William Boyd - On the Yankee Station - Stories

On Tuesday after lunch, business really tailed off and I was racing through the book when I realised someone had crept into the booth on their own and was staring at me. I looked round and saw a thin bloke with round gold specs who was carrying a briefcase. Only a student, I thought, and went back to my book. Arthur was asleep so I prodded him awake and he hooked his wing-claw over my thumb and gave it a good licking. I thought I’d better do that so’s the guy could claim he’d got his money’s worth. However, a few minutes later he was still there, so I turned round again and gave him a look — as much to say, that’s your lot, mate — and he scurried out pretty sharpish.

But blow me if five minutes later he wasn’t back. Just standing and staring. It was beginning to get on my nerves; I couldn’t concentrate on my book at all. So I sat up and said: “That’s all there is, you know. He doesn’t do tricks or anything.”

He looked a bit startled. He had quite a nice face and shiny-clean black hair with a middle parting.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I … I find it fascinating, that’s all.”

Well, I could tell by the way he kept touching the knot of his tie and the look he was giving me that “it” didn’t refer to Arthur. He kept on standing there all the same, as if he’d never seen a girl before.

To this day I don’t know what made me do it. The heat perhaps — it was muggy and sunny outside. Maybe it was just plain boredom, and he looked so “nice” and decent — the sort that wouldn’t say boo to a goose.

When I got the idea, I felt this excited feeling at the bottom of my spine — a sort of electric tingling. So, very slowly — not taking my eyes off him — I leant back on the cushions and pulled out the cord of the bow on my swimsuit. Well, the two front bits kind of fell away — not completely, but he wouldn’t miss much. But then I went and laughed. I couldn’t help it. The expression on his face — I swear his specs steamed up.

“This what you’re after then?” I said between giggles.

You’ve never seen anyone move so fast. Out of the booth like a shot and I didn’t stop laughing for ten minutes. Arthur didn’t know what’d come over me.

Come five o’clock Reen shuts up the stall for half an hour to let me have a rest, a smoke and get to the lav. I pulled on my jersey and jeans (I keep them folded on a chair beside the cage) and went outside. I lit up a fag and had a good stretch. I normally meet Trev at this time but there was no sign of him on account of our row. But the student who’d been in the booth was there. I felt a bit embarrassed when he saw me and came over.

“Um, I was wondering if you’d like to come and have some tea with me,” he said.

Oh, yes? I thought. But then he’d asked so politely, so I said I would.

He took me to his college, which wasn’t very far away. They’re nice, these colleges that they live in — amazing lawns, not a weed in sight — and very quiet. We went up a little narrow stone staircase to his room. It was quite pleasant — a bit old-looking, though, and very untidy with lots of books and papers. I had a look through his bookshelves when he went out to make the tea but we obviously had different tastes in reading.

We had a few cups of tea and a piece of sponge cake (“Oh, there goes me diet,” I said, and would you believe it he blushed). He said his name was Gordon and he told me a bit about his work and asked me some questions about the fair. He was slim and about medium height, was Gordon, and I quite liked him. I kept wondering when he would make his move.

It took him quite a while, but eventually he worked it so we were sitting side by side on the sofa. But then someone knocked on the door and stuck his head into the room. It was another guy with specs and he said,

“Oh! Jesus … sorry, Gord. Didn’t know you had company,” and popped out again. Gordon had leapt to his feet and looked more embarrassed than ever. I’ve never known anyone quite like Gordon for going red, honestly. Anyway, I put him out of his misery and told him I had to get back.

On the way to the booth he asked if he could meet me when the fair shut down. I told him we had to pack up tonight, as we were setting up in Northampton tomorrow. He looked disappointed at this but said he’d still like to come and say goodbye. That was fine by me, I said. He had nice manners, had Gordon. He hadn’t once mentioned our little episode with the swimsuit.

Gordon was waiting for me at eleven o’clock when the fair began to shut down. I was carrying Arthur in a small parrot’s cage. I was a bit worried in case Trev might have shown up but there was no sign of him. I told Gordon he could carry Arthur to Reen’s car, which was parked some way off. Gordon said he knew a short cut.

We walked through the fair. As usual Gordon wasn’t saying much. Stalls were coming down and the big lorries were backing slowly along the street. A few groups of young kids hung round watching it all. The ground was covered in litter: tickets, squashed toffee apples and bits of coloured paper and burst balloons. It always makes me a bit sad when the fair comes down so I just walked along quietly beside Gordon.

We turned up this narrow alley that led between two of the old colleges. It was dark, as there was only one street light and huge black chestnut trees hung over us. It felt a bit spooky so I linked my arm through Gordon’s and you’d have thought I’d stabbed him in the back. His knee banged into Arthur’s cage and I could hear Arthur scrabbling around trying to keep his grip.

“Hold on a sec, Gordon,” I said. “Put Arthur down for a moment. Let him get settled.”

Gordon put the cage on the ground and I knelt down to peer in at Arthur. Gordon knelt down, too, and muttered something about Arthur being a fascinating creature.

We got up together and I thought, poor sod, and leant up against him ever so slightly. He put his arms round me and we sort of stood there for a while. I could feel him all shivery and excited and I ran my hands through his hair. It felt lovely.

The next thing I knew he wasn’t there. He’d been torn out of my arms and I gave a little scream when I saw it was Trev. Trev, who had him by the back of his jacket and was spinning him round and round. Then he let him go and Gordon careered into the wall with an awful thump that sent his specs flying to the ground.

Trev stood in front of him swearing and spitting. “Okay Trace,” he shouted over his shoulder at me. “Where do I give it him first. You tell me, Trace.”

Christ, really, Trev looked amazing. He’s a big lad and he had tight black jeans on and a white T-shirt with KUNG-FU written on it. His chest was heaving up and down and his hair was sort of wild.

Gordon leant up against the wall half-crumpled, as if he’d been pinned onto it. He didn’t stand a chance.

I didn’t say anything though. Gordon must have seen me standing there all excited because he tried to get to his feet. Trev gave him a push and he fell onto the ground.

“Don’t boot him, Trev,” I yelled, because I could see that was what he was about to do. “Get his specs, go on, get his specs.”

Then Trev saw Gordon’s specs on the ground and he just stamped on them. Bang. Once. Like he was squashing a beetle crawling across the floor. Then he kicked them up the alley.

He turned and looked at me. “See you at the car, girl,” he says, all harsh and angry. “Bloody pronto.” And he walks off just like that.

I felt my heart was going to punch itself out of my rib cage. My head felt all light. He can do that to me, can Trev. Amazing sort of bloke.

I went and got Gordon’s spectacles. There was no glass in them and they were badly bent. When I handed them back to him I could see the red marks they had made on his nose. His eyes were all watery and blank-looking.