Read Sing Like You Know the Words Online
Authors: martin sowery
Tags: #relationships, #mystery suspense, #life in the 20th century, #political history
He had to admit that it was
instructive to listen to David saying the same trivial things to so
many people, and hearing it coming out as fresh as the first time
every time. How could you train yourself to do that? Why would you
want to?
After the door knocking, David
said that it had been really good to hear about the big issues in
the area.
-Everyone seems to want to talk
about crime, Matthew noted.
-Or immigration
-Well immigration affects people
around here more than it does us, in our middle class suburbs.
-Don’t get defensive Matt; I
wasn´t making a judgement.
They passed the metal shell of a
car on waste ground. The wreck must have been there for some time.
Rusty ochre was gradually replacing smoke burned black. Fragments
of rubber that had spun away from the blaze when the tires ignited
lay all around.
-This sort of thing is quite
new, Matthew explained. You didn’t use to see it. Before they would
take the nicked cars up into the woods, rip out what they could and
then set them alight. But there’s no money in it now, so now they
just drive around for a while, see if they can crash into anything
or get the police to chase them. If not they have the bonfire where
it´s not so far to walk home.
-Doesn’t that give away who they
are?
-Everyone knows who they are.
Anyway, the next thing is that someone calls the fire brigade,
sometimes the kids themselves who call, so the firemen have to come
to put out the blaze and the kids and their mates can amuse
themselves by throwing bricks at the fire engine.
-Are you joking?
-I’ve seen it. Only now the
firemen don’t arrive so quickly. They know the score.
-What about the parents?
-Don’t know, don’t care. Too
frightened to say anything. Maybe some of them think it’s
funny.
-That’s what we’re up
against.
-On the bright side, it’s a
multicultural entertainment, you’ll see the whites and the blacks
and the Asian youths all join in the bricking. Girls as well as
boys sometimes, though I can´t help thinking that it´s as much
about boys showing off as boredom.
When they returned to the house,
David wanted to talk to Mrs James about the area. Matthew and Amy
busied themselves with the final preparations for the meal. David
positioned himself in the doorway between the hall and the dining
room, where he could continue the conversation with Matthew´s
mother as she flitted from room to room arranging everything.
-I see what you mean about the
cars, he said. Some of the houses have two in the road and one in
the garden.
-It’s not too bad in our street,
though it’s getting worse. I keep myself to myself more anyway. I
worry most about leaving my own car outside. It’s not worth
anything and I suppose I could do without it, but I use it for the
shops, and when I am looking after Brenda´s little ones. The buses
are not so good now, even if they´re free.
David told her that when they´d
knocked on doors or talked to people in the street, immigration had
been mentioned as a problem, even by some of the Asian people.
-I don’t know what to say. Of
course it’s a problem. Governments pretend that we welcome people
here because we are all enlightened and want to share our good
fortune with others, which is all nonsense, but it´s a pretence
that makes it harder for right-minded people like you and Matthew
to think there could be a problem. The truth is that all my life,
immigration has been about bringing in a supply of cheap labour for
business; making sure that the supply of labour exceeds the demand.
Yes, I understand a little bit about economics. Unemployed people
are cheap to feed and they help keep wages low and profits high.
The people round here are poor, but they aren’t stupid, they can
see what goes on even if they couldn´t explain it to you.
-I don’t believe they only see
it in terms of economics.
-No; they see life changing
around them and they feel threatened by it. People have always felt
that way; so it´s always been easy to turn the poor against
outsiders who are poor themselves. But the nice people who live in
your postcode, and who are so enlightened and tolerant, might have
different views if their own kids were going to schools where the
teachers have to cope with half the kids in the class not
understanding basic English.
-Don’t you think that’s an
exaggeration?
-I don’t have young children so
I only go by what people say. There´s Mrs Chaudry next door and her
friend Mrs Singh. They´ve lived here for years. Her daughter is
very good at maths, Mrs Chaudry’s I mean. She says the girl comes
home crying with frustration; complains she´s learning nothing.
-I don’t know what the answer is
David. The new people are here, and that’s that. I can just see
there is a problem. I read that multiculturalism was the answer,
and I had to ask Matthew to explain what that meant. It seems to be
a big word that means different things to different people. If it
means that we should have separate communities living in the same
place but not having much to do with each other, then it seems to
be working here. I hope I´m not shocking you. Maybe I have become a
bigoted woman in my old age.
-I doubt it Mrs James. Matthew
tells me the young people mix though: that must be a good sign for
the future.
-It’s true the parents are more
isolated than the kids, by poor language skills, or just
bewilderment. The kids feel superior; they’re ashamed of the
parents. They turn away from their parents and look for something
else.
-What do they find?
-Just now I call it “how much
can I get?” culture. These kids of all colours are sure they´re
going to get a lot; one way or another; education or not. It scares
me to think how they´ll deal with real life, but I probably shan’t
be here to see. That’s a problem for your generation.
She was carrying a broad plain
serving dish that she had just located in the sideboard; wiping it
with a tea towel because it hadn´t been used for a while. She
paused and looked directly at David as she spoke.
-Your own problem that you have
to sort out is whether, if you have say things you don´t believe,
and support things you despise, in order to get power, there´s any
point in having it. Are you going to make real changes or only
manage things a little more kindly? I don´t believe in souls, but
you do; so maybe yours is at risk. There, I´ve delivered my sermon
and we´ll say no more about it.
There was a knock at the door.
Tim had arrived on time, an unheard of thing.
Mrs James had been appalled to
discover that Tim was a near neighbour and they had never invited
him round or tried to see him. The boy needed help. If he thought
he was being ignored because he was an embarrassment, it would be
even harder for him.
Matthew had tried to explain to
her that Tim really did not want to see or be seen by anyone. It
was the truth. Tim was terrified of pity: he said it was one of the
few afflictions not yet visited upon him. Mrs James dismissed such
talk as nonsense. She understood as well as anybody that he was
going through a hard time, but it was at those times when the
people who knew you had to reach out, even when it wasn´t
comfortable for them. Was Tim’s pride more important than getting
him straight, she asked?
Reluctantly, Matthew had passed
on the invitation to join them at Saturday lunch, and was surprised
when Tim accepted. Matthew had been grateful for David´s offer of
support on what he supposed would be a difficult day.
Whatever he´d expected, Matthew
was shocked when he opened the door for Tim. They´d met only a few
days earlier, and Tim was even wearing the same clothes, but that
had been in the setting of his own broken down surroundings where
he did not seem so out of place. And he had been at ease then;
armed with his defiant aggression that challenged anyone to notice
the ruin he had become. Today he´d tried to make an effort, to hide
if not repair the worst of his condition. The effect was more
tragic than if he’d turned up in his normal state.
He´d attempted to brush the mud
from his worn canvas shoes, which were holed and apparently
decomposing. Removing the covering of fresh dirt had only exposed
the grime underneath. He’d washed his scalp with some cleaning
product, but without the battered woollen cap that always covered
it; the thin and broken hair was exposed. And in place of the
supercilious leer which dared the world to condemn him, now he was
attempting a friendly grin. Matthew pulled him inside, where the
company was queuing to hug him.
Brenda arrived not long after,
in her little Ford. She nodded greetings to everyone and they went
through into the dining room. David was forced to sit at the head
of the table and Mrs James installed herself at the far end, though
the table was so small they were all close together. There weren´t
enough dining chairs to go round, so she perched on a buffet
brought in from the kitchen, which she insisted was better as she
had to be back and forth to bring the food.
Tim was the only one to have
brought some wine, though he said he wouldn’t have any himself. Mrs
James did not normally serve drink at Sunday lunch, but she found a
corkscrew and some glasses somewhere. Matthew opened the bottle and
poured measures for everyone except Tim and Brenda. The wine was
drinkable, but barely.
-Are you sure you won’t have a
glass too, Timothy. It feels like a proper special occasion now,
with wine and everything.
-No Mrs James, I probably
shouldn’t.
The atmosphere might have been
uncomfortable if Mrs James had not been able to hold up both ends
of a conversation. She and Amy seemed to be at ease even if the
others were tense. Matthew knew that it was not so much that his
mother was unaware of the chasms of embarrassment that might open
under them at any moment, as that she refused to acknowledge
them.
The food was plain, but there
was plenty of it: Mrs James held no culinary pretensions. Everyone
was eating and Tim was making a real effort to be pleasant, Matthew
started to believe that the occasion might pass without incident.
He was only worried about the way Brenda occasionally glared at
Tim, as if daring him to step out of line.
Mrs James complained that David
had cajoled her into talking nonsense, on subjects that she knew
very little about; though Matthew could see that she’d enjoyed
herself. David responded that he´d been put on the rack and told he
had to change the world.
-Isn´t that what you´re supposed
to be doing anyway? Matthew asked him.
-I was trying to say that you
can only afford to be a little bit in front of the voters, and give
people what they are ready for, he explained. Issues can be taken
over by the wrong kind of people. It´s not the time to discuss some
of them.
-Like nuclear disarmament,
employment laws, state control of strategic assets, all that
trivial stuff? Matthew asked. Amy gave him a look that reminded him
they were supposed to be keeping things calm.
-The trouble with you Matt is
that you are not prepared to take the time to climb the mountain.
You only want to see the view from the top.
-No. I like walking but I´m not
interested in climbing mountains; but if that´s what you´re doing,
I hope you don’t find yourself standing on the wrong summit when
you get to the top.
Amy told Mrs James that the two
of them talked like this all the time. She never knew when they
were serious. The meal was going well except that no one liked
sprouts and from time to time Brenda would gaze across at Tim with
undisguised disgust. Matthew´s mother thought the time was right to
draw Tim out a little, now that they were settled down.
-Do you keep up with your
languages, Timothy?
-Not really Mrs James.
-Such a shame. You’re so lucky
to have a particular talent. I mean Matthew and David are both very
clever, but you have a gift for something specific, that’s a bit
special. But, I suppose once you have it, it doesn’t leave you.
Maybe you´ll take it up again someday.
-He could use it to get a job,
maybe.
-Brenda, that was a bit uncalled
for.
-But some people say he already
makes good money, selling drugs to the kids in the park, while he’s
claiming the dole at the same time.
-Brenda, stop it.
Tim’s expression altered, but he
seemed to remain calm.
-That’s alright Mrs James.
People do say that. They’ve said it for so long that the kids do
come round to my door expecting to buy stuff. Best advertising I
could wish for if I was actually in the business. I could have a
regular corner shop going.
-Timothy, don’t you even think
about it.
-Don’t worry Mrs James, I tell
them to find their own ways to wreck their lives and leave me out
of it. Snot-nosed little brats. Fuck them.
-Tim.
-Don’t give me that Matthew. I’m
an alcoholic heroin addict, I don’t give a shit. Did you think I
was going to turn out to be one of those ever so sensitive drug
addicts who really cares about everyone else’s feelings deep down?
That’s bollocks. They don’t exist. And fuck you too.
Brenda pushed her chair back
from the table.
-That’s it. I’m going.
-Don’t go Bren. You’ve got me
started finally. It took you a while. You might as well stay to see
the rest of the show.
But Mrs James spoke next, with
some determination.
-There isn’t going to be a show.
I hope you don’t think that just because I ‘m an old woman I
haven’t heard words like that before. I do own a television set you
know. Living round here I hear worse than that from eight year
olds.
-Tim, I’m glad to hear that
you´re not dealing in drugs. I never believed that you were.
Brenda, if you don´t feel comfortable, maybe it´s best you go now.
I´ll see you in the week love. Tim, you´re always welcome here, you
know that.