Love on the NHS (38 page)

They did however advise him not to wear hats or clothes that made him look Jewish. The police spoke to him slowly and stared at him like he was a child which convinced Luke they were of the opinion because he had Asperger's syndrome he had brought the problems on himself. He was dismayed they would rather deny his democratic right to dress how he pleased than tackle racism. It was not the first time he was aware of a public official passively supporting prejudice. He had a half-black cousin who had been told by a council fifteen years previously they would not house her because other residents would not like to live near a black person. For her own safety, they advised her strongly to not register on their housing list.

The funny thing was that Luke was not a big fan of Israel. He respected the country to an extent because it was Jewish - and part of his heritage was Jewish - but he did not believe in Orthodox Judaism any more than he believed in any religion. Besides, from Luke's point of view, even if he been born to an Orthodox Jewish family, having read the Sermon on the Mount by Jesus he would have then converted to a Christian. He was not religious and so it was inconsequential to him but the fact Jesus had been a Jew - and was the most enlightened of the Jews - rendered Judaism redundant to Luke.

Back at college, before Luke went in for a science lesson there was a dance being performed by drama students in the foyer. The young women dancing wore baggy T-shirts on which the college logo was emblazoned and black exercise pants. Their movements were not without some artistic merit but they lacked relevance to real life. Luke could see very little femininity in the dance; and coupled with the girl's masculine clothing it did not appeal to him at all. He wondered why women did not enjoy being ladylike anymore. Surely the whole point of being a woman was to make  use of one's feminine charms. But he reminded himself this was Duldrum college, an institution reliably neanderthal in its outlook.

It was the college where a tired, shorter version of Tom Hanks had first inducted Luke and the others to their GCSE courses. Students were encouraged to progress after their GCSES to study for an Access to University course. Then they were told of how large numbers of students in the past had dropped out. "We want to know why," said the short Tom Hanks lookalike. "We're here to educate you, to help you. People have family commitments, their children, they have to balance college with work, there are people with illnesses, carers. If the time isn't right for you - as much as we will do everything we can to support you - then it's best that you don't waste your or our time. Think carefully before you enrol. Are you ready?"

One of Luke's classmates in English had told people she worked as a care assistant in a home for elderly people. She was quite friendly and curiously resembled the Belgian president Elio di Rupio. One of the more personable students, she had dropped out halfway through the course due to her pending childbirth. Luke had mourned when she left just as he had when another girl, Heather, did likewise. Heather had been one of the few modest people at the college and was refreshingly self-effacing. From Liverpool and wearing more colour than the rest, she stood out. She had told Luke and the rest on their table that her father had died a few weeks ago. Luke forever felt guilty that he never comforted her. As he was so confused about the relations between men and women and what was considered acceptable, he had not approached her for fear of giving the wrong signals. Perhaps other people had avoided her for different reasons. She had at length felt too fragile to carry on studying.

In the science classes, the humour grew grimmer. The news had just come out that Bradley Manning, an American army solider had been found guilty of treason. He had leaked information about American soldiers shooting and killing civilians from a helicopter - including evidence they knew they were killing innocent people. As usual in class, small talk formed around something had been seen in the news.

"Did you hear about that Manning guy?" asked Chloe.

"Ah yes! The telltale soldier," said the teacher.

"Yeah. What a hero. He may have been found guilty but he'll get remembered forever. The bastards who sent him down, they killed innocent people! They're just no-marks! No one will ever give a damn about them."

A girl on the other end of the room shouted, "What did you say? Bradley Tanning? What a weird name!"

"Ha ha ha," laughed Chloe. "No! Bradley MANNING."

"Oh! Would have been funnier if he'd been called Tanning."

The girl next piped up, "You were getting me excited there. I thought you were all planning a trip to the tanning salon."

And from there began a trivial and meandering round of jokes. The usual loud mouths participated. Then Chloe said, "But seriously, what Manning did was brilliant. He will save lives. The military got away with that cruel rubbish for too long."

"Don't be stupid," yelled the girl from the other side of the class. "He's made it easier for terrorists to bomb us. If they know what the army's doing, we're bloody done for."

"Yeah," said her friend. "He's a do-gooder tosser if you ask me. They're all the same. Just doing it to get in the papers."

"What?" cried Chloe incredulously. "What those soldiers who murdered innocent people have done is against the Geneva Convention of Human Rights!"

She was right. Article 85 of the First Protocol to the Geneva Conventions. It describes making the civilian population or individual civilians the object of attack as a grave breach of the rules of war. Penny now joined the conversation: "What I don't understand is those thug soldiers in the helicopter - they got away with it. But Manning has been sent to prison! Even though he was exposing crime - not committing it. And anyway, you're all using the wrong name. He's called Chelsea now. He's a transsexual, he's just come out."

"Alright, alright! Back to work, everyone," said Wendy. "We're behind schedule and we need to get this module on the origins of the universe finished."

"But miss! Did you hear -"

"Chloe," smiled the teacher forcefully. "Not now."

LIX

Though he often felt like quitting college, some of Luke's fellow students were becoming friendlier. Penny had long since abandoned her aggression. She often grinned at Luke now. For a while she had kept asking him why he was so quiet but eventually she seemed to accept him - or at the very least tolerate him. The funny quips she would often come out with, and her softer treatment of him, made Luke warm more to her and he forgave her for her previous tomfoolery. Dave seemed to dislike Luke but was an expert at being polite; and so although he glowered a lot of the time, he could still occasionally make a friendly comment or two to make it seem as though all was well.

Romana sat on Luke's table in his English classes. She had very similar eyes and bone structure to a girl who had served him a few times in an Italian deli in Woecaster. She had a hearing aid and English was her second language so a support worker sat at her side at the table. The support worker, a tall and gracious woman, attended every week except one. In the lesson following her absence she explained to Romana her father had died; thus she had needed time off. How bizarre, thought Luke. Yet another coincidence! First the father passing away of that girl who had dropped out and now the support worker's. My God, I hope my dad is not going to die too he thought.

In Luke's science class in the third term, most the girls started to dye their hair red. Luke had an idea this was because their first science teacher, Wendy, had done the same - Wendy had now been replaced with another teacher. It was also no doubt because Chloe, the most popular girl in the class, had red hair too. After Wendy was replaced and Chloe began to skip classes most the red hair fad went viral. It was not a crime. It was curious however to Luke how it happened so simultaneously like a chemical reaction. He himself started the college year with his hair spiked upwards but after some unwanted attention changed to slicking it back.

That soon became too difficult to maintain and he began to grow it long. As it gained length disapproving looks increased from other classmates. He therefore cut it but it gradually grew long again over the course of the year. A few weeks before the end of college it was past his ears and he swore to himself he wanted to keep growing it. He feared though he would not manage to complete college first as the others on his table were becoming more hostile. He gave in, his education was too important. He got it cut short and again went up in their estimation. The Duldrum effect had even got to Luke eventually.

Before and after lessons when he made his way to the library or sat eating in the cafeteria, other youngsters Luke did not know would stare at him intensely. Some of them had hideous faces that were disfigured by constant hatred and anger. It was as though their very future and survival depended on their being a bully. At times of reflection Luke could imagine they may come from broken homes where physical or sexual abuse took place - or they might have come from care or been in prison and been scarred by the experience. Yet it was hard for Luke to cope with, as even when there were challenging people back in his school in Wales, they had usually been more subtle. There was something about Duldrum, it made everything twice as twisted.

Luke could well imagine Duldrum centre having been designed by a drunk Flemish weaver. No doubt the brain behind the scheme had never given a second thought to urban design. The streets and roads were full of kinks and one way limits. It was about as far away from a grid layout as you could get but was not particularly charming and olde world either. The biggest frustration was that when Luke needed to get somewhere quick, there were never direct routes. Getting anywhere involved taking long cuts around buildings and roads that stretched unnecessarily while the often windy and wet weather meant few heartwarming expressions were encountered on each long and tedious trip. Full of squat and semi-ambitious architecture, Duldrum did not seem to know what it wanted or where it stood. Or it could be said it wanted only to never grow, a toadstool on the surface of the fine earth, determined to only thrive off the energy of more enterprising towns.

As Luke felt a bit more confident from learning more at college he decided to make another attempt at online dating. He joined a site again and finding women who interested him, wrote a few messages. He exchanged communications with a single mum, Sharona, who had two kids. She had previously been married to a writer, which was strange. Luke had always seemed to have been involved with women who had a connection to writing. Coincidences never seemed far away in his life. His previous two girlfriends had both been writing a novel, while Sharona on the website was divorced from a man who had successfully published one.

They arranged a date. When Luke arrived at Sharona's house and knocked on the door he heard a rottweiler bark. Then she answered and welcomed him in to a laminate floored hall with pale blue walls. On the floor was a letter addressed to Mrs Sharona Courtney Andrews. They went through into the brown walled lounge and Luke sat on a leather sofa while Sharona fetched him a drink. Then she served him a chickpea and lentil curry for their meal while they talked about their interests.

"How's college going?" she enquired.

"It's quite hard at the moment. There's so much homework to do. I find it hard concentrating doing so much writing."

"You know what you should do? Sit in a dark corner away from windows. That's the best way to write. Stephen King said so in On Writing."

"Ah. That's really helpful. Thanks!"

While they ate, Sharona's children noisily played. They tossed about a jigsaw, picture books, a railway set and action figures; nothing amused them for long. They constantly interrupted the date with crying and complaints. They wanted to watch something on television or kept asking to use the computer. Presently Luke's mind began to wonder from his date and he thought, heavens, I don't ever want to end up with children like these. If this is the price of living in poverty then I want out. I would rather remain lonely until I can afford to bring up a family properly than live in these conditions.

It would be Luke's nightmare to cohabit with a woman who would have his child and bring it up with a fondness for strict rules. The sight of poorly educated, frustrated mothers bossing their poor kids about did not inspire hope for the future. If Luke ever had children he wanted the mother to agree with his way of parenting - that of bringing up the child in a remote village or town where the temptations of the modern world could be kept away more easily; and good food and simple entertainment like hiking could make for a happy, honest life. The meal was finished and a few hours more passed as Luke, Sharona and her offspring watched some television, but there was not a spark between Sharona and Luke and he left a few hours later, though not without feeling buoyed at having tried to achieve some meaning in his life again.

LX

The time on Luke's laptop read 2:22. It had just been switched on and that was what the screen greeted him with. He could not remember how many times he had woken up to a number like that but he knew it was many. In the past few years, most key events in his life had occurred at 12:12 or 08:08, or 12:34, or a similarly symmetrical number.

"When I started college," said Luke to himself as he logged onto the internet, "I hadn't done anything for years. Kept to myself for so long." Then Luke had finally built up enough confidence to try being in a room with others. Sharing a confined space with a regular cast of characters was torture to him, especially among people whose motives he did not understand. The first few months had felt like hell. He would often drink before class to avoid having a breakdown. But over time he did begin to feel he might be slipping out of a period of his life that had felt like hibernation and even a habit of liking alcohol too much could not make him ashamed of how far he had come.