Mack's Progress Ch. 01

I also got the idea of leaving the house before everyone got back from church. I'd roll up home that evening as if I had been fishing for the weekend. Hey, to whom in the family did I have to explain that I'd seen my girl - sorry, ex-girl - with some other man and had not -- as would be expected by my father and brothers -- decked the bugger. I'd have to come up with some other excuse for ditching Lindsey. But I'd worry about that later. That bit of the plan was to come back and bite me; and would eventually lead to my virtual estrangement from all of them.

Remaking my bed and checking I'd left nothing behind, I left the house for my trusty car again. A swing past Lindsey's flat (I don't know, morbid curiosity I suppose) showed me that his car was still there but the people carrier was missing. Three minutes in a telephone box informed me that Lindsey wasn't answering the flat's number; so she was most likely with the rest of them somewhere.

"Burning the candle at both ends, aren't we, Lindsey?" I said to myself, as I hung up on the ringing tone. "Out until three on Saturday morning and partying until god knows what time this morning; eleven-thirty and you're out with him again. Must be making the most of his leave!"

I spent the day poodling around, just trying to find something else to think about unsuccessfully. Several times I passed Lindsey's flat, spotting that the people carrier was back there before six P.M., but gone again by eight. O'Toole's car was also gone when I made that eight o'clock pass. That was the last time I ever went near that flat.

Around midnight and on the right and wrong side of several beers, I arrived back at my parents' house. My parking spot was vacant this time, so I didn't have to walk half a mile.

"Why didn't you call Lindsey, Mack? She's been calling all afternoon," was the greeting I got from my mother. "You'd better call her right now. The poor girl's frantic with worry!"

"Yeah, fine, mum," I answered and went out into the hall where the home phone was kept. I didn't call Lindsey; I pretended that I didn't get an answer from her place. Mother thought that sounded odd, but I told her Lindsey had most likely turned the ringer off when she went to bed. Mother appeared to think that was logical.

"When Lindsey called yesterday she said you hadn't called her at all over the weekend; you'd better see if she's turned her telephone on this morning," my mother said to me as I entered the kitchen the following morning.

"No time now, Mum. I'll call her later at work. I'm running late and misery guts Peters (my boss) will be on my back again if I'm not careful," I replied.

"If you're not careful, you'll lose that girl, Mack!" Mother commented. "Why didn't you call her anyway? It would have taken only you a few minutes out of your fishing to call your fiancée."

"There just wasn't a working telephone handy, mother. And besides she not my fiancée. I'm not so sure that she's anything to me anymore."

"Why? What's happened? I thought you were crazy about the girl. She's madly in love with you."

"Things aren't always what they appear to be, mother. You know that. Like this bleeding job of mine, Peters is like a bloody slave driver. If he gives me any strife today, I'm liable to tell him where to stick his damned job," I raved back at her.

"Mack, there's no need for that kind of language. Mr Peters pays your wages, remember. He deserves value for his money!"

"Value, yeah, but not blood. That's all that bugger ever wants. Anyway I'd better go," I said, gulping down the rest of my mug of tea. "See you tonight, mum."

"But what were you saying about Lindsey?" I heard my mother asked as I closed the door behind me.

I'm not sure why I didn't just tell my mother that I knew that Lindsey was seeing another bloke. I'm pretty sure it would have saved me a lot of grief with the family in the long run. Could be I wouldn't have finished up estranged from them either. But I didn't know how events were going to get away from me in the following few days when I left the house that morning.

It might have been a good idea to call in sick that day as well, because things started going downhill the moment I arrived at the warehouse. Peters must have had almost as bad a weekend as I'd had, because he was on my back from the moment I stepped through the door. I can't put my finger on any particular thing, but it seemed like he was tearing me a new arsehole about something every couple of minutes of so. But then sometime during the morning Lindsey tried to call me on the company number and he went ape-shit at me.

You've got to understand this Peters wanker. I'll bet he was as sweet as pie to Lindsey, the same as he was to my mother when she had occasionally called me at work. I'm willing to bet that mother had given Lindsey the damned number; I'd always told Lindsey never to call me at my workplace and I'd never given it to her to ensure that she couldn't.

Anyway as I said, Peters would be all sweetness and light when he spoke to whoever was calling. Then "the shit" would come out into the warehouse and tear me yet another arsehole. The bastard would even time how long I was on the telephone, and dock it from my time card.

"I'm not your bleeding secretary, son. You tell your girlfriend that you can't speak to her now, and remind her that you're on company time whilst you're at it!" he'd replied, when I told him I didn't wish to receive the call.

I just walked into the office and hung up the telephone without speaking into it and walked out again.

"That wasn't very polite!" Peters said after he'd watched me do it.

"Yeah, I'm learning the ropes from a fucking expert, ain't I?" I replied in as angry a tone of voice as I could muster, as I passed him on my way back to the job in hand.

For some time after that I could feel that Peters was staring at me, from his office doorway. I got on with my work almost as efficiently as I normally did, although every evening at knocking off time Peters would always moan that something that he'd expected to be finished wasn't.

My mind, though, was actually continuing with the task of painting myself into a corner, which my arrogant nineteen-year-old brain couldn't see. I started down a path that morning when I'd lied to my mother that was going to lead to disaster for me in the long term.

By knocking off time that night, I'd been going over in my head all day how Lindsey had been taking the piss out of me and I'd worked myself up into a real state.

"Who gives a shit?" I'd said to Peters when he expressed his usual annoyance that a particular order wasn't ready for dispatch. Then I'd strode past him and clocked out. Peters shouted some comment after me, but whatever it was I'd ignored it!

I was halfway home when it struck me that that probably wasn't a good move. I was pretty sure that Lindsey would have called my house and they'd all bug me to call her back. I couldn't pull the same trick about getting no answer from her flat that early in the evening. So I diverted into the pub where I'd parked my car on the Saturday evening. I knew I could walk home from there at closing time without risking my driving licence.

After calling home and telling my mother that I was going out with some friends for a drink from a telephone box, as expected she mentioned once again that Lindsey had called and demanded that I call her right away. I told her that I would, then headed into the pub where I grabbed a beer and a pasty that looked like it had been in the warming cabinet a lot longer than was advisable. Shit, well, I had to eat; then settled myself in a quiet corner.

It was nearly midnight when I put my key in the front door and attempted to sneak inside, unsuccessfully. My mother, father and youngest elder brother were waiting to pounce on me.

I think I did mention that my family were quite taken with Lindsey. They all seemed pretty pissed at me because it was becoming apparent to them by then that I was avoiding her.

"Lindsey and I are through and that's all there is to it!" I told them in an arrogant tone. Whether it was just my anger or the beer that was doing some of my talking (and thinking) I can't say now. But I told them that there was nothing to discuss; Lindsey, if she bothered to think about it, would know quite well why we were through. Then I stormed off to my room with all three of them shouting that they demanded an explanation. And there I really put my foot right in it, in two ways.

"For Christ's sake, ask the bitch. She knows exactly what my problem is!" I shouted back down the stairs.

My first faux pas there was to blaspheme in my mother's presence. My second was to tell them to ask Lindsey. But I wasn't to realise I'd made the second one until the following evening when my whole relationship with my family collapsed around me.

The day had not gone well, my mother had lectured me in the morning about taking the Lord's name in vain. Lindsey had called the company again and the old man had talked to her for quite some time before he'd come out into the warehouse where we'd had a real set to about me not talking to her, that is until I went into his office and hung up the telephone on her once again. Peters, for some reason, went ape shit at me for doing that, and I told him to mind his own fucking business and keep his nose out of mine.

"Watch your mouth, son, or you'll have your bloody cards on Friday!" he threatened.

Well, I was just about in the right mood for that one. "Stick you f-ing job up your arse!" I'd replied and walked out. Not forgetting to clock-out on the way though. I wanted every penny that tight bugger owed me.

It was around ten o'clock that night when I discovered that I'd lost control of the situation completely. I was sitting in the lounge at home watching the end of some program before the news came on, when my sister Julia burst into the room.

"You perverted little bastard!" she shouted at me, to be honest taking me completely by surprise. I'd had the lectures from my mother and father earlier in the evening about not talking to Lindsey, but I was totally unprepared for the attack that came from Julia. "Do you know why this little pervert has dumped Lindsey?" Julia said to our parents who were both sitting there with shocked expressions on their faces. "Lindsey wants to walk down the aisle a virgin and this little arsehole has been bugging her to have sex. She didn't want to tell me at first but in the end I winkled it out of her. The poor girl's distraught, you fucking perverted little bastard!" Julia turned and raved at me again.

My mother was telling Julia to watch her language and my father was looking at me with an expression of disgust on his face; Mike, Julia's husband, had followed her in carrying their baby and shared that same expression. I felt about one inch tall.

So, the die was cast. Lindsey had got in with an accusation that I'd have trouble refuting. It could be that it was even true. Had I been angrier that Lindsey was shagging that squaddy than I was that she was shagging him but denying me? That's a question that I've asked myself many times in the intervening years.

Whatever, things took a downward spiral for me at home. In the next few days just about everyone expressed their disgust with me. I didn't retaliate by telling them about Lindsey's dirty weekend with the squaddy. I realised it was too late for that revelation. I'm pretty well convinced that I'd have been accused of trying to sling mud at Lindsey in retaliation for her telling Julia that she wanted to get married a virgin.

By the following Saturday things had reached the point where something had to give and it was to turn out to be me! I packed my gear into my car and lit out for pastures new, with my tail between my legs.

End of chapter 1