Sing Like You Know the Words (35 page)

-You’ll believe it yourself in a
week.

-Don’t judge me on how I get
power, Matt. Judge me on how I use it.

Get power, what did he mean by
that? How much power did he imagine a backbench MP would have?
Matthew only shook his head.

The nomination was secured
easily. David gave the committee a milder version of the personal
history he’d given to the Chairman, stressing his discovery of
social democratic principles. He winked at the old man as he was
telling them the story, to let him know that the truth of his
radical ideals would be their secret. The Chairman smiled,
believing he was telling the other members what they wanted to
hear. The vote was a formality.

More new faces began to appear
at David’s house in the evenings: younger faces mostly, men and
women who Matthew described as having the blankness of certainty
about them. There was a pretty blonde researcher called Briony, and
a boy called Hugh with dark hair that grew too little on his head
and too much everywhere else. He knew a lot about what he called
demographics

Matthew took a particular
dislike to one of the blank-faced tribe, a plump, red haired youth
who was introduced as Harold. Matthew denied that a person of
Harold’s generation could have been christened with such a name. He
regarded Harold as an affectation in keeping with the boy’s general
character.

Matthew missed Albert, who had
been maddening enough in his own polite way, but had always had
something outrageous or just thought provoking to offer. But Albert
had not been seen or heard from for months. It seemed that he had
abandoned them.

Harold was David’s new
favourite. He seemed not to mind that the lad barely spoke, or that
when he did he sounded like he was reciting a slogan. Harold would
spit out some ill tempered phrase as if he did not see why he
should waste his time even attempting to communicate with the
ignorant fools around him. Then his mouth would clamp shut and he
would continue to glare around the room with barely repressed
contempt. David said to Matthew that Harold was young and probably
felt intimidated. The aggression was just over compensation for
feelings of insecurity. Matthew replied that a bully was a bully at
any age. Inwardly, he wondered whether he had ever been that
arrogant himself. It was a reflection that he did not share with
David, who continued to defend Harold.

-Granted he’s precocious, and
ambitious, and ruthless too I suppose. But he’ll grow up in time.
And in any case, just because those are qualities that you despise
doesn’t mean that I don’t need him.

The new millennium was only
three years away and, if you believed the news, for the first time
in decades, people had started to believe that society was ready
for change. In Matthew’s case, too many false dawns over the years
left him with no faith or confidence that things would ever be any
different. All that changed over time, so far as he could see, was
that people got older. Still, he was convinced that David was right
about one thing; if a change was coming, it would be people like
Harold, not people like Matthew, who brought it about.

He resolved not to respond in
kind to the spite that Harold directed at him from time to time. He
knew that Harold saw him as a representative of the hated press,
which needed to be manipulated or cowed. Amused tolerance would be
a better reaction to that, Matthew decided: it was how Ralph would
deal with Harold. To understand all is to forgive all, as Ralph
might say, perhaps adding that understanding is a thin consolation
of growing old.

***

Matthew didn´t see as much of
Ralph these days. The lunchtime drinking sessions were a thing of
the past. Everything about work was so much more professional now,
and Matthew himself had responsibilities. One afternoon they met in
a public house opposite the Town Hall. It was a nostalgic choice of
venue; recalling the afternoons spent in the crowded bar, Ralph
sharing his odd opinions on everything and Matthew hollowed out
with doubt that he would ever find his own place in the world.

They arrived separately and
Ralph was already most of the way through his first drink when
Matthew arrived. On this day the bar was almost deserted: it seemed
sad and broken down. Ralph himself looked older and more decrepit,
even lonely, without an audience to animate him. His conversation
was subdued at first.

-Thank you for humouring me and
coming out. I admit I am a little morose today. The truth is Matt;
the old world is slipping away from us. Look through this window,
at that Victorian block of a town hall. A fine architecture and the
maturity of age. All that grimy coating acquired over I don’t know
how many years; testament to something. Now they´re going to steam
clean the stone. It will look nice I suppose, but the past will
have been stripped off.

-Anyway that’s not my point.
It’s a Town Hall: it’s supposed to be a place of work. But it’s an
old building and not to the taste of modern administrators, and
there are so many of them now. So many things need to be looked
into and administered. They have to have more space.

-So now behind the Town Hall,
there´s the Civic Buildings, where the work is done. They keep the
old place clean and try to find occasions to use it, like a
ceremonial uniform that one of those old colonial governors might
drag out of the wardrobe every now and then to see what damage the
moths have done.

-What I mean is, there´s no
purpose to it anymore; the place is just a monument. And I’m the
same my boy. I’m as much use as those stone lions over the road. It
happens to everyone and everything: the usefulness wears out. No
good complaining about it. Fact of life. People turn into statues
eventually; temporary memorials to the person they used to be.

Matthew didn’t interrupt. In
this bar he only needed to nod to the landlord for their next
drinks to be placed on the counter. He got up to pay the man and
collect the full glasses without speaking.

- I was in love once you know,
Ralph continued. Followed someone to another country just to be
near them. That much in love. It turned out badly. Nowadays my
prick might as well be stone like those bloody lions on the Town
Hall steps. All that’s over for me.

-Instead I can look forward to
more years of impersonating myself. You know how it is. Every year
something that you can’t do as well or can´t do at all. Fading
health, fading eyesight, worrying about becoming stupid. It’s the
human condition if you live long enough to suffer it. It’s just
that some days, I’m not sure I have the taste for it, or the
patience for that matter.

Matthew told him he was having a
bad day. Depression comes from time to time, to old and young, he
said. He reminded Ralph of some of his own comments about life
being full of experiences and every part of it being in some way
different to the last. It was difficult to know what else to say,
there was some truth in the words. Ralph was not so important to
the paper these days. Others, like Matthew himself, had passed over
him. And his behaviour was not acceptable sometimes; in fact it
could be quite inappropriate. Privately Matthew thought that maybe
he should set about fixing up a sabbatical for Ralph; give him the
chance to follow some other interests for a few months.

But Ralph was not quite
finished.

-I’m a dinosaur Matt; not yet
extinct, but on the way. One reason is this idea I have that the
point of life is to try to do things as well as you can. The world
has progressed beyond that notion. We have passed to the age of the
accountants.

-The law of accountancy is that
you take everything and anything and cut back the quality so it is
just a little easier to produce. Then you edge up the price a
little so that customers are paying a little bit more than they
should, and finally you persuade everyone that what you offer is
good enough. The process goes on year after year. Everything has to
be made a little worse than it could be: chipping away at whatever
contributes to the sum of human happiness in order to have a
slightly bigger number on the bottom line of a ledger
somewhere.

-Mediocrity is what’s wanted
now, at best. They´re all chasing each other down to the lowest
common denominator, and they celebrate cheapness and revel in it.
No one believes that it demeans them to consume rubbish, because in
some idiotic way they have persuaded themselves that being
conscious that it is rubbish elevates them above it. That’s what
your post-modernism is: the metaphysics of our time. It applies to
culture and everything else, as if you can eat all the burgers you
want without getting fat, provided you laugh about them being
disgusting turd packets of cholesterol whilst you gobble them
down.

It was a typical Ralph rant,
which cheered Matthew up. It sounded like the old man recovering
his zest for life in general and all the things he hated. Later he
reflected that maybe Ralph´s words were intended as a personal
challenge laid down to himself.

***

And then he had David to worry
about.

When he got the call from David
it seemed like they would have a relaxing Sunday ramble. David
picked him up early in the morning and they chatted about nothing
important on the drive through the Dales. It was a while since they
had spent time together like this and Matthew thought it was a good
sign that David was finding time to relax. They reached Buckden and
parked the car near to the inn. There was still a little of the
morning chill lingering in the air as they pulled on their boots
and started on the tiny single track lane in the direction of
Hawes. At Hubberholme, they turned right past the old churchyard
and up the lung testing farm track which climbed to the path that
circled the valley head. They paused at the crossing of a stream
that cascaded busily off the high ground. David poured coffee for
them from a thermos.

-I’ve been having an affair, he
announced.

The coffee was hot. Matthew
reacted as if he´d burnt his tongue, but it was only surprise.

-Oh, right. Cheers. This is
good. Strong and not too much sugar.

Matthew hoped that his
expression said that he had absolutely no interest in hearing what
came next, but David was not to be put off.

-I need your advice Matt. You
have affairs all the time.

-Do I? Is that what you think? I
don´t remember us talking about it.

-Well, I need to talk about
this. The girl is special. You don’t know her. She’s young; a
researcher, very committed, very passionate … about her work.

-How many times?

-We´ve seen each other, like
that, on three occasions; or do you mean, how many times?

-Just occasions. I don’t want to
know the sordid details. Well, don’t be so gloomy David. Three
times is not an affair.

-What is it then?

-Not quite a one-night stand,
but more like a fling.

David seemed genuinely annoyed.
Matthew was showing more than usual interest in the landscape.

-Are you taking the piss?

-No, but I don’t think you
should take your problem quite so seriously. It sounds like you´ve
had an accident and I´m sure you´ll get over it.

-I want this girl. She´s my
angel.

-Sounds like you’ve already had
her.

-But I don’t want to wreck my
marriage

-Unfortunately, you´re not the
first man to be caught in that trap.

-You know you can be infuriating
when you are this cynical Matt, but still I need your help.

Matthew took a moment to compose
himself before speaking again, in a more serious tone. He said that
he sympathised, but in his experience there was not much a friend
could do to help in times like this. It was just a case of
listening to the patient talk themselves through their own
condition.

-Some part of you already knows
what you will do, he added. It’s just that you feel bad to admit it
without a struggle. Your finer feelings demand that you suffer
indecision, because otherwise you´ve just been stupid and selfish.
So maybe I do know about affairs after all. Well, then, tell me the
story David. We’ll know your answer once we get to it. Otherwise
all I could do would be to give you some objective advice that
you’ll ignore and that would make us both feel wretched.

-For now I´d like the advice. I
feel wretched as it is.

-You won’t like what I have to
say. You’ll tell me it doesn’t apply to you.

David shrugged. Matthew sighed
and looked out across the valley floor, then at the stream that
would bubble on long after they had passed. He spoke without
looking directly at David.

-First thing is that you should
leave out of account this person you´re proposing to leave your
partner to be with. I assume that’s what’s on your mind. It’s not
likely that the two of you are the star crossed lovers you imagine.
Even if you are, the stress of the divorce will probably kill that
relationship. Usually men don’t settle with the lover who breaks
their marriage. All the remorse and self pity that the excitement
of the new thing keeps at bay is only stored up for later. If I was
as cynical as you think, I might say that it´s normal if the lover
is being used, whether you know it or not, to provide an escape
route.

David scowled.

-With us it’s nothing like what
you describe.

Matthew did not respond to
David´s comment.

-Second, everyone knows that
after a break up, women fall to pieces, then put it behind them and
get on with their lives. Men get a rush of euphoria that tastes of
freedom; then they sink into years of depression.

-Third; sad to say, you are not
unique. From what I can see, casual sex outside a long term
relationship happens to most everybody at some time. It turns out
that even these birds nesting here, that partner for life, still
make illicit calls to other nests. Our genes have their own
survival strategies and they are insistent. If you give in to them
once or twice in your life, it’s not such a big deal; unless you
make it one.