Boracic Lint

by Martin Bryce

what’s more a live one. Oh, I’m alive, alive! I must feel myself again.’

  H backed away to his room. I hummed a happy tune, then whistled Christmas carols until H hammered on the door again. I must get dressed, I thought. Then a cup of coffee and this time I’ll have time to drink it. I dressed as quickly as I could, stumbling over myself several times in my enthusiasm. I put the kettle on to boil and while I was waiting called Sam on my mobile. Godfrey answered the phone.

  ‘Do you know what time it is?’ he asked sleepily after he had established that I was not his pig handler reporting an outbreak of swine fever.

  ‘No,’ I replied ‘and I don’t care. I must speak to Sam, it’s very urgent.’

  ‘It’s that prat of a brother of yours,’ I heard him say as he handed Sam the phone.

  ‘What is it, Miffy? What’s wrong? She asked.

  ‘Wrong? Nothing at all is wrong,’ I replied eagerly. ‘In fact, nothing’s ever been righter.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’

  ‘Right? Right as ninepence. Right as all the money in the world.’

  ‘Well, what on Earth is the matter? You’re gibbering like an idiot.’

  ‘He is an idiot,’ I heard Godfrey say in the background.

  ‘On Earth? Nothing’s the matter on Earth, Sam,’ I laughed. ‘It’s the other place, but I’m back now. I’m back and alive!’

  ‘Back from where?’

  ‘The other place. You know. No, how could you? How silly of me. Oh, I am a silly. Sam, I want to spend Christmas with you, will it be alright? Please say yes, Sam, please say I can come and stay with you.’

  ‘Well, yes, of course, Miffy. I invited you.’

  ‘Thank you, Sam. A thousand thank yous!’

  ‘As a matter of fact,’ she added yawning, ‘mummy and the Admiral will be here with Rodney. They decided to come when they found out that you couldn’t make it to them for Christmas day.’

  ‘Splendid!’ I said, ‘splendid. It’ll be just like old times. But don’t tell them, Sam. Let it be a surprise.’

  The kettle was whistling loudly and H was banging on the door again as its shrill cry died away when I turned off the gas. I made a cup of Nescaff. A dream, it had all been a dream. I sipped the hot coffee and was beginning to feel a lot more composed when my gaze shifted momentarily to the floor. Instantly a shiver ran down my spine. There was some scattered tobacco, several Rizla papers and a large number of unlit matches. But more chillingly – I got down on my hands and knees for a closer look. It was! Cigar ash!

  ‘Oh, goodness me!’ I said to myself. ‘Goodness, gracious me!’ I began to laugh nervously, then more and more ebulliently until I was rolling on the floor, helpless and with tears streaming down my cheeks. Mr H hammered on my door again. I crawled over to it on my hands and knees and tapped lightly back. He hammered. I tapped. He hammered. I opened the door.

  ‘You’ll never believe this, Mr H,’ I said, ‘but last night I walked right through this door without even opening it. Yes, this very door! Without so much as a scratch.’ He was about to say something when I announced, ‘Oh, and some good news, Mr H. I won’t be needing my room over Christmas, so you can have your sister-in-law to stay, after all. ‘I’m so pleased. Aren’t you?’

  He glowered at me, grunted and stalked off back to his bedroom and slammed the door.

  I couldn’t stay in the house a moment longer. I looked at my clock which was ticking merrily away again. Five o’clock. Sr Corsini would be opening up in fifteen minutes. I wrapped up warmly, collected my cheque book and crept downstairs so as not to further disturb the Hs’ slumber. A cold gale was blowing, reminding me of that bleak beach I had trodden not so very long ago. I shuddered and walked briskly and in no time at all I was as warm as toast. I was surprised at how many people were up and about at that time of the morning. I greeted each one with a, ‘Very merry Christmas to you.’ I got strange looks in return.

  I arrived at the Black Cat just as Sr Corsini was opening the door. I threw my arms around him and wished him season’s greetings. He said that nobody had ever done that to him in Britain before and had I considered emigrating to Italy? His wife gave Italian lessons, very cheap, if I was interested. I ordered a mega breakfast.

  One by one, weary workers came into the café, each of them yawning merrily. The early editions of the morning papers carried news of the festive postal workers’ and petrol tanker drivers’ strikes, traditional at this time of the year.

  Soon the streets were thronging with people all enjoying another Monday morning. I whistled some of my favourite carols on the tube until several people asked, in unison, if I really had to.

  I had planned on being late for work and killed time before the bank opened by gazing at all the brightly-dressed shop windows. I was sorry I had ignored them for so long. How could I have plumbed such depths of wretchedness when all around people were putting so much energy into bringing the magic alive? Everyone looked happy, even the Traffic Wardens and I didn’t mind at all the sleet that was now coming at me horizontally.

  ‘There’s a bit of interest owing to you,’ the girl in the bank said as I was withdrawing my savings.

  ‘I’d like to leave a pound in the account, just to keep it open,’ I said.

  The girl actually smiled at me. A beautiful, young, gentle smile as she handed me my money. I came away with three hundred and ninety-five pounds, twenty-two pee.

  My next task was to call Goldman. His phone was engaged for a while, but eventually I got through. I apologised to him for being so selective about my work in the past. ‘I’ll take anything you offer in future,’ I said, ‘and thank you for last night.’

  ‘Last night?’

  ‘Yes, how was the dinner with Bill?’

  ‘Bill?’

  ‘Shakespeare. The haunting contract. You know, Mr Goldman, or is it supposed to be a secret?’

  ‘What are you on?’ He asked.

  ‘Nothing at all,’ I replied. ‘I’ve even given up smoking again, for good this time.’

  ‘There may be something in the New Year,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’ll call you.’ And with that he hung up.

  I popped into the stationery shop and bought a couple of packs of Christmas cards, then went to the Post Office where I addressed all but two of them to family and friends. Of the two I held back, I put fifty pounds into one for Rowena and five pounds into the other for Harry’s mother.

  Then the pet shop. ‘D’you sell cage birds, like budgies?’ I asked. They did. ‘Well, I want the biggest one in the shop, please. I don’t know anything about them, so I leave the choice entirely up to you. And could you deliver it to this address?’ I gave the assistant a slip of paper with the Hs’ address on it.

  ‘Suppose you’d like it gift wrapped,’ the youth said sarcastically, chewing gum.

  ‘Terrific!’ I replied, ‘But I don’t want them to know who it’s from, d’you understand?’

  ‘This isn’t some sort of joke, is it?’

  ‘No,’ I replied, ‘anything but. You see, I was responsible for the death of, well, their child, sort of,’ I explained. ‘And this is a replacement.’

  ‘A cage bird? For a child?’

  ’Sort of. In a manner of speaking. You will deliver it today, won’t you?’

  He said they would and confirmed that I did want the biggest in the shop, didn’t I?

  I clocked in at Harridges two hours late.

  ‘’Ere, Wally,’ Harry called as I walked through the warehouse. ‘That Welsh witch ‘as been looking all over for you. There’s a queue a mile long outside the Grotto.’

  ‘I’d better hurry then,’ I said.

  ‘No, ‘old on a second, I’ve got your wallet,’ he said, holding it out to me. ‘Landlord found it in the pub Saturday night as ‘e was clearin’ up. Gave it me Sunday. Funds are gone, but I shouldn’t think there’s anyfink else missin’’

&nbs
p; ‘It’s only money,’ I said as I took a bunch of tens and fives from my pocket and crammed them into the leather. ‘Thanks, Harry.’

  ‘’Ere were d’you get all that folding?’ He said goggling.

  ‘Robbed a bank,’ I joked.

  ‘Straight up? Is that why you’re late?’ He asked in amazement. ‘I did get you wrong, didn’t I?’

  I blew him a kiss.

  ‘Aw, leave it out, son, you’re as bent as I am.’

  ‘Not half,’ I replied. ‘By the way, what’s your address?’ I enquired as I placed the card for his mother on his desk.

  ‘Don’t you remember? No. State you was in I don’t suppose you do,’ he said as I picked up his biro. ‘Anyway, why d’you want to know?’

  I explained my intentions.

  ‘Nah, don’ do that,’ he said. ‘Give it to me and I’ll make sure she gets it.’

  ‘You won’t,’ I told him. He looked at me for several seconds and then gave me a broad grin.

  ‘Alright, Wally, he said and then dictated his address. ‘Oi!’ He shouted as I got into the goods’ lift. ‘Biro!’ I threw it back to him. ‘And another thing, Wally, he said, ‘there’s one person I wouldn’t steal from and that’s me muvver.’ He was smiling. I had to believe him.

  I didn’t bother with make-up apart from a little to hide the bruises on my face. I leaped into my costume and made straight for the Grotto. It was the busiest morning I had ever had , but the crowds thinned just before lunch. It was then that the Bull turned up.

  ‘Have you thought about the staff party, lad?’ He asked. ‘We need to know today if we’re going to finalise the catering arrangements.’

  ‘What would happen if I said, no, Mr Flowers?’

  ‘Can’t answer that. Never happened before, but there’s talk of cancelling the whole thing,’ he said. I detected the tiniest hint of disappointment in his voice.

  ‘In that case,’ I began gravely, ‘under the circumstances and taking everything into account, I’m left with no option, Mr Flowers,’ I noticed that his lip was beginning to curl, ‘but to make it the best staff party ever.’

  He didn’t smile, but the lip fell back into place. ‘Knew you’d see sense in the end, lad,’ he said, patting me on the shoulder.

  ‘Oh, Mr Flowers!’ I called after him as he marched off. ‘You looked terrific in that white, sparkly bearskin.’ I winked at him. He narrowed his eyes and raised his finger.

  ‘You watch your step…’

  ‘Oh, I nearly forgot,’ I interrupted, pointing to the five full boxes for the children’s hospital. I explained my idea. ‘After all, the stuff’s been paid for, so it’s not as if Harridges is actually giving it away. But I suppose it will need some sort of authorisation.’

  He looked at me suspiciously for several seconds.

  ‘It’s highly irregular,’ he said, ‘never been done before.’ He paused a moment longer. ‘But it’s a nice idea. I’ll speak to the Manager for you.’

  The boxes went to the hospital.

  When I got home that evening Mr and Mrs H were sitting at either side of the kitchen table as usual. Between them was a very large birdcage containing a very large bird.

  ‘D’you know anything about this?’ H stormed, pointing a heavily bandaged finger at the thing.

  ‘But I meant…’

  ‘Meant what?’ He demanded with a snarl.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ I replied. ‘What a lovely parrot.’

  ‘Lovely be buggered,’ he snapped back. ‘Bloody thing damn near took my finger off!’ He held up the damaged digit for emphasis.

  ‘I know nothing about it,’ I said, silently cursing the cretinous staff of the pet shop.

  ‘Well, who else’d send us a thing like that? We know nothing about parrots, always ‘ad budgies.’

  ‘I’m sure it’ll grow on you,’ I soothed.

  ‘Grow! If it grows any more we’ll ‘ave to put iron bars on t’bloody windows and move out ourselves!’

  ‘D’you know who brought it?’ I asked.

  ‘Aye, got t’delivery