The Fabulists | Page 3

a time. There was something
important she ought to think of but it didn't matter right now. She
stretched out and brought the clock to view in the grey light. It was two,
and she had to be at the dole office at half-past. There was just about
enough time for a cup of strong tea, and a quick wash and change.
The queue had stalled because of an argument at the hatch, and several
women were already grumbling and restless. There was a light steam
rising off their coats, and one woman's hair was stringy from the rain.
Tess took off her cap. Small mercy, her hair was dry. The young
woman at the head of the queue was still arguing, her voice rising and
her face red. She turned sideways, shouting from an angle at the
unfortunate clerk who was now exposed to the queue. Tess stepped a
little to the right so she could see everything. The clerk retreated behind
an immovable bureaucracy, but Tess could see she was upset.
'Fuck this for a lark,' the woman in front of Tess swore. 'I've a kid to
collect.'
'Me too,' Tess said.
The woman glanced at Tess, then roared at the clerk. 'Would you not
get her a supervisor so we can get out of here today?'
Tess gnawed on her nails, and stared at a big rubber plant as she
automatically shuffled along. Her turn came, she put her cap firmly
back on, signed the docket and brought it to the pay-hatch queue. The
notes were fresh and before she put them into her purse she flicked
them for the pleasure of it. Outside, she hesitated, longing for a cup of
coffee, but she would have to get the bus to Fairview.

She arrived at the school on the stroke of three, and heard the faint bell
and then the clamour of the children as they rushed out. Tess glanced at
a woman who nodded and theysmiled at each other. There were a few
men waiting too, aloof - embarrassed, she supposed. Only one spoke to
his children; the others turned as their children came up to them and
one walked away as soon as he saw his girl, letting the child catch up
with him along the street. He was the surly one who stared at Tess most
days but always turned away when she faced him, as if she embodied
all his humiliation, and she hated him. It wasn't her fault that he was
unemployed and humbled like this in front of women. He was
employed bringing his child home, like everyone else here.
Arthur as usual was last, holding his satchel in front of him, his knees
bumping it forward as he walked. She always meant to reprimand him
for dragging his feet coming out of school as if she was the last person
he wanted to see, but as soon as she saw his dreamy brown eyes, she
forgot. They stayed on her until he had almost reached her, and then his
face would come alive, in a mischievous, embracing grin. Like an actor
with perfect timing, he left it to the last moment, keeping her sense of
expectation flickering.
'Hello Tess.'
'Hello Arthur.'
She gave him a quick, sideways hug. Arthur was a loving child, but she
had discovered that boys, no less than men, disliked being embraced in
public. They walked happily through Fairview, oblivious to the
constant roar of traffic. She glanced down at Arthur, who seemed
completely at ease, and while envying his self-possession, she was
grateful for it too.
He was obviously happier since she and Brian had split up. There was
peace in the house and he could be with both his parents for some of
the day, most days. How had two people, who had been at each other's
throats for most of their marriage - how had they produced a placid,
contented boy like Arthur? She often wondered, and supposed it to be
one of life's conundrums.

'Can I invite Annie to tea?'
'Who?'
'Annie. She's been sick.'
'Annie. Oh yes, of course ... Yes of course, invite her to tea! That's a
very nice thought, Arthur.'
And to think she hadn't even missed Annie. He retreated back into
himself, with a hint of a smile, content. He looked as if he had his life
plotted out, and his asking permission was only a polite formality.
They went into the playground in Fairview Park and she sat down,
holding him before her and looking into his eyes. 'Arthur, do you miss
me not being at home at night?'
He thought about it for a moment.
'Would you come and tuck me in more often? Daddy's not very good at
telling stories. He reads through a book at