James Kelman - A Disaffection

Joe Cairns, said Norman eventually, that’s the science teacher?

He’s a science teacher no the science teacher, there’s thousands of the bastards.

Yeh but is he no the one that played football?

That’s correct.

Stirling Albion?

Mmhh.

God sake! said Norman.

At one time there was talk of him moving to Manchester United.

What!!

Was there? asked Alison. Honestly?

Well right enough maybe it was Scunthorpe United. Patrick laughed for a moment. Naw, he said, it was Carlisle United. But they were up in the Second Division at the time.

Norman made a whistling noise. Wait till I tell my boys!

Ach he was good, said Patrick, I actually mind reading his name in the English papers a couple of times. You’ll see for yourself when the pupils v. staff comes round. It makes ye sick so it does — we all try to kick his ankles never mind the fucking opposition!

The drive continued in silence for some time. Alison said, Why are you not going Pat? You did say you were.

I know. I’m sorry. But look, I just dont want to eh get too tempted with the booze — because what it ends up doing, it ends up making me spend too much time doing things that’re totally ludicrous, things that’re totally stupid and absurd. Plus my brain’s dying.

Patrick could see Norman frowning at that — then he nodded and looked like he was wanting to add something he considered very pertinent but was holding himself back in case it could be construed as presumptuous. And then he glanced over his shoulder at Alison as if in the hope she would say it for him. But she didni. She had been listening to Patrick but she made no comment. When Patrick looked at her in the rearview mirror she smiled at him and he acted as though he took her smiling for granted, continuing on to say: I mean here I go as usual, meeting people in the arts centre for a pint and christ almighty I hate the place, the whole atmosphere of it. And let’s face it, some of the folk! Okay I absolve Joe but you’ve still got Diana, she goes on and on and on about her own subject. That’s all she ever talks about, her own subject. Who the fuck’s interested! Christ sake we could all go on about our own subjects.

What is it she teaches? Norman asked.

History, replied Alison.

That’s the lassie with the blonde hair?

Yes, said Alison.

Any special period?

I think the First World War.

No kidding ye, said Patrick, sometimes I used to go staggering home moroculous drunk from such nights. Can you imagine it! Unbelievable. Getting drunk and bored like that at the same time for god sake it’s almost like a logical contradiction I mean ye wouldni think it was possible.

He swung the wheel too abruptly and apologised once the corner had been turned. That’s me gabbing too much instead of trying to concentrate on the road. Yous two talk.

But neither did.

Okay? said Pat.

Alison said, Is that it definite then, you’re not going?

Nah. Yous two go. I’ll still drive yous but.

Another silence. It was obviously difficult for them; perhaps especially so for Norman because he didnt really know Pat, so this sort of carry on must have been a mystery. He was probably thinking along the lines of:

Is this the true state of affairs? Or is it all a ploy to get rid of me so’s he can be alone with Alison?

And the guy couldni be blamed for thinking that. It was partly true anyway. In fact Patrick had gone in a huff, from that moment he eased off the handbrake back when leaving the pub. Its cause could be traced directly to Norman who should have had the gumption to appreciate Patrick was wanting to be on his tod with Alison. He was a brother man. Brother men should appreciate such things.

They do appreciate such things. They just sometimes are obliged to shove a spoke into your wheel. Sour grapes or something. And there was also a certain look on Norman’s face occasionally, as of a person secretly enjoying the havoc s/he is wreaking. It was a bit reminiscent of Wringhim in old Hogg’s novel. Norman would have to watch himself: one of the dangers inherent to the teaching racket is starting to act out the character parts of the topics you get paid to encounter.

The silence had been breached. Alison asked Norman a question concerning families. He replied. Gradually Norman attempted to involve Patrick by glancing at him and smiling. Patrick smiled back at him. In the rearview mirror he saw that Alison was also smiling at him. So perhaps a question had been asked him. A traffic light on the amber; he accelerated to get across. No polis motors. This was a bad corner. The bastards had a habit of hiding in the vicinity. One time they had stopped him under the pretext of examining a faulty tail-light but obviously they had wanted a look inside the vehicle and to see whether they should bring out the breathalyser. Wee John and Elizabeth — his nephew and niece — had been in the back. He had been taking them to the pictures as part of a babysitting night, a Walt Disney film.

Gavin and Nicola didnt ask him to babysit these days. He would quite like it if they did.

At the next corner.

Pardon?

Just if you drop me at the next corner, Norman said, gesturing at the window.

Patrick stopped the car. After an exchange of goodbyes the bloke got out onto the kerb, banging the door shut. Alison didnt have a chance to move in to the front seat but appeared quite content to remain where she was, gazing out the side window, nibbling at the corners of her fingernails. She looked tired. Some of the classes she had to contend with were not the most easy. It was Old Milne’s policy to mete out the more difficult ones to the newer staff. She did look tired. She should probably have gone straight home. But the idea of being able to just sit down for a couple of hours would be very tempting. That was how it was for the rest of them as well; they were just glad to sit down — it was the reason these sessions seemed to drag on so interminably; it was a shame. Patrick waited a moment. Then he said, I think I’ll just snatch a very quick pint, before hitting the road.

She didnt say anything.

Naw, he said, eh …

Alison sighed. She shook her head and sighed again. Norman went away because he thought you were wanting rid of him. He was right.

Uch come on Alison.

She didnt reply. Patrick blushed. The drive continued in silence.

It was after 6.30 when they arrived at the arts centre and okay to park on the single yellow line. A small crowd had gathered on the pavement near to the entrance, as if they were waiting to greet a visiting celebrity.

Alison continued on into the lobby of the arts centre and Patrick went quickly after her once he had locked the car door. He followed her along and into the lounge bar where the group would be.

And there they all were in the usual corner. Patrick waved and called: See yous on Monday! He gave a smile to Alison and about-turned. Off he went back along the corridor and out through the small crowd, getting into the car immediately and banging shut the door. He felt too bad to be true. Not good. It was not good. He felt not good. But he couldni stay there where he was at the pavement so he shoved the stick into first gear and switched on the ignition, but the engine did not work, the starter not turning or whatever. He switched it off and then on again. But it still was not working, it still

what it was it was the choke; he had pulled out the choke, by habit, in error. He turned the ignition key and first time now easily.

A happiness based on selfishness. If he was genuinely happy it was based on selfishness and was therefore false. The falsity with both Alison and the guy Norman. Norman had been consistently friendly, consistently so. And Patrick had done nothing but punch him on the mouth. It didnt bear thinking about. There were people crossing the road. It didnt bear thinking about. And Alison of course, she was