This Is How Part 21

I've moved too quickly.

'Sorry,' I say.

She seems too calm, as though nothing's gone on, keeps looking straight at me.

I turn the menu round.

'You're about twenty,' she says.

'Twenty-four.' I add an extra year.

'I'm almost ten years older.'

'So?'

'I think it's better not to start anything.'

'Why?'

'Patrick, I'm too old for you.'

The way she says my name, it's like she's talking to a stranger, a different Patrick. When I found Sarah's letter under my bedroom door it was the same. 'Dear Patrick, I'm sorry, but I've got to end it...' I thought the letter must have been meant for a different Patrick.

I stare ahead.

'I just don't want to start anything,' she says.

'I should go.'

'You can stay,' she says. 'You can stay if you want.'

As soon as she's said I can stay, she gets up from the booth as though to tell me to leave.

'I think I'll go,' I say.

We're standing close.

'I like you,' I say. 'That's all.'

'And I like you.'

'Then why not?'

A customer's come in. A woman and her small kid, hard to say whether the kid's a boy or a girl.

I get my toolkit and head for the door.

Georgia calls after me.

'Wait!'

I turn round.

'Come back tomorrow. Come early again. We can talk.'

'Okay,' I say.

'Good.'

I go out the door, then come back. She's still standing by the booth.

'What about tomorrow night? What about we meet for a drink?' She's flushed in the face and neck. 'What about lunch?' she says.

I smile. It's Friday tomorrow. I can work in the morning and leave at lunchtime.

'That's good,' I say. 'That's really good.'

'All right,' she says. 'I'll see you at midday?'

After all that, I've got a date with Georgia tomorrow and only one day to wait. I've got so light on my feet, it's like I'm flying.

Hayes is bent over, searching through the big black bin in the corner of his office.

'Sleep in?' he says.

'Sorry.'

'No matter.'

'I'm usually an early bird,' I say.

'Why don't you make yourself a cuppa?' he says. 'You look dead on your feet.'

'I'd rather get on with work,' I say.

'There's some work to be done on a Morris Mini and there's a Mercedes SL that's just come in.'

'What's wrong with it?'

'I don't know. You tell me.'

It's my lucky day and, if all goes to plan, I'll be taking Georgia out for a picnic in a Mercedes SL convertible.

I get started. The Morris is an easy job, some water in the distributor and with the Mercedes, a really beautiful car the owner's kept in great nick, the battery's not charging, so it's probably something like the regulator.

I get it all done in two hours. All I've got to do is tell a small lie about the Mercedes needing a bit more work and I can take it out tomorrow.

I go to the tea room and wash my hands with the cake of dirty yellow soap. I look in the small mirror above the sink and imagine it's Georgia looking at me. She doesn't think I look dead on my feet. She thinks I look all right.

I go out to the garage.

There's somebody working under a car.

I go back into Hayes' office.

'Who's that?' I say. 'Is that Ben?'

'Yeah.'

'So he's started?'

There isn't enough work for three men. I could do it all alone. We don't need an apprentice.

'Yeah. You can say h.e.l.lo and all that when we have our tea-break.'

'Right.'

I get to work and finish everything that needs doing and I think I've proven the point that we don't need another man. When Ben comes back tomorrow, he'll see he's not needed.

Hayes comes to get me and the three of us sit in the tea room.

'This is Ben,' says Hayes.

Ben's the pimply lad who was with Mark, the lad I beat at pool down at the station pub.

'We've already met,' says Ben. 'This guy beat the pants off Mark playing pool the other night.'

'So, you're a shark on the pool table?' says Hayes.

'I'm better at snooker.'

'We should all have a game some time,' says Hayes.

'Can you teach me to play snooker?' says Ben.

'Sure,' I say.

'There's a place in St Anne's,' he says. 'We could go there during lunch one day.'

'The three of us,' says Hayes. 'I fancy some snooker. Haven't played in years.'

We drink our tea and chat about snooker. They ask me about the rules and such, and I answer all their questions and they're pretty impressed.

'Well,' says Hayes. 'Why don't we all call it a day?'

'I'm happy to keep on with the work,' I say.

'No need.'

I get my toolkit from the garage floor and leave. But I don't go home right away.

I go to the corner and stand outside the post office and wait for Ben to leave.

But Ben doesn't leave. He stays back there with his uncle.

I walk home by the sea and the sky's full of low, dark clouds and the air's got a kick of that stormy chemical smell and I breathe it in gulps and walk with my hands spread out like a tightrope walker, my eyes shut. I want to get a good mood going so, when I get to the house, I'll have calmer nerves. I've got to be ready for the chat with Welkin.

I go straight up the stairs, but stop on the first-floor landing. Welkin's standing outside his room with a girl. Maybe it wasn't Georgia he was describing the other day.

'Welcome to the red zone,' he says.

She laughs. 'You're crazy.'

Welkin sees me.

'h.e.l.lo, Par-trick,' he says.

'All right?' I say.

'Yes, I'm fine. And this is Isabelle. She's even finer.' Isabelle slaps Welkin on the arm. 'h.e.l.lo,' I say.

She steps forward to shake my hand.

'I'm pleased to meet you,' she says, her voice even posher than Welkin's.

'I've got to go,' I say.

'Where?' says Welkin.

'To my room.'

I put my toolkit under the bed and sit a minute with the pillow behind my head and close my eyes.

Welkin goes into his room with the girl and it's not long before they get started. I'll not stay in here and listen to the sound of them rutting.

I turn to check the time and see that my alarm clock's gone. I'm sure it was on my bedhead this morning, but it's not there now. I search under the bed, beside the bed, under a pile of clothes, in the cupboard. I search everywhere, but it's gone.

I go downstairs and knock on the kitchen door.

'Come in,' says Bridget.

She's cutting a loaf of bread at the big wooden table. 'Something's gone missing from my room.'

'What's missing?'

'My alarm clock.'

She laughs. 'Oh, that silly monkey.'