Blinded By The Light. Sherry Ashworth

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СКАЧАТЬ A2s did you take?”

      “Maths, Politics, Economics. Actually, I’ve got a place to study law next year. At Bristol.” I said this to impress her. She seemed the sort to fall for that. She was, too. She raised her eyebrows and smiled.

      “Why law?”

      “Well, I got fed up with all of my A2s. I couldn’t see myself studying any one of them exclusively And even though I know law doesn’t guarantee you a job, it must improve your chances. But I don’t see myself as one of those city lawyers raking it in through extortionate fees.”

      Kate was nodding, as if she emphatically agreed with me.

      “I’d like to get involved with legal aid,” I continued, “helping the sort of people who find themselves outside the system. What appeals to me is representing people who can’t represent themselves.”

      At that point Nick came back with drinks – a coffee for me, a fruit juice for Kate and a bottle of water for him.

      “Nick – he wants to be – you haven’t told us your name yet!”

      “Joe. Joe Woods,” I said.

      “Joe’s going to be a lawyer.”

      “But as I was saying to Kate, not at the business end. With the underprivileged.” This was a kind of reverse boasting. It was true, everything I said, but I hoped they would see me as a nice guy I wanted to create a good impression, and so I selected the things about me that I felt would go down well. Doesn’t everybody do that?

      “But a lot of the people I was at college with were studying for a good job, pure and simple,” Nick said, unscrewing his bottle of water. “It was all about money”

      “I know what you mean. But that pisses me off. Like, it’s a pretty meaningless world if you’re only looking after number one. To me, job satisfaction isn’t just about your salary, but about feeling you’ve done good.”

      “Oh, I so agree with you!” Kate said.

      “Are you religious? A Christian, or something?” Nick asked.

      It was a fair question. I was painting myself as a bit of an altruist.

      “Religious? Me? I can’t get my head round any of that stuff. It seems to me every religion asks you to believe things that can’t be true.”

      Nick nodded. “Without ever giving you any proof.”

      “Yeah – that’s right. I mean, I wouldn’t knock other people’s belief because it comforts them. But to me, thinking there’s a God is like kids believing in Father Christmas. It would be nice if it was true. But it ain’t.” I thought I sounded rather cynical so I backtracked a bit. “Don’t get me wrong – I’m not knocking morality – just Church and that.”

      Kate nodded enthusiastically again. It was amazing to meet someone who agreed with me so much. I liked her. I also liked the way both of them were listening to me. It gave me the confidence to carry on spouting, hoping I’d hit on something else that built me up in their eyes.

      “And school assemblies – what an exercise in hypocrisy! All those people singing hymns and not one person believing in any of it. Even the Head. Especially the Head.”

      Kate laughed.

      “It was the same where I was,” Nick reflected.

      I took the lid off my coffee as it had cooled down. “What do you do?” I asked him.

      “Freelance web design, working from home.”

      It was my turn to be impressed. Kate interrupted.

      “But I was interested in what you were saying. That you think people need to believe in something.”

      “Yeah, that’s right. For some people it’s God, for others a football team. Or hero worship.”

      “Hero worship?”

      I was mouthing off now, but I didn’t care. Kate and Nick were a good audience. I rabbited about Gemma and her bedroom full of pop stars, and how growing up was about smashing idols. How unbelief was maturity How the world was a tough place and exploited by people who want to sell you stuff. I admitted I wore Nike trainers and Gap jeans, but only in an ironic way. Kate laughed again. We discussed how difficult it was to know where products came from these days, how hard it was to be an ethical consumer. Crewe. Macclesfield. We talked about music and films. We complained about the latest Hollywood blockbuster. I remembered the joke Phil’s mate told, and Nick was nearly crying with laughter. Stockport. The journey was nearly at an end. I had this crazy idea of suggesting we go for a drink, but something stopped me. What if they didn’t want to?

      We pulled into Piccadilly. It turned out they were taking the tram to Victoria, so I went with them. We stood by the doors, chatting, as the tram rattled through a Manchester temporarily closed for business. Market Street was dead.

      “You ought to come up and see us,” Nick said, as the tram clattered into Victoria.

      “Yeah!” Kate said. “We’re having a get-together next Saturday Can you get up to Todmorden?”

      “Sure,” I said. “I reckon I can borrow the car.”

      Kate’s face lit up. I wondered for a moment if she fancied me, and I was flattered. Nick busily wrote some details on a scrap of paper – the address, some rough directions, a phone number.

      “It’ll be a good night,” he said. “Give yourself a break and get some country air.”

      I smiled as I knew that was a joke. Todmorden was hardly the country They got out and waved goodbye, and as the tram moved out of the station I watched them walk in the direction of the trains.

      I found myself a seat now and settled down, smiling. It had been a good journey after all. Nick and Kate were sound. They were interesting, good listeners, a bit more to them than a lot of people I met. We talked, rather than just messed around. I wondered why. Perhaps it was because neither of them was fresh out of school. They were more mature – and they seemed to like me. OK, so I was flattered. Who wouldn’t be?

      I tried to imagine what their house would be like, and speculated who their other housemates might be. If I had too much to drink, would they let me kip on the floor? Did they do weed?

      Then I thought, would I actually have the courage to go all the way to Todmorden? I would have, if I had my mates with me. Alone, it seemed more difficult. What if I was to turn up and they’d forgotten who I was? I’d have to think about it and decide what to do. Whatever, it was good to have the option. I looked at the piece of paper Nick had given me. I had somewhere to go next Saturday night. Things were looking up.

       2. From Rendall’s Parables: The Tale of the Traveller

       A Traveller is lost in a Wilderness. Despairing of ever finding his way out, he builds himself a shelter, a garden and a maze, in which he wanders endlessly. How can he be freed? By a journey towards СКАЧАТЬ