9
Some outbreaks of light rain and intermittent drizzle expected in the afternoon
LES REMAINS IN his TV armchair, finger on the remote. We all know Raven is here. He is at the kitchen window, hair standing on end in the crosswind. He never uses the door, we don’t bother wondering why. He goggles at us through the glass, babbling on, as if we can hear him. Ned could translate, should he choose to read Rave’s lip-flapping. He doesn’t. Everything is always me. I let him in because no one else will. Never has a family group ignored each other more, I don’t even bother pointing it out. It’s like we’re in separate jars in a museum.
We’ve got a door you know, I say.
A new one? Rave asks as he steps in.
Ned lays his head on the table.
How do, sirrah? says Rave.
Tea? I say.
If you’re making.
What’s new? says Rave.
Nothing. You?
Grief, strife.
Les has not yet torn his gaze away from the TV. Rave could be wearing a Superman costume for all he knows.
Ned closes his eyes. Rave sits down and reads our fuel and electric bills that are lying on the table.
Two sugars? I say.
Please, says Rave.
I’ll have coffee, Les says to the TV.
When I go they might as well bury me with a kettle, I say.
No one replies.
When you’re in the tundra your blood freezes at between -2 and -3 degrees Celsius, Rave says.
I wait while the kettle boils. Is it cold out then?
No.
Blind leading the blind. Love it, Lester informs the TV.
I notice Rave’s trainers.
New?
Rave lifts his foot.
Nike clearance. Thirty-eight quid.
Aware of of a switch in focus, Ned lifts his head.
Greetings, Noddy Nedmund. How goes it? Rave mouths slowly. Ned drops his head again, shuts his eyes. He read the words fine, but he won’t bother.
Have a little sleep, Rave says, patting Ned’s shoulder. Nighty-night. Sleep tight. Bloke fainted at work on Tuesday, I wasn’t there, Rave says.
Milk? I say.
Thanking you kindly, maestro. One of them immigration things.
Right.
I’m going to have to go to the dentist with this tooth, Rave says. You sold up yet?
No. Valuation first.
Have I died or has no one made me a cup of coffee? Les asks the TV.
Rave slurps his tea.
Had your hair cut, Lethal?
If I had a pound for every time I’ve said that! shouts Les.
I check my reflection in the chrome kettle, my giant head and tiny body and the room stretching into an endless corner behind. If another dimension did actually exist, for real, I’d go there in the blink of.
I wash the mugs, then we walk to the mast, me, Rave and Ned. Out for a stroll. Windy. Each time I look back at the house I picture it exploding in flames, Les still inside it.
We stop at the mast. Raven makes an observation.
All those people talking to each other, he says, but here at the phone mast, silence.
Me and Ned don’t add anything. Rave has said it all really.
Raven’s cone of hair erects in the wind. We laugh.
F*ck off, Rave says, but he waves it about.
Dickhead, we say.
We walk up to the woods. Ned follows. No sign of Crow. Shy are we today?
The wind shivers the trees, throws a spring in your step. Ned runs off, returns with grass stains on his clothes.
I feel proud of the woods, as if I made them myself. As we walk, I reckon they are mine by claim. These others are my guests. Would you like to see my woods? Be my guest.
We sit by the oaks. Rave lights a Camel and Ned cadges one.
Can I have one? I say.
Only four left.
Tightarse.
He chucks it. I dive to catch it in my mouth.
Missed!
Cheers, you knob.
Ned laughs.
I have always caught cigs first time. A rare miss there by me.
Nice to have a smoke. Sunlight falls through the trees and lands on us, strobing, warming us up. Smoke drifts. It’s like we are hunters and this is our base camp.
I hear Crow at last.
Nice base camp, Lee.
Cheers, Crow. Welcome to Lee’s Wood.
No one says anything else. I reckon I am happy. Definition of happiness: When knob-all happens but you don’t mind in the least. Can’t last of course, nothing does.