Author: SubEditor

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“They?”

“Mum and dad … both of them … dad more so than mum.”

“Both of them?”

“Poteen!”

That was the one word that HayWire hadn’t wanted to say. He knew that the moment he said it, the whole story would come out. AuntSylvie is probably the only person HayWire knows with whom he could possibly share intimate, personal anxieties. But she’s not married, she has no children of her own, can she really understand domestic strife?

She probably can. Her niece lives there. She and Hayley know each other intimately, like mother and daughter.

Part orphanage, part old people’s home, part hospice, and part adult education centre, the Noble Coliseum is a microcosm of society all within one building. AuntSylvie must have come across every type of heartache, anguish and pain imaginable.

She must be a saint to handle all of this without suffering a mental breakdown of her own.

AuntSylvie knows what Poteen is. It’s illegal to sell it, none of the stores have it, and only the farming community can produce it using one or two illicit stills.

“They get Poteen from work. They probably drink it at work. They both come home drunk sometimes. I’m sure some of the neighbours hear some kind of trouble at night.”

“Do they work on Saturdays?”

“No, not today …  I don’t know what started it … but they didn’t have any lunch, they were just drinking … and then they started fighting.”

“Fighting?”

“They were fighting each other.”

“Uh huh?”

“And I tried to stop it. Again! And dad turned on me again!”

“Again?”

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“You can tell me as much or as little as you like. I won’t be shocked. I’ll treat it all in total confidence.”

“And if you want to tell me anything delicate it will never leave this room without your consent.”

HayWire is not accustomed to this. Somebody is devoting one hundred percent of their attention to him. As if he’s the most important thing in the world. He looks at her face. She must be in her late twenties or early thirties, she has lovely, long, flowing, light ash brown hair, no cosmetics nor jewellery, and she is naturally good looking. As always, she has a dignified, graceful expression on her face.

HayWire says nothing. He’s no longer crying, but he takes a deep breath, and sighs.

“We have all the time in the world,” she says softly. Pausing regularly, leaving plenty of gaps for HayWire to speak if he wants to.

“As long as you like. Or as short as you like. This whole place can run without me.”

AuntSylvie knows that a cautious rapport has already been established, that HayWire wants to say something, and that as long as she’s sympathetic and patient, somehow she can surely help.

HayWire finishes his tea. AuntSylvie politely widens her eyes and she looks him in the eye. She smiles a little and then looks at the empty tea cup. She seems to detect a brief nod of the head from HayWire. Yes, obviously he wants another tea. She fills the cup, then pushes the small plate of chocolate chip cookies nearer to him.

There’s another period of silence.

And finally HayWire speaks.

“They only hit until you cry.”

“Uh huh?”

There’s more silence, AuntSylvie can see that HayWire wants to tell the story. He’s probably just taking time to find the right words to tell it. After a measured pause, she volunteers a new question.

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As they leave the terrace Mrs Barr can be heard saying to her son, “they’re really nice aren’t they? And so clever! That’s what happens when you study hard!”

“Is it really your turn to pay?” asks NutJob, “I thought it was mine.”

“Empathy Dash! I didn’t want her to feel pressured the moment we sat down. You can pay, it is your turn! And maybe we should be eating at home more often. We can’t afford to keep eating out the way we do.”

She looks at him, hoping that he’s got the message. The message is the definite purpose and she has now decided that her definite purpose is a decent standard of living, and complete peace of mind … with NutJob … if he can apply his  power of thought to building a stable life together. However, she wants him to cultivate that same thought without any pressure or coercion. How can she gently guide him to making that choice of his own free will? This is going to be a real test of her patience and of her powers of communication!

He already has half an idea of what she’s thinking. In his sincere, sympathetic voice he says, “yes, we should stop spending, and start saving more.”

“Come on,” she says, “to the library, who’s going to get that book first?”

—o—

            The staff and volunteers at the Noble Coliseum are beginning to get things ready for another Saturday evening variety show. Nothing special tonight, just an ordinary OpenMike Night.

“You’re early,” says NurseCathy, “Sylvie’s still … “

Abruptly interrupting her sentence, NurseCathy looks at HayWire’s face.

“ … what happened?”

HayWire says nothing. He’s not crying, but he looks as if he might want to. He takes a deep breath and he tries to stabilise

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“And then he spends it on some of the other stuff in the shop, so the money ends up back in the till. I get my Third Sector wages, that doesn’t amount to very much, the goods get recirculated, and all the profits go to the Coliseum.”

“Mum gets first choice on all the books that come in. It’s fab!”

“And you also love reading?” asks KristalClear, “who’s your favourite author?”

“Oh, I prefer non fiction,” says Mrs Barr, “knowledge is power.”

AngryBard quickly adds, “Francis Bacon!”

“France is bacon?” responds a confused KristalClear.

“No!” says AngryBard, “Francis Bacon! He’s an author.”

Speaking in clumsy Latin, AngryBard continues “ipsa scientia potestas est, knowledge is power, knowledge is the basis for reputation, influence, and success.”

“Well remembered darling,” says Mrs Barr, before addressing her guests and saying, “I’m now reading Napoleon Hill’s Think and Grow Rich, it’s a challenging book, the power of a definite purpose, the power of thought, that sort of thing.”

KristalClear tells NutJob, “we need to read that.”

“There’s bound to be more than one copy in the library,” says Mrs Barr.

AngryBard interjects, “Mum, why aren’t we rich then?”

“There’s more to life than money, sweetie. We’re rich in other ways. I love my Third Sector job, I love reading. I love my husband and I love my son. We have enough income to live.”

“A decent standard of living, and complete peace of mind?” suggests NutJob.

“Yes. That’s a clever way of putting it,” says Mrs Barr, “we can even afford to eat at the café sometimes. But be careful with that book, it promises some secrets, I haven’t found them yet, but then again, I haven’t finished reading it! Anyway, it’s book club time, and we really must go, it’s been lovely meeting you two.”

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Sometimes it’s nice to share other peoples’ passions. Riding horses is fine by him. But he knows that he’ll never be able to chat with horses. And he knows that it’ll soon be lunchtime. He’s looking forward to getting back to town to eat at the Find Thyme Café. Then he can focus on KristalClear without having to juggle other inputs.

—o—

“Mum, look!” says AngryBard, “that’s NutJob, and there’s KristalClear .”

AngryBard gets their attention. And without really asking them, nor asking his mum, he manages to guide them to the two spare seats at his table on the terrace.

Well aware that AngryBard’s real name is Andy Barr NutJob says “Mrs Barr, how do you do? I’m Dave, and this is Kristal.”

“Please join us,” she says, “are you having lunch?”

Unsure if that was an invitation to have lunch on them, KristalClear quickly says, “we have a system, it’s my turn to pay, we’ll place an order for us, if that’s OK?”

“This place is always popular on Wednesdays,” says NutJob, “what brings you here today?”

We’re going to the library,” says AngryBard.

“He loves reading,” says Mrs Barr, “he gets it from his dad. Billy’s one of the librarians. Andy has always loved story time. Ever since he was little, his dad would read to him every night.”

“Do you work at the library too?” asks KristalClear.

“No, I work at Thrifty.”

“Thrifty?” responds NutJob, “the Noble Coliseum’s charity shop on Penny Street?”

“It’s a thrift shop rather than a charity shop”, says Mrs Barr, “it benefits everybody.”

“It’s great!” says AngryBard, “I take my old toys there, they sell them. I get half the money, and they keep the other half.”

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not have enough people to be able to support a recreational equestrian centre.

Generally, people don’t spend a lot of money on leisure. Going to the book club at the library is cheap. So is playing cricket, or playing Scrabble. Music and amateur dramatics are highly popular, and no matter what Mr Rafone says, OpenMike Night rarely struggles to find acts.

« Presence. She has presence. »

« Sorry Handsome, what was that? »

« You know, presence! Having an impressive persona, complete self assurance, the ability to command respect simply by being there, having an immediacy and a breadth of character which creates a fully charged atmosphere. »

« Yes! I wasn’t looking for a definition of presence! What are we actually talking about? »

« Romeo and I were talking about Commander Crush. She has presence. She just has to walk into a room and everybody takes notice and pays attention. »

Romeo adds, « you know how some people can walk into your stable and you don’t even notice they’re there. Not Commander Crush though, she has presence. »

Vocally, so that she can bring NutJob into the conversation, KristalClear says, “yes, we know that feeling.”

Having a demi-psychic girlfriend is something that NutJob is getting used to. He has no idea yet what the conversation is all about, but he’s sure that he’s going to be brought up to speed just by the way she looks at him.

“When Mr Rafone walks into the room,” says KristalClear, “everybody notices, he has presence too! Not like some teachers. You don’t notice some teachers when they walk in. Some kids don’t even notice some teachers when they start speaking. They might as well be invisible! That would never happen with Mr Rafone. Nor Commander Crush.”

“Mr Rafone is a diamond,” says NutJob, keeping his comments short, knowing that he can’t chat with Handsome or Romeo directly.

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Chapter 36
Sympathy and Patience

Handsome and Romeo, are out for a gentle amble around the countryside, taking KristalClear and NutJob along with them for the ride. Of course, that’s not how the humans see it.

KristalClear thought it might be fun to take NutJob on a relaxing ride and then canter through the dales. She wants to show him what recreational horse riding is like, in contrast to the routine of a trip to Skipton and back.

Secretly she’s trying to imagine what life might be like when school ends next month. What will the next year hold for them? What will the next five years or the next ten years be like. The Garrison is taking her on full time as a stable hand. That’ll be fine for a while, but ultimately? She doesn’t want to be a marine, that’s for sure. Nor is she quite certain about NutJob yet. He’s weird and charming, and he’s extremely kind, but is he the right person to settle down with?

NutJob has regular work lined up too, at The Lancastrian. Although it’s not as simple as saying “full time” or “part time”. A handyman is needed when things need fixing. Preventative maintenance is all well and good, but can Franklin and Faraday actually afford an extra full timer? They probably can.

Faraday is getting old. He’s anxious to build new presses before he retires. It’s all about money. Running a newspaper is a stable business, but according to them, it’s not overburdened with cash!

In an ideal world, KristalClear would love to be running her own stable and stud, or even running one of those recreational equestrian centres that they used to have hundreds of years ago.

However, life is not easy. Most people don’t have spare cash to play with. It’s only because she’s friends with CandiCrush that she can access military horses for free. Without that, she and NutJob couldn’t afford to hire horses just to enjoy a ride and a canter through the dales. Lancaster does

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“This one is always eager and active, and look at the way her eyes shine,” says KristalClear “she’s called BrightStar. I like her, we’re building a rapport already.”

“And the paler one is much more calm and mellow. She’s easy to communicate with. We’re calling her MarshMallow.”

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