"Student Union" - SJ Bottomley (best fiction books of all time .txt) 📗
- Author: SJ Bottomley
Book online «"Student Union" - SJ Bottomley (best fiction books of all time .txt) 📗». Author SJ Bottomley
home, when she asked me what was going on at the house. I told her, briefly, because I wanted to get back and carry on with the tidying up. And although talking with Trudi is never anything less than a pleasure and a delight, and I would gladly do such a thing on almost every possible occasion, my mind was more focused on events back at the house and getting stuck in with that again and subsequently, finishing things off for the day. Trudi, however, appeared exceedingly interested in what I was saying and soon it became clear that it might, in fact, be some time before I left.
Being the courteous and all around nice person that I am(!), it was only right of me, having answered her question, to ask her how things were going with her and her family. It was obvious, almost as soon as I had entered the house, that before I had arrived, Trudi had been on her own. This was easy to spot. Not only from the quietness of the house, but also due to the fact that no one else had stuck their head around a door or come into the hall, to see who it was that had rang the doorbell and who Trudi was now talking to. With this being the case, Trudi found it necessary to explain to me the current movements of everyone else who lived there. She chose to start with James. And told me that he and his girlfriend, Gemma, were spending the afternoon at the Trafford Centre. Apparently, it was heaving. Not really surprising for a Saturday afternoon in November, with five weeks or so to go before Christmas, you might say. I don't know how she knew this and with my mindset as it was at that moment, I decided not to ask. Speculating now, the only explanation...logical explanation, that I can think of is that for one reason or another, James had rang her or she had rang him and it was then that he had informed her of this. This, in itself, is hardly remarkable and certainly not worth any kind of documentation. But, saying that, I liked the way that this conversation was now going and with every sentence, every word that passed between the two of us, I was warming to it and was also, sensing an opportunity. All of a sudden, my desire to get back to moving cupboards and lamps and things from one room to another and then back again was diminishing quickly.
What you must understand and what I am trying to explain to you is that the link between Kathryn and the Taylor family, in my brain, is quite a strong one. This is, of course, due to what I wrote in "Kathryn Meets The Chemical Brothers". Basically, it all comes down to Gemma. Repeating what I said in that earlier piece, Kathryn and Gemma are best friends, or at the very least, extremely good friends. Gemma is James's girlfriend, add to that, Trudi being James's mum and you can see that there aren't that many degrees of separation between Kathryn and the person that I was now talking to. This "link" is something that has been in my thoughts ever since that New Year's Eve a couple of years ago. And since that night, it hasn't gone away. This is why, whenever I am either in the company of the Taylor's, or know that I am soon to be in the company of the Taylor's, I think of Kathryn. Perhaps this might not seem all that logical to an outsider reading this. Then again, it may make perfect sense. I don't know. It's not something that I have ever really spoken to anyone about, so I can't be sure. Continuing with what I was saying earlier though, speaking to Trudi about decorating and Bosch power tools might not have been how I wanted to spend this, particular, Saturday afternoon, but this was now slowly, gradually, becoming interesting. With my ears pricking up at this talk of Gemma and James, I realised that if I was clever enough, on the ball enough, then I could shape the discussion in such a way that it landed on one of my favourite subjects. Kathryn McKenna.
We were getting closer, certainly we were, yes. However, there was still some work to do if we were to get there. I doubted highly that Trudi would all of a sudden jump from her son to a girl that, despite the connection that I outlined above, she mustn't know all that well. She had no reason to and it would take a certain amount of persuasion on my part, if it was to happen. And to be honest, I'm not interested in the slightest in either James or Gemma. I'm not in love with either of them. It's Kathryn that I care about. Faced with this, there was a little bit of thinking needed if that shift could be made. I also had to be patient, too. I had to bide my time. For the immediate future, I just had to let her get on with it and wait for the right moment to arrive. Which I was pretty confident would eventually. Trudi continued. The bit about the two of them being at the Trafford Centre was now over. And she had moved on to the topic of Gemma walking out of her job the previous afternoon. It should probably be said at this juncture that the feeling that I got from Trudi was that she, nor the rest of the family for that matter didn't like Gemma all that much, weren't really keen on her. Now, this is none of my business, of course, I know that. But, from what I know of her, which admittedly, isn't all that much; from what I know of her, working with her...or more accurately, in the same place as her, she always seemed alright to me. Then again, I haven't been witness to the same kind of frequency of seeing her and being in her company as they have, being James's immediate family. As I said, though, none of my business, any of that. Nothing to do with me. As, you might well argue, and you'd have something of a point if you chose to, I must say, neither is the Kathryn situation. Still, this is infinitely more interesting, I think. Okay, so Gemma had left her job 24 hours earlier. To the best of my knowledge, up to that Saturday afternoon, she was still working in the Irlam store, exactly where Kathryn had been, up until only a couple of months previously. This was wrong, however. If I'd actually thought about it, I would have been able to recall not seeing her in there for ages. As you are probably well aware now, though, my primary concern whenever entering Tesco in the five months or so between April and September of this year, was Kathryn McKenna. Gemma didn't even begin to come into my thoughts. But, if she wasn't where I believed her to be, if and when I did think about it, then where was she? The answer to that question came from Trudi, and without any prompting from me whatsoever. I was simply stood there, listening...and still waiting for that aforementioned opportunity. Explaining that Gemma had always been a "cocky, confident girl", the job that she had indeed jacked in was a graduate management scheme that was situated in Northwich...or Middlewich or some other "wich", somewhere. Nantwich, possibly. I'm not entirely sure. Fair enough. I suppose you have to say. She must have had her reasons. Either that or she's daft. I wish that I was "cocky" and "confident" enough to walk away from a £23,000 a year job. Put it that way. Having done this, having abandoned ship, according to the reliable source in front of me, at least, she now had to find another job. And from what Trudi was telling me, she...Gemma, that is, had an interview that very afternoon, at Birthday's, the card shop. Putting two and two together, because she didn't quite spell it out, this seemed to be the primary reason for Gemma and James being where they were. Not shopping, as I had naturally assumed. And understandably so, I think. Presumably, there is some kind of a Birthday's outlet there. I'm not sure. I haven't noticed. How remiss. All very interesting to everyone concerned, I'm sure, but it wasn't really getting me anywhere. With my darling Kathryn by now raging at the very forefront of my mind, I was quite pleased, finally, when it became evident that this particular section of the conversation was coming to an end. But, where would it go next? Thank the Lord that it went in the right direction. We were still travelling slowly along the James/Gemma highway, but it wouldn't be long before I saw the turnoff for Kathryn City Centre straight ahead...
It was firmly established now that that was where they were. We were both happy with that. What came next was the happenings of the happy couple during the previous night. I'm just going to digress for a short moment while I explain something to you. I mentioned at the beginning of this part of the essay that when I realised that I was about to get collared by Trudi, I wasn't overly chuffed at the thought. I also mentioned that this was much more down to a desire to go back home and get back to work, more than anything to do with Trudi, personally. Then, I went on to say that I began to forget about this as the topics of discussion started to evolve and I saw where things were going. At this point, unfortunately, when it became clear to me that it was still Gemma and James and not Kathryn, that initial feeling returned. We were on the way, no doubt about that. It was simply a question of how long it would take us to get there. I almost felt like stopping her in mid-flow and shouting, "Alright! Enough! I can't take another word of this Gemma/James nonsense. Either you talk about Kathryn right now or I'm walking straight out of that door...". Almost. I needed someone to whisper, "Patience Anakin" in my ear. For the time being, it was Friday night in the worlds of James and Gemma. “Woohoo! I can't wait for this” (!) The story went something like this. Last night, James had gone to town, to Manchester, with his mates. For a Chinese, I think it was, she said. If he was with "the lads" as it were, this must therefore mean that he was Gemma-less. Well, oh yes, he was. Because she, it was revealed to me, wait for it, went to Liverpool for the evening. To visit a friend.
It hadn't been a long day, as such, but putting wallpaper up isn't exactly the most stimulating activity in the world. Add this to the fact that I had gone to bed late-ish the night before and that the conversation that I was having, well, up to this point, that was; this wasn't doing much for the old grey cells either. Because of these things, I could be forgiven I think, for not getting there as quickly as I might have done in slightly more favourable circumstances. Tick, tick, tick. "Come on Steven...Here's that "opportunity" that you've been screaming for for the last five or ten minutes..." Gemma, Liverpool, friend, visiting. Tick...tick...tick. "Hold on a minute...Kathryn!". "Ah, at last. You've got there. Well done.". It was Kathryn that she was talking about. There was no doubt about that. None whatsoever. I knew that the second that things eventually fell into place in my mind. It may have taken me an excruciatingly long time to get there, but once I
Being the courteous and all around nice person that I am(!), it was only right of me, having answered her question, to ask her how things were going with her and her family. It was obvious, almost as soon as I had entered the house, that before I had arrived, Trudi had been on her own. This was easy to spot. Not only from the quietness of the house, but also due to the fact that no one else had stuck their head around a door or come into the hall, to see who it was that had rang the doorbell and who Trudi was now talking to. With this being the case, Trudi found it necessary to explain to me the current movements of everyone else who lived there. She chose to start with James. And told me that he and his girlfriend, Gemma, were spending the afternoon at the Trafford Centre. Apparently, it was heaving. Not really surprising for a Saturday afternoon in November, with five weeks or so to go before Christmas, you might say. I don't know how she knew this and with my mindset as it was at that moment, I decided not to ask. Speculating now, the only explanation...logical explanation, that I can think of is that for one reason or another, James had rang her or she had rang him and it was then that he had informed her of this. This, in itself, is hardly remarkable and certainly not worth any kind of documentation. But, saying that, I liked the way that this conversation was now going and with every sentence, every word that passed between the two of us, I was warming to it and was also, sensing an opportunity. All of a sudden, my desire to get back to moving cupboards and lamps and things from one room to another and then back again was diminishing quickly.
What you must understand and what I am trying to explain to you is that the link between Kathryn and the Taylor family, in my brain, is quite a strong one. This is, of course, due to what I wrote in "Kathryn Meets The Chemical Brothers". Basically, it all comes down to Gemma. Repeating what I said in that earlier piece, Kathryn and Gemma are best friends, or at the very least, extremely good friends. Gemma is James's girlfriend, add to that, Trudi being James's mum and you can see that there aren't that many degrees of separation between Kathryn and the person that I was now talking to. This "link" is something that has been in my thoughts ever since that New Year's Eve a couple of years ago. And since that night, it hasn't gone away. This is why, whenever I am either in the company of the Taylor's, or know that I am soon to be in the company of the Taylor's, I think of Kathryn. Perhaps this might not seem all that logical to an outsider reading this. Then again, it may make perfect sense. I don't know. It's not something that I have ever really spoken to anyone about, so I can't be sure. Continuing with what I was saying earlier though, speaking to Trudi about decorating and Bosch power tools might not have been how I wanted to spend this, particular, Saturday afternoon, but this was now slowly, gradually, becoming interesting. With my ears pricking up at this talk of Gemma and James, I realised that if I was clever enough, on the ball enough, then I could shape the discussion in such a way that it landed on one of my favourite subjects. Kathryn McKenna.
We were getting closer, certainly we were, yes. However, there was still some work to do if we were to get there. I doubted highly that Trudi would all of a sudden jump from her son to a girl that, despite the connection that I outlined above, she mustn't know all that well. She had no reason to and it would take a certain amount of persuasion on my part, if it was to happen. And to be honest, I'm not interested in the slightest in either James or Gemma. I'm not in love with either of them. It's Kathryn that I care about. Faced with this, there was a little bit of thinking needed if that shift could be made. I also had to be patient, too. I had to bide my time. For the immediate future, I just had to let her get on with it and wait for the right moment to arrive. Which I was pretty confident would eventually. Trudi continued. The bit about the two of them being at the Trafford Centre was now over. And she had moved on to the topic of Gemma walking out of her job the previous afternoon. It should probably be said at this juncture that the feeling that I got from Trudi was that she, nor the rest of the family for that matter didn't like Gemma all that much, weren't really keen on her. Now, this is none of my business, of course, I know that. But, from what I know of her, which admittedly, isn't all that much; from what I know of her, working with her...or more accurately, in the same place as her, she always seemed alright to me. Then again, I haven't been witness to the same kind of frequency of seeing her and being in her company as they have, being James's immediate family. As I said, though, none of my business, any of that. Nothing to do with me. As, you might well argue, and you'd have something of a point if you chose to, I must say, neither is the Kathryn situation. Still, this is infinitely more interesting, I think. Okay, so Gemma had left her job 24 hours earlier. To the best of my knowledge, up to that Saturday afternoon, she was still working in the Irlam store, exactly where Kathryn had been, up until only a couple of months previously. This was wrong, however. If I'd actually thought about it, I would have been able to recall not seeing her in there for ages. As you are probably well aware now, though, my primary concern whenever entering Tesco in the five months or so between April and September of this year, was Kathryn McKenna. Gemma didn't even begin to come into my thoughts. But, if she wasn't where I believed her to be, if and when I did think about it, then where was she? The answer to that question came from Trudi, and without any prompting from me whatsoever. I was simply stood there, listening...and still waiting for that aforementioned opportunity. Explaining that Gemma had always been a "cocky, confident girl", the job that she had indeed jacked in was a graduate management scheme that was situated in Northwich...or Middlewich or some other "wich", somewhere. Nantwich, possibly. I'm not entirely sure. Fair enough. I suppose you have to say. She must have had her reasons. Either that or she's daft. I wish that I was "cocky" and "confident" enough to walk away from a £23,000 a year job. Put it that way. Having done this, having abandoned ship, according to the reliable source in front of me, at least, she now had to find another job. And from what Trudi was telling me, she...Gemma, that is, had an interview that very afternoon, at Birthday's, the card shop. Putting two and two together, because she didn't quite spell it out, this seemed to be the primary reason for Gemma and James being where they were. Not shopping, as I had naturally assumed. And understandably so, I think. Presumably, there is some kind of a Birthday's outlet there. I'm not sure. I haven't noticed. How remiss. All very interesting to everyone concerned, I'm sure, but it wasn't really getting me anywhere. With my darling Kathryn by now raging at the very forefront of my mind, I was quite pleased, finally, when it became evident that this particular section of the conversation was coming to an end. But, where would it go next? Thank the Lord that it went in the right direction. We were still travelling slowly along the James/Gemma highway, but it wouldn't be long before I saw the turnoff for Kathryn City Centre straight ahead...
It was firmly established now that that was where they were. We were both happy with that. What came next was the happenings of the happy couple during the previous night. I'm just going to digress for a short moment while I explain something to you. I mentioned at the beginning of this part of the essay that when I realised that I was about to get collared by Trudi, I wasn't overly chuffed at the thought. I also mentioned that this was much more down to a desire to go back home and get back to work, more than anything to do with Trudi, personally. Then, I went on to say that I began to forget about this as the topics of discussion started to evolve and I saw where things were going. At this point, unfortunately, when it became clear to me that it was still Gemma and James and not Kathryn, that initial feeling returned. We were on the way, no doubt about that. It was simply a question of how long it would take us to get there. I almost felt like stopping her in mid-flow and shouting, "Alright! Enough! I can't take another word of this Gemma/James nonsense. Either you talk about Kathryn right now or I'm walking straight out of that door...". Almost. I needed someone to whisper, "Patience Anakin" in my ear. For the time being, it was Friday night in the worlds of James and Gemma. “Woohoo! I can't wait for this” (!) The story went something like this. Last night, James had gone to town, to Manchester, with his mates. For a Chinese, I think it was, she said. If he was with "the lads" as it were, this must therefore mean that he was Gemma-less. Well, oh yes, he was. Because she, it was revealed to me, wait for it, went to Liverpool for the evening. To visit a friend.
It hadn't been a long day, as such, but putting wallpaper up isn't exactly the most stimulating activity in the world. Add this to the fact that I had gone to bed late-ish the night before and that the conversation that I was having, well, up to this point, that was; this wasn't doing much for the old grey cells either. Because of these things, I could be forgiven I think, for not getting there as quickly as I might have done in slightly more favourable circumstances. Tick, tick, tick. "Come on Steven...Here's that "opportunity" that you've been screaming for for the last five or ten minutes..." Gemma, Liverpool, friend, visiting. Tick...tick...tick. "Hold on a minute...Kathryn!". "Ah, at last. You've got there. Well done.". It was Kathryn that she was talking about. There was no doubt about that. None whatsoever. I knew that the second that things eventually fell into place in my mind. It may have taken me an excruciatingly long time to get there, but once I
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