Patrick Parker's Progress by Mavis Cheek

to the ceiling, to the universe, to think of her in that way ever again. It took too much energy. It made him feel weak. What Brunel called 'dilution'.
    In London Audrey put her arm through her boyfriend's and stepped out for a stroll. William, the new beau, might not be Great and Grand. Nor (she sighed to remember Patrick's fair face) as beautiful - but he knew how to kiss, he wanted to kiss, he never stepped back from her when she kissed him and she was practising very hard. Getting, she was sure, very Doris Day and good with it. She could turn William's face scarlet with just the touch of her tongue. Trouble was that sometimes - quite often in fact - it was Patrick whose lips she imagined pressed to hers. Bugger, bloody, bugger it.
    'Now Aud's got a boyfriend,' he said to his mother. It means she won't be interested in coming away with me any more.'
    'You'll probably get a lot more done without her,' said Florence, who was in great danger of clapping her hands and bursting into song. 'And anyway, I wouldn't worry about all that ...' She handed him the local newspaper, folded back at a particular page. The headline read: money at last po urs in to rebuild Coventry, new team appointed.
    'See,' she said. 'And it won't be long before you are old enough to be part of all that.'
    'There are no bridges in Coventry, Mother.' He spoke irritably.
    'Exactly,' said Florence. 'So it's time there was.'
    She sounded, he thought, just as daft as Audrey. But he could not be bothered to point out that an Heroic Bridge needs an Heroic Setting. Or at the very least a sodding river. Coventry had neither. Florence smiled with satisfaction. Just the two of them again, even if George was sitting in his chair by the range and as usual slurping his tea.
    'Bike held out all right?' his father asked for want of something to say.
    Patrick nodded.
    'You ought to give it bit of a clean and a once-over now,' he said. 'I'll give you a hand if you like.'
    But Patrick did not appear to hear this. He never had cleaned it and had no intention of doing so now. His mother noticed he was restless. She considered her options. The matter was left.
    When Florence stopped the elegant Mrs Ruby Boxer on Quinton Road and told her that Little Audrey had a boyfriend in London nowadays, the elegant Mrs Ruby Boxer was more than a little surprised. Such personal conversation was not a feature of Florence's relationship with the people who lived around and about her, especially not the publican's wife. Usually if you got a nod and a 'good morning' from Florence Parker as she hurried towards the shops, or back from the library, you were lucky. Of course, over the last year her Peggy had spotted Patrick, along with half the girls in Coventry from the sound of it - he seemed to be a very desirable young man - though Mrs Ruby Boxer liked them with a little more muscle to them. Her Peggy had said that she wouldn't mind but that when she enquired of Patrick's health, Mrs Parker told her very firmly that he was very well and courting Audrey down in London. Well - not any more.
    'Really?' said Mrs Boxer, adjusting her dainty little homemade hat - or at least, drawing attention to it. 'And how does your Patrick feel about that?'
    'To tell the truth,' said Florence in a low, confiding way, ‘I think Little Audrey was far too self-centred for him. What he wants is to have a nice local girl he can go for walks with, or to the pictures sometimes. You know the sort of thing. Local.'
    Mrs Boxer nodded the bit of navy buckram.
    'He's got to concentrate on his studies if he's going to end up a famous -' Florence hesitated - she was never sure what the right word for her son's ambition was - she settled for 'Architect' since 'Builder' sounded too much like Eddying and Sons who had mended their skylight.
    'He still wants to do the same thing then?' said the elegant Ruby.
    'Oh, yes,' said Florence. 'Never wavered.' She waited a fractional moment and then asked with hitherto unknown interest.