So Many Ways to Begin - Jon McGregor

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question was an insult.

      Where would you go? he asked.

      I don’t know, she said, kissing him back. Anywhere, she said. Away from here.

      * * *

       School’s the same as ever, it’s difficult and it’s not much fun but I’m going to stick it out, I’m going to get my Highers. Sometimes I think it’s my only chance. I do spend an awful lot of time in class just thinking about you though, and I’m looking forward to seeing you again soon. I suppose really it’s my turn to come see you, but I doubt my folks would let me do that. My da’s already asking after you, he says he wants to know when he’s going to get a chance to meet you! I told him it was nothing like that, but now I’m not so sure – what do you think?

      Eleanor’s house was small, as all the houses were on that side of the harbour; gloomy inside, draughty and probably difficult to heat, but well built, with granite blocks from the local quarries, and solid enough to last a couple of centuries or more. There were two bedrooms upstairs, divided by a steep and narrow stairway, a small front room, a kitchen at the back of the house, a scullery and an outside toilet. Her parents didn’t own the house, but her grandfather had lived there as well, and his father before that, so the family history felt as though it was etched into the hard grey stone.

      From just outside the house it was possible to look right down the street to the harbour, to the tall crooked cranes of the shipyards, the freighters unloading at the docks, the seagulls clouding and clamouring around the fishmarket on the end of the central pier. From just outside the house it was possible to hear what people were saying in the front room, or in the hallway, or, if they were talking loudly enough, in the kitchen. If there were more than a few people in the kitchen, as there were the first time David went there with Eleanor, it was possible to stand at the front door and hear them all raising their voices to make themselves heard over each other, laughing, banging on the table to get themselves some attention.

      It was dark by the time they got there, that first time, finally braving an introduction on his third visit to Aberdeen. The light from the kitchen was shining out through the pane of glass over the front door and Eleanor hesitated before going in, listening. I don’t believe it, she whispered, it sounds like they’re all here. I’m sorry, she said. Her father, Stewart, came out into the hallway and greeted them loudly, shaking David’s hand and inviting him in to meet the rest of the family. It just so happens they were all passing, he said, and from the corner of his eye David could see Eleanor shaking her head as he came into the kitchen and was introduced to her mother, Ivy, her brothers, Donald, William and John, Donald’s wife, Ros, a couple of young children, and a great-uncle James sitting in the corner by the stove. There were bottles of beer out on the table, and the remains of a meal stacked up by the sink, and he was peppered with hellos and how-are-yous before he’d managed to get his bearings. He found himself answering questions about how far he’d come and what he was doing in these parts and what it was he did for a living back home, struggling to understand their flinted accents, and struggling to be understood in return – Eh? What’s that son? Say again? – one of them still asking him to repeat himself while another was asking him something new, all turning to each other and discussing what it was he might have said once they’d given up on asking him again.

      It was a small room, mostly taken up with the big wooden table they were sitting around, the wood worn to a shine by the years of scouring and cleaning, the crumbs from the meal already wiped away. There weren’t enough chairs for all of them, so the younger men, Eleanor’s brothers, were standing along the back wall, in front of the window and the kitchen sink, blocking the door to the scullery and the backyard, looking him up and down and muttering remarks to each other.

      Coventry? asked one of them suddenly, while David was trying to explain to Stewart about being from London originally but having left there as a small child. Is it Coventry where they make all the cars? David nodded.

      You make cars then? he was asked.

      No, he told them, no, I work in a museum.

      There was an awkward pause, and then another brother said museum, eh? You’re no a geologist like our Eleanor reckons she’s going to be? David shook his head, smiling, and tried to make a joke about being involved with more recent history than the formation of the earth’s surface. There was another awkward pause and then the same brother said aye right, so what do you reckon then, is it true what Ellie says about there being oil under the sea? Great-uncle James, sitting in the corner, burst into a laugh that sounded more like a cough, and even Stewart smiled and shook his head. David didn’t know what to say.

      It’s not just me, Eleanor protested, everyone’s saying it. Mr Read showed me the maps and everything.

      Aye, said Donald, the oldest of the brothers there, and there’s a herd of camels going by outside just now. Eleanor tutted, and pretended to smile, and nudged David towards the door.

      Well, we’ve got to get to the pictures, she said. We’re meeting Ruth and folk, we’d better get going.

      What’s on? John asked. Lawrence of Arabia? Everyone in the room laughed, Great-uncle James slapping his hand against his knee, and Eleanor turning and pushing David ahead of her, and as they opened the front door he heard one of the men saying make sure he gets you home in plenty of time now, and another man saying oil be waiting up, and the hard-edged laughter followed them both as they hurried away down the hill.

       13 Pocket appointment diaries (incomplete set), dated 1935–1959

      The first time they persuaded Laurence to visit Julia in the nursing home, she was smoking again, sitting by the window with her back partly turned to the door. They stood behind him in the doorway, and he looked back into the corridor as if he thought they might have the wrong room. They nodded, and he stepped forward. Hello, Mother? he said tentatively. She didn’t seem to hear him. He took a half-step closer. Mother? he said again, and she still didn’t move, the cigarette held out on the arm of her chair, a steady plume of smoke trailing towards the ceiling. Dorothy interrupted impatiently, pushing past Laurence and putting a hand across Julia’s shoulder as she spoke, leaning over to look her in the eye.

      Hello there Julia love, she said, it’s Dorothy. We’ve brought Laurence to come and see you at last, and she said the at last so quietly that only Laurence could hear. Julia turned round, looking at David first, curiously, and then at Laurence, some level of understanding that wasn’t quite recognition passing across her face.

      Hello darling, she said, smiling abruptly. Hello, how good of you to come and see me. Have you got a kiss for poor Julia? Laurence stood in front of her for a moment, looming over her, gripping the fingers of one hand with the other, running his thumb back and forth across his palm. Julia looked up and turned her cheek towards him. He bent down to her so slowly and hesitantly that he almost lost his balance and had to grab on to the back of her chair, and as his lips touched her face he held them there, closing his eyes and seeming to hold his breath before lifting away and stepping back slightly. David looked at his mother, and past her to the window, and at Laurence. The room felt suddenly very full.

      Laurence sat down on the edge of Julia’s bed, his hands in his lap, looking at her. He reached up and smoothed his hair back across his head with the heel of his hand. He said, look, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and see you, I’ve been posted abroad an awful lot, you know. She ignored him, as she’d learnt to do when there was something she didn’t understand, gazing steadily at the room as if he hadn’t spoken at all. He tried again. So, how are they looking after you in here? Is the food good? Have you met many people? His voice was loud and slow and he leant towards her slightly as he spoke. She looked at him, and at Dorothy.

      I don’t think you need to shout dear, she said dryly, we can all hear you. She squashed her cigarette into the ashtray.

      Laurence had signed up for officer training when he did his National Service and had been in the army ever since. He’d never married, and there were no children that

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