The Living. Anjali Joseph

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СКАЧАТЬ the Bells we, Damian and me, smoked a lot. He bought the first drink. That’s when I found out his name. He handed me my beer and said, I’m Damian by the way. Claire, I said, but he didn’t hear because we were walking out to the garden. It was nearly full.

      Sorry, he said.

      Claire, I said again.

      Beer garden, it’s one of those phrases, like holiday home, it tells you you’re meant to be having a good time. I did a quick scan but didn’t see anyone I knew. Damian seemed comfortable. He rolled up his sleeves and put his arms on the table.

      So, Claire, do you live round here?

      I live with my son. Up the road. He’s sixteen, I said quickly. I always say it fast, because I don’t want to have to think about it later.

      He nodded. What’s his name?

      Jason.

      Jason and the Argonauts, he said.

      You didn’t say Jason Donovan, I said.

      Is he named after Jason Donovan?

      No.

      That’s good, he said. He laughed. I used to have the piss ripped out of me at school for looking like him.

      You don’t really, though, I said. He is blond, but his face isn’t the same. Blue eyes but a bit more round. He looks like a kid, especially when he laughs.

      I used to hate my name, he said. Everyone made fun of it. People thought I was posh.

      Are you?

      He looked down, shook his head.

      You don’t have an accent, I said.

      Moved around a bit, he said. His eyes asked for understanding. Tell me about you, Claire, he said.

      I turned my glass around. Not much to say, I said. Born and brought up here. I looked around the beer garden. Sometimes I feel like I’m not from here, I said. That I’ve moved around too. But I’ve never lived anywhere else.

      He nodded. Got lots of family here?

      I don’t see them much, I said. I noticed I was holding my glass tightly. I took a big sip, had to wipe my chin.

      Damian nodded. He was just listening, accepting what I said.

      What about your family? I asked.

      He smiled, waved his right hand. All over the place, you know, he said. Here and there.

      Right.

      And what do you do, Claire?

      I work at a shoe factory, I said. Up near Ketts Hill.

      Oh, really? That’s interesting.

      There were twenty or more factories at one time, I said. Loads of people worked in the shoe trade. I felt like a tourist guide.

      I think I’d heard that, he said. He took his sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on. I felt relieved. People usually think it’s weird, or they say, I didn’t realise there were any shoe factories left.

      What do you do? I asked.

      He smiled. For a moment I saw my head in the glasses, distorted, waving.

      I sell children’s books, Claire. I’m a rep. I travel round and talk to bookshops about our titles. And schools. Books for little kids, he said. Not Jason’s age.

      I didn’t mind hearing him say Jason’s name. Normally I don’t like it when someone I don’t know uses it.

      He’d finished his drink. My arms were cold. I rubbed them. On the road, I heard traffic. It was beginning to turn into evening. A few more people filtered into the garden. Shall I get another? I asked.

      Can’t, he said. Got to go, meeting some people. He got up sudden and I did too. Can I give you a lift? he said. The car’s just round the corner.

      Oh no, I said. It’s only a minute.

      Well, see you again, Claire, he said, as though we met up every week. And he left. He still had my lighter, I realised when I got in.

       10

       There was weather

      A funny day when inside and outside weren’t as separate as normal. What’ll happen next, I thought. What’s going to happen? Partly about Damian. Nothing, said my mind. That was it. He had an hour to kill in between things probably. I thought of my face without any make-up, and my t-shirt and jeans, and felt no confidence.

      Chris who works the drying machine wasn’t in and I’ve done that job before, so I worked it all day. One of the styles we’ve been making for the past few days, the red heel, it was coming through from the rougher. The flat shoe in the rubber cradles looks like a woman’s body. The part after the instep has a shape, like hips. But it just lies there, upside down, a sad fish. It’s only when the heel gets put on that it looks like anything.

      I worked on the dryer, then glued on the soles with the attached heels, put them on a trolley to pass to John so he could fix the heels. I like John, how he’s calm, often looks amused. When we smoke he’s friendly, chats, remembers things I’ve said. A pouch of tobacco and a packet of papers sit next to the box of nails on the side of the heel attacher. I sometimes pinch a fag from him at break.

      It rained all day. Not heavy but it was colder. I’d forgotten the forecast and come to work in sandals. With the sound of the rain and the chill near the windows, and smelling the glue as the shoes came out of the dryer, and looking at the pictures of mountains that Chris has stuck on the side – he likes climbing, he and his wife go on walking holidays – I forgot to wonder what was going to happen.

      At four thirty there was still weather. I had to walk home in it, and listen to my feet squelch, feel them slide. I smoked a sad cigarette in the rain, dirty fumes and chilled fingers. It makes my kidneys cold, this weather, Nan used to say. I got in. The kitchen needed cleaning. The house was cold. I put on the lights it was that dark. The bin needed taking out. Everything smelled damp. Nothing would happen, it was obvious. Everything was just the way it was, the only way it ever would be.

       11

       The smell of the ink

      I knocked on his door. Hip hop coming out but quietly. Knocked again.

      I SAID YEAH!

      I pushed open the СКАЧАТЬ