Damascus by Richard Beard Page B

she? No older than Spencer, with the same short memory of a life so short she wouldn’t know what it meant to forget. She probably still believed that all the information she needed to decipher herself was available to her, if only she put enough effort into remembering it. Just the kind of foolish idea which made young people so optimistic, and so idiotic.
    Spencer came in carrying a mug of tea,
Celebrating 100 Years of the Liverpool Victoria Friendly Society
.
    â€˜Don’t say it,’ William said, taking the mug.
    â€˜Say what?’
    'I told you so.’
    â€˜You think we’ve been invaded,’ Spencer said. ‘The aliens have landed and they’re all European, and the first thing they did was ruin absolutely everything, instantly.’
    But William thought no, that’s not it. I wanted to go out because I still have a secret dream of selling the tomento. And because safety and familiarity, it’s just about possible, can drain the life from things. And yes, it was also true, because he didn’t want to miss the last days of Britain.
    â€˜It was very busy,’ William said.
    â€˜You shouldn’t get so involved,’ Spencer told him. ‘When you see people you don’t know, why think they all have to have names?’
    â€˜They all do have names.’
    â€˜Yes, I know they do. But you don’t have to name them all.’
    Spencer and Hazel had chosen neighbouring chairs, though they kept a certain distance. William sensed there would never be a better time to break them up than now, the first morning after the first night before. Spencer was saying never mind, all’s well that ends well. ‘You just shouldn’t go outside, that’s all.’
    And it was about time that William, too, accepted the truth of this. In anyone else, he would have thought it a good definition of madness, this not getting on well with the world and everything in it. For himself, he’d make it a minor inconvenience to be endured more gracefully. There was no point trying to go outside any more. The time had come to accept that no sudden and brilliant event was going to turn his life around. The tomento would never make his fortune in the supermarkets of the world and miracles were reserved for others. He should therefore resign himself to a life in retreat, with one day indistinguishable from the next. As for the world outside, he would live as if it didn’t exist, an ambition which was unthinkable without Spencer to help him through the days. The girl would just have to go.
    'I disagree,’ Hazel said. She then shared her considered medical opinion, via her sister, that William’s condition wasn’t so very difficult to cure. There was no reason he shouldn’t go outside. He just had to be better prepared in what to expect. Fear was ignorance, nothing more.
    â€˜And how would you suggest he prepares himself?’ Spencer asked her.
    â€˜We tell him what it’s like.’
    â€˜Where?’
    â€˜Outside.’
    â€˜And what about our problems?’
    â€˜What problems?’
    â€˜The you know what. We ought to get that sorted out before Grace gets here.’
    â€˜Oh, that,’ Hazel said. ‘I don’t have a problem with that.’
    Spencer stood up, was about to say something, walked to the door, was about to say something, opened the door and left the room. William spread his fingers over the blanket, and then covered one hand with the other.
    â€˜So then, Hazel,’ he said. ‘How did you meet Spencer? Are you a friend of Jessica’s?’

    It is the first of November 1993 and somewhere in Britain, in Glossop or Peebles or Stroud or Diss, in Spalding or Greysteel or Liverpool or Llanrhaeadr-ym-Mochnant, Spencer is fifteen years old and tonight’s the night.
    The school is hosting its Hallowe’en party a day late to accommodate the handful of European students who are the school’s temporary guests