The Things We Pick Up As We Go Along

Luke was thirteen years old, skinny, tall, bundled in a red parka that mum had got cheap in Kingsland Discount Store a year back. He was growing out of it, his wrists showing beyond the cuffs but his mum had said that it would do for one more winter.

He was standing in Boyles Chemist on Church Street in Hackney. His mum’s small, square form was advancing on the counter toward the back of the shop. Luke looked at himself in a mirror above a display of reading glasses. Blue eyes, blond hair, big nose. His blond hair was just like his dad, his mum had told him that. Around his big nose his face carried a default, startled look and he wondered if that was dad as well, it certainly was not from mum.

Mum reached the back of the shop.

Outside the December morning was clear and blue because, Luke knew, of the scattering of photons in the upper atmosphere. Different frequencies scattered by different amounts, the highest frequency and the most scattered end of the electromagnetic spectrum that we could detect was blue. Hence we saw the sky as blue1.

That could be understood. Mum was something else.

Luke positioned himself next to a stand of Christmas themed watches and observed as Mum began to execute her plan.

She had four brands of tampon in front of her. ‘It’s sometimes uncomfortable, you know,’ she said.

Jimmy Boyle, gawkily teenage, behind the counter of his family owned Chemist didn’t know.

The watches were pre-loaded with festive tunes and priced at nine ninety-five.

Mum had noticed them a couple of days back when one of the watches displayed out of its packaging had played We Three Kings.

She had been charmed and had decided: ‘They’ll do for presents.’

It had taken her a day to come up with a plan.

For the first time the plan had included him. He had to grab as many watches as he could while she distracted Jimmy Boyle.

Mum was declaring: ‘And the cramps.’

He didn’t know how many were needed, mum had left that up to him.

He decided on six, the first perfect number2.

Jimmy blushed red from his neck.

1, 2, 3 came off the stand and into his pocket.

One for Auntie May, one for Sarah downstairs, one for Uncle Dan although he wasn’t around so much nowadays.

Mum occupied Jimmy with: ‘What’s the absorption like ‘cause I really bleed.’

Jimmy gaped.

4, 5, 6 were gathered up.

Four for bent Tony and five for his partner Lil. The perfect six was a spare to cover anything extra.

‘They all do what they’re meant to,’ the words bumbled from Jimmy.

Luke turned to the exit, his pockets full of time.

‘Which would you use?’ mum asked Jimmy.

Luke walked out of the shop.

Outside Luke’s heart was thumping like he had run a mile. He took one of the watches from his pocket, counted the beats of his heart in ten seconds, then the next ten. His mind worked the numbers, graphed them, would the return to normal be a straight line, the shortest distance between two points or more of a tapering?

Mum emerged from Boyles The Chemist carrying her normal brand of tampons.

‘That’s Christmas done.’

She gave no sign of a raised heart rate, she had been in this situation before, it was his first go. Maybe over time his heart would become like hers.

They began to walk along Church Street, up Stamford Hill, Abney Park to their left.

How your heart reacted was not something that you could choose, it was something that happened to you.

At the entrance to Abney Park Cemetery, Clive the dosser was huddled around a litre bottle of Morrison’s vodka.

‘It’s all true,’ said Clive.

‘Sure, Clive,’ said mum stepping past him. ‘I’ve got eyes.’

They walked amid the graves of non-conformists and atheists, sat together on a bench close to the vault containing William Booth.

‘Let’s see the watches.’

He took them out of his pocket.

‘Quite a handful,’ and took one from him. ‘How do you get it to play a tune?’

‘Set the alarm.’

‘Show me.’

The watch told him it was 10:15, he set the alarm for 10:17.

‘Well?’ said mum.

‘A minute.’

10:16.

‘Clive’s mental,’ he said to fill the time.

She shrugged. ‘He sticks in there like a man should, you could learn from that.’

‘Become a drunk?’

She grabbed him, pushed his head against hers. ‘If only I could give you everything in here,’ and released him with a laugh.

It was 10:17. The watch played We Three Kings.

In the morning sun Abney Park Cemetery was a tangle of trees and tombstones, the tinny watch version of We Three Kings floating over it.

Next to him mum was saying: ‘There are no accidents, not really.’

She had been right.

*

The guy in front of me is mouthing something about how no-one could have foreseen the collapse of this particular group of CDS. I’m in a large office in a tall tower bordering the City. My firm rents the whole floor but there is just me. The firm is just me.

I like to pretend that gives me a freedom of action.

An indulgence, I know.

The guy’s skirting that he had taken the naked CDS on a sovereign, a basically illegal position but badged it up as corporate debt. He’s looking to shore up his position. What he’s doing is looking to get his money out quietly and leave someone else holding the bag. He’s licking his lips, moving his hands in and out of his pockets.

He’s not as calm as mum had been when we had robbed Boyles.

Not as calm as I’ve learnt to be.

The guy’s pleading that some of the people he’s been investing for, they‘ll ruin him.

Ruination for him is unimaginable.

I name a figure for the service he requires.

He blanches but nods: yes.

I tell him not to worry but get the tone wrong. People and tone, always a difficult thing to get right.

The guy looks at me funny.

I look at the door. He leaves.

Outside it is December and blue, that’s what put mum in my head, the morning in Boyles and how she started me out on the life I now lead.

It’s not like she had a choice.

Or that I had one come to that.

I invoke the algorithms I had prepared for the occasion. They execute as sure as mum had been that morning in Boyles.

There are no accidents.

 

Notes

1 – On a clear day the sunlit sky is blue because air scatters short-wavelength light more than longer wavelengths (Rayleigh scattering). Since blue light is at the short wavelength end of the visible spectrum, it is more strongly scattered in the atmosphere than long wavelength red light. The result is that the human eye perceives blue when looking toward parts of the sky other than the sun.

2 – A perfect number is a number that is equal to the sum of its proper positive divisors. The first perfect number is 6 because 1, 2, and 3 are its proper positive divisors, and 1 + 2 + 3 = 6. The next perfect number is 28 = 1 + 2 + 4 + 7 + 14. This is followed by the perfect numbers 496 and 8128.



End of The Things We Pick Up As We Go Along by Writer 3