Yes, we’d have gone on to the arts centre a bit later.
So I mean … Patrick shrugged. If you want to tag along you’re welcome.
Aw ta, ta, if you dont mind.
Of course Norman dont be silly, Alison replied.
Norman. He was a quite good bloke by the looks of it. No sense in denying such clear-cut realities. He was just being friendly, glad to be part of the company of a bunch of teachers with whom he wished to spend the rest of his working life. Fair enough. Plus he had bought Pat a nice whisky at dinnertime and here he had bought him a nice big pint of heavy beer which would have to be his last since he was driving. And it had been Patrick’s round of course. It was he who should have bought it. And he had forgotten. His memory was definitely not as it was. This had become noticeable on other occasions. Maybe it ran in the family. His maw was inclined to be absent-minded too, she forgot the most stupit kind of things. The last time he was up visiting she had forgotten where she’d put the fucking teapot. Now that was really stupit and daft and really in fact quite worrying. And they had discovered the thing sitting on top of the cistern in the bathroom. And so bloody fucking embarrassing — excrutiating for christ sake. And then he had forgotten her birthday of a week past. He could just have dropped her a card and she would have been pleased. And his sister-in-law had phoned him to remind him. Nicola, his beautiful sister-in-law whom he regarded more as a sister than sister-in-law, he just liked her so much. But enough of that enough of that. And of course his da, there was the fucking da to worry about as well for fuck sake what a life. Existence could have been much better, much better indeed. But that’s the way existence is, you canni fucking ask for this that and the next thing, you’ve just got to take whatever they fucking throw at you. Aye but you dont have to take it. You dont have to accept it. It’s this age. This age. This age was getting on his nerves. No it wasnt. Even that wasnt true. He didni really care. People said twenty-nine was a landmark but he didni really care one way or the other. Gavin was fucking three-and-a-half years older than him. And you never heard him grumbling — at least no about his fucking age, he grumbled about everything else! He was smiling and Alison was smiling as a reply. She thought he was smiling at what the temporary English teacher was saying, old Norman there, who was in rare animation about something that had happened to him at the teachers’ trainers. It was obviously funny because Alison was genuinely smiling. And she could put on the false yins when she wanted to but this smile was definitely genuine. Patrick inclined his head as though to listen all the better. Something seemed to be wrong with his ears though. He couldni fucking hear a damn thing the guy was saying and yet Alison seemed so damn pleased with it and now taking a puff at her fag, her pale lips.
… with these two pipes you found?
Pardon.
I was just wondering if you’d made use of them yet, I meant to ask ye … said the bloke.
Patrick lifted his pint of beer and sipped at it. Naw, he said, no really. Sometimes I just pick things up and take them home with me and then I keep them for a wee while. Usually but I just end up dumping them.
Aw I see.
He would have been a gold prospector in the old days, chuckled Alison.
Pat grinned. Actually my favourite job amongst all else would be … He raised his right forefinger and wagged it at her: Guess!
O god Pat I’m always hopeless at this kind of thing.
No you’re no.
I am! Maybe Norman.
Norman?
Eh … Norman was grinning; he tilted his head to one side, his eyelids shutting momentarily; his face became all screwed up, and then he said: Is it to do with motor cars?
Motor cars?
Alison was smiling.
You fucking kidding! said Pat.
Well you did ask him to guess, said Alison.
Patrick gazed at the floor.
What job was it? the temporary English teacher asked.
After a moment Patrick smiled; he was still gazing in the direction of the floor. Beachcomber, he said, as a matter of interest.
Beachcomber.
God yes, said Alison. Yes, I could see you doing that. And you’d be content for the rest of your life.
Of course. It’d be wonderful.
No me, said the other bloke.
Patrick replied, You’re only saying that because you’re new to the teaching racket. You’re still keen to get involved in the whole carry on, all its different aspects, the whole fucking kit and caboodle.
Alison chuckled.
Kit and caboodle! muttered Patrick. What in the name of christ does that actually mean!
Alison was saying to the temporary English teacher: He’s the staffroom cynic Norman pay no attention.
Norman grinned.
Patrick frowned. Thanks Alison, thanks a lot … He reached for his beer and swallowed a large mouthful. Then without further comment he went to the lavatory. The way things were going he would have had a better time of it in with Old Milne. Whose name alongside that of Norman ended in ‘n’ sounds. As did Alison’s. Maybe if you wanted to be content in this world you needed that. Look at poor auld Desmond: a fucking sad case with a ‘d’. And Patrick with a ‘k’. A ‘k’ was terrible. Both it and ‘d’ had a similar sort of feel to it.
In some ways initials and letters were as interesting as numbers, but not quite. The Pythagoreans called numbers ‘figures’. The whole of matter could be reduced to them. Numbers or figures were the elemental parts, the constituents. And of course you have bodies still being called figures. Plus ‘soh’ ‘lah’ ‘te’ ‘doh’ etcetera being scales, numbers. Everything went together and could be reduced to numbers, even names of course. The initials P: D for instance, they could be reduced to 16: 4 based on the twenty-six-letter roman alphabet; 42: 22, or even 24: 22. Numbers are great. You can do anything you like with them. Plus it gets you away from objects and entities, always allowing for the fact that neither objects nor entities exist to which these numbers correspond, because some folk believe there must be a ‘1’ and a ‘2’ somewhere out there, if only they or it can be found, discovered or come upon.
Back at the table Norman and Alison were yapping away together and when Patrick sat down Norman said to him, Alison was saying ye wouldni mind if I asked ye something. When you were at the toilet there I was eh saying to Alison if ye would mind if eh I asked you something.
What?
It was just something I was wanting to ask ye. About in the staffroom this morning, it was something …
Patrick frowned, then he rubbed his eyes with the fingers of his left hand.
What it was, it was just eh …
Patrick glanced at Alison, he smiled slightly.
I was just wondering.
Patrick looked at him. What did ye say?
It was something in the staffroom this morning.
Aw.
Patrick for god sake, said Alison.
Naw it doesni matter if he doesni want to say. Norman said, It doesni matter.
Patrick nodded.
It was just it was interesting.
That’s good.
Pat! Alison glared at him.
Well for christ sake have I got to bloody fucking … he shook his head and exhaled breath studying the ceiling.
You’re so damn aggressive.
Patrick looked at her.
If you have to blame somebody then blame me. Norman just wanted to ask you something that’s all, because he thought it was an interesting point, and I told him it’d be alright, I told him ye wouldnt mind.