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Authors: John Aberdein
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then.
– Do you think – Tam? she said.
– Leave Tam out of it, Lucy. It’s hardly going to be Tam.
It was not a discussion. It was a very short circuit.
He woke in the middle of the night and went through to her room. It was locked.
– Lucy, he said. Speak to me. Tell me what you’ve done with them.
No reply.
– Lucy, he said. You’re perfectly safe, I don’t have a hard-on. No answer.
– Lucy, he said. Whatever you do, don’t try to control me.
He went back to his room and lay with the light on, looking at the ceiling.
april 9
my space
She was surprised next morning to find him down at breakfast. He had made eight pieces of toast and propped them in the stand.
– Sorry about last night, he said.
– What?
– Sorry that you felt you had to lock your door.
– I think you should get out of the house today, said Lucy.
– Get out—?
– Of the house.
– You don’t want me snooping, is it?
– I think we need to give each other space.
– That’s another of my beliefs, he said. People always give me space. People give each other space. But what are you meant to do with it? Had my space, more than enough, thank you.
– Don’t take offence, it isn’t meant that way. I have things I need to adjust to, come to terms with. Some are at work.
After tightening his belt and asking for additional braces and the address written down and a map and a little money, he set off. He went the easiest way, downhill. Crossed the road. He saw a bus coming and took it. Hazlehead. There were huge trees and massive banks of rhododendron. He found a maze.
– It’s the only municipal maze in Scotland, the attendant said.
– What’s municipal got to do with it?
– What the brochure says, The only municipal maze in Scotland.
– New on the job?
– Student.
After an hour and a half the student attendant mounted the wooden safety tower. He shouted down to the figure grazing and pausing amongst the privet.
– You lost, mister?
– I think I know where I am. Still in the maze, amn’t I?
– Aye. Get your money’s worth, I would.
nae problem
Lucy got into the department with her briefcase tucked under her arm, and was a bit short with Alison.
– I’ve really got piles, said Lucy.
– Funny place tae hae them.
– So can we leave that meeting till after break?
– New problem wi Guy we’ve got— said Alison. Okay, okay, nae problem.
Lucy got into her office, opened a spreadsheet on-screen, reconfigured some calculations, dealt with seventeen emails, signed three letters, and made out her expenses for the week before.
She unlocked a bundle of papers from her briefcase.
is that where we’re going
She had glanced through odd pages in bed, two nights ago, and had glimpsed some stuff. Unsettling, very. She hadn’t risked Tam’s text at all night two. Now she took the first sheaf and shuffled the pages, then banged the whole wad tight. It was all shouty and bold, the Sixties for you. Here goes, she thought. It was straight in, there wasn’t a title page.
Icarus ’68
He was a strange character, the man I met, the man whose life I tried to record, if character is the word. But what else can you say? He was a strange lack of character ? He was a strange useless character ? That’s hardly fair. Even useless characters have their uses. He was a windy character, that’s for sure, that’s what I feel most. A strange windy character , in at least two senses.
He blew with the wind at times, with as much control as a piece of paper. He was bold at others, but easily frightened off, so windy in that sense too. But then you can never sum somebody up, you never quite get them. Because, listening to him, listening to A13, which is how I first knew him, listening to Jim as he became, I knew there was more. For a wind blew through him too, as though he was a harp strung from a tree, an Aeolian harp that a gust might snatch a chord from.
Yet the various gusts that blew, after his
– Do you think – Tam? she said.
– Leave Tam out of it, Lucy. It’s hardly going to be Tam.
It was not a discussion. It was a very short circuit.
He woke in the middle of the night and went through to her room. It was locked.
– Lucy, he said. Speak to me. Tell me what you’ve done with them.
No reply.
– Lucy, he said. You’re perfectly safe, I don’t have a hard-on. No answer.
– Lucy, he said. Whatever you do, don’t try to control me.
He went back to his room and lay with the light on, looking at the ceiling.
april 9
my space
She was surprised next morning to find him down at breakfast. He had made eight pieces of toast and propped them in the stand.
– Sorry about last night, he said.
– What?
– Sorry that you felt you had to lock your door.
– I think you should get out of the house today, said Lucy.
– Get out—?
– Of the house.
– You don’t want me snooping, is it?
– I think we need to give each other space.
– That’s another of my beliefs, he said. People always give me space. People give each other space. But what are you meant to do with it? Had my space, more than enough, thank you.
– Don’t take offence, it isn’t meant that way. I have things I need to adjust to, come to terms with. Some are at work.
After tightening his belt and asking for additional braces and the address written down and a map and a little money, he set off. He went the easiest way, downhill. Crossed the road. He saw a bus coming and took it. Hazlehead. There were huge trees and massive banks of rhododendron. He found a maze.
– It’s the only municipal maze in Scotland, the attendant said.
– What’s municipal got to do with it?
– What the brochure says, The only municipal maze in Scotland.
– New on the job?
– Student.
After an hour and a half the student attendant mounted the wooden safety tower. He shouted down to the figure grazing and pausing amongst the privet.
– You lost, mister?
– I think I know where I am. Still in the maze, amn’t I?
– Aye. Get your money’s worth, I would.
nae problem
Lucy got into the department with her briefcase tucked under her arm, and was a bit short with Alison.
– I’ve really got piles, said Lucy.
– Funny place tae hae them.
– So can we leave that meeting till after break?
– New problem wi Guy we’ve got— said Alison. Okay, okay, nae problem.
Lucy got into her office, opened a spreadsheet on-screen, reconfigured some calculations, dealt with seventeen emails, signed three letters, and made out her expenses for the week before.
She unlocked a bundle of papers from her briefcase.
is that where we’re going
She had glanced through odd pages in bed, two nights ago, and had glimpsed some stuff. Unsettling, very. She hadn’t risked Tam’s text at all night two. Now she took the first sheaf and shuffled the pages, then banged the whole wad tight. It was all shouty and bold, the Sixties for you. Here goes, she thought. It was straight in, there wasn’t a title page.
Icarus ’68
He was a strange character, the man I met, the man whose life I tried to record, if character is the word. But what else can you say? He was a strange lack of character ? He was a strange useless character ? That’s hardly fair. Even useless characters have their uses. He was a windy character, that’s for sure, that’s what I feel most. A strange windy character , in at least two senses.
He blew with the wind at times, with as much control as a piece of paper. He was bold at others, but easily frightened off, so windy in that sense too. But then you can never sum somebody up, you never quite get them. Because, listening to him, listening to A13, which is how I first knew him, listening to Jim as he became, I knew there was more. For a wind blew through him too, as though he was a harp strung from a tree, an Aeolian harp that a gust might snatch a chord from.
Yet the various gusts that blew, after his
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