Page 75 of Hang on St. Christopher

“You’re a big fruit, so you are,” Pete said as he climbed into the car.

“And you, my friend, are a little pea. A little pea in a green quiver, oblivious to the wider currents. Things are afoot. As of today, no more milk. The post will be next, mark my words. The future is taking us along in its bow wave, son. Forget all this atavistic Nazi stuff, eh?”

“You’re a maddo, pal,” Pete said as they drove off.

He must have been discombobulated, for he forgot the customary finger and the “fuck you, RUC!”

“Kids today, eh?” I said to the much-calmed dog in the middle of the road.

Back inside.

Pasta. A Lou Reed bootleg from the Berlin days.

A knock at the door.

Rachel Melville.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hi.”

“What was all that about?” she asked, a little taken aback.

“Oh, you saw that, did you?”

“I couldn’t help but see it; it was in my front yard.”

“It was nothing. Just explaining the geography and power dynamics of Coronation Road to an outsider.”

“Was he trying to put a bag of shit on my doorstep?”

“Apologies for that. He thought it was my doorstep. He won’t be back, at least not to your house.”

“Does that sort of thing happen often ’round here?”

That and much, much worse, sister. “No, not really; quiet wee street. You’ll like it here.”

“And yet you’re leaving?” she said, gesturing toward the For Sale sign.

“Yeah, sort of have to go. Big house, three bedrooms. All I need is a wee flat down by the water, as I’m here so little.”

“You sort of saved me from getting shit all over my feet.”

“You could look at it that way, or you could say that I was responsible for bringing that skinhead into your orbit in the first place.”

“What did you do to him?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, uhm, look, I was wondering if you weren’t doing anything, if you wanted to come over for dinner.”

I know what a younger Sean Duffy would have said, but the older one was just that little bit wiser.

“I just made myself pasta,” I replied.

She nodded and smiled. A really fetching, groin-tightening smile. “Perhaps another time, then.”

“Yeah, another time,” I agreed.

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