Wilt in Nowhere: Read online

  In the lavatory Wilt was already thinking rude things. He was buggered if he was going to the States to be patronised by Uncle Wally and Auntie Joan. She’d once sent him a pair of Bermuda shorts with a tartan pattern and Wilt had refused to wear them even for the photo Eva had wanted to send back with a thank-you letter. He had to find some excuse.

  ‘What are you doing in there?’ Eva demanded through the door after ten minutes.

  ‘What do you think I’m doing? Having a crap of course.’

  ‘Well, open the window when you’ve finished. We’ve got visitors coming.’

  Wilt opened the window and came out. He’d made up his mind.

  ‘It sounds a great opportunity. Going to the States,’ he said as he washed his hands in the kitchen sink and dried them on a cloth Eva had laid out to shake some lettuce in. Eva looked at him suspiciously. When Henry said something sounded great, it usually meant the opposite and he wasn’t going to do it. This time she was going to see he did.

  ‘It’s just a pity I can’t come,’ he continued and looked in the fridge.

  Eva, who’d been putting the lettuce in a clean, dry cloth, stopped.

  ‘What do you mean, you can’t come?’

  ‘I’ve got that Canadian course to teach. You know, the one on British Culture and Tradition I did last year.’

  ‘You said you weren’t going to do it again. Not after all that trouble there was last time.’

  ‘I know I did,’ said Wilt and helped himself to the hummus with a piece of Ryvita. ‘But Swinburne’s wife is in hospital and he can’t leave the children. So I’ve got to take his place. I can’t get out of it.’

  ‘You could if you really wanted to,’ said Eva and vented her feelings by shaking the lettuce cloth vigorously out the back door. ‘You just want an excuse, that’s all. You’re frightened of flying. Look how you were when we went to Marbella that time.’

  ‘I am not frightened of flying. It was all those football hooligans getting pissed and fighting on the plane that had me worried. Anyway that’s beside the point. I’ve agreed to take Swinburne’s place. And we’ll need the money the way you’re bound to spend it over there.’

  ‘You haven’t been listening. Uncle Wally’s paying for the trip and all our expenses and …’

  But before they could get into a real argument the doorbell rang and Sarah Bevis arrived. She was carrying a roll of posters. Behind her a young man held a cardboard box. Wilt hurried out the back door. He’d go to an Indian restaurant for a meal.

  3

  Next morning Wilt was up early and he cycled down to the Tech. He had to speak to Swinburne and get him to agree to swap.

  ‘The Canadian course has been scrapped. I thought you knew,’ Swinburne told Wilt when he finally found him in the canteen at lunch-time. ‘Not that I care though I could have done with the money.’

  ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘Sex. Roger Manners screwed some woman from Vancouver last year.’

  ‘What’s so special about that? He’s always acting like a goat. The silly ass is sex mad.’

  ‘Chose the wrong woman,’ said Swinburne. ‘Got her pregnant which wasn’t very wise because her husband had had a vasectomy. Came as a nasty surprise having a pregnant wife. So nasty he flew over from Vancouver and tracked Roger the Lodger down and then went to the Principal with the good news.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘That he was getting a divorce and Roger was the corespondent. And secondly that he owned a TV station and several newspapers across Canada and that he intended to see the Tech got maximum publicity for running a course on British Culture and Tradition that included extramarital sex. Bam went the course. I’m surprised you didn’t know.’

  Wilt took the bad news back to Peter Braintree.

  ‘I’ve got to think of something quick. I’m damned if I’m going to Wilma.’

  ‘It sounds a nice trip to me. All expenses paid, and Americans are very hospitable. Or so I’ve always understood.’

  Wilt shuddered.

  ‘Hospitality is one thing but you obviously haven’t met Uncle Wally and Auntie Joan. Last time they were over here we had to go to dinner with them at their hotel in London. And of course it had to be the biggest, newest and most expensive hotel with dinner served in their suite. It was unadulterated hell. First we had to have what Wally calls ‘real’ dry martinis. God alone knows what proof the gin was but I’d say it was liquid Semtex. I was stewed to the gills by the time lobsters came. Then the biggest steaks I’ve ever seen. No wine. Uncle Wally reckons wine is for pansies so we had to switch to malt whisky and Coke. I ask you, malt whisky and Coca-Cola. And all the time Auntie Joan was bleating on about how wonderful it was Eva having quads and how nice it was going to be when we all came over to Wilma. Nice? Sheer murder and I’m not going.’

  ‘Eva isn’t going to be pleased,’ said Braintree.

  ‘Maybe not but I’ll think of something. Stratagems and deceptions that will make my not going seem a positive boom. We must approach the problem from the psychological angle and ask why Eva is beside herself with joy. I can answer that. Not because she’s visiting the Land of the Free for the first time. Oh no. She’s got a hidden agenda and that is to suck up to Uncle blasted Wally and Auntie J to such good effect that, they being childless and therefore necessarily without issue, will leave their vast fortune to our four dear daughters when they finally drop off the Dralon perch and go to the Bible Belt in the sky.’

  ‘You really think …’ Braintree began but Wilt raised a hand.

  ‘Hush, I am trying to. That being Eva’s intention, what will put the mockers on the diabolical scheme? Frankly, loving father that I am, I’d still have to say that having Penny, Samantha, Emmy and Josephine about the house for two months ought to do the trick quite nicely. By the time they leave even Auntie Joan, who oozes sentimentality and drools on about how cute things are, will be dying to be rid of them and Wally will celebrate their departure by throwing the biggest party Wilma’s seen for years. The only snag is that I would have to be there sharing the inferno and getting the blame for their appalling behaviour. No, I shall have to think of something in the way of a pre-emptive strike. I shall go away and meditate.’

  He did so through an hour of Gender Assertiveness for Mature Women, none of whom had anything to learn about asserting themselves. In fact they asserted themselves so thoroughly that all he had to do was to get them going. After that he could sit back and nod and agree to everything they had to say. He had learnt the trick from Eva who was always pointing out how inadequate he was as a husband, a father and a sexual partner. Wilt had long since given up disputing his failings and now let the tide of her disapproval roll over him without really noticing it. He did the same with the Mature Women but first he had to provoke them. He did this now by pointing out that there could be no such thing as male menopause because men didn’t menstruate. The resulting storm of disagreement occupied the class very happily for the rest of the hour while Wilt wondered why it was so easy to provoke people who had fixed ideas and also why, having got them going, they adamantly refused to listen to any counter-arguments. It had been the same with his old classes of Gasfitters and Printers. Then it had only been necessary to say he thought capital punishment was wrong or that there was a perfectly sound case for thinking homosexuals were born that way and all hell would break loose. Wilt considered Wally Immelmann’s most violent prejudice and realised it was socialism. He particularly loathed trades unions and equated them with communists, devil worshippers and the Evil Axis. Wilt had once admitted he’d voted for the Labour Party and belonged to a trades union. The explosion that had followed suggested Uncle Wally was about to die of apoplexy. Remembering the occasion, Wilt realised he had found the solution to his problem.

  When the class finished and the mature women dispersed to assert themselves somewhere else, Wilt went across to the library and took out six books.

  ‘And where do you think you are going with those?
’ Eva demanded when he got home and put them on the kitchen table and she spotted their titles.

  ‘I’ve got to give a course on Marxist ideology and revolutionary theory in the Third World next term. Don’t ask me why but I do. And since I don’t know the first thing about revolutionary theory or Marxism and I’m not even sure there is a second world let alone a third, I have to bone up on it. I’m taking them to Wilma.’

  Eva was gaping at the title of another large volume which read Castro’s Struggle Against American Imperialism.

  ‘Are you insane? You can’t take that to Wilma,’ she gasped. ‘Wally would kill you. You know what he feels about Castro.’

  ‘I daresay he doesn’t like him very much …’

  ‘Henry Wilt, you know perfectly well … you know … you know he was involved with whatever that attempt to invade Cuba was called.’

  ‘The Bay of Pigs,’ said Wilt and considered saying how appropriate it was for Wally Immelmann but Eva had found another book.

  ‘Gaddafi. The Libyan Liberator. I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Nor do I as a matter of fact,’ said Wilt. ‘But you know what Mayfield’s like. He’s always inventing new courses and we’ve all got to—’

  ‘I don’t care what you’ve got to do,’ Eva said furiously. ‘You are not going to Wilma with those dreadful books.’

  ‘You think I want to?’ said Wilt ambiguously and picked up another. ‘This one is about how President Kennedy wanted to use the atom bomb on Cuba. It’s really rather interesting.’

  There was no need to go on but Wilt did.

  ‘Well, if you want me to lose my job, I’ll leave them behind. They’ve already made five Senior Lecturers redundant this year and I know I’m on the short list. And with the pension I’d get we wouldn’t be able to keep the girls at the Convent. We’ve got to think about their education and their future and there’s no point my taking the risk of getting the sack simply because Uncle Wally doesn’t like my reading about Marxism in Wilma.’

  ‘In that case you are not coming,’ said Eva, now thoroughly convinced. ‘I’ll tell them you’ve had to stay here and teach during the holidays to pay for the girls to go to school.’ She stopped, struck by a sudden thought. ‘That course for the Canadians. You said last night you couldn’t come because you had to stand in for Swinburne.’

  ‘Cancelled,’ said Wilt hurriedly. ‘No problem there. Not enough students.’

  4

  Next day while Eva was busy in Ipford trying to decide what new clothes to buy for the quads Wilt made his own preparations. He knew now what he was going to do: go on a walking tour. He had found a rain cape in the form of an old army groundsheet, a suitably shabby rucksack and a water bottle from the Army & Navy stores, and had even considered buying a pair of khaki shorts that came down over his knees only to decide that his legs weren’t the sort to expose to the world and he didn’t want to go round the West Country looking like a superannuated Boy Scout. Instead he chose blue jeans and some thick socks to go with the walking boots Eva had bought for their family holiday in the Lake District. Wilt wasn’t sure about the walking boots. They were purpose-built for fell walking and he had no intention of going anywhere near anything resembling a fell. Tramping was all very well for them that liked that sort of thing but Wilt intended sauntering and not doing anything too strenuous. In fact it had occurred to him that it might be a good idea to find a canal and walk along the tow-path. Canals had to stick to the flat and when they came to anything resembling a hill they very sensibly made use of locks to get over them. On the other hand he couldn’t find any canals in the part of the world he had in mind to walk across. Rivers were his best bet. On the whole they took even easier ways than canals and there were bound to be footpaths beside them. And if there weren’t, he would take to fields provided there weren’t any bulls in them. Not that he knew anything about bulls except that they were dangerous.

  There were other contingencies he had to take into account, like what would happen if he couldn’t find anywhere to sleep at night. He bought a sleeping-bag and took the lot back to his office and crammed it into a cupboard before locking it. He didn’t want Eva bursting in unexpectedly (she did this every now and then ostensibly to collect something from him like the car keys) and finding out what he really planned to do while she was away.

  But Eva had her own problems to concentrate on. She was particularly worried about Samantha who didn’t want to go to America because the cousin of a friend at school had been to Miami and said she’d seen a man shot in the street there.

  They’ve all got guns and the murder rate is terrible,’ she told Eva. ‘It’s a very violent society.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s not like that in Wilma. And besides, Uncle Wally is a very influential man and no one would dare do anything to make him angry,’ Eva told her.

  Samantha was not convinced.

  ‘Dad said he’s a bombastic old bugger who thinks America rules the world …’

  ‘Never mind what your father says. And don’t use words like that in Wilma.’

  ‘What? Bombastic? Dad says that’s the operative word. Americans drop bombs in Afghanistan from thirty thousand feet and kill thousands of women and children.’

  ‘And miss the real targets too,’ said Emmeline.

  ‘You know perfectly well what word,’ Eva snapped before the quads could really get going. She wasn’t going to be drawn into using ‘bugger’ herself either.

  Josephine didn’t help.

  ‘All bugger means is anal intercourse and—’

  ‘Shut your mouth. And don’t ever let me hear you using language like that in front of … well, anywhere. It’s disgusting.’

  ‘I can’t see why. It’s legal and gays do it all the time because they don’t have …’

  But Eva was no longer listening. She was facing another problem.

  Emmeline had just come downstairs with her pet rat. It was a long silver-haired tame rat she’d bought at a pet shop and had named Freddy and now she wanted to take it to Wilma to show Auntie Joanie.

  ‘Well, you can’t,’ Eva told her. ‘That’s out of the question. You know she has a horror of rats and mice.’

  ‘But he’s ever so friendly and he’d help her get over her phobia.’

  Eva doubted it. Emmeline had trained it to make itself comfortable under her sweater and move about. She frequently did this when people came to tea and the effect on visitors was one of horror. Mrs Planton had actually fainted at the sight of what appeared to be a pubescent breast moving across Emmy’s chest.

  ‘In any case it’s illegal to take animals out of the country and bring them back again. It might have rabies. No, it’s not going and that’s my final word.’

  Emmeline took Freddy up to her room and tried to think which of her friends would look after it.

  All in all it was a harrowing evening and Eva was not in a good mood when Wilt came home looking rather pleased with himself. Eva always had the feeling that when he looked like that he was up to something.

  ‘I suppose you’ve been drinking again,’ she said to put him on the defensive.

  ‘As a matter of pure fact I haven’t touched a beer all day. I have put my past excesses behind me.’

  ‘Well, I wish you had put a lot of your filthy language behind you too instead of teaching the girls to talk like … like … well, to use filthy language.’

  ‘“Troopers” is the word you were looking for,’ said Wilt.

  ‘Troopers? What do you mean “troopers”? If that is another filthy word I—’

  ‘It is an expression. Talking like troopers means—’

  ‘I don’t want to know. It’s bad enough having Josephine talking about buggery and anal intercourse without you coming home and encouraging them.’

  ‘I’m not encouraging them to talk about buggery. I don’t have to. They pick up far worse expressions at the Convent. Anyway, I’m not going to argue. I’m going to have a bath and think pure thoughts and then after supp
er I’m going to see what’s on TV.’

  He stumped upstairs before Eva could get in a crack about the sort of thoughts he’d be having in the bath. In the event the bathroom was occupied by Emmeline. Wilt went downstairs and sat in the living room looking at the book on revolutionary theory and wondering how anyone in his right mind could still think bloody revolutions were a good thing. By the time Emmeline had finished with the bathroom it was too late for him to have his bath. Instead he washed and went down to supper where Eva was finding it impossible to persuade the quads to accept the clothes she had chosen for them to impress Auntie Joan with.

  ‘I’m not going to wear a silly dress that makes me look like something out of an old cowboy movie,’ Penelope said. ‘Not for anyone.’

  ‘But it’s gingham and you’ll all look so nice …’

  ‘We won’t. We’ll all look ridiculous. Why can’t we go in our own clothes?’

  ‘But you want to make a good impression, and old jeans and bovver boots …’