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NEW AUTHORS SHOWCASE
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25-0407 6M p3 |
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Disqualified From Society by Patrick Hayes |
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SYNOPSIS
It is a black comedy of sorts intended for a young adult readership. There is foul language and sexual content but nothing too outrageous. The story covers a short period in the life of Patrick Gritch, a misanthropic, pretentious and fraudulent Quality Assurance Inspector at a sinister US owned armaments factory in Swindon. He has drug and alcohol problems and also uses prostitutes. The main body of the novel covers his relationships with his ex-wife, Kelly, and girlfriend, Sallie, plus two call girls; Lisa, a relatively stable girl from Walsall and Tina, a wild extrovert from Potters Bar. His family and friends are ignorant of his activities due to a skillfully woven web of deception, ( with no small measure of fantasy ) by which Gritch projects himself as an industrious and ambitious employee. By sheer luck he is transferred to the Research & Development division where, as a white coated technical officer, he becomes involved in a project concerned with a neutron absorbing plastic for a prestigious US customer. He forms a stable domestic relationship with Lisa which eventually fails, leaving him free to pursue Della, a fellow QA Inspector despised by the workers, but the ultimate object of his weird sexual tastes. The novel also explores the peculiar politics and snobbery of factory life set against the background of contemporary Swindon. I was jumpy and it showed, the smoke was wearing off and I relaxed chatting about Bobbie and Hamble. Kelly was interested, " Bobbie has a kid, no ?" She took her purse out and showed me a photo of two smiling children, a boy with glasses and a girl with plaits. There was a lot of this sort of thing at work , women bringing in pictures of kids, there would be “ooohs” and “awwws.” Why are bloody women stupid ? They were fair haired - from Stuart, her husband, a computer engineer from Ipswich. Ipswich ? Yes, they lived in Suffolk now, had a nice house and he was a manager at a printing firm. They were doing alright, she was happy. She was plumper, in a nice cuddly way and her face was still open and kind looking. Christ, I'd been a fool. She wasn’t rubbing it in either, she was never malicious. Jennifer told a few jokes and laughed embarrassedly, I grinned like an idiot. Yes, she knew what I was, but politely asked about work. Kelly said, " You work at Klarke’s, . . .where that chap was killed ? You’re not still a stonemason then ?" No dear, I’m into weapons now so be careful. God, it was all so strange, like being haunted by myself. Was I with anyone ? No, never mind, you always were better of on your own. You seem a lot calmer, how’s your mum and dad ? We carried on like this for ten minutes and then Jennifer went to the loo. Kelly checked her watch, the train to Paddington was leaving at 4:15. I went quiet and she read my mind, she always could. “ Look, Patrick. It wasn’t all your fault, well, most of it was. You weren’t grown up enough for marriage, you weren’t grown up enough for most things really. You probably still aren’t. I should’ve left you alone with your music and wild ideas. I miss you sometimes, but we were only young really. Weren’t we?" I nodded and she kissed me on the forehead. I should’ve got lashed with Charley. I’d been bombed by a stealth attack, hadn’t stood a chance, forgiveness is a dreadful thing, particularly when undeserved. Jennifer returned and they left. I watched them cross the road and enter the sliding doors at Signal Point. She didn’t wave or look back. I finished my beer and walked the mile to Old Town which was busy with Saturday evening revellers pouring into the bars on Victoria Road, or Hill if you were local. Kelly and Bobbie certainly were. This was their town, I was just another tourist hanging around waiting for the Big Show. |
