Sing Like You Know the Words (9 page)

At least it so happened that his
congregation date would be the same as Patricia and David’s, and
David’s two friends, so he might have a familiar face to show his
parents. Maybe Steve Kirk would be there as well. If he could say
hello to one or two people, he wouldn’t come across as such a
loner. It was just another day to be got through, somehow.
Afterwards he would need to take a hard look at his life: something
in it had to change; of that he was more and more certain.

***

The degree ceremony was a pain
for everyone, not just Abbas. Attendance wasn’t compulsory and many
recent graduates expressed a real or pretended reluctance to show
up. But then there were the parents, insistent or nagging, and the
irritating sensation that the whole three or four year experience
had not been properly punctuated. There ought to be something more
at the end of it than those hurried goodbyes exchanged after the
final exam. In the end most of the students decided or were
grudgingly persuaded to congregate.

David had no romantic illusions
about college and his life was already moving forward. Given his
father’s undemonstrative nature, the ceremony might have passed him
by, except that it was an opportunity for David to bring his family
and Patricia’s together.

In any case, his Uncle Bobby
somehow found out that each student could be accompanied by two
adults, and from that time on Bobby was determined to join the
party and make sure that they all made a fine day of it. There was
never any doubt that Patricia’s mother and father would be there,
so the meeting arranged itself.

Matthew’s mother and father had
not spoken for years. Even if she’d had any idea where he might be,
mother would see no reason why father should be welcome at her
son’s graduation. There was an understanding that Matthew’s elder
sister Brenda, three years married and pregnant again, would
accompany her.

No one had heard from Tim so as
usual no one knew what to expect from him, but on the day he did
turn up, unaccompanied. He gave a vague explanation about his
parents having intended to accompany him but something urgent had
come up at the last minute. By the time Matthew and David met him,
he’d already attended his own ceremony earlier that day. He had no
time to talk as he wanted to return the hired gown as quickly as
possible and be done with the whole sorry business. They had barely
arranged a time and place to meet later before Tim was gone.

The formalities of the day were
every bit as perfunctory and unsatisfying as expected, but
afterwards the hired photographer seemed to be determined that at
least his own part in the day should not be quickly over. David
quickly tired of his attentions. After a while, even his father
commented that it was getting a bit much.

-Finish taking the snaps and
let’s get on, David instructed him, but the man behind the camera
was used to fractious clients and not to be hurried.

Nothing could dampen the spirits
of Uncle Bobby. Eyes shining, grinning, with a friendly comment for
friends and strangers alike; he was in a fine humour. He found much
to admire in the architecture of the university buildings. Although
most of the teaching was done in more utilitarian surroundings, the
graduates and their guests had access to the leafy environs of the
central area for this one day at least.

-Look at that stonework, Uncle
Bobby enthused. You can see it has that feeling of being really …
old. And wise too. You feel as these buildings have wisdom absorbed
into the stones.

David informed his uncle that
his lectures had been delivered in a shed of a building that was in
the process of falling apart, less than a decade after it was
built, but Bobby was undismayed.

-It’s the spirit of the place
that matters, he insisted. I should’ve gone to university myself
you know. I could’ve done, if the times had been different. You
lads have been lucky.

-I’m not sure you missed that
much Uncle.

Patricia appeared with her
parents and, not long after that, Matthew with his mother and
sister joined them. Uncle Bobby was overjoyed to meet the sort of
people who sent their children to university. If he closed his eyes
and only listened, David could imagine his uncle hopping from one
foot to the other with gleeful excitement. But then, everyone
seemed cheerful; apart from Brenda, Matt’s sister who always had
that long suffering expression and never said much; and of course
Patricia’s mother, whose expression never strayed far from
haughty.

-Finally, she said, we have
managed to extricate ourselves from the clutches of that
photographer.

-Ours is just finishing now, Mr
Thomas replied

-I only hope the results are
worth all the fuss they make about taking them. How tiresome it all
is.

Uncle Bobby responded.

-Well, but it’s only once in a
lifetime isn’t it? They want to get it right. I remember when Marie
and me were married. Marie was almost freezing to death; we were
stood outside that long. At least it’s nice and bright today and
then we can enjoy the rest of it, eh? I’m Bobby, David’s uncle,
very pleased to meet you. Nice to meet other scholars and their
parents, isn’t it? I didn’t catch your name.

-Irene, said Patricia’s mother,
holding out a gloved hand, which Bobby shook energetically.

David stepped in.

-Did you have any plans for the
rest of the day Mrs Harrison?

Irene spoke about wanting to get
back home as quickly as possible. They were travelling by train and
she thought that the next one should due in about an hour.

She was a smartly dressed lady,
a little underweight, with neat, black hair and carefully applied
makeup. Her husband, who was mostly silent, seemed much older and
quite frail, short and stooping as well as rather portly. His
remaining hair was white, and all the life he had left in his body
was concentrated in his small grey eyes, that seemed to be smiling
at a private joke.

-Mother, we can’t just disappear
after we’ve come all this way.

Hearing Patricia’s tone, David
could tell that her day so far had been difficult.

-Nay, you can’t go just yet. We
should have a meal at least, and something to drink together,
protested Uncle Bobby.

-I’m really not hungry, Irene
responded.

-We don’t need to catch the very
next train dear, said her husband. There’s a good service through
till six.

Irene sighed heavily.

Then Patricia caught sight of
Ali Abbas and his parents walking down the far side of the small
quadrangle. They had not noticed her own group. The Patels looked
out of place, she thought: although they were smiling patiently at
everything going on around them. Abbas himself looked most
uncomfortable; a slight, comic figure, still wearing his mortar
board hat and a gown several sizes too big, that made him look even
skinnier and more childlike than normal, if that were possible.

-Abbas, come over, she
called.

Uncle Bobby was fascinated by
the Patels. At home, he said, the only Asians he knew were the
family who ran the local curry shop. He said it was rare for him to
have the chance to talk to people from different backgrounds.

-I didn’t go to college myself,
but I’m always looking out for opportunities to learn something new
about life.

Patricia glanced to check her
mother’s expression.

-You must come with us, Bobby
told Mr Patel. We’re just away to have a celebration meal. I’ve a
place comes recommended. And we should get a move on young David.
His friend is going to join us you know and the poor lad is on his
own. We don’t want to keep him waiting.

They were not given time to
argue and so the whole group, with the exception of Brenda, who
claimed family commitments, was pressed or cajoled to follow Uncle
Bobby to the place his friend had told him about that served good
sized steaks not too pricey, with wine if you wanted to push the
boat out and didn’t like bitter.

Tim was not there when they
arrived, but David and Matthew assured everyone that this was
nothing to worry about: he would come in his own time. Fortunately
there was space and seating for everyone. Uncle Bobby had started
his second pint by the time the tables were pushed together and the
cutlery was laid out. David watched Patricia trying to help the
Patels with the menu, while keeping an eye on the company in
general.

He noticed that his father, not
normally a heavy drinker, was not far behind Uncle Bobby in
draining his glass. The occasion called for it, he supposed. He
looked at Matthew’s mother; nothing like him or his sister. She was
a small self-contained lady with a determined but not unfriendly
expression. She seemed happy enough to sit and listen to the
conversation, a glass of lemonade untouched in front of her.

-I don’t know what they’ll do
with their lives; his father was telling her a little later on.
It’s good that they have qualifications, obviously, but outside
London, it seems that all the jobs are disappearing fast. We’ve
only got industries in this part of the world, and they can’t match
overseas competition – firms that are starting from scratch. They
don’t have the old fashioned ways like us. They don’t have the
skills either mind. But the truth is, our industries have given up.
The owners have all made enough money over the years and now their
children are concentrating on spending it. Everything’s owned by
shareholders now; and they only want to get rich quick and move on.
It’s an exhausted country.

-There’s no chance I’ll be
sitting back ruined by my inheritance, Dad.

-A good thing too David. A
little money when you start is alright, but too much is not good
for you.

-What a quaint idea, said
Patricia’s mother.

-You can smile Irene, but it’s
true. These days it’s too easy for people to forget themselves and
where they came from.

Matthew could see that Mr Thomas
was becoming serious. David would be annoyed.

-No one will ever forget where I
come from, with my accent; he interrupted, grinning at his
mother.

But Mr Thomas was not to be
deflected.

-They may end up having to go
down to London to find work, he concluded darkly.

-No way.

-That won’t happen.

-I adore London, said Irene. Ah
look, a late arrival, it must be our missing soldier.

At the far side of the room, Tim
could be seen asking a waitress for information. Then he walked,
rather unsteadily, towards them. Uncle Bobby stood up to greet
him.

-We had to start I’m afraid.
They’ll bring you something quick enough if you order right away.
But sit down first, let’s make the introductions.

Tim sat heavily in a vacant
chair and told them he was not hungry. He called the girl over
anyway and asked for a pint of whatever the rest of the company was
drinking. Mr and Mrs Patel exchanged concerned glances. There was
something intimidating about Tim.

-That Margaret Thatcher is a
real bitch, he announced.

-We shouldn’t really be
discussing politics, Patricia suggested. It’s a special occasion
for everyone.

-Why not talk about it? Our
future, Tim responded.

-And why in your opinion is Mrs
Thatcher a bitch? enquired Irene.

David tried to steer the
situation to a more neutral place.

-Whether you like her or not,
she’s been successful, so far at least. I read that the election
was the biggest swing to an opposition party since forties

-More to do with Labour if you
ask me, said Uncle Bobby cheerfully. Jim Callaghan should have been
pensioned off years ago. He was only hanging on so Healey wouldn’t
get the job. That’s not playing the game. But it was the strikes
and unions really; that and they needed to do something about
immigration.

Matthew covered his eyes
briefly. His mother pounced on Bobby’s comment.

-You don’t agree with unions, Mr
Thomas?

-Well, yes in principle of
course. The working man is entitled to stand up for himself and the
bosses don’t give anything away without a fight. But it gets beyond
a joke, if you know what I mean.

-What I want to know, growled
Tim, is who voted for the bitch.

Abbas answered him, while Uncle
Bobby signalled for more drinks for all round, even though most of
the table still had half filled glasses in front of them.

-The Tory campaign was very
directed, he explained. They went for first time voters, like us
students, and floating voters. It’s a small proportion of people
who haven’t already made up their minds that are the most important
in any election, but no-one has really campaigned in that way
before. It’s quite interesting, to me anyway, how they targeted
their messages. And of course securing the backing of the popular
press was very important.

-The popular press? Tim’s
aggression was not to be deflected. You mean the Sun? That’s not a
newspaper, and you can be sure its support came at a price.

-Well they never got your vote,
David reminded Tim, because you never got as far as the polling
station.

-I was busy.

-I thought it was time that
maybe a woman should be in charge, said Mrs Patel, timidly. No-one
responded.

-What do you think Thatcher will
do now? asked Matthew’s mother.

Abbas had an answer ready for
that one.

-Based on what the Conservatives
are saying, you can expect a radical shift in politics; very
different from previous Tory administrations. If the economic
policies that are being proposed are carried through, the short
term effects will be quite severe.

-The country needs a good shake
up, Irene commented.

Bobby smiled at everyone.

-They all say they are going to
change the world before they get in power, he observed. Afterwards
one lot is much the same as the other.