Remembrance Day. Brian Aldiss

sight.

      Tebbutt sat at the wheel of his car, staring at a tin advert for Pratt’s High Test, remembering how life used to be. He watched bees tumbling among the trumpets of a bindweed growing up a telegraph pole. Ruby would be at work by now. She caught the bus into Fakenham every weekday to do a summer job in Mrs Bligh’s cake shop. Agnes would be safe at home with the cat for company.

      Ray got out of his car and pottered about the forecourt. He took a look at the car offered for sale. It was a model unknown to him, a Zastava Caribbean, with an Oxfordshire number plate. A faded sticker on the rear window said, ‘I Love Cheri’. On the FOR SALE notice, under the price, Stanton had written WON ONER.

      Melancholy increased, Ray went back to sit in his car.

      When Linwood reappeared round the side of the old forge, he was accompanied by Stanton. The two men were arguing. Stanton was an untidy, straggling kind of man who walked with a limp and a decided list to starboard. He wore boots, a pair of dungarees and an incongruous checked cap. His chest was bare. He shook his head in time with his rapid slanting walk. Beside Linwood’s rather boneless figure, Stanton appeared an embodiment of energy.

      Crossing to the double doors of his shed, he unlocked the padlock, wrenched the doors a few inches open, and elbowed his way inside, to leave Linwood on the forecourt. Linwood appeared to be studying the cracked concrete at his feet.

      After looking at his watch, Tebbutt leaned out of the car window and called, ‘Any problems, Mike? Is it repaired?’

      His friend looked round slowly, as if previously unaware of Tebbutt’s presence, and said, nodding his head, ‘Hang on a minute, Ray.’ It was not a satisfying response.

      A small builder’s lorry drew up at the pumps and tooted. As Stanton emerged from his fortress, the driver of the lorry, leaving his engine running, jumped down from the cab and stretched. He appeared to be on good terms with Stanton, who momentarily stopped scowling.

      While Stanton filled the lorry’s tank with Four Star, the driver nonchalantly lit a cigarette, flinging the match down on the ground. Tebbutt watched the two men talking, Stanton gesturing jerkily in the direction of Linwood. Linwood, taking advantage of this diversion, walked rapidly into the garage.

      ‘’Ere, come on out of there, you!’ Stanton bawled.

      Linwood reappeared, looking embarrassed, thrusting his hands into his pockets and immediately pulling them out again.

      When the lorry drove off, Stanton walked rather threateningly towards Linwood, gesticulating loosely with both hands, as if he was trying to toss them over either shoulder. Both men went into the garage. Tebbutt sat tight, sighing. Silence reigned on the forecourt.

      Very shortly, Linwood emerged again, clutching a piece of paper.

      He walked over to the Hillman with an expression of unconcern, to lean through the driver’s window so that his nose was only a few inches from Tebbutt’s.

      ‘We’ve got a bit of a problem here, Ray. It’s old Joe Stanton, cutting up a bit rough.’

      ‘I’d gathered that.’

      ‘Yes. Poor chap used to be pretty trusting. Caught him in a bad mood this morning. He’s repaired the car and it’s fine – good for another eighteen months, he says. He’s had to do more work on it than anticipated. He said something about the rear shock-absorbers, I believe. Replacements needed.’

      He showed Tebbutt the piece of paper in his hand, on which a number of items were scrawled in Biro.

      ‘It’s a bill for three hundred pounds, Ray. Bit of a shock.’ He cleared his throat.

      ‘Is the car worth it?’

      Linwood looked very serious, withdrew the paper, and straightened to tuck it into his pocket, so that when he spoke again Tebbutt could not see his face for the roof of the Hillman.

      ‘Of course the car’s worth it, Ray. You don’t understand the situation. The problem is, as I say, Stanton’s not in his usual trusting mood. He refuses to allow me credit this time. That wife of his was frankly abusive. I can’t have the car back, he says, until I’ve paid the bill. It makes things rather difficult.’

      After considering the situation for a moment, and in particular debating what he should say next, Tebbutt folded his arms behind the wheel and asked, ‘So how do you intend to resolve this dilemma, Mike? Prayer?’

      He still could not see Linwood’s head and shoulders from where he sat, but he heard his reply distinctly enough. ‘Unfortunately, I forgot to bring my cheque book along. I was wondering if you’d be kind enough to write him one of your cheques, and I’ll repay you when we get home.’

      Opening the car door, Tebbutt climbed slowly out into the sunshine, so that he could look Linwood in the eye. ‘I’m in no position to lend anyone money. I don’t have my cheque book on me, either.’

      Smiling, Linwood said, ‘But you do carry a credit card, Ray, I believe?’

      Stanton had emerged into the light to stand before his barely opened doors, fists on hips and legs apart, as if prepared to repel all boarders.

      ‘I ent taking a penny less, neither,’ he shouted. ‘Three hundred quid I want.’

      ‘Well, you can see it from Stanton’s point of view, in a way,’ Linwood said.

      ‘Stanton evidently doesn’t expect the Lord to provide,’ Tebbutt said, feelingly.

      ‘I doubt that he and the Lord are on speaking terms.’ Linwood mitigated the humour with a miserable look, adding, ‘If you could pay with your credit card, Ray, just to get us out of this mess … We can’t stand here all day. I’d be immensely grateful and can repay you within the next couple of days.’

      They stood regarding each other until Tebbutt lowered his gaze. Unable to think of a convincing lie, he decided on the truth.

      ‘Mike, you see Ruby and I have a Visa card just to identify ourselves – for identification of cheques and so on. Nothing else. We never ever charge anything to the account. It’s our rule. That way we don’t get into debt. You know how it is.’

      ‘Well, charge this sum up now, and I’ll repay you before the end of the month. That’s how those things work, isn’t it? They won’t sting you for interest. Then you stand no chance of “getting into debt”, as you put it. That’s not asking much, is it? We can’t stand here all day.’

      Tebbutt pulled an awful face. ‘Well, it is asking quite a lot, to be honest. As I say, we have never had anything on credit. That’s how we live.’

      Linwood turned away. ‘I’m sorry. You don’t mind a friend asking you a favour, do you? Very Christian, I must say. I don’t know what to do. I’ll have to phone Jean. I’ll walk into Melton and find a phone, don’t worry. This means another terrible family row … But you’d better get back to work. Thanks for the lift, anyway.’

      As he made off towards the road, Stanton called, ‘’Ere, what about my bloody money? I’ll sell your bloody junk heap else.’

      It was not in Tebbutt’s nature to let a friend down. ‘Hold on,’ he called. ‘All right, I’ll charge it on my card. You will pay me back at once, won’t you? Otherwise we’ll be in the shit.’

      Turning briskly back, Linwood said, ‘Thanks. I’ll let you have the money by the end of the week at the latest. Perhaps you’d like to cope with Stanton – he seems a bit miffed with me this morning.’

      While Linwood stood about in the sunshine, Tebbutt penetrated the gloom of the garage and completed the transaction with Stanton, who muttered darkly as he processed the credit card. ‘That there bugger never pay up. Must think as I’m a millionaire. I can’t do the work for narthin’, can I now? ’Sides, these old Chryslers, time they was off the road.’

      ‘Thank you very much, Mr Stanton,’ said Tebbutt, retrieving his card and pocketing the Visa slip