Living Upside Down. John Hickman

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СКАЧАТЬ a pub, and an out-of-work windmill.

      “When the children get older they’ll need their own bedrooms.”

      Roger sighs his deepest sigh.

      After the failure of his hotel businesses, his Dad had the perfect excuse not to pay Roger for all those years of hard work and to make matters worse, Zelda blamed Roger in part for the failures.

      Roger was left in charge of a business that had already failed and, pending his Dad’s bankruptcy, the company chequebook had been surrendered.

      “I should never have trusted Dad, Sue.”

      Sue is gentle. “You both ended up directors of a failed business.”

      “Yes. Dad went bankrupt, which sort of ruled out his culpability, but I’m still liable.”

      “Liable for what? Surely as a director you’re in the clear?”

      “Yes, except for personal guarantees. Banks insist on them in addition.”

      Sue stares fixedly at Roger like a rabbit trying not to be run over by a car.

      “Oh, Roger what will happen?”

      “Well, they can’t get blood out of a stone, that’s for sure and so far we’ve heard nothing.”

      “How long?” Sue is clearly worried.

      “About twelve months now.”

      “At least the bank wouldn’t want our furniture, and they can’t take curtains we don’t have.”

      “Banks take everything, why not the furniture?”

      Sue raises a shapely eyebrow. “Everything we own are hand-me-downs spread across the 1940s and 1950s.”

      “You mean the furniture is worth fuck-all.”

      “Yes.” Sue wraps James in a shawl and checks Jayne’s fingers to see how cold she is. “She can’t eat her breakfast wearing gloves, Roger,” her voice becomes tense when talking about the well being of her babies. “I hate the cold, hate it, hate it, hate it!”

      “As if I didn’t know that by now, for Christ’s sake Sue, give it a rest. I know we’re on our uppers.”

      When she leaves the house, Sue’s bones ache from the piercing easterly wind that is so lazy it seems to pass right through. She doesn’t like the English weather, not even in summer, and definitely not in winter. She never has, not even as a child born there.

      “The Bible refers to forty days and forty nights as a disaster, but here that’s just an apt description of winter,” Sue reinforces adamantly.

      “On the bright side maybe salt spray from the North Sea will blow further inland and melt the black ice on our roads this year,” Roger joins hopefully.

      “We’re supposed to be coming into spring,” Sue comments over her shoulder, “it doesn’t feel like it.”

      In a demonstration of brute strength, Roger limbers up. “I’ll stoke up the fire.”

      He pulls a face like a smacked arse, which gets a good deep chuckle out of Jayne who by now is tired of climbing chairs.

      “So you reckon compared to our Antipodean friends in their tight swimmers, we’re no match in our Arctic clothing.”

      Sue draws a deep breath, “With our feet planted firmly in double socks. And don’t forget the Wellington boots and fleece lined overcoat to the beach.”

      “Last time I went beach fishing at Great Yarmouth I was nearly toppled by a wind so strong I had to lean hard on the car door to get out. It felt like an Arctic wind; come to think of it even the seagulls sat quiet with their beaks huddled deep into their ruffled chests.”

      “And that’s Autumn, not Winter,” Sue’s mouth is pinched into a thin line as she prepares to redress James.

      Jayne is adamant, she points at James. “Can’t want him. Take him back.”

      Sue grins at their enraged toddler. “Her new baby brother is too small to play with her. Without doubt, if he were bigger, she’d punch his lights out.”

      After a brief game of Eeny-meeny-miney-mo Roger continues his tale.

      “There I was all rigged up, struggling to the edge of the water in near hurricane conditions. A supreme effort and a great cast.”

      Noticing he has the floor with three pairs of eyes on him, he goes for it.

      “The wind was so strong it lifted my sinker mid cast and blew it right back up behind me on the beach.”

      Jayne giggles. Roger sits her on his knee to continue with his story.

      “Undeterred Daddykins puts on a heavier sinker,” he raises his eyes, “but it was so heavy now that the tip of the rod’s sagging from the weight.

      Have you any idea the thrill of satisfaction Daddykins felt catching a fish for our dinner under difficult circumstances like those?”

      Jayne shakes her head and says, “No!”

      Roger makes another face. “No! You’re right and neither did Daddykins. Not even a herring! All was lost. So thoroughly fed up I came home.”

      His audience laughs.

      Seeing himself as an enlightened dictator in his own home, a left-over attitude from earlier in the century, pompously Roger feels the need to reinforce not wanting to go to Australia.

      “For twenty-five years I’ve practiced the fine art of being an Englishman that has been my defining quality in life.”

      “Good for you.” Sue is unimpressed.

      Roger pushes, “Why would I suddenly decide to send myself into voluntary exile 16,500 miles away for Christ’s sake? That’s a bloody long way to go for a sandy beach and a job in a factory I don’t need or want.”

      “We live from hand to mouth, literally. I do my best. I buy proper meat once a week, maybe sausages on another. I’m tired of the Israeli Army Diet.”

      “What’s that?” Roger asks.

      “It means existing on two days of cow cabbage, two days of cheap dairy products, two days of tinned sardines, and one day of fasting.”

      Roger looks impressed.

      Sue continues, “We’d discharged ourselves from the Israeli Army Diet by Week One but I’ve kept balancing two sardines on a lettuce leaf, topped with a few carrot shavings for colour and a sprig of parsley, as dinner. It’s cheap.”

      “Mussels and offal are cheap, although I’d rather stick my dick in a blender than eat tripe.”

      “That can be arranged.” Sue becomes serious. “There’s nothing left over from your salary for small luxuries.” She wrings her hands. СКАЧАТЬ