GALLEY BEGGAR PRESS EXTRACTS
Insignificance, by James Clammer
1.
STILL WHEN THE MAN JOSEPH turned his vehicle from the tarmac of the road onto the brick-paved driveway at the far-end corner of Lysander Close there was early morning's coolness in the air. To one side of the sky hung muted grey cloud which was part of the night that had been and nothing to do with the blueness to come. The night itself had been unpleasant, too hot for easy sleeping, this coolness of the present moment was welcome while it lasted. He parked the vehicle and crossed to the front door with its scalloped double-glazing, the patterns were meant to look like seashells, he knocked, heard nothing, knocked again, upon still hearing nothing knocked for a third time and now was rewarded by the sound of feet on the stairs within. The door opened and he caught a glimpse of baby-blue dressing-gown. Down soon said the dressing-gown, in reality Amanda Margaret Hollander. I wasn't expecting you yet, you are bad Joe Forbes coming this early, that was how she said it then she pounded upstairs. See you in a minute, go in there. From the kitchen where he had been instructed to wait the man Joseph examined cursorily the tea, coffee and biscuits laid out that were Amanda Margaret's thoughtful contribution to the sustenance he would need throughout the day, which was also his first day back and not something he was very much looking forward to. A doomy feeling in fact filled various parts of his insides, part bafflement, part disappointment, worry, humiliation. Yet there was nothing to be done and at least he was prepared, for example the discreet cardboard packet in his work trousers which Alison, his wife, had insisted he carry for safety's sake and which he in turn had sworn there would be no use for. Alison had won that argument, she possessing a combination of infinite patience and steelish resolve which might in some manifest as attritional bullying or passive aggression, no such confusion being possible in her case however since these qualities of resolve and patience were very much her own and nobody who knew her could possibly call her a bully, least of all Joseph who had been married to her for nearly two decades. Facts were facts, his wife's character could not be denied, she was a kind woman, a jewel, such people do exist, to the vicissitudes of life they respond by broadening their kindness, how they perform this miracle we would all dearly love to know.
The clock on the wall told Joseph the time, 7.50 am. Aside from the movements of a family of sparrows visible through the rear window it seemed that here in the kitchen all was stillness, the wooden table, the hanging mugs, the stillness was nice, a pleasant touch of cold, but knowing that today's task, this renewed interfacing with the world of money, would not be achieved by indulging in quietude he went to the kettle, already it was filled to the maximum line, he switched it to boil remembering at the same time a specific impression he wished to make upon Amanda Margaret, an impression which required hot water. From above there came flushings and sluicings, bathroom sounds, followed by more silence which could only mean the application of make-up. The doomy sensations inside his stomach eased a little, the man Joseph had anticipated them anyway, now around them like flames from a gas ring curled other emotion-thoughts. The idea of eyeliner and lipstick and whatever other transformative techniques were being pressed into use upstairs by Amanda Margaret was exciting him, they dropped aflutter into the spot where his lower ribs met, the diaphragm he believed it to be called. In short he was becoming aroused. It was a long time since he had last experienced sexual intercourse, what it was like he’d almost forgotten, and with the temperature as displayed by the digital thermometer housed inside the kitchen clock standing already at 22 degrees Celsius there was little in the immediate environment to dampen his desires. Today Joseph felt stronger, more like the man he had been and the man he believed he ought to be once more.
The make-up was not going on because of him of course, he knew that, it was going on because that was what women did at the basin every morning. It was something they needed to have in place before they left the house, Alison did it, every woman whose intimate morning routine he had ever known did it, it was a rule of life, imagine such rigmaroles being considered unnecessary, how unthinkable. Yet there was no getting around the suspicion, it was strong enough to be called that, that Amanda Margaret had a soft spot for him, for Joseph, and as such might be making a more especial effort to appear attractive with him particularly in mind. Again came the fluttering against the diaphragm, that convenient division between the upper organs of the body, the heart and brain, that specialise in nobility, vigour and improvement and those other lower arrangements whose purposes are steeped in vulgarisms, waste disposal or unapologetic lechery. Yes, most certainly the midriff was a sensitive area in the man Joseph's experience, most certainly it was a dispatcher of vital messages. Nothing would be doing for a few minutes though so he examined the biscuits left out for him and thought vaguely about the jet stream, the jet stream up in the atmosphere that was, he'd seen a programme on TV about it, the programme had made him worry, was the jet stream asleep, was it awake? He understood in some way that its torpor was responsible for the current heatwave, let us be careful however not to give the impression that Joseph was in any way an initiate into the science of meteorology. In the matter of biscuits things were different. Here he was both expert and connoisseur and this was a dispiriting selection, childish and sugary, what message was Amanda Margaret giving him by putting out these unmanly biscuits? Did she think extra sugar would help get him through the job? No, it had not been that kind of illness, people were always getting it wrong, he knew he should do more to set them straight but he did not like speaking about it, he was ashamed because of the weakness it implied, a strange sentiment when we consider the unprecedented esteem in which the sick and disabled are held by the voting-age population of these islands. Hello Joe said Amanda Margaret Hollander smiling. Sorry to run away like that, I wasn't decent when you arrived, you're keen aren't you? Something further was said as she came down and stood at the foot of the stairs looking into the kitchen but at that very moment the kettle came to the boil obliterating her words and a jet of water vapour gushed from the spout, plastering itself against the inside of the nearest window. Can I make you coffee? asked the man Joseph, recalling the impression he wished to make and pouring a cup for himself as he spoke – for during his illness, which had been mostly of the psychological variety, he had discovered in some roundabout way an advertisers’ trick, videlicet that those holding before them in both hands a steaming mug of some reviving beverage or other present to others a more positive image, more likeable, more trustworthy, more substantial. Probably this small piece of manipulation worked better in wintertime, he reflected, still he wanted Amanda Margaret to think of him as substantial. Knowing such things was good in any case, it made you feel less naive, not that he counted himself as one amongst that tribe particularly. Thank you, I don’t really have time said Amanda Margaret, but what I need to know Joe, what I need to know Joe darling, is whether this is OK, whether you’re, you know... healthy enough for this. Pink-faced and discomforted suddenly she bobbed into the kitchen. I mean, I can easily get someone else to do it, what I don't want to do is cause a... well, cause any sort of a – relapse. Oh said the man Joseph quickly, hastily, blushingly, that's all over, nothing to worry about, there’s no problem there now, I’m fighting fit. He lifted the hot mug of coffee close to his lips, he felt the bulge of the small cardboard packet in his side-pocket, he tried to project upon her the certainty of his new-found health and virility. Humour was the way to deal with this, the sick not being known for their indulgence in quick-wittedness preferring instead to gather themselves for the occasional morbid stab which causes those around them to feel half-dead too. Do you think Alison would have let me out if I wasn’t? At this Amanda Margaret smiled again, yes this was best, make a joke of it, draw the sting out of it, slightly cowardly perhaps, a longer talk would be better but she really did need to leave for work. About the kitchen she moved gathering the things she required for her day, keys, purse, hat, sunblock, don’t forget sunblock, she seemed to be in four places at once, the abrupt jitteriness was gratifying for Joseph to see. I’ll try to finish early Joe, come back early and see how you’re getting on, would you mind if I did that? Of course not, that would be lovely, I can see you’re in a hurry now, don’t worry about me. Oh I forgot my phone! – upstairs she rushed again, downstairs she dashed again, pausing before him a moment to concentrate formally and glassy-eyed on the ritual of departing the house.
So there was humiliation in this but opportunity also. The gas-tips of arousal continued to fire and lodge in the softness of Joseph’s diaphragm, they were not abating, to him she looked fine, Amanda Margaret Hollander, she looked more than fine, the make-up had been applied with skill, her eyes were dark and perfectly distanced, her cheekbones high and blushing, the lips teasingly well-outlined, about her throat hung a simple gold necklace with a dangling bar that drew attention downwards, the gold was probably real gold, the blouse she wore strained open at the third button. More extraordinary were the trousers she wore, not the tightness of them which was another thing altogether but the fabric from which they were made, a silvery-grey that changed colour depending on the viewing angle, the word iridescent is fashionable amongst those seeking vivid adjectives but on this occasion no other will do. Holding the mug of coffee in a still more reassuring and trustworthy position at the level of his chest nipples the man Joseph took a step towards her, his desire was dovetailing into lust, he wanted to examine in more detail these clothes Amanda Margaret wore and the fit they made with her body, far easier dwelling on that than upon the fresh humiliation of being asked if he was Up To The Job which he knew was what she had really wanted to say just then. As for this hurry of her’s to leave – well that was all right, he had hoped for more of course, a little dallying, a little flirtation, a little standing-fractionally-closer-than-might-be-appropriate, it was something he'd been looking forward to, there was not much else, there was nothing else, the truth was he had had a bellyful of the bad times and wanted some good times, was that too much to ask. What if now he leant in, what could be more natural, a brush of the lips. Oh Joe, Oh Amanda, I’ve wanted this for so long, Me too, I thought this was never going to happen, Neither did I. The first unhitching of clothes, it could be fast or slow, who cared about that, then the sinking down and writhing together on the kitchen floor, for some reason it had to be there, how appalling, how reprehensibly disloyal to Alison his wife, how fortunate for all concerned that these things play out in the mind more often than not.
But Amanda Margaret, still standing there, the seconds going by, wasn't thinking any of this, being fixated in the first instance only on her watered silk trousers. Getting into them had been easy enough, the button at the waistband had needed a small pinch, over five years ago she must have bought them now but she still had her figure, she was proud of it, she knew it was approved of by men. Yet the shine of the fabric was too much and today the sun would blaze. Sophisticated dove grey she had believed them to be at the moment of purchase, but when she got them home they just looked cheap and garish. The kitchen clock said 8.16, where had the minutes gone, we must pray Amanda Margaret gets to work on time since everyone knows the penalties awaiting those who lapse, stress in the first instance, starvation and destitution in the last, where would we be without these strict divisions of the clock. But why was Joe Forbes gawping like that and why was he holding his coffee mug in such a peculiar way? Hunched, the poor man was, looked about ready to freeze to death – in this heat! He wasn't bad-looking, nothing special, sweet in a way, too thin certainly, perhaps if he and Alison hadn’t got together so early... but he’d been through hell. Wife and husband both, imagine it. And what they’d lost! That thing, that condition of Edward’s, whoever had heard of it, nobody, nobody in the real world. The momentary irritation passed, it could not anyhow be called irritation, it was hazier than that, one of those dissatisfied moods that come and go like a breeze but it was definitely too late now to do anything about the trousers, she would have go to work in them. Remember everyone’ll be wearing sunglasses today, maybe through tinted glass the fabric will regain some of its sophistication. I have to leave, Amanda Margaret said, good luck Joe, good luck Joe darling, why she said this for a second time was difficult to say, a surge of sympathy perhaps, I’ll come home early, we’ll have coffee together, I want to hear about Alison, it’s so long since I've seen her, I want to hear about you, as she opened the door with the scalloped double-glazing two sparrows flew from a bush in the front garden and Amanda Margaret shuddered, for in the Dictionary of Omens and Superstitions that Alison had given her back when they were teenagers it said that a sparrow flying into the house meant death and that sparrows in general were birds of ill fortune ever since chirpingly at the Crucifixion they’d encouraged the Roman soldiers to stick their spears deeper into the man Jesus. It’s a shame Amanda Margaret Hollander passes only briefly through our story. We’d like to get to know her better, we’d like to dig beneath her upper layers and find the shiftings and hardnesses beneath, the nurtured memories of childhood farm holidays, goats suckling in sunlight, the metal-bar coldness of cattle pens, the dust and silence of unused barns, how has she ended up in this suburb of lookalike houses, what came along to deprive her of the pastoral life she had planned? Once seen with absolute certainty as a milkmaid smiling over the churn. Neither is there time to delve into that other fragment of her personality which is beginning to develop a belief in reincarnation. Maybe in the next life she’ll be the farmer’s wife, or the farmer, gazing across fields at her livestock. Oh, but if only Amanda Margaret had succeeded in throwing out that wretched Dictionary early on! Then she wouldn't have to be standing here when she’s late for work shuddering about sparrows, birds no-one else gives a second thought to, or thinking that viewing the full moon through glass brings bad luck or that seeing a cat eat grass is a sign of impending rain or a hundred of the other insane notions that fill her head. What a way to go through life, the allowances you have to make and the circuitous routes you have to travel by, it’s tortuous. She tilted her head to one side, she gave Joseph a farewell smile, into the smile she put extra light and sparkle, he and Alison had been together for so long now they must be thoroughly bored with each but what a terrible trivial thought that was given the circumstances, one event after another it had been for them (she knew more than he thought), the mannikin, the symbols on the mannikin, Edward’s arrest, his first appearance in court, his last appearance in court. Dustily the sparrows dived across the road, slowly a car drove by, somewhere a siren sounded, the clouds at least were high and beautiful. See you later, call me anytime, good luck, good luck. Away Amanda Margaret Hollander hastened.
James Clammer’s novel, Insignificance, was published by Galley Beggar Press in August 2021. It was selected by the guardian as a fiction pick, and the Sunday times called it “an uncompromising, impressive performance.” To order a copy, head here.