The Burn (9 page)

He was telling me about the facilities Catherine. Some funny rules they’ve got in this place! Eh young fellow?

Oh yeh, yeh . . . He raised his head and looked directly at the old woman, and he tried to swallow saliva but his throat was as dry as a bone.

Tell us again, asked the invalid.

Yeh, said Edward.

They’re strict eh?

Yeh.

Tell her about what people do.

Edward nodded. You mean the other tenants or just me myself?

Just how you all get by for your meals and the rest of it.

Edward addressed the old woman: Some people I think just eat cold stuff; cheese and slices of cold meat, tins of beans unheated, that kind of thing. Bread and butter. Or chips or maybe kebabs or
pakora from the carry-out shop.

She nodded.

Other people have got an electric kettle and what they do is boil eggs and cook things preserved in salted water, like these wee hot-dog sausages you can buy out Presto’s and sometimes I
think some of them heat up these wee fish done in tomato sauce – pilchards.

He’s talking about himself, said Deborah, giving Edward a look, and then he makes a cup of tea without rinsing out the kettle so it’s all tomato sauce left inside – even
vinegar sometimes.

Edward avoided looking back at her she sounded so honest and good, he felt so badly sick, so badly sick. And he had to say something they were waiting. She’s just saying that, he said, and
smiled, she’s just saying that.

And he twisted a little bit on his seat as if he was trying to glance at her somehow like he was not able to the way he was at present and he saw her frowning and puzzled. And he cleared his
throat at the invalid and he carried on speaking about maybe even soup could be done in your kettle, he said, especially if it was really clear and no full of vegetables. As long as the owners dont
find out, what they dont know wont hurt them.

Mm . . . The elderly woman grimaced from him to her husband: If he was fit and healthy we wouldnt be in this state. We would have a proper cooker with an oven and I could make proper meals. She
was looking at Deborah now: You see he was on the injured pensioners’ income supplement but they took him off it because it’d become a condition, so that’s us now until he gets
better, if he ever will. And he’s the only one that says he will, cause the doctor says he’ll no.

That’s bloody appalling, said Deborah. She glanced at Edward, shaking her head.

Edward stared at the carpet.

It’s bloody appalling.

He raised his head and peered at Deborah, his eyebrows sticking out in front of his eyes, the hairs, as if he was getting old before his time, bushy eyebrows. He said to the old woman: I’m
sorry missis I’ll have to go back down the stair now because I’ve got my studies to attend to.

He’s got his test tomorrow morning, said the invalid.

Did you tell him about your cousin Jim?

No.

You should have.

Och he’s no wanting to hear about him.

It’s only because things are so rushed, said Edward, plus as well I was thinking of setting my alarm early, so’s I could get up and do an extra bit of studying the morrow
morning.

You’ll pass young fellow so dont worry.

I hope so, Edward said, smiling but feeling hopeless. And he knew his forehead was falling, falling flat – how it would be flat and he would droop there to everybody, them knowing his
state, and he stood up and stepped to the side of Deborah, speaking while he passed: Will we go then?

Alright.

I thought you would feel like something to eat . . . Do you? he said to her.

Do
you
?

Well if you do.

Deborah sighed.

I’ll maybe pop down later then like we agreed, called the invalid.

Pardon?

Maybe the back of nine, when you’re knocking off for a coffee. Or else will you just come up here?

Eh

Well I’ll just pop down then?

Eh, what about I mean . . . ?

It’ll be alright. I just have to rest now and again. Have you got a chair?

Yeh

He’s a stubborn old besom, said his wife. You know you’re no supposed to be walking too much!

I’m only going up and down the one flight of stairs Catherine.

Aye well you’re no supposed to.

Edward grasped Deborah’s arm but released it at once.

That was a bit rough, she said.

Sorry.

The elderly woman had opened the door for them. He ushered Deborah out then followed. ‘Bye, he said.

The door closed.

It was a hard grip, said Deborah.

I didnt mean it, sorry.

She nodded.

So where did you meet Missis Parker?

On the pavement. Outside the front close.

Mm . . .

Why?

Oh nothing I mean it was just, a bit strange.

What were you talking about when we came in? it seemed interesting. You just switched subjects; one minute you were talking about fate and big business and then you went to making tins of soup
in your electric kettle.

We were having a conversation. Edward shrugged. That’s all – it wasnt really strange. Just me. It was just me.

How d’you mean?

He looked at her. Och, nothing. She was somebody he didnt know but knew as well as anybody in the whole world. There she was in front of him. How she had been a minute ago with the elderly
couple. Then there she was with her family. He didnt know her at all. She was just the way she was, whatever that might be. Then her and her sister, how they would also be together, that kind of
faith maybe or loyalty. Something. They would have it between them. And it was now broken. He had broken it, he had come between them. Before him it was fine. Now it wasnt. He wanted to lift her up
and protect her from all the dangers and pitfalls. If ever she was to get a happy outcome to her life she needed some advice, guidance, she needed to have her faith restored as well, once the truth
came out. He felt abased in front of her. Plus she had a certain look in her eye. He could easily push her in the back when she was going down the stairs.

Did you get a sleep? she said when they reached his landing.

No. Did you?

I did, yes, eventually. Did you see my sister?

Yeh.

Was it alright?

Yeh.

Can you help her?

I think so.

Edward that’s good.

Yeh.

It is, she’ll be so relieved.

Aye . . . He grinned at her. If they went out for a meal it would be fine they would just be fine and the things to talk about, different things to do with different things. He gulped for air.
He needed to open the door to the room because now she was waiting for it and he hadnt done it yet. I’m just worried about the test, he said.

Well you shouldnt be.

But it’s important.

I know it’s important but it’s not that important.

It is for me.

Yes I know it is.

I’ve got to treat it seriously, he muttered, getting the key into the lock, it’s important, important for me . . . Oh God! He sighed. Life eh? Life. He smiled. An old couple like
that too, imagine getting put out their house because of arrears, would it no sicken you? It’s appalling, you’re right what you said up the stair. Edward turned and frowned at Deborah:
Or else do you fancy going out for a meal?

Out for a meal?

We could go for something to eat, I’m starving, quite hungry. He pushed the door open and entered, waited for her then shut it afterwards. He sighed again. All the stuff on the table. He
walked to it and shook his head and he smiled. Ach I dont know Deborah, sometimes I feel as if I’m just making no headway at all. He breathed to get air he was going to faint, and he had got
to get a chair onto the seat to sit down oh God, the Lord my God.

Edward!

Oh m’God.

What’s wrong?

So bloody bad.

Edward.

His face down on the table the smell of the paper. I’m so God awful

Are you alright?

No, no, I’m no, I’m no feeling good I’m no feeling good I’m no feeling good

What’s wrong?

Aw Jesus

She put her arms round his neck and shoulders. You’re shivering . . .

He peered upwards from the table. There was a smudge on the wall where he had killed the insect. It was funny how your life went. He was in the tennis league as a boy. He had quite enjoyed it.
Him and the others used to have masturbation contests some nights. But if it was possible to give all his woes to this old invalid then that would be that and he would have given them to him and
that would be him okay again, like a new start was being made and he would never ever ever again in his whole life ever think of straying again because it was just sex, it was sex, male sexuality
and he was sick to death of such things trying to take over your life, trying to dictate the terms of life to you, as if you had no say in the matter and were there just at the beck and call of
your erections, any woman who wanted to flash herself at you, and you were finished.

Oh God God God. And it was like it was going to be as if the old guy with the bad legs had been sent down here to help him in his hour of need. That was what it had been like. Edward raised his
head and glanced at Deborah’s wrists. Because there was something in how that old guy had looked, a sort of honesty, as if there were no clouds surrounding him at all. What like was it it was
something

He didnt want to think, he didnt want to

The kind of thing that was difficult.

She wasnt the usual kind of woman how could you say she was, she wasnt. What like was she with her sister? Her smell. Deborah had a smell. It was a smell of skin, how her skin gave a smell that
was different. His shoulders were now weak. How they were weak. He also felt cold. One time with the tennis league from school camp they were on this what they called ‘manoeuvre’,
pretending to be commando troops and Bob Finlay had cheroots from Holland he had stolen off a prefect and they had all smoked them. My God was that bad! So terrible and bad and maybe the worst
queasiness he had ever experienced. You had to grow up and get involved as an adult, a man, you had to get to be a man, like that old invalid and the troubles all over the world what a span of mind
he had, somebody that kept going in spite of his handicap and did all the things he did. Edward just to be honest felt he would never have coped with being shut in, stuck in offices with crowds of
folk in shirts and ties and smart outfits and all the pecking orders.

Your memories just come. We dont have any control. The good Lord made us with memory boxes. Inside each one of them as well is the Voice of Conscience. And the Voice isnt your own. As well as
that it’s in touch with everybody else’s. It was part of how the Voice could say what was right and wrong. It had the insight because it had some sort of ghostly communication with
everything.

The door opened and Deborah came in. She hadnt been holding him. She must have gone away when he wasnt looking. Now she was back again and holding a cup. Drink this, she said, it’s just
water. He took the cup and she held it to his mouth as he turned his head to sip it, her face staring at him. You look bad. He closed his eyes.

I feel like a bad sinner he rushed on and gazing straight at her, It’s a feeling all day maybe I’m working too hard, no sleeping enough. He stared at her. I dont get on with Jeanette
you know I was meaning to tell you that. She’s your sister but I dont. I just dont. And I cant help it.

What? What d’you mean?

I dont get on with her and dont want to see her again, that’s all. It’s like there’s something wrong, wrong. He sipped the water then lifted the nearest folder and flicked at a
page. He said, D’you want to get something to eat?

But what are you saying about Jeanette?

Nothing.

Yes you are.

I’m not, honest.

You dont get on with her? You’re saying you dont get on with her.

It doesnt matter.

It does.

It doesnt.

But it does Edward, it matters, if you dont like my sister.

I dont, it’s just – I dont not like her at all, it’s just

Just what?

It’s just . . . He sighed. I thought we were going for a curry.

Well I didn’t know what we were doing.

D’you not want to

Edward, for God sake!

She had taken her coat off. And the kettle was going. He stared into the cup of water. There
was
something wrong with him. He
wasnt
a good man. It was as plain as the nose on your
face. He just hadnt
seen
it before. He hadnt
seen
. It had
always
been there but he just hadnt looked. Other people had seen but he hadnt. They all knew it. Except him.

Oh Christ

She had pushed him on the shoulder. What’s up with you! she cried.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just no well, leave me alone.

What’s wrong?

There’s nothing wrong, I’m just

She was staring at him.

My head

She was so staring at him.

My head

Her mouth going
what’s wrong, what’s wrong
. It’s my head I’ve just got a sore head it’s so bloody sore and my insides, wracking and dry I’m just all
dry inside and I need water. He gulped a mouthful from the cup and it shook in his hand and he put his other round it steadying it, getting it firm but his hands were shaking it maybe he needed
food, maybe that’s what it was.

But was it him?

Fine

What?

Deborah smiling

What is it? he said, he smiled. It wasnt me, he said, it was her, it was her. If she claims about me, it was her – because

because it was her seduced him, it wasnt him, he didnt seduce her, that was the so bloody unlucky thing about it, the whole business, because he was the man, that’s how it went, that was
the trials and tribulations of it, just being a man, the maleness; it was so unlucky it

he gestured at the A4 folders. I just dont know what to do with my life.

That’s fine but tell me?

I killed an insect earlier on

I dont want to hear about a bloody insect Edward I want to hear about what you’re saying about Jeanette!