does an awful lot of work in pidgin. And here’s another little gem. In Neo-Melanesian pidgin, if I wanted to say: Why did you wreck that machine? I would say: Olsem onem yu buggerupim onefelo masin? You’ll notice that the verb has an obvious etymology.
“My mind was set at rest by the thought that I would be able to speak directly to the people in the pirate band – not that I imagined I would be speaking too much to the pirates them-The Charms of Neo-Melanesian Pidgin 73
selves. I imagined that I would be talking to their wives – or, I suppose pirates have partners these days rather than wives – and discussing social arrangements and the like. It’s always very interesting to find out how decisions are made in these alternative communities. Often, you know, the power structure is fairly clearly delineated. Remember Lord of the Flies, Angus?
Remember how the right to speak was determined by possession of the conch? Well, I rather suspected that I should find similar symbols of authority amongst my pirates.
“I was really rather excited by the whole prospect. And so, when I went in due course to Edward Hong’s to meet my contact, I was filled with anticipation. Edward’s manservant greeted me at the door and ushered me upstairs and into the room in which we had listened to the Chopin on my previous visit. My face fell, I’m afraid. Edward was by himself.
“‘I’ve made inquiries,’ he said. ‘I’ve found somebody who’s prepared to take you to them. But he wouldn’t answer some of my questions, and frankly I’m not sure if I trust him. But don’t worry; he’s obtained the pirate chief’s agreement to let you live with them for a few months in exchange for money. He asked for one thousand US dollars, and I beat him down to sixty. He’ll take you there tomorrow.’
“I was very grateful, and thanked him profusely.
“‘No need to thank me,’ he said. ‘The pleasure is all mine.
But now, how about a bit of Chopin? Yes? Mary will be only too happy to oblige.’ He leant forward and winked at me.
‘Onefelo Chopin make nambawan good musik bilong piano!’ he said, and laughed, most collusively. Such a charming man. (Note: Edward Hong should not have said ‘piano’ but ‘bigfela bokis tut bilong em sam i blak, sam i waet – taem yu kilim emi singaot’, which means: big box with some black, some white teeth – when you hit it, it cries out.)”
24. Pat Gets to Know Tessie a Bit Better When Pat found Tessie standing outside her door, she was unsure whether she had heard her agonised muttering about how Wolf meant nothing to her. The other girl, however, gave nothing away: Tessie was impassive.
“Oh, hello,” said Pat. “It’s you.”
Tessie nodded. “Yes. I thought I might drop in and offer to make you a cup of coffee. We haven’t had the chance to chat very much since you moved in. In fact, we haven’t really seen one another at all.”
Pat looked over Tessie’s shoulder, into the hall. “But your boyfriend,” she began. “I thought that your boyfriend was here.”
“He was,” said Tessie. “But he had to go. He just popped in to ask me something.”
Pat relaxed. It appeared that Tessie had not heard her muttering and had no idea of how she felt about Wolf. If she felt that way about Wolf; she was by no means sure about that yet, although all the signs had been there – the quickening of the pulse, that warm, butterfly-like feeling in the stomach, the slight dizziness. And then there had been that strange desire to touch his teeth; that was very peculiar and surely meant that something was happening between them.
She thought for a moment. She could not let this happen; she would have to stop it. There was no point in falling in love with somebody else’s boyfriend, particularly a flatmate’s boyfriend. And yet, and yet . . . people fell in love with those who belonged to others. It happened all the time in fiction, and presumably in real life, too. And even if it often led to tears and disaster, sometimes, at least, it worked.
She looked at Tessie. The other girl was shorter than Pat –
appreciably shorter – and had rather fat calves, thought Pat. She looked at her hair. It was rather mousy-coloured, and was not, in Pat’s view, in very good condition. Split ends probably. As for her face, well, that was pretty enough – in an odd, irregular sort of way. There was something strange about her nose, which had the slightly angled look of a nose that had been broken. Men Pat Gets to Know Tessie a Bit Better 75
were generally improved by broken noses, which added character to the masculine face, but a broken nose could be more difficult for a woman.
They looked at one another for several seconds, each lost in an assessment of the other. At length, Pat broke the silence.
“That’s kind of you,” she said. “I must meet the others, too.
You shared with one of them last year, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Tessie, as they made their way through to the kitchen. “I was at school with Donna – I’ve known her for yonks and yonks. But I didn’t know Jackie at all. She’s new – like you.
She only arrived yesterday. She’s in her third year of medicine, I think. At least, I saw her with a stethoscope sticking out of her pocket.”
They went into the kitchen, which was the largest room in the flat – and had the finest view, too, over the green and the rooftops towards Arthur’s Seat in the distance. The original floor of large flagstones had been preserved here, and this added to the charm of the room. There was also an old Belfast sink, with high arched taps, and a wooden draining board.
“This kitchen’s a bit of a museum,” said Tessie. “But there’s always enough hot water to do the washing-up. You will wash up, won’t you, after you’ve done any cooking?” she added, looking over her shoulder at Pat.
Pat slightly resented this question, and there was a tetchiness in her voice when she replied. “Of course I will,” she said. “I always do.”
If Tessie picked up the irritation in Pat’s voice, she did not reveal this. She looked at Pat over her shoulder as she filled the kettle. “That’s just one of the rules about sharing a flat with other people,” she said. “Naturally, there are others.”
Pat stared at her. “But naturally.”
“Noise, for example,” went on Tessie. “Some people think that if they close their door, then other people can’t hear them playing their music. They’re wrong. Noise travels through wood quite easily. It also travels through stone walls.”
“I know,” said Pat. “In Scotland Street there was a saxophone that . . .”
76
Pat Gets to Know Tessie a Bit Better
“And then there’s the telephone,” said Tessie, cutting short the rest of Pat’s sentence. “Some people are dishonest when it comes to the telephone. They use it and they don’t write their calls down in the book. And then when the bill comes they say that it should just be split equally four ways or whatever it is. I hate that sort of thing.”
Pat felt her irritation grow. This was unambiguously a lecture on how to behave, and she resented Tessie’s assumption that she needed to be told these things. “I have shared before,” she said.
“I had quite a difficult flatmate, in fact, a boy . . .”
“And that’s another thing,” said Tessie. “Boys. If anybody has a boyfriend, then the rule is that the boy is off limits to others.
That’s the rule.”
For a few moments there was complete silence. Pat looked at the floor. She tried to look at Tessie, but the sight of the other girl’s eyes glaring at her from either side of the broken nose was too disconcerting. What on earth did Wolf see in her?
she wondered. Did he not mind those fat calves? Was he indifferent to the broken nose – and the split ends? She decided to speak.
“Of course that could be a problem, couldn’t it?”