are so horrendously hard to contain. Everybody knows that. And he had let himself fall into her web. Jeanette was a spider. She drew him in in that willowy winsome way and then let him have it, her bending down like that in front of him etcetera etcetera, an old trick which he was delighted to have played on him let us be honest, let us be good and damn honest about it he thought she was an extremely sexy lady and always had done since first they had been introduced. So what now what now. Killing a creature for no reason, just a silly absentmindedness. But wanton all the same. He had killed one of God’s creatures through an act of wanton absentmindedness. Yes He would be angry with him and would make him fail tomorrow’s test and he would then be forced into a life of continuous penury. He would have to go out working the road for a living instead of just training other folk to do it. That is what happened when you crossed the Lord.

That was him blaspheming again. Upon this day he had committed what amounts to adultery, and murder, and blasphemy. There was no fun in the thought. In fact it demanded an honest appraisal of himself, his entire life. If he couldnt manage an honest appraisal then the future was definitely bleak. He was doomed, he was doomed to become an ordinary salesman, a cynical salesman, somebody who held no truck for half measures and had absolutely no compunction whatsoever in destroying people who were customers, they would destroy all the resources of the world if they could get away with it, all on behalf of the selling racket. It was so bad. And yet it was the corollary of the downward spiral. It began with minor atrocities like the destruction of insects and the destruction of love, both earthly love and spiritual love. And the mark of the beast was on his thumb. And he needed rid of it. He got up and went to the toilet and washed his hands thoroughly. If he had had a bath he would have bathed. If he had had a shower he would have showered. He had neither of these facilities. Jeanette had both in her flat. It belonged to the two of them, her and her boyfriend, and they were able to bathe together and play sexy games. He would have wanted the same sort of fun and nonsense. But he and Deborah didnt do it, they didnt play sexy games. There was something that wasnt just right for it, something between them. Something that seemed to stop such an enjoyable interlude from happening. Plus his room was only big enough for what his grandpa used to call a jawbox, a sink in the wall, and this was where the diverse functional uses for water were put to the test, from shaving the chin to washing the socks through the doing of the dishes, given that the owners of the property were so totally greedy and so directly opposed to the whole concept of cooked food where tenants were concerned, so he didnt have that much crockery, and there was nary a pot and nary a pan, and normally a rinse of cold water was ample for everything. There was a bathroom. But it was outside on the next landing, shared by folk upstairs and down, including wheezing old McAllister who spat into the washhand basin there and never sluiced it out properly and you could always see the tell-tale signs. Plus there was always sticky things on the linoleum floor and even if you were having a bath you felt like wearing shoes. The idea of Deborah and him getting up to anything in there was beyond imagination. Deborah!

Lord, oh Lord, Lord please help me, have mercy, I am a soul in need of succour.

Two other women shared Deborah’s flat with her and it was really short on privacy. Nice women, but they were never out the place if you were sitting watching television. So there was never any.

But most of all it was his fault! The pair of them should have been married by now and then they would have had privacy and everything would be fine, fine: and none of this would have happened. It wouldnt have. It wouldnt have happened if they had been married. But they werent married because she had said no to his first proposal and he hadnt made a second. That was six months ago. She had said no the first time so that was that, he hadnt asked her again. And maybe he never would, they would just have to wait and see. Everybody. That included his parents and her parents and all their acquaintances and everybody else they knew throughout the world, them all, they would all just have to wait. You cannot just go about refusing things and expect life to remain the same. If and when he and Deborah were ever to share a flat together they would no doubt instal a proper bathing service. Of course they would. Once he got round to asking the question again and if things worked out then that sort of pleasurable life facility could be taken for granted. But he was not going to ask the question just now, he was just not going to. And anyway, things were too upside-down at the moment, he just didnt know where his head was with all this product study and memorising he was having to do. The job was driving him nuts.

And what would happen now with her sister oh Lord Lord what was now going to happen now, now, after that please God please God oh please God.

It was all so amazing. Life. Life was so amazing, it was just so incredibly amazing.

But for heaven’s sake he was so sick of this poky wee room where insects crawled out of the wall and stared at you as if you were an object of derision; or an object of contempt, of horror even. As the killer of one’s fellows

bearing in mind that the insect he had murdered was probably about to copulate and be responsible for the birth of a million eggs, a hundred thousand of which would survive to become fully fledged members of the beetle race. It was like committing genocide. He needed coffee. Coffee coffee coffee. The caffeine was good for him. His adrenalin. It would assist him in thought and he did require assistance in just that direction, because he needed to think, to think to think to think, he needed to bloody think, he needed to think. These bloody test questions required consideration. If he did not consider these bloody test questions with the utmost bloody care he would wind up failing tomorrow and therein lay his doom, to exist for all eternity as an ordinary guy on the road, and he would grow into a tired and clapped-out old chap with ulcers and heart attacks. And God would be angry because he hadnt put his talents to good use.

The idea of sitting snugly in a toty wee cavity though, secure on three out of four sides, and then coming towards you is something in appearance similar to a meteorite, it getting huger and huger as it rushes towards you. And you are mesmerised by it. All you can do is stay stuck fast in your cavity; and then glulp, you’re squashed. It doesnt bear thinking about. He didnt want to think about it. He had no time to. He had to do his studying. All the A4 folders.

And in less than half an hour for heaven’s sake in would come Deborah.

And what would happen if she expected to stay the night he would not be able to have sex with her because of his condition, the way he was now, at this moment, at this moment in time. Because Deborah would know! She would know! She would guess. She was too percipient! Percipient? That isnt even a word. Dictionaries dictionaries dictionaries. Plus the fact he wouldnt be clean, he would have to go and have a wash. That is what he would do, he would go and have a wash.

He went to the sink and put on the kettle for a cup of coffee then cleared the dishes and made space for himself, taking the trousers down to his ankles and setting the towel over them between his feet. Nor did he wish to think about Jeanette who was a very sexy lady and her thighs.

The water was freezing! My God!

In fact he was slightly tender around the genital region. He hadnt been aware of it till now. To tell the truth he was a wee bit sore; a wee bit sore.

The cold water now quite soothing.

Yes and it was adultery. A fiancée was as good as a wife any day of the week so who was he kidding there was just no way out of it in that direction as far as the morals went.

Plus vanity. That is what it was, vanity. Otherwise they would now be married, a married couple.

But she had refused the first proposal and he was not giving her a second chance, arrogant vain bastard that he was. So conceited. So damn conceited. But it was her own fault. If she hadnt fancied the idea then it was nothing to do with him. He had tried to persuade her but she was resolute. So how could it be him to blame? It couldnt. It wasnt his fault at all, if he had proposed and she had deposed, deponed, said no,

Yes it was. It was. Of course it was. You have to be honest in this life and not fool yourself and here was one occasion he was not about to: it was him; he was to blame, for the transgression in question. Pride. Plus now another three of them, transgressions, another three transgressions oh Lord three more of them, transgressions. Sex and murder

and what was the third?

blasphemy for heaven’s sake imagine forgetting that which some would say was the worst most grievous charge of all. Certainly ministers of the church would say so. Mind you, they were biased; making out blasphemy was the worst was just an unsubtle way of asserting how important they were themselves. It put them a cut above lawyers for instance because look at the judge they had to intercede with: the good God Himself! Then they would shove adultery next in line because of the taboos and how it affected so many more people than murder. Quantity is what counts. No matter the business you’re in. The more souls you save the better. And far fewer people get affected by murder in comparison to the vast multitudes who get directly affected by sex, including most especially themselves, the clergy.

But there’s no time to think of that though even worse if it had been priests and the involvement was with the Roman Catholics, and he had been one of them, a Roman Catholic. But no time to think of that either. And look at that the purplish red patch on the right testicle there a purplish red patch; that was odd. What was that about the purple red patch on the right testicle? Unless he had been scratching, but he hadnt been scratching, not that he could remember, not like this, to have had this effect. My God. It wasnt so good. Probably it had just kept rubbing against Jeanette’s thigh. Was that it? Jeanette’s thigh. Rubbing against Jeanette’s thigh, soft upper. If that was it. It was so

But she had fancied him, it wasnt the other way about; so dont go blaming him, it wasnt his fault; if you’re going to blame somebody blame her. Okay he had looked, but who wouldnt? It was her made the actual move, the first actual move. He shouldnt have allowed it though, his fiancée’s sister. How come she had done it; there must have been a feud, they must have had a fight. Oh God he didnt feel good he just didnt feel good he needed to sit down quickly, quickly. He was just a bit dizzy. Just feeling a bit dizzy. Black dots in front of the eyes, plus whitish, a whitish

If he hadnt reached the chair he would have fainted, he would have fallen down. Probably it was a castigation, a punishment, a retribution, a righteous chastisethment. He had been bad and now he was getting made to suffer. Murder, adultery and blasphemy. Plus of course the pride of vanity. The vanity had been first and then

what was the time what was the time! Deborah had left her house she had left her house. She had been away seeing her parents today. She was now getting the train. She was at the station and getting the train. Her parents lived nearby a railway station, so it was good and convenient. The train let her off in the city centre and then she got a bus from behind St Enoch’s subway station straight to his place. Who in heaven’s name was St Enoch? Where had he come from? Was he even a man! She would be here in half an hour. Unless she was late oh please God make her late if she was just late for a little bit, to let him think straight and get his mind on things and how he was to handle what he would say to her because he had never been what you would call a good teller of tales, teller of lies, of fibs, i.e. never any good at it, at telling them, so he needed out of selling, out of the selling racket all together, he was no good at it, he wasnt, it wasnt his forte; he would be much better at training others, if he could just get onto that training course. He would be good at it. He would be good. He would try so bloody hard. Plus his memory was fine and it was a memory you needed.

The A4 folders spread out on the table. All the mumbo jumbo. Because frankly this is what it was, a load of mumbo jumbo, and high time somebody informed Head Office of the fact. He should actually just burn it all and run away. He had no chance of passing tomorrow with flying colours. He didnt, he just didnt have any chance. He was doomed to lead a life of terrible distaste, a guy for whom life will never ever be a time for fun, trying to survive on the road and failing failing failing thus back on the broo and having to face up to the people down at the DSS office, how they would just ignore him and humiliate him all day long because here he was seeking handouts from a decent Government agency like them. Why had he thought so badly of them! They were just doing a bloody job same as him if he was doing it, he would just be doing a job, it wasnt his bloody fault

Oh God, he just wasnt any good at it it was all his own fault, how in the name of heaven had he left college why had he been so bloody damn daft and absolutely stupid and damn stupid naive that’s what he was oh God, he just wasnt any good at it, he wasnt –

I’m not. I am not any bloody good at it. Please help me. I am having to face up to those who hate me. They dont mean to but they do. I do not blame them because they sin, because they sin against me. Please to help me overcome, amen.

He wasnt any good at it. He would be better if he was doing something different. Or else out of it altogether. It was best he resigned in advance. If only he could have made better use of his education and stuck it all out instead of leaving when he had, if he had stuck it through to the bitter end. But even if he had gone in to the Post Office bank like his dad had advised him to do: and so strongly. That was his experience talking. If he had just listened to him, but he hadnt, he just hadnt bloody listened because he had wanted bloody out, because he had hated the place and he just couldnt get his heart in it he just couldnt like it at all, what he was doing there, what they were asking him to do and all that stupid damn studying for no reason, it was all just bloody nonsense and difficult and even if it had been difficult and had a purpose but it didnt, it was just for nothing, graphs and statistical analysis, and nobody ever talking to you, it was like they all knew each other from years ago, except him, he was a sore thumb, he was a sore thumb, or else he would have done it properly, he would have stuck in and just managed it, he would have concentrated hard, hard.

How come he had not bloody done it when he had the chance! He was just a damn fool. He had always been a damn fool. His dad knew it, he knew it; you could tell by the way he looked. And probably mum secretly agreed although she made excuses for him. And Deborah knew it as well, she did, it was bloody obvious, he was just a damn bloody fool. She would maybe forgive him his trespass if he told her truthfully, if he explained it, all he had to do was explain it and then she would see because it was her sister, her own sister: it was her led him into the spider’s web and trapped him and it was just male sexuality and her breasts and stockings and her thighs.

And there was just no possibility of her staying the night for heaven’s sake that just wasnt on. How could it be it couldnt be it just was beyond anything, even having washed.

The thing about Deborah of course her character trait it wasnt so much her temper but her stubbornness, how stubborn she was. It was just so bad; she had to learn to control it, she really did — otherwise it would definitely cause her problems in life. Maybe that had something to do with Jeanette, the way Jeanette had acted with him, if she had maybe been upset by Deborah if they had had a fall-out, and this was her taking revenge, seducing him, her sister’s fiancée, the future brother-in-law. But had it been on the cards you could say it had been on the cards. Things had been

Well it was that selfsame very sister’s own fault. It was, it was her own damn fault, damn and bloody blast. Her own mother had even referred to that awful bloody stubbornness which was surely something because normally they stick together mothers and daughters

At that moment a loud chap-chap at the door just about gave him a heart attack, he nearly toppled over, having returned to the sink, the trousers still at the ankles but he very quickly got himself ready and glanced into the mirror to see he was okay, steadying himself, he closed his eyes for some moments because life, because

he wasnt good he just wasnt good, he wasnt, he felt so bloody, so damn

the chap-chap at the door again. He walked forwards and turned the handle. It was a small elderly old woman. It wasnt Deborah. His head craned over her. He felt like the Blackpool Tower and she was a wee midget. She spoke to him; what she said was something like, I’m your neighbour up the stairs if you mind son myself and my husband moved in last week.

Pardon?

You gave us a wee hand up with our suitcases and our bags.

Yeh, yeh.

If you mind the housing put us in after we got decanted out our own place.

Aye aye, that’s right that’s right, yeh. . He stared at her then stepped out and peered sideways. He said, Go on, the coast being clear. Go on, he said, yes, what is it?

The woman studied him, evidently thinking he was being uncalled-for abrupt and hostile to her.

Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry. He didnt mean it at all. He really didnt. I’ve got a sore head just now, he told her, I’m studying for a test tomorrow for my work. It’s an in-house thing and it’s really

He frowned at the woman: what the hell was he telling her for! He said: What is it you want, is it something you want?

My husband would like you to come up the stair a minute, he would like a word with you.

Pardon?

If you wouldnt mind. He’s just awful worried the now about something and he’ll no tell me. . And onto her face appeared a kind of — what look? a something look, it would have flummoxed you. He stared at her and then glanced away in case something bad happened. And she said, You know how he’s an invalid.

Aw aye, yeh, that’s right, an invalid — he’s got a walking stick or whatever it is one of these three-angled triangular frame things whatever you call them, sorry, I mean. . Is he wanting me to do something?

He’ll tell you himself.

Yeh but missis it’s just I’m so busy the now, I’m just so busy, I’ve got all this, God, stuff I’m studying and having to learn, to memorise, for the morrow morning, first thing. . And he was about to fling back the door and show her but no, no, she was the last person he wanted to see inside his room, the last person, somebody like her, unspotted, untainted, such a fresh old lady with her invalid husband who never had had a bad thought in her entire life, who had never ever periodically once upon a time ever felt or saw, thought or spoke an evil word, deed or action please the Lord.

The woman nodded but she took him by the elbow and he was powerless to refuse because how do you know it might well have been a chastisethment, something like that he was suffering and had to endure as a penance: but then he frowned at her a moment later and tried to pull himself clear because she could be a malevolent demon or something it seems stupid but who knows who knows the way things were and how life was turning against him, old-age pensioners plus her being a woman and maybe the wrath of a female because of what had just so lately taken place — he glanced down the stairs. I’m waiting for my fiancée, he said. He shrugged and smiled for a moment; We’re getting married, I’m just having to pass this wee test first, for my promotion, and then after that we’ll be putting the mortgage down for a house, a flat, a wee room and kitchen or something, a place of our own. . He grinned at her.

You’ll just be a minute, she said. Honestly. It’s because you see my husband gets agitated sometimes, he gets things on his mind and they’ll no let him go. She then made a brandishing motion with her right hand as if an indication of it, of how the things went inside her husband’s mind: He’s a worrier. He never used to be. Telling you son he was aye about the most relaxed man you could meet, but no now. Us being stuck in this lodging house just makes it worse.

Yeh. . He stared at his arm as she held it, leading him across the landing and up the stairs to the room directly above his own and therefore likely to have very similar walls and incisions; she held the door open for him to enter. The odour of something like ancient bodies filled the doorway. It wasnt a vile stench although he breathed in and out through his mouth to avoid it. The invalid husband was waiting. He had his three-angled contraption there which he was leaning on from the inside; he wore a dark-brown serge suit with outsize lapels and quite smartish-looking although it was creased as if he had been sitting in a certain way for too long, maybe like he had fallen asleep, dozed off, his bad leg resting maybe up on a stool, and further when you looked at the suit you could see it was greasy, shiny.

Here he is, said the woman.

What’s your name young fellow? asked the invalid.

My name’s eh. . He paused. He was wondering why he should be giving his name to a complete stranger. He couldnt remember helping him up the blasted stair last week with no blasted suitcases either — neither him nor his damn wife, this old woman and her quasi-humble politeness. Edward Pritchard, he said, emphasising the two ards as he used to do many years ago when he was in primary school, about eight years of age or something and thought such a remarkable poetic feature just had to be a personal and secret message from Jesus setting him apart from his fellows, it was pathetic, pathetic — as if he had any reason to be famous, because all he was cut out for was what he was about to receive for his sins, sent out on the road as a working sales for the rest of his days, whenever he could bloody get a damn job and lump it, just bloody lump it, he was never going to be anything special, nothing, he wasnt going to amount to anything really at all, these silly stupid dreams, none of it was worth a damn, because he had ruined it all, his entire life, and that was that, he was finished, it was over, he was never going to make it at all, you would be as well laughing at the very idea, because he was a malcontent who committed transgressions in the name of the Lord and was therefore doomed.

You go away Catherine, the invalid commanded.

His wife looked at him as if she was trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Go a message, he said. I want to have a word with the young fellow. The invalid had taken one of his hands off from the contraption now and was waving at her to leave and you felt you hoped he wouldnt fall down and hurt himself his hands were so shaky. What could he want maybe it was a male problem or something to discuss or else to give him a hand in some way, shave him or something the old guy because he needed a shave he looked like he hadnt shaved for a couple of days, and if his hands were suffering from too many twitches

The old woman was now pulling on her overcoat, a quite smart one for rainy weather, pink and grey and her legs were short. Some people had funny short legs thank the Lord it wasnt him he couldnt imagine it, walking down the road having to step over puddles, big puddles with your wee toty stride, how could you manage it it would be so bloody difficult you had to admire her, she was so strong in the face of the world, that was a trait though in old women he found, they were so brave, his grannie was like that; plus his other one who was now dead; they had come through the mill — this old woman especially with her invalid husband, having to take care of him what the hell did he bloody want! My God he didnt even look worried, no really. And when the door closed behind his wife he started gesticulating. Sit down! he commanded, imperious old bugger, glancing roundabout and then manoeuvring his way to a chair nearby the window. He got himself seated and sighed deeply. And he looked at Edward.

Edward wanted to have something to say but there was nothing, there was nothing at all and his brow became furrowed.

See young fellow what it is, I’ve got a confession to make and I dont want Catherine to know.

Edward felt his head go funny at this but he kept his eyes open and concentrated hard.

Poor old sowel she’s got enough on her plate, she works hard and she looks after me you see, she looks after me. The invalid breathed in sharply, then sighed. Edward had been watching him very attentively and he too breathed in sharply but via his nostrils and it was terrible. The smell was a fuisty one of dirt, and it was definitely coming from the old bloke. A fuisty smell of dirt — or excrement! Shit, old shit. God! Maybe he needed his bum cleaned and was too proud to tell his wife. Oh dear. Oh dear. Edward just couldnt cope with that, he couldnt, he just couldnt cope with it if he was maybe not able to attend to himself for heaven’s sake did they not have home-helps, had the government stopped home-helps now and strangers were getting called in to wipe folk’s bums, old invalid people who couldnt manage it theirselves and were wanting to hide it from their nearest and dearest so the neighbours, now having to get called in. He ran his hand across his forehead, opened his eyes widely.

You see young fellow I’ve got this confession to make. What’s your name? No, dont tell me, it’s best I dont know. Now pay attention: before they invalided me out my job of work I used to be involved in what some people would call malpractice; some other people would call it sabotage and other people again, well, they would call it something else all the gether. What I used to do you see was the spanner-in-the-works carry-on; I used to stop the line. Understand me? That was what I did, wherever it was I was working, I used to bring things to a halt — I tried to anyway. That’s the shape my politics took and that’s the shape they were; and I cant help it and nor did I ever want to help it, and I’ve never wanted to change things neither. But as a way of living my life so to speak what it means is I’ve aye had to do what my conscience tells me. There’s no an in-between. Now. .

The invalid stopped there and he studied Edward as if wanting to make sure who it was he was telling all this.

But Edward’s face was expressionless.

Now the last place I worked in was a firm by the name of eh Gross National Products which, as you probably guess, is a made-up name. I dont want to tell you the real one because you never know you might be a police informer.

Edward smiled after a moment, shaking his head.

The invalid’s hands started waving about furiously: But never mind that never mind that — and never mind me neither because I get nervous and I get agitated.

And the way he pronounced ‘agitated’ sounded funny although Edward didnt acknowledge this. And the old invalid was looking at him with maybe a bit of impatience or something maybe just wanting to know who it was he was confiding in, because how do you know who you’re talking to in this world you dont, you just dont know, it could be anybody; it was the very same when you were out on the road trying to talk your way into some office or garage or factory. Even when you were down at Head Office with the other sales-teams you werent free, you had to watch it; you had to say nothing and keep your distance while at the same time try not to appear too stand-offish because that was bad points and you knew they were always watching and taking notes — especially if your figures werent that good, if they had been on the decrease, during the last four-week period even although the area he had to work was nothing like the density of other areas, and you would expect such things to be taken into consideration, but no, they were treated like they just didnt matter, which was a strange way to run a business. But the selling game was a funny business. That’s exactly what it was, a funny business; the way it operated.

which happened to me, said the invalid.

What

something that I ended up doing as well and it’s caused me a lot of pain and suffering, a hell of a lot. . The invalid smiled, he waved at his contraption: I wasnt always pushing one of them about you know.

Edward nodded. What is it you call it?

But the invalid just gave an impatient shake of the head and continued talking: Now what happened you see, I’ve got to fill you in, I was keeping a low profile because they were after me, I’m talking about the bigwigs, they were out to get me. And they were using a fellow who was a mucker, a pal. Mind you he was a waster the same man, if I’m to be honest about it, and you dont like saying that about anybody never mind when he’s your mate. But this yin was the sort that winds up changing colours, he joined the enemy, he was a turncoat. That happens a lot in this life: traitors.

Edward stared hard at the old invalid, concentrating on each word he spoke, noting the way his head twitched this way and that, he looked like he was wanting a place to spit into:

Bad bastard that he was. And to think you took him into your home and gave him your hospitality. And his wife and mine became friends too and my Catherine, poor old sowel, she used to look after their weans like they were her own. But that was who it was, the very one they sent to get me. They had chose him because they knew we were close. Ahh! It’s a world of conspiracies out there.

Pardon?

But I soon knew the situation anyway. Too many ears to the ground young fellow. . You probably dont know that yet but you will soon enough. Wait till you get to my age, then you’ll find out. The invalid winked and tapped the side of his nose. Then he smiled, waved his hands in a dismissive gesture. But there’s much more you’ve got to understand and I’m no wanting to get us bogged down in the petty stuff. Come and sit next to me so I dont have to bellow.

I’m fine here though.

No but I want to tell you a secret young fellow, and walls have ears.

What?

The invalid squinted at him: I thought you’d have kenned that by now, you being a student and aw that.

But I’m no a student, replied Edward, frowning, I’m in the selling game. I’m just studying for a work test, it’s a kind of I dont know what you would call it, mainly it’s product memorising I’ve to do. I think it’s what’s known as a Re-training Schedule. In reality it’s to do with regrading, if you dont pass it you stay where you are. And that’s like a demotion. In fact it is a demotion. In fact, this test isnt really to pass onto greater things at all, it’s just to avoid the pit.

The pit?

Yeh.

The old woman says you were a student.

Did she? I wonder how she thought that.

She’ll have keeked in the letter-box and seen you at your lessons.

Pardon?

Cause that’s how she does it. She’s good so she is. You just wouldnt have heard her at all but what she’ll have done she’ll have lifted your letter-box and just looked in to see what you were doing. The invalid chuckled. I aye wished I’d had her for a partner at the ‘spanners’! She would’ve been rare at it — better than me. And I would say I was one of the best though as a masculine model my limitations were there, they had to be. Masculine models and limitations masculine models and limitations. These facets we are born with — faculties I mean — man. Man is born with definite limitations. We attempt to set out and change the world but then we get bogged down in the microcosmic ephemera of getting to B from A. You have your goal. You go to college and you take a wee look about. You think the road ahead is signposted — not so much signposted as like the conditions are set for you. You find a lass and the two of you set out as partners in the face of a hostile and aggressive world; and that includes your parents. Because the harsh truth is that most parents hate their children, just like Romeo and Juliet, wherefore art thou, they hate them actively and discourage them from doing the things they want, if you want to change the world you’re no allowed to, they dump you down so you have to take what you’re given, and then you end up with things you dont really want but are just settling for and it isnt your fault at all because you are doing your best, trying your damndest to please and to settle down properly with your loved one in your nest, when you are married, when you are given the proper chance, the nettle, grasping that opportunity

Edward had a look on his face, it was a smile, his eyelids were closed and he shook his head. An overwhelming sensation of relief. Utter and total relief. Oh Lord, Lordie Lordie, it was so good sitting there, just sitting there, so good just sitting there — here, I find it so relaxing, he said, opening his eyes and grinning at the invalid: I just wish I had a cigar! But no, honest, being serious about it, it’s just so soothing, for my head — and for my brains, giving them a rest like this, not having to worry about things, you see my fiancée eh was coming, she’s about due to come.

Ah. .! So you’ve a fiancée, that’s even better. That shows you’re responsible. I like to see responsibility in a young fellow. What’s your name?

. .

You’re no going to tell me eh?

I told you before.

Did you?

Yeh, it’s Edward Pritchard, I dont mind you knowing at all.

The invalid nodded, and he said slowly, Edward Pritchard. He pursed his lips. My name’s Robert Parker, Bobbie — like the boy who used to play for Falkirk or was it the Hearts? — big right back if you remember, I think he got a cap for the Scottish League team, maybe even the full national one.

Edward shook his head.

Before your time I dare say. The invalid continued speaking: There’s a confession I need to make you see. I need to make it because I’ve got a feeling something impending is going to happen. . I dont know like it’s as if maybe you think you’re about to get knocked down by a lorry or a bus or a taxi –

Pardon?

Well you see sometimes they go careering down the road and they dont see you if you’re an invalid, you’re walking that slow they fail to take you in on their line of vision. And you cant but take a stride without doing so with that very reckoning and you’re darting a look this way and that or else trying no to, you just keep your face fixed to the front and try no even to listen for the roar of the engine — the thing that’s coming to mow you down.

My God!

Yeh.

That sounds like an awful nightmare. Edward’s left hand went to his face and he covered then rubbed at his left eye.

It’s like they think you’re a pillar or a post.

Surely no!

Aye! The invalid waved his hand, then signalled the need for silence and he whispered, Come here till I tell you. You’re no a religious young chap, are you?

I believe in God if that’s what you mean.

Do you? The invalid sat back on his chair and he studied Edward.

Well I hope I do I mean I hope I do. . And I’m no ashamed of it. I used to be an agnostic. But no now, I’m back to believing. Edward gazed at the invalid and suddenly felt very sad. His parents were getting old and no doubt they would be dead eventually, just like everybody else, his good old grandpa as well. And it wasnt long since Deborah’s grannie had died, he remembered the funeral quite vividly, the two sisters taking charge of doing the food, and they did it really terrific, rolls and different scones and things, bowls of nuts and crisps — better than if they had gone for a meal in a hotel.

My parents are churchgoers, he told the invalid. But I’m no. When I was a boy I was, but I’ve no been for years apart from when my fiancée’s grannie died last March. I felt a hypocrite. . Edward stopped and frowned: Did I though? Maybe I didnt. Maybe I just thought I should have felt a hypocrite, because that’s. . He glanced at the invalid: I’ve been involved in some things recently that I think really are sins, to be honest, I dont mind telling you Mister Parker and I can only hope I’ll be forgiven, I hope nothing’s going to get held against me although if it does I’ll no complain, if I’ve to suffer a chastisement. If I can only make up for it, maybe by doing my test properly tomorrow, if I can only manage that.

He punched his right fist into his left palm and cried: That’s all, that’s all I want!

You will pass it, the invalid said.

What!

You will. You’ll pass your test and you’ll get your promotion.

Edward stared at him and was immediately suspicious. Somewhere there was a line between making a slight fool of somebody and genuine fellowship and good company like the way at the fortnightly sales-team talks when the guys made jokes about one another and you didnt quite were sure, you never quite

You just couldnt laugh. But the jokes always seemed to be so damn unfunny. How was it possible to laugh? Edward could hardly even smile let alone throw the head back. It was terrible. He hated it.

The invalid was speaking:

Somebody that’s as diligent a studier as you, he’s the kind that deserves to succeed. And you will succeed. I’m convinced of that.

Edward coughed to clear his throat. Ah but I’m no that diligent, he said, my concentration’s nil. . He wet his lips and swallowed, his mouth seemed to have gone dry; then he glanced sideways for some reason but everything was fine, fine.

The invalid was frowning at him: Although with me mind you there’s aye the wish that a young fellow like yourself could one day take up the cudgels where me and the muckers left off. But these battles have finished, just like the days they happened in are finished, and the kind of future that sorts itself out on the past isnt the kind of future we fought for — and I’m no a supporter of such things — none of us were, no in the slightest. You understand me?

Edward hesitated.

Ah you will young fellow you will. And now if you’ll no come to me then I’ll come to you.

And so saying the old invalid got himself up onto his feet with the aid of the contraption and he made his way over to sit down on the chair next to Edward and Edward hoped so strongly that he wouldnt put his hand on his knee because he hated that being done he just couldnt stand it, couldnt cope with it and knew his face would just get so crimson, so awful crimson

And the invalid whispered: Now young fellow, my confession, afore Catherine comes back; when I worked in whatever you call it, Gross National — which is twelve years ago now — the country was in a state of economic decline, everything was to pot. You’re a bit young to remember that eh?

Edward felt nauseous, he felt sick sick sick, he needed to vomit, he needed to spew, to spew. He clamped shut his nose by squeezing it with his right thumb and forefinger. He breathed out loudly, clearly, to prepare for the refreshment of his lungs, breathed deeply in; he opened his eyes and stared at the frayed carpet on the floor. His room was better than this, it was bad, but not this bad. But maybe the old couple had something special that made it better and evened things out, although the light was terrible, and the walls and ceiling were just as crappy looking and it was so heavy an atmosphere — that dull yellow everywhere and it all so damn unhealthy and just damn bloody ungood.

But Lord Lord Lord was it a smell of shite right enough? Ohhh. But it might just have been sweat, the old invalid male having been using such tremendous exertions in merely getting to B from A about the room, even toing and froing re the cludgie. So he was bound to get sweaty.

Always he had to think the worst about folk, that was his problem; even with Deborah for heaven’s sake how come he was always blaming her for everything? And he was. No matter what it was he blamed her. It was just so uncharitable and wrong. Pride. That’s all it was. Conceited buggar. Pride.

but the pong from this old bloke sitting next to him he felt like he was going to keel over off the chair, he would topple over onto his doom and he would just die here in this room with an ancient stranger as a companion, somebody who could have devised an unheard-of method for removing fresh limbs from a young person’s body in order to weld them onto an elderly sick person, an invalid — spare-part surgery, and here he was about to become a human trunk with no limbs like that horrible story he had once read about a man getting mutilated by evil slavers for some purpose he couldnt remember, set in the Sahara region, and these armless and legless beggars in third-world countries who have to get wheeled about in bogies in an effort to pay off loans to the IMF and the World Bank. God he was so cold now, cold, he was so cold. No bloody fire, why was there no bloody fire, rabbiting on like this about all these factory incidents from a forgotten past and all his gesticulations it was so difficult to even listen because of it.

You did your best.

. .

. .

Still silence. Had he finished? What did he mean ‘you did your best’. Edward was almost scared to look up from the carpet. But he managed it, and found the invalid staring straight at him. It was such a strong stare. You would like to have looked at this stare but it would have been a stare-out contest if you had and he would have lost. He was no good at that kind of thing. It reminded him of these facetious mock-ups they had to play out at the monthly inter-district meetings. Awful, so awful. You felt so self-conscious and not just for yourself but for them as well, all the other sales-persons. He was the only one seemed to have that kind of response. Then there was that funny sadistic aspect about it. He just wasnt into it, and not the humiliation side either. It wasnt something he enjoyed at all. These games were just a kind of psychology. That’s all they were. And he didnt have the mentality needed if you were ever to excel at them. It was a certain kind you required. And he didnt have it. The other blokes did have, they had the right sort of make-up, they were the right mettle, it was him that wasnt, that was how he had to get out from it.

Plus he couldnt reach a closure anymore. That was the real truth, he couldnt close a sale, he just couldnt close a sale. And that meant he was a goner because if there was one thing you needed in the selling game it was the closure knack, how to close a sale, how to stop talking and point the customer’s pen at the dotted line. He had been great for the first few weeks. He seemed able to sell anything to anybody. No now. He was rubbish now. A dumpling. That’s the truth, he was a dumpling.

But he could train others. He could definitely train others. He knew what the correct procedure was; and his product knowledge was good — all of that side of things.

But talking to potential customers, he couldnt bloody manage that either, the theory yeh, but not in actuality, when face to face with them, as individual human beings. What was that poem by William Wordsworth?

Jeanette had just happened to flash her breasts at him and he was a goner — then also her stockings, he knew she wore stockings and not tights when she was bending.

The invalid was looking at him.

What is it?

I was just saying to you when the old woman comes back we’ve got to speak about other things, maybe the facilities in this place.

Pardon?

I’m meaning when Catherine comes back, she’s a habit of sneaking up on you. If she does then just you should start talking about the facilities here — I mean what you’re supposed to do for grub and so forth because you’re no allowed to cook in your room as far as I hear. That right?

Edward nodded.

Start talking about that then. Because it’s a hell of an irritation, especially to her. No me so much cause I’m no what you’d call an eater, but she gets all het up about it and you cant blame her, poor auld sowel, she’s used to an oven and a cooker and what have you. So if you start talking about the facilities you see I dont want her knowing what I’m going to tell you. I want that to be a secret between me and you. The invalid gazed at Edward then sighed. And he sighed again.

But it was like there was something underhand going on and Edward couldnt put his finger on it. Was it like a form of sarcasm against him? It was. It was actually like a form of sarcasm. Just the way all this was happening, like it was all falling into place. And he was a culprit.

A lot of different things, nothing you could just put your finger on.

Such an incredible cheek really. You had to just sit there with your mouth hanging agape. Then you felt like getting up and letting him see you knew what was going on. Edward smiled to himself, shaking his head. But imagine his dad hearing about it! What would he do! It was like a slur being cast on him, not just him, his entire family.

He glanced sideways at the invalid who was now gazing round the four walls in a very intentional and deliberate way. He gazed at the window in particular — as if expecting a snooper to be hanging outside on a painter’s platform. And then he started talking but it was so difficult to hear him properly with all his wavering and his gesticulating plus as well the terrible terrible fuisty pong that came from him. He seemed to be speaking about a horrendous and wicked horrible incident in a factory, something bad and evil he had been involved in that drove somebody out their mind and destroyed them, and killed somebody else, an accident or something, and related groups and even families as well as different industrial stresses were involved, and it was turning to centre on one of these wee boyish kind of apprentice lads that everybody’s supposed to like — naughty and full of devilment etc. etc. It was just so awful and impossible to hear. In fact Edward was going to leave right now. His head was spinning. It was too much. How was he supposed to cope with it, it just wasnt bloody feasible when he was supposed to be studying because either one thing or the other but not both; that was too much, too bloody much, just too damn bloody much. Damn and bloody blast. Edward stared at the invalid.

What happened you see I was working in this place where a spanner had just been tossed.

A spanner had just been tossed. He stared at the wide lapels on the invalid’s jacket; there was a stain down one of them.

a very big spanner, one of the biggest seen in this country for quite a number of years — me and a couple of blokes working the gether for it, a team effort — and I reckon it must have cost maybe one point seven five million for final rectification see young fellow because we had it worked so the bigwigs never found out it was deliberate — no even that it was an accident.

If it was an accident. .?

No, said the invalid, that’s that I’m saying. I’ll tell you something you’ll maybe no quite understand except maybe you might: you see they never found out that it happened at all. You get it? They just thought there was something wrong with the entire works, and I’m no talking about safety measures because safety measures dont make that much difference as well you’ll know, but just that a general improvement would need doing, right the way through all their factories — and I’m here meaning across the whole of what you call the ‘free world’;

It’s a hoax!

That’s how it cost so much to put right you see because you’re talking Thailand, Indonesia, India, Zambia, Kenya, Korea, Vietnam, Scotland,

It’s a hoax!

Denmark, the Irish Free State, Wales, Pakistan, Australia, Iceland, Sweden — wherever GNP Plc used to exist it no existing now of course because it was taken over by a big conglomerate back in the time of the conspiracy trials. Then it went itself in the Throgmorton Crash if you mind, and you had the Makgas Consortium stepping in, government funding and CNI money, headed by a noted patriot — though you understand young fellow that the patriot’s real name is something different to anything I might tell you so what’s the point of me telling you anything at all. Unless you rather you heard everything, but that sort of information isnt classified I mean it’s freely available elsewhere and if you would rather hear than no hear then you should go and check it out, you’ll find most of it down the Advocate’s Library.

Edward looked up from the floor. He looked the invalid in the eye. As much as you could tell he was the real mccoy. You would never know for sure of course. But how could you know anything for sure in this world since it was full of illusion. His dad used to tell him as a wee boy that if ever he found himself in dark trouble it would pay to tell the truth and if God really was there — and we knew that He was — then everything would turn out fine. Because He would look after you.

That was the route Edward would have taken way before he left off being a believer. And now he was back to it again he knew the course of action was right. It was right and it was good. But it was difficult. Telling the truth as an adult male was different from telling the truth as a boy.

After a moment he said, It’s a world I dont know Mister Parker. I wish I did but I dont. I’ve never really been able to get the hang of it — it’s like the international news in the quality Sunday papers, all these places and names you can never remember, they go hazy as soon as you look at them. I’m sorry. Honest. My mind’s good at some things but no at others. I wish it was different: I wish I could just bloody I mean it’s concentration, it’s just concentration, I dont seem able to concentrate beyond about five minutes at any given point — even when I was at college it was the same, I think there’s something up with me.

The invalid was watching him and he had a frown on his face.

Edward cleared his throat before continuing: I just do my best at my job of work without hurting too many people, although you’ve got to appreciate about it that being on the road, what I do, as a sales rep what you’ve got to do, anybody, you’ve got to gyp folk because that’s the nature of the game, salesmanship, you have to gyp people into buying stuff they dont like. Silly buggers. How come they buy all that junk! I’ve never been able to work it out. Even my own mother, with all her experience through having a salesman for a son, this guy comes to the door a week ago and he sells her some insurance that’s more or less useless, in fact it’s absolutely useless, it’s no good at all, if I’d had been there I’d have bashed him one on the jaw. Bloody stuff! I went through it to check. Rubbish! Absolute rubbish! And I mean

The invalid stopped him from talking by waving his hand. Young fellow, were you the lad that helped me up the stair the other day?

Edward couldnt answer because this was part of the hoax and it was a trap question.

Were you?

Your wife says so but you’ll have to work it out for yourself, it’s no good asking me because how do you know about me you dont know nothing quite honestly, quite frankly, when you come to think about it. She says it was me, she says it was but I wouldnt actually believe her, how do you know, she might be lying, just because she’s elderly and small and acts like she’s the epitome of truth and wisdom therefore she has to be a paragon, but how do you know the devil hasnt entered her soul and she’s only there to draw us all into evil ways?

He stopped speaking. Then he said, I obviously only mean that as a for instance; I dont really think it — I mean how could I! Obviously I couldnt.

The way the invalid was staring at him, his eyes set, set fixed and firm.

Look, said Edward, I’m just trying to be honest. I dont know anything about industrial sabotage or industrial injuries, I dont know anything at all, if somebody has to suffer a terrible horrendous agony just in order that others might go free, that’s just the same as happens to other people — it happened to Jesus Christ, He had to be crucified, so maybe it was like what you’re saying, for the sake of the good of mankind as a whole, if that’s what you’re talking about, about somebody having to get killed instead of something else. Well there’s other sins people have to atone for, it’s no always just your own. I think that’s a mistake a lot of folk make, especially males like us, men, I think we’re very often mistaken at the very root of our own existence as human beings.

The invalid was squinting at him. He shook his head: I’m no following your drift.

Well look I mean you asked if I believed in God. I do, I really do. I stopped it for a while but now I’m back to having the faith. I feel on my best behaviour because of it and having everything to overcome. The world’s just such a big place I find with people suffering the wide world over. I find it hard. You help the one person are you supposed to help them all? And then how are you supposed to keep on living your own life into the bargain? Cause nobody helps you. Know what I mean? That’s all I’m saying, it’s no because you’re selfish, you just dont have the power or the control except maybe a wee minuscule slice, and then you wind up getting squashed, just like a wee beetle — that’s what happened to a friend of mine. . when we were at college, he started to get involved in charity work for foreign countries and then he ended up in trouble.

You’re misjudging yourself young fellow.

Pardon?

I was beginning to guess that just after you came in. But there again it’s my own fault; I tend no to get things right either.

Edward scratched the side of his head.

And then you see I’ve got to trust whoever she trusts; my missis, I have to rely on her for my character judgments. Of course it’s this bloody thing here. .! He shook his head, staring at the contraption. If it wasnt for it I’d be able to give more time to things, I’d be able to do my own thinking when it comes to getting things done, and that’s what’s important. Ach. . The invalid’s head drooped and he sighed.

Edward nodded, he studied the frayed bit of the carpet, how its wee threads were spread so very haphazardly and you could just reach down and straighten them out, get them into a neat wee row. This was a memorable meeting but it wasnt nice at the time. He would always take pains to remember that. It was a promise. He had promised, and he would do it. Even when he would tell a friend about how all this had happened he would make sure he added on about it not being nice when it happened, actually was happening at the time; it was very uncomfortable — not even the chair was good to sit on and plus as well you had the very proximity of the old man, how him being an invalid meant you got this old smell which was really quite fuisty and you hate to say it but almost nearly what you would call a stench, when you came to think about it, like as if he hadnt washed or perish the thought cleansed himself the last time he visited the toilet etcetera etcetera though you dont like saying that because he was a genuine and good old guy that you had to respect for his integrity down through the years, him being involved in politics in an active way on the factory floor, you had to really respect him. There was the door! Deborah! Deborah. .

Oh Lord Lord Lord.

Edward had started up from the chair, he glanced this way and that; but whosoever was outside on the stair landing must have continued on to some other destination. He relaxed, settled himself back on the chair again.

Where was she though? She was late. Usually she was on time, she was quite a precise person. In fact that was quite a good thing about her and fitted in with him; they were quite alike in that sense, him also being a person who was quite precise or tried to be. That side of things was fine but not an especial plus, not in the selling line, it was definitely not an especial plus in the selling line: you could be as late as you wanted as long as you knew how to close a sale.

Deborah:

He really thought she was a great lassie, really great. It was just she didnt have the best of manners. This bad habit she had of — it was like not having a sense of humour maybe, to do with that — quite a nasty tongue even, in some ways, you had to admit it. Even her own mother said it about her, and that was something surely. And maybe as well, and it was terrible to say, and it wasnt a criticism at all but just if she maybe just learned to wear better clothes, a wee bit more stylish, if the truth be told, maybe like Jeanette who was called Jinty by people. You couldnt call Deborah anything like that. She didnt like him calling her Debbie for instance and Debs just sounded stupid

Edward got to his feet.

Because it was time to go. It really was time to go. He had all these bloody things to learn before morning came, never mind prepare his head for her, get his head right, get things sorted, get the things worked out because of

God, he just didnt know what to do, he didnt, he didnt know what to do. He had no idea. He just had no idea. He was in a terrible state, situation, it wasnt something he didnt know how to get out, what he could do, and she would be here she would be here, she would be here, she would be here

Just sit down a minute, the invalid commanded.

Edward shook his head.

Just for a minute.

I cant, I just cant.

You can.

I’ve got to go.

I’ve a need to tell you something. It’s a kind of confession.

Edward gazed at him.

I’ve got to talk things out with you.

But you’ve done that already, have you no?

No.

I thought you had.

Look young fellow talking it out in that certain way I’m meaning is a confession; that’s what a confession is. And I’ll know when I’ve done it, because you always do, once you’ve made it you know you’ve made it. Your mind feels easy.

Edward paused. He was looking to say something. There was something he was to say and he was looking to say it, it was maybe to do with guilt, because he knew about that, a wee bit at least. Although he was so much younger that didnt mean he didnt, because it was a thing you could feel even as a boy.

The invalid was waiting to speak.

Sorry, said Edward.

The invalid frowned and made a gesture with his hand: You see I’m no able to speak unless you’re willing to listen, you’ve got to be able to hear what I’m saying but you’re no always willing to do that.

Yeh but Mister Parker I’m sorry eh it’s just that my fiancée’s due at any minute.

The invalid glanced at the door, then said, She’ll know where you are, Catherine’ll tell her.

Will she?

Aye, she’ll be back soon herself. . And again the old invalid glanced at the door.

Edward nodded; he sniffed, breathed in deeply and raised his head, at the same time making a gulping noise like as if his adam’s apple was stuck, then the tears started in his eyes and he was blinking to keep from crying.

What’s wrong?

Jees I’m just in awful trouble Mister Parker, awful trouble.

Sit down a minute.

Yeh but I’m just in so much trouble.

Sit down a minute then. Sit down. Maybe we can share it. Sometimes you share a problem you swop it, and in the swopping it gets lost.

Edward had his face in his hands.

Dont get yourself into a state. . He leaned forwards, grasping Edward’s right shoulder: Edward’s a king’s name by the way, did you know that?

Edward shook his head.

Come on, at your age it cant be that bad, it’ll be a personal thing, personal things are easy. Just sit down a minute and tell me what it is. I was going to tell you mine so you can just tell me yours — see! if you tell me I’ll tell you, that’s what I mean by a swop.

Edward dragged the cuff of his sleeve across his face, wiping his eyes as he sat down.

I’ll take on your problem if you’ll take on mine. You hear me out and then I’ll hear you out.

Yeh but. . Edward now rubbed quickly at his eyes with the palms of both his hands.

In that way you see we’ll both have things into the open, we’ll have shared what’s troubling us. . If I start worrying about your problems you start worrying about mine. You get it?

Edward shifted on his chair enough to see the door. She was coming along the street, he knew it. There was no time at all now. He was sunk. What was he going to say to her because he couldnt think of anything, and he wasnt clean. What could he do? He hadnt given it any thought, none, none, he was just relying on something, chance maybe oh more than that more than that he had been praying, he had prayed for assistance, because he needed help, help, he needed help, help help help help please the Lord, oh God but he needed help from Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done

Edward closed his eyes and he put his hands next to each other, not clasping them.

I slept with my fiancée’s sister, he said. He raised his head, opening his eyes, but not looking at the invalid. I slept with her. I didnt mean to. I dont know what to do about it. I just dont know.

Mm.

I’ve never done it before, never, it just bloody happened it was just bloody out the blue, I think maybe it was me with my head full, all the worries I’ve had cause of this damn test, my job, the whole lot.

Mm.

Edward gazed at him. I just didnt mean it, it just happened.

Aye it’s a difficult one that.

Is it?

Questions of loyalty young fellow, they’re aye difficult.

Yeh, Edward sighed.

And she doesnt know?

What?

You’re wife’s no found out?

It’s no my wife it’s my fiancée; I’m no married.

Aw.

Edward paused, I suppose they’re the same really anyway, if you’re married or engaged. I am wanting to get married to her. In fact I actually asked her and she said no.

She said no?

Yeh. I asked her. Hh, she didnt want to.

Aw.

I dont know how. I thought it was good you know I mean I thought it was fine, but it wasnt, she just said no. It was a shock.

Oh well, aye. Had you been planning it for a while?

No, no really, I just actually popped it out one night. I hadnt thought of it happening, her saying no. I suppose it’s ego, you just dont think of it, you always think it’s you, you always think you’ve got to make the decision. And that’s that. Then you find out it isnt, the other people have got their own minds, and what they say for themselves you dont find out till you’ve asked. . Eh. . I know this is a personal question Mister Parker but I was wondering. . I’m only meaning how it’s as though here we are meeting up with each other at a time when we need a way out of a problem.

Edward paused. The old invalid had his hand raised and was waving:

Mine isnt really a problem, he said.

Oh.

It’s different to that.

I see.

But on you go anyhow and say what you were saying.

Edward wasnt going to but then he resumed talking. I dont mean like fate, he said, us meeting, because I know God doesnt arrange things just for our benefit in that way I mean that’s even a bit like blasphemy to think that, I’m thinking more in the way you get led along a road, it’s like how you see a road in the country going over a hill in the distance where the fields look rectangular with their hedgerows and you’re going to a village to do a bit of business and there’s no avoiding it even although you hate the very idea because the road leads you there and you know you’re to have to grit your teeth but you’re used to that because that’s what you do all the time when you meet these clients even if they’re old and valued ones I mean you’re always gritting your teeth anyway and then having to go and do it because that’s the way things are, you’ve always got to go straight in and start off the chat as if it was the first time in your life. But maybe things are going to happen to you along the way. Maybe you start to get a blind panic settling in cause that can happen too, that can happen too — it happens to me, sometimes. There’s all kinds of trials and tribulations. You see in some ways today has been awful bad for me. I’ll no bore you with all the sorry details, it’s just personal stuff mainly, and maybe that kind of thing’s best not to get aired. You have to remember I’m younger than you I mean you know what like it is nowadays anyway, folk just dont talk about serious things, they dont want to, they only talk about things like television and videos and football, rock bands, that side of things, media personalities and high financiers, big businessmen, big fat-cats who work down the Stock Exchange in London, all these big high financiers who get the great big sums of money.

facilities young fellow

What you were saying there a wee minute ago. . The invalid was staring at Edward. About the facilities, mind. Just tell us about them.

There was something in the invalid’s gaze and he turned swiftly to see Deborah. Deborah and the old woman. Both standing there just in from the doorway.

Deborah smiled briefly.

Hiya. . Edward continued to sit, then he coughed and made to rise from the chair but didnt. For one split second he felt so comfortable and nervous at the selfsame moment he wanted to rush straight across and take her by the hand and drop to his knees and ask her to marry him right there and then but something was stopping him and he felt like bursting out crying again because he seemed to have failed he seemed to have failed and it was in so dramatically and so suddenly and in so unforeseen and unexpected a way it was just so amazing and so ultimately stupid, it was just stupid, there was just something so up with him, something so just

He was telling me about the facilities Catherine. Some funny rules they’ve got in this place! Eh young fellow?

Oh yeh, yeh. . He raised his head and looked directly at the old woman, and he tried to swallow saliva but his throat was as dry as a bone.

Tell us again, asked the invalid.

Yeh, said Edward.

They’re strict eh?

Yeh.

Tell her about what people do.

Edward nodded. You mean the other tenants or just me myself?

Just how you all get by for your meals and the rest of it.

Edward addressed the old woman: Some people I think just eat cold stuff; cheese and slices of cold meat, tins of beans unheated, that kind of thing. Bread and butter. Or chips or maybe kebabs or pakora from the carry-out shop.

She nodded.

Other people have got an electric kettle and what they do is boil eggs and cook things preserved in salted water, like these wee hot-dog sausages you can buy out Presto’s and sometimes I think some of them heat up these wee fish done in tomato sauce — pilchards.

He’s talking about himself, said Deborah, giving Edward a look, and then he makes a cup of tea without rinsing out the kettle so it’s all tomato sauce left inside — even vinegar sometimes.

Edward avoided looking back at her she sounded so honest and good, he felt so badly sick, so badly sick. And he had to say something they were waiting. She’s just saying that, he said, and smiled, she’s just saying that.

And he twisted a little bit on his seat as if he was trying to glance at her somehow like he was not able to the way he was at present and he saw her frowning and puzzled. And he cleared his throat at the invalid and he carried on speaking about maybe even soup could be done in your kettle, he said, especially if it was really clear and no full of vegetables. As long as the owners dont find out, what they dont know wont hurt them.

Mm. . The elderly woman grimaced from him to her husband: If he was fit and healthy we wouldnt be in this state. We would have a proper cooker with an oven and I could make proper meals. She was looking at Deborah now: You see he was on the injured pensioners’ income supplement but they took him off it because it’d become a condition, so that’s us now until he gets better, if he ever will. And he’s the only one that says he will, cause the doctor says he’ll no.

That’s bloody appalling, said Deborah. She glanced at Edward, shaking her head.

Edward stared at the carpet.

It’s bloody appalling.

He raised his head and peered at Deborah, his eyebrows sticking out in front of his eyes, the hairs, as if he was getting old before his time, bushy eyebrows. He said to the old woman: I’m sorry missis I’ll have to go back down the stair now because I’ve got my studies to attend to.

He’s got his test tomorrow morning, said the invalid.

Did you tell him about your cousin Jim?

No.

You should have.

Och he’s no wanting to hear about him.

It’s only because things are so rushed, said Edward, plus as well I was thinking of setting my alarm early, so’s I could get up and do an extra bit of studying the morrow morning.

You’ll pass young fellow so dont worry.

I hope so, Edward said, smiling but feeling hopeless. And he knew his forehead was falling, falling flat — how it would be flat and he would droop there to everybody, them knowing his state, and he stood up and stepped to the side of Deborah, speaking while he passed: Will we go then?

Alright.

I thought you would feel like something to eat. . Do you? he said to her.

Do you?

Well if you do.

Deborah sighed.

I’ll maybe pop down later then like we agreed, called the invalid.

Pardon?

Maybe the back of nine, when you’re knocking off for a coffee. Or else will you just come up here?

Eh

Well I’ll just pop down then?

Eh, what about I mean. .?

It’ll be alright. I just have to rest now and again. Have you got a chair?

Yeh

He’s a stubborn old besom, said his wife. You know you’re no supposed to be walking too much!

I’m only going up and down the one flight of stairs Catherine.

Aye well you’re no supposed to.

Edward grasped Deborah’s arm but released it at once.

That was a bit rough, she said.

Sorry.

The elderly woman had opened the door for them. He ushered Deborah out then followed. ‘Bye, he said.

The door closed.

It was a hard grip, said Deborah.

I didnt mean it, sorry.

She nodded.

So where did you meet Missis Parker?

On the pavement. Outside the front close.

Mm. .

Why?

Oh nothing I mean it was just, a bit strange.

What were you talking about when we came in? it seemed interesting. You just switched subjects; one minute you were talking about fate and big business and then you went to making tins of soup in your electric kettle.

We were having a conversation. Edward shrugged. That’s all — it wasnt really strange. Just me. It was just me.

How d’you mean?

He looked at her. Och, nothing. She was somebody he didnt know but knew as well as anybody in the whole world. There she was in front of him. How she had been a minute ago with the elderly couple. Then there she was with her family. He didnt know her at all. She was just the way she was, whatever that might be. Then her and her sister, how they would also be together, that kind of faith maybe or loyalty. Something. They would have it between them. And it was now broken. He had broken it, he had come between them. Before him it was fine. Now it wasnt. He wanted to lift her up and protect her from all the dangers and pitfalls. If ever she was to get a happy outcome to her life she needed some advice, guidance, she needed to have her faith restored as well, once the truth came out. He felt abased in front of her. Plus she had a certain look in her eye. He could easily push her in the back when she was going down the stairs.

Did you get a sleep? she said when they reached his landing.

No. Did you?

I did, yes, eventually. Did you see my sister?

Yeh.

Was it alright?

Yeh.

Can you help her?

I think so.

Edward that’s good.

Yeh.

It is, she’ll be so relieved.

Aye. . He grinned at her. If they went out for a meal it would be fine they would just be fine and the things to talk about, different things to do with different things. He gulped for air. He needed to open the door to the room because now she was waiting for it and he hadnt done it yet. I’m just worried about the test, he said.

Well you shouldnt be.

But it’s important.

I know it’s important but it’s not that important.

It is for me.

Yes I know it is.

I’ve got to treat it seriously, he muttered, getting the key into the lock, it’s important, important for me. . Oh God! He sighed. Life eh? Life. He smiled. An old couple like that too, imagine getting put out their house because of arrears, would it no sicken you? It’s appalling, you’re right what you said up the stair. Edward turned and frowned at Deborah: Or else do you fancy going out for a meal?

Out for a meal?

We could go for something to eat, I’m starving, quite hungry. He pushed the door open and entered, waited for her then shut it afterwards. He sighed again. All the stuff on the table. He walked to it and shook his head and he smiled. Ach I dont know Deborah, sometimes I feel as if I’m just making no headway at all. He breathed to get air he was going to faint, and he had got to get a chair onto the seat to sit down oh God, the Lord my God.

Edward!

Oh m’God.

What’s wrong?

So bloody bad.

Edward.

His face down on the table the smell of the paper. I’m so God awful

Are you alright?

No, no, I’m no, I’m no feeling good I’m no feeling good I’m no feeling good

What’s wrong?

Aw Jesus

She put her arms round his neck and shoulders. You’re shivering. .

He peered upwards from the table. There was a smudge on the wall where he had killed the insect. It was funny how your life went. He was in the tennis league as a boy. He had quite enjoyed it. Him and the others used to have masturbation contests some nights. But if it was possible to give all his woes to this old invalid then that would be that and he would have given them to him and that would be him okay again, like a new start was being made and he would never ever ever again in his whole life ever think of straying again because it was just sex, it was sex, male sexuality and he was sick to death of such things trying to take over your life, trying to dictate the terms of life to you, as if you had no say in the matter and were there just at the beck and call of your erections, any woman who wanted to flash herself at you, and you were finished.

Oh God God God. And it was like it was going to be as if the old guy with the bad legs had been sent down here to help him in his hour of need. That was what it had been like. Edward raised his head and glanced at Deborah’s wrists. Because there was something in how that old guy had looked, a sort of honesty, as if there were no clouds surrounding him at all. What like was it it was something

He didnt want to think, he didnt want to

The kind of thing that was difficult.

She wasnt the usual kind of woman how could you say she was, she wasnt. What like was she with her sister? Her smell. Deborah had a smell. It was a smell of skin, how her skin gave a smell that was different. His shoulders were now weak. How they were weak. He also felt cold. One time with the tennis league from school camp they were on this what they called ‘manoeuvre’, pretending to be commando troops and Bob Finlay had cheroots from Holland he had stolen off a prefect and they had all smoked them. My God was that bad! So terrible and bad and maybe the worst queasiness he had ever experienced. You had to grow up and get involved as an adult, a man, you had to get to be a man, like that old invalid and the troubles all over the world what a span of mind he had, somebody that kept going in spite of his handicap and did all the things he did. Edward just to be honest felt he would never have coped with being shut in, stuck in offices with crowds of folk in shirts and ties and smart outfits and all the pecking orders.

Your memories just come. We dont have any control. The good Lord made us with memory boxes. Inside each one of them as well is the Voice of Conscience. And the Voice isnt your own. As well as that it’s in touch with everybody else’s. It was part of how the Voice could say what was right and wrong. It had the insight because it had some sort of ghostly communication with everything.

The door opened and Deborah came in. She hadnt been holding him. She must have gone away when he wasnt looking. Now she was back again and holding a cup. Drink this, she said, it’s just water. He took the cup and she held it to his mouth as he turned his head to sip it, her face staring at him. You look bad. He closed his eyes.

I feel like a bad sinner he rushed on and gazing straight at her, It’s a feeling all day maybe I’m working too hard, no sleeping enough. He stared at her. I dont get on with Jeanette you know I was meaning to tell you that. She’s your sister but I dont. I just dont. And I cant help it.

What? What d’you mean?

I dont get on with her and dont want to see her again, that’s all. It’s like there’s something wrong, wrong. He sipped the water then lifted the nearest folder and flicked at a page. He said, D’you want to get something to eat?

But what are you saying about Jeanette?

Nothing.

Yes you are.

I’m not, honest.

You dont get on with her? You’re saying you dont get on with her.

It doesnt matter.

It does.

It doesnt.

But it does Edward, it matters, if you dont like my sister.

I dont, it’s just — I dont not like her at all, it’s just

Just what?

It’s just. . He sighed. I thought we were going for a curry.

Well I didn’t know what we were doing.

D’you not want to

Edward, for God sake!

She had taken her coat off. And the kettle was going. He stared into the cup of water. There was something wrong with him. He wasnt a good man. It was as plain as the nose on your face. He just hadnt seen it before. He hadnt seen. It had always been there but he just hadnt looked. Other people had seen but he hadnt. They all knew it. Except him.

Oh Christ

She had pushed him on the shoulder. What’s up with you! she cried.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just no well, leave me alone.

What’s wrong?

There’s nothing wrong, I’m just

She was staring at him.

My head

She was so staring at him.

My head

Her mouth going what’s wrong, what’s wrong. It’s my head I’ve just got a sore head it’s so bloody sore and my insides, wracking and dry I’m just all dry inside and I need water. He gulped a mouthful from the cup and it shook in his hand and he put his other round it steadying it, getting it firm but his hands were shaking it maybe he needed food, maybe that’s what it was.

But was it him?

Fine

What?

Deborah smiling

What is it? he said, he smiled. It wasnt me, he said, it was her, it was her. If she claims about me, it was her — because

because it was her seduced him, it wasnt him, he didnt seduce her, that was the so bloody unlucky thing about it, the whole business, because he was the man, that’s how it went, that was the trials and tribulations of it, just being a man, the maleness; it was so unlucky it

he gestured at the A4 folders. I just dont know what to do with my life.

That’s fine but tell me?

I killed an insect earlier on

I dont want to hear about a bloody insect Edward I want to hear about what you’re saying about Jeanette!

But Deborah I just squashed the thing, the wee soul, I just actually killed it, in cold blood, just like you would I dont know I was going to say kill a beetle, that’s how bad it is for the poor wee creatures. It’s become a byword for it all, death and destruction and just wanton brutality, even the way you sell your equipment to people, how the guys just gyp people into buying rubbish they dont want. The whole thing, it’s just so awful, it’s terrible and wanton and just goes against everything God stands for. People dont want that sort of life. They dont. They dont want it. It shouldnt be forced on us.

You’re no listening!

I am

You’re not.

I am! It’s just the way things are. You take the way I live my life just as an ordinary man; this is an average day and I’ve committed awful sins. Just like wanton brutality. And I feel so awful. . just so bad just so awful bad.

God Edward what’s wrong with you?

Nothing. He stared at her. She had leaned to gaze into his face and she had placed each hand on his shoulders.

You’ve not been eating and now your stomach’s in knots because of the work you’ve been doing for tomorrow morning’s test.

Yeh, he smiled and laid his right hand on top of her left hand while it still lay on his shoulder. Aw Deborah, he said, aw Deborah.