Magnificent Joe by James Wheatley Page B

fucking frigid. You’re sex-obsessed yourself, man!’
    â€˜Aye, but now I’m worried that I’m never going to be exciting enough for her.’
    â€˜You’ve been thinking about this too much, mate. You’re going to drive yourself bloody crackers this way.’
    â€˜You’re too late – I’m already there.’
    â€˜Come on, man, get a grip. And give her some credit – she’s not stupid. She’s not marrying you for a laugh, is she? She’s serious about you.’
    â€˜No, she’s not stupid, that’s for sure.’
    â€˜Fucking right it is.’ Jim’s mouth was whizzing ahead of his mind now; he felt like he was cycling downhill. ‘And mebbes she’s had enough of that sort of excitement, eh? Mebbes she wants someone she can actually rely on, and that’s why she’s chosen you.’
    â€˜Yeah?’
    â€˜Yeah. You’ve got a fit bird who likes you just the way you are. It’s the best of both worlds, mate. You’re on to a winner.’
    Geoff smiled for the first time all morning. ‘You’re right.’
    â€˜Of course I’m right.’
    â€˜I knew I could trust you to set me straight.’
    Jim had no idea that he’d done any such thing, but he smiled and said, ‘Let’s get you married.’ He desperately wanted a drink.

‌ ‌ 10
November 2004
    I think Barry’s scowl is going to stick to his face and stay there for ever. They’ll cremate him like that and it’ll be a closed-coffin job, because once he stops breathing, nobody will want to look at him again.
    â€˜That fucking Mac, thinks he’s the fucking crown prince.’
    We’ve had this for days: every time the three of us have the cabin to ourselves, out it comes. It’s nine thirty and Barry hasn’t even changed into his boots yet. He kicks out at one of them and it skitters across the floor, coming to rest next to me. I kick it back.
    â€˜He’s all right is our Mac,’ says Geoff. ‘He’s got a big gob, but a big heart too.’
    â€˜He’s arrogant, that’s what he is. Arrogant.’ Barry drags hard at the last of his fag, drops it onto the floor of the cabin, and grinds it into a black smear under the heel of his trainer.
    I’ve had enough of this. I finish my tea and walk outside. It’s freezing. November brought an early frost, and now it’s almost cold enough to justify downing tools, but Mac negotiated a completion bonus with the main contractor, so his lads keep at it. Barry won’t be shown up, so we’re here too. The difference is that they’re actually working, while we are sat on our arses.
    I mount the ladder and haul myself to the second tier of scaffolding that runs along the section we’re to work on today. This side of the building is in shadow, and dew is frozen in the folds of the hessian that protects the blockwork. I’m about to pull it back so that I can see where new stacks are needed when Mac rounds the corner and says, ‘Morning.’
    â€˜Morning, Mac.’ My breath clouds.
    â€˜Are them two coming out to play or what?’
    â€˜Give ’em time. They have a unique conception of what constitutes a working day.’
    â€˜Has Barry mentioned the other night?’
    â€˜No. I think he suspects something, though.’
    â€˜Miserable bastard. Why the fuck are you still working for him anyway?’
    â€˜It’s not really for him, is it? We’re old mates; it’s just the way it’s worked out.’
    â€˜Doesn’t mean it has to stay that fucking way.’
    â€˜We’ve been the same crew almost our whole working lives, man. Anyway, it’s Geoff I feel sorry for – he has to stand next to the bastard all day.’
    â€˜I’m not fucking worried about Geoff.’
    â€˜Well, don’t worry about me either. Shouldn’t you be sat in an office