The Burn (7 page)

You just couldnt laugh. But the jokes always seemed to be so damn unfunny. How was it possible to laugh? Edward could hardly even smile let alone throw the head back. It was terrible. He hated
it.

The invalid was speaking:

Somebody that’s as diligent a studier as you, he’s the kind that deserves to succeed. And you will succeed. I’m convinced of that.

Edward coughed to clear his throat. Ah but I’m no that diligent, he said, my concentration’s nil . . . He wet his lips and swallowed, his mouth seemed to have gone dry; then he
glanced sideways for some reason but everything was fine, fine.

The invalid was frowning at him: Although with me mind you there’s aye the wish that a young fellow like yourself could one day take up the cudgels where me and the muckers left off. But
these battles have finished, just like the days they happened in are finished, and the kind of future that sorts itself out on the past isnt the kind of future we fought for – and I’m
no a supporter of such things – none of us were, no in the slightest. You understand me?

Edward hesitated.

Ah you will young fellow you will. And now if you’ll no come to me then I’ll come to you.

And so saying the old invalid got himself up onto his feet with the aid of the contraption and he made his way over to sit down on the chair next to Edward and Edward hoped so strongly that he
wouldnt put his hand on his knee because he hated that being done he just couldnt stand it, couldnt cope with it and knew his face would just get so crimson, so awful crimson

And the invalid whispered: Now young fellow, my confession, afore Catherine comes back; when I worked in whatever you call it, Gross National – which is twelve years ago now – the
country was in a state of economic decline, everything was to pot. You’re a bit young to remember that eh?

Edward felt nauseous, he felt sick sick sick, he needed to vomit, he needed to spew, to spew. He clamped shut his nose by squeezing it with his right thumb and forefinger. He breathed out
loudly, clearly, to prepare for the refreshment of his lungs, breathed deeply in; he opened his eyes and stared at the frayed carpet on the floor. His room was better than this, it was bad, but not
this bad. But maybe the old couple had something special that made it better and evened things out, although the light was terrible, and the walls and ceiling were just as crappy looking and it was
so heavy an atmosphere – that dull yellow everywhere and it all so damn unhealthy and just damn bloody ungood.

But Lord Lord Lord was it a smell of shite right enough? Ohhh. But it might just have been sweat, the old invalid male having been using such tremendous exertions in merely getting to B from A
about the room, even toing and froing re the cludgie. So he was bound to get sweaty.

Always he had to think the worst about folk, that was his problem; even with Deborah for heaven’s sake how come he was always blaming her for everything? And he was. No matter what it was
he blamed her. It was just so uncharitable and wrong. Pride. That’s all it was. Conceited buggar. Pride.

but the pong from this old bloke sitting next to him he felt like he was going to keel over off the chair, he would topple over onto his doom and he would just die here in this room with an
ancient stranger as a companion, somebody who could have devised an unheard-of method for removing fresh limbs from a young person’s body in order to weld them onto an elderly sick person, an
invalid – spare-part surgery, and here he was about to become a human trunk with no limbs like that horrible story he had once read about a man getting mutilated by evil slavers for some
purpose he couldnt remember, set in the Sahara region, and these armless and legless beggars in third-world countries who have to get wheeled about in bogies in an effort to pay off loans to the
IMF and the World Bank. God he was so cold now, cold, he was so cold. No bloody fire, why was there no bloody fire, rabbiting on like this about all these factory incidents from a forgotten past
and all his gesticulations it was so difficult to even listen because of it.

You did your best.

. . .

. . .

Still silence. Had he finished? What did he mean ‘you did your best’. Edward was almost scared to look up from the carpet. But he managed it, and found the invalid staring straight
at him. It was such a strong stare. You would like to have looked at this stare but it would have been a stare-out contest if you had and he would have lost. He was no good at that kind of thing.
It reminded him of these facetious mock-ups they had to play out at the monthly inter-district meetings. Awful, so awful. You felt so self-conscious and not just for yourself but for them as well,
all the other sales-persons. He was the only one seemed to have that kind of response. Then there was that funny sadistic aspect about it. He just wasnt into it, and not the humiliation side
either. It wasnt something he enjoyed at all. These games were just a kind of psychology. That’s all they were. And he didnt have the mentality needed if you were ever to excel at them. It
was a certain kind you required. And he didnt have it. The other blokes did have, they had the right sort of make-up, they were the right mettle, it was him that wasnt, that was how he had to get
out from it.

Plus he couldnt reach a closure anymore. That was the real truth, he couldnt close a sale, he just couldnt close a sale. And that meant he was a goner because if there was one thing you needed
in the selling game it was the closure knack, how to close a sale, how to stop talking and point the customer’s pen at the dotted line. He had been great for the first few weeks. He seemed
able to sell anything to anybody. No now. He was rubbish now. A dumpling. That’s the truth, he was a dumpling.

But he could train others. He could definitely train others. He knew what the correct procedure was; and his product knowledge was good – all of that side of things.

But talking to potential customers, he couldnt bloody manage that either, the theory yeh, but not in actuality, when face to face with them, as individual human beings. What was that poem by
William Wordsworth?

Jeanette had just happened to flash her breasts at him and he was a goner – then also her stockings, he knew she wore stockings and not tights when she was bending.

The invalid was looking at him.

What is it?

I was just saying to you when the old woman comes back we’ve got to speak about other things, maybe the facilities in this place.

Pardon?

I’m meaning when Catherine comes back, she’s a habit of sneaking up on you. If she does then just you should start talking about the facilities here – I mean what you’re
supposed to do for grub and so forth because you’re no allowed to cook in your room as far as I hear. That right?

Edward nodded.

Start talking about that then. Because it’s a hell of an irritation, especially to her. No me so much cause I’m no what you’d call an eater, but she gets all het up about it
and you cant blame her, poor auld sowel, she’s used to an oven and a cooker and what have you. So if you start talking about the facilities you see I dont want her knowing what I’m
going to tell you. I want that to be a secret between me and you. The invalid gazed at Edward then sighed. And he sighed again.

But it was like there was something underhand going on and Edward couldnt put his finger on it. Was it like a form of sarcasm against him? It was. It was actually like a form of sarcasm. Just
the way all this was happening, like it was all falling into place. And he was a culprit.

A lot of different things, nothing you could just put your finger on.

Such an incredible cheek really. You had to just sit there with your mouth hanging agape. Then you felt like getting up and letting him see you knew what was going on. Edward smiled to himself,
shaking his head. But imagine his dad hearing about it! What would he do! It was like a slur being cast on him, not just him, his entire family.

He glanced sideways at the invalid who was now gazing round the four walls in a very intentional and deliberate way. He gazed at the window in particular – as if expecting a snooper to be
hanging outside on a painter’s platform. And then he started talking but it was so difficult to hear him properly with all his wavering and his gesticulating plus as well the terrible
terrible fuisty pong that came from him. He seemed to be speaking about a horrendous and wicked horrible incident in a factory, something bad and evil he had been involved in that drove somebody
out their mind and destroyed them, and killed somebody else, an accident or something, and related groups and even families as well as different industrial stresses were involved, and it was
turning to centre on one of these wee boyish kind of apprentice lads that everybody’s supposed to like – naughty and full of devilment etc. etc. It was just so awful and impossible to
hear. In fact Edward was going to leave right now. His head was spinning. It was too much. How was he supposed to cope with it, it just wasnt bloody feasible when he was supposed to be studying
because either one thing or the other but not both; that was too much, too bloody much, just too damn bloody much. Damn and bloody blast. Edward stared at the invalid.

What happened you see I was working in this place where a spanner had just been tossed.

A spanner had just been tossed. He stared at the wide lapels on the invalid’s jacket; there was a stain down one of them.

a very big spanner, one of the biggest seen in this country for quite a number of years – me and a couple of blokes working the gether for it, a team effort – and I reckon it must
have cost maybe one point seven five million for final rectification see young fellow because we had it worked so the bigwigs never found out it was deliberate – no even that it was an
accident.

If it was an accident . . . ?

No, said the invalid, that’s that I’m saying. I’ll tell you something you’ll maybe no quite understand except maybe you might: you see they never found out that it
happened at all. You get it? They just thought there was something wrong with the entire works, and I’m no talking about safety measures because safety measures dont make that much difference
as well you’ll know, but just that a general improvement would need doing, right the way through all their factories – and I’m here meaning across the whole of what you call the
‘free world’;

It’s a hoax!

That’s how it cost so much to put right you see because you’re talking Thailand, Indonesia, India, Zambia, Kenya, Korea, Vietnam, Scotland,

It’s a hoax!

Denmark, the Irish Free State, Wales, Pakistan, Australia, Iceland, Sweden – wherever GNP Plc used to exist it no existing now of course because it was taken over by a big conglomerate
back in the time of the conspiracy trials. Then it went itself in the Throgmorton Crash if you mind, and you had the Makgas Consortium stepping in, government funding and CNI money, headed by a
noted patriot – though you understand young fellow that the patriot’s real name is something different to anything I might tell you so what’s the point of me telling you anything
at all. Unless you rather you heard everything, but that sort of information isnt classified I mean it’s freely available elsewhere and if you would rather hear than no hear then you should
go and check it out, you’ll find most of it down the Advocate’s Library.

Edward looked up from the floor. He looked the invalid in the eye. As much as you could tell he was the real mccoy. You would never know for sure of course. But how could you know anything for
sure in this world since it was full of illusion. His dad used to tell him as a wee boy that if ever he found himself in dark trouble it would pay to tell the truth and if God really was there
– and we knew that He was – then everything would turn out fine. Because He would look after you.

That was the route Edward would have taken way before he left off being a believer. And now he was back to it again he knew the course of action was right. It was right and it was good. But it
was difficult. Telling the truth as an adult male was different from telling the truth as a boy.

After a moment he said, It’s a world I dont know Mister Parker. I wish I did but I dont. I’ve never really been able to get the hang of it – it’s like the international
news in the quality Sunday papers, all these places and names you can never remember, they go hazy as soon as you look at them. I’m sorry. Honest. My mind’s good at some things but no
at others. I wish it was different: I wish I could just bloody I mean it’s concentration, it’s just concentration, I dont seem able to concentrate beyond about five minutes at any given
point – even when I was at college it was the same, I think there’s something up with me.

The invalid was watching him and he had a frown on his face.

Edward cleared his throat before continuing: I just do my best at my job of work without hurting too many people, although you’ve got to appreciate about it that being on the road, what I
do, as a sales rep what you’ve got to do, anybody, you’ve got to gyp folk because that’s the nature of the game, salesmanship, you have to gyp people into buying stuff they dont
like. Silly buggers. How come they buy all that junk! I’ve never been able to work it out. Even my own mother, with all her experience through having a salesman for a son, this guy comes to
the door a week ago and he sells her some insurance that’s more or less useless, in fact it’s absolutely useless, it’s no good at all, if I’d had been there I’d have
bashed him one on the jaw. Bloody stuff! I went through it to check. Rubbish! Absolute rubbish! And I mean

The invalid stopped him from talking by waving his hand. Young fellow, were you the lad that helped me up the stair the other day?

Edward couldnt answer because this was part of the hoax and it was a trap question.

Were you?

Your wife says so but you’ll have to work it out for yourself, it’s no good asking me because how do you know about me you dont know nothing quite honestly, quite frankly, when you
come to think about it. She says it was me, she says it was but I wouldnt actually believe her, how do you know, she might be lying, just because she’s elderly and small and acts like
she’s the epitome of truth and wisdom therefore she has to be a paragon, but how do you know the devil hasnt entered her soul and she’s only there to draw us all into evil ways?