Love Your Enemies - Nicola Barker 8 стр.


Lucy sounded impatient. I dont know, Sammy Jo. I dont think my telling him will change his modes of behaviour. I dont know if I can trust you on this either. You havent been particularly co-operative up until this point.

Sammy Jo raised her eyebrows and pulled an innocently sly expression. I realize that, Lucy. I know that this isnt just about me and that I have a wider responsibility, but I also know that he deserves a chance to make a go of his job in the bookshop, especially since his prospects seem to be looking up

Lucy sounded surprised. Did I mention that he was working in a bookshop? I dont think I said that, did I?

Sammy Jo shrugged, but she was smiling to herself. Forget it Lucy, Im just a bit stressed out. I promise though, this time you can depend on me, really.

They rang off. Jason had come into the room during the final stages of their conversation and was sitting on the sofa staring at Sammy Jo inquisitively. Sammy Jo sat down next to him and took hold of his hand. Its all right, Im not angry. Ive cleared it all up with Lucy. I dont think hell be phoning me again.

Jason squeezed her fingers and kissed her cheek. Sammy Jo, if you want to go to college you could always go in the evenings and Ill look after Charlie. I wouldnt mind. Maybe we could give her to a babyminder a couple of days a week and you could go on a course part-time.

Sammy Jo shrugged. I dont know, Jason, I dont think Im ready for that yet. I dont feel brave enough. I like being at home with Charlie at the moment, I just appreciate the occasional bit of stimulation. Im really enjoying this book Im reading, and theres no pressure, you know, no need to take exams or to get along with a classful of strangers

Jason smiled. You know that you can do anything that you want to do, Sammy Jo. I know that youll choose whatever is for the best.

Sammy Jo smiled back.

The following morning at ten oclock Sammy Jo picked up her copy of the Yellow Pages and hunted down a number. When she had located it she opened up her new pad and wrote the number down at the top of the first large, white page in big bold print. Then she picked up the telephone and dialled. When someone answered she smiled and said, Hello, this is Sammy Jo, remember me? Yes, I know youre at work, yes I know youre busy, but I dont care. Maybe you should give me your home number and then I wouldnt have to pester you like this

КОНЕЦ ОЗНАКОМИТЕЛЬНОГО ОТРЫВКА

The line went dead. She put down her receiver, picked it up again and then pressed the redial button. She waited for a moment and then continued. Yes, it is me again. No, I dont care what sort of a disruption this is. I want to carry on our conversations. Apparently youre working part-time? That means you must have a lot of spare time on your hands during the afternoons, which is good, good for me at any rate. I want you to share that free time with me, on the phone of course, reverse charges. Ive been thinking about that question you asked me yesterday, Id like to discuss it at greater length

The line went dead. She put down her receiver and then picked it up and, once again, pressed redial. Youre an old hand at this, Mr Sands, I have a redial button and its no effort to press it again and again

She listened for a moment, then picked up her pen and copied down another number in her white pad. Then she said, Yes, I am enjoying it actually No, I didnt tell Lucy, someone else did No, Lucy didnt tell me either, it didnt take much intelligence to realize though Thank you. Is two oclock all right? OK, Ill phone you then. Goodbye.

She hung up.

The Butchers Apprentice

If he had come from a family of butchers maybe his perspective would have been different. He would have been more experienced, hardened, less naïve. His mum had wanted him to work for Marks and Spencers or for British Rail. She said, Why do you want to work in all that blood and mess? Theres something almost obscene about butchery.

His dad was more phlegmatic. Its not like cutting the Sunday roast, Owen, its guts and gore and entrails. Just the same, its a real trade, a proper trade.

Owen had thought it all through. At school one of his teachers had called him deep. She had said to his mother on Parents Evening, Owen seems deep, but its hard to get any sort of real response from him. Maybe its just cosmetic.

His mum had listened to the first statement but had then become preoccupied with a blister on the heel of her right foot. Consequently her grasp of the teachers wisdom had been somewhat undermined. When she finally got home that evening, her stomach brimming with sloshy coffee from the school canteen, she had said to Owen, Everyone says that youre too quiet at school, but your maths teacher thinks that youre deep. She has modern ideas, that one. Owen had appreciated this compliment. It made him try harder at maths that final term before his exams, and leaving. At sixteen he had pass marks in mathematics, home economics and the whole world before him.

In the Careers Office his advisor had given him a leaflet about prospective employment opportunities to fill out. He ticked various boxes. He ticked a yes for Do you like working with your hands? He ticked a yes for Do you like working with animals? He ticked a yes for Do you like using your imagination?

When his careers guidance officer had analysed his preferences she declared that his options were quite limited. He seemed such a quiet boy to her, rather dour. She said, Maybe you could be a postman. Postmen see a lot of animals during their rounds and use their hands to deliver letters. Owen appeared unimpressed. He stared down at his hands as though they had suddenly become a cause for embarrassment. So she continued, Maybe you could think about working with food. How about training to be a chef or a butcher? Butchers work with animals. You have to use your imagination to make the right cut into a carcass. Because he had been in the careers office for well over half an hour, Owen began to feel obliged to make some sort of positive response. A contribution. So he looked up at her and said, Yeah, I suppose I could give it a try. He didnt want to appear stroppy or ungrateful. She smiled at him and gave him an address. The address was for J. Reilly and Sons, Quality Butchers, 103 Oldham Road.

Later that afternoon he phoned J. Reillys and spoke to someone called Ralph. Ralph explained how he had bought the business two years before, but that he hadnt bothered changing the name. Owen said, Well, if it doesnt bother you then it doesnt bother me.

Ralph asked him a few questions about school and then enquired whether he had worked with meat before. Owen said that he hadnt but that he really liked the sweet smell of a butchers shop and the scuffling sawdust on the floor, the false plastic parsley in the window displays and the bright, blue-tinged strip-lights. He said, I think that I could be very happy in a butchers as a working environment.

He remembered how as a child he had so much enjoyed seeing the arrays of different coloured rabbits hung up by their ankles in butcher shop windows, and the bright and golden-speckled pheasants. Ralph offered him a months probationary employment with a view to a full-time apprenticeship. Owen accepted readily.

His mum remained uncertain. Over dinner that night she said, Itll be nice to get cheap meat and good cuts from your new job, Owen, though I still dont like the idea of a butcher in the family. Ive nothing against them in principal, but its different when its so close to home.

Owen thought carefully for a moment, then put aside his knife and fork and said, I suppose so, but thats only on the surface. Im sure that theres a lot of bloodletting and gore involved in most occupations. I like the idea of being honest and straightforward about things. A butcher is a butcher. Theres no falseness or pretence.

His dad nodded his approval and then said, Eat up now, dont let your dinner get cold.

Owen arrived at the shop at seven sharp the following morning. The window displays were whitely clean and empty. Above the windows the J. Reilly and Sons sign was painted in red with white lettering. The graphics were surprisingly clear and ornate. On the door was hung a sign which said closed. He knocked anyway. A man with arms like thin twigs opened the door. He looked tiny and consumptive with shrewd grey eyes and rusty hair. Owen noticed his hands, which were reddened with the cold, callused and porkish. The man nodded briskly, introduced himself as Ralph then took Owen through to the back of the shop and introduced him to his work-mate, Marty. Marty was older than Ralph about fifty or so with silvery hair and yellow skin. He smiled at Owen kindly and offered him a clean apron and a bag of sawdust. Owen took the apron and placed it over his head. Ralph helped him to tie at the back. Both Marty and Ralph wore overalls slightly more masculine in design. Owen took the bag of sawdust and said, Is this a womans apron, or is it what the apprentice always wears?

As Ralph walked back into the main part of the shop he answered, It belongs to our Saturday girl, so dont get it too messy. Well buy you a proper overall at the end of the week when were sure that youre right for the job.

As he finished speaking a large van drew up outside the shop. Ralph moved to the door, pulled it wide and stuck a chip of wood under it to keep it open. He turned to Owen and by way of explanation pointed and said, Delivery. The meats brought twice a week. Scatter the sawdust, but not too thick.

Owen put his hand into the bag of dust and drew out a full, dry, scratchy handful which he scattered like a benevolent farmer throwing corn to his geese. The delivery man humped in half of an enormous sow. She had a single greenish eye and a severed snout. He took it to the back of the shop through a door and into what Owen presumed to be the refrigerated store-room. Before he had returned Ralph had come in clutching a large armful of plucked chickens. As Owen moved out of his way he nodded towards the van and said, I tell you what, why not go and grab some stuff yourself but dont overestimate your strength and try not to drop anything.

КОНЕЦ ОЗНАКОМИТЕЛЬНОГО ОТРЫВКА

Owen put his hand into the bag of dust and drew out a full, dry, scratchy handful which he scattered like a benevolent farmer throwing corn to his geese. The delivery man humped in half of an enormous sow. She had a single greenish eye and a severed snout. He took it to the back of the shop through a door and into what Owen presumed to be the refrigerated store-room. Before he had returned Ralph had come in clutching a large armful of plucked chickens. As Owen moved out of his way he nodded towards the van and said, I tell you what, why not go and grab some stuff yourself but dont overestimate your strength and try not to drop anything.

Назад Дальше