Ripples in the lake

Chapter 3

David

Geoff was in mid curse when the his mobile rang. He'd been wrestling with the brakes on an ancient Mercedes for the past hour, had bruised and bleeding knuckles, and was sorely conscious of the daft old bugger who's car it was, hovering in the background convinced that he knew a better way to get the disc brakes off. What Colonel bloody Smythe or whatever he was failed to comprehend was just how rusty his beloved banger was. Probably had the same perspective on his shriveled wife who sat huddled in the waiting room trying to make sense of her husband's last outburst. In fact everyone in the waiting room was trying to do the same.

Twelve long years Geoff had worked in this garage. And he's learned to expect stress from elderly men and their precious cars. How this old thing was still going was beyond him. Could have been a lovely car if it'd been looked after. But blind faith had clearly played a larger part in its life.

He needed a break, and the ringing phone gave him an excuse. Downing tools, he reached into his overalls, extracted the phone, and headed across the stained concrete floor of the workshop, towards the sheeting rain outside. He'd decided he hated old people. The whole bloody minded, pompous, self righteous, idiotic lot of them. A fag break and a chinwag with a mate would help to ease his mood.

It was Norma. Not necessarily bad though.

'Hi'.

Pause.

'You're kidding me.'

Pause.

At that moment, a big drop of water parted company with the edge of the roof, to which it had been clinging apparently waiting for Geoff to stand just where he was, and so managed to pass precisely through the end of his cigarette, on it's way to the ground, extinguishing the fag in mid flight. Slightly bent by the experience, the cigarette drooped slowly as water crept up it's length. Soggy and useless.

In one of those rich moments, resplendent with quiet insight and profound understanding of the brevity of life, Geoff stood and looked at the pouring rain, and the wet, shiny roofs, and the greyness of everything about him and knew that somewhere back down the line, he must have done something really terrible.

'Yes, I'm still here. When are they getting here?'

He loved his mother according to some filial code of duty which precluded him, according to an inbuilt sense of justice, from admitting that he couldn't stand her. And later that afternoon, she'd be here. Mad Violet. With her stupid hats and her inbuilt resistance to logic or reason. The last time she'd invaded his adult life, apart from having poured olive oil into the washing machine instead of washing liquid, she'd brought him and Norma a present of a stuffed duck. Not of the edible variety but... a stuffed duck, for putting on the mantelpiece he supposed. It had long since ended up where dead ducks ought to be. With other dead stuff.

And what made matters worse was that she was bringing her two accomplices. Audrey and Wilf. Her best friends. Geoff had only met Audrey once, and that had been too often. She was slightly stooped, and walked with a limp, and had this way of peering up at him with her head cocked slightly to one side, smiling grimly in a way designed to make him know he was just plain wrong. And that was that. A 'shut up you young fool and listen' kind of way. Stupid old hippy.

As for Wilf, if there was any justice in life, he'd be running a geriatric gay bar in Patpong. Not that he'd be capable of actually running anything. Geoff could only assume that Wilf's attachment to his mother and Audrey satisfied some innate sexual subordinate fantasy. The fawning little weevil was deeply suspect. Definitely not male. Some sort of genetic mistake.

Thus it was that Geoff spent the ten seconds following the answering of his phone. A lot had happened. His fag had been annihilated, he'd seen life for what it really was, and he came to realise that the next twenty four hours had to be seen as penance for misdeeds in a previous life.

Norma had offered no sympathy. Prior to ringing off, she'd simply told him not be so nasty about his own mother. So now he felt even worse. Discovered.

Then Colonel bloody Smythe Empire When-I-Was-Young Dickhead returned Geoff's attention to matters in hand, bellowing something about G clamps and brake fluid. The daft old duffer was standing next to his car, which was raised up on the ramp, and was offering his opinion on how the job should really be done. He wasn't legally allowed to stand there and Geoff, fuelled slightly by a growing sense of irritation at the complete lack of control he had over his life, shouted rather too loudly that The Colonel should bloody well get back into the waiting room and shut up until the job was done. Surprisingly, this seemed to work and the Colonel, feathers clearly ruffled, humphed and marched back to join his apprehensive wife, and the other amused onlookers.

Geoff had two hours in which to fix this damn car before his mother and her maddening cohorts arrived, expecting the exhaust to be repaired on their clapped out car. And it was already five o'clock. And they were intending to stay the night.

------------------

'Dahling!'

'Muvver'.

'You remember Audrey and Wilf don't you?'

'Of course he does you stupid woman. It wasn't that long ago.' said Audrey.

'Yes it was.' said Wilf.

'It doesn't matter...' said Vi '...how long ago it was. I'm asking him if he remembers you.'

'That was when you brought the duck.' said Wilf. Feeling brave for once. 'Yonks ago.'

'Err, yep.' Mumbled Geoff. 'What's the matter with this van then?'

'Brought the duck?' said Vi. For heavens sake, finish the sentence. What are you on about?'

'I told you you shouldn't have brought it.' Said Audrey, petulantly. 'You never listen.'

'It was green.' proclaimed Wilf. Quietly though. Everyone looked at him, and he looked at his feet. There was a long pause whilst everyone reflected on the conversation thus far.

'The van..?' ventured Geoff.

'Oh it's making the most awful noise.' said Audrey, welcoming the change of subject. 'I don't know what it is. It's exhausted or something. And Vi doesn't know either. It's the rain. Probably.'

'I do indeed know. Don't you speak for me Audrey Sidebotham. I know what it is. It's the eggzorst. Wilf said.'

Wilf had slunk away by now, and was standing just where Geoff had stood, smoking a pipe. Geoff suddenly felt a kind of sympathy for him. A little man stood silhouetted against the brighter grey outside, overwhelmed by just about everyone one and everything. His pipe smoke appeared to his right, quivered momentarily. shifted this way and that with the air currents, and then faded away.

Geoff wasn't normally prone to these moments of reflection, where time stood still and everything came into focus. But this was the second such moment this afternoon.

An hour later, he'd repaired the exhaust on the van and reluctantly agreed that his unwelcome guests should follow him back to his home and his waiting wife, as the streets grew shinier in the wet, lamplit gloom and all the normal people rushed past him on their way home from work.

'You're driving.'

'It's Wilf's turn'.

Wilf looked at Geoff without expression. Knocked his pipe against his trouser leg, glanced again at the rain, and moved to take his designated place. The red tail lights of Geoff's car, clear one moment, became smeared and blurred until the wipers danced their dance, and then blurred again in time to the never ending conversation beside him.