Rhinoceros 26
Alan took a measure of the day outside from his usual place before the sitting room window. Hints of spring peeped through the residue of winter. Random snowdrops like bleached litter abounded, a more expansive light glowered in the sky, a fresh, enervating breeze snuck playfully amongst the shrubs. He decided to go for an early evening walk in the local woods. He had thought about phoning Jen to see if she wanted to come along, but he stopped himself, and put back the receiver with a decisive nod, as though she could see him. ‘She can’t just boss me about,’ Alan muttered to the mirror in the hall as put on his jacket and a precautionary scarf, ‘I’m not as malleable as she thinks.’ And he pulled his scarf vigorously tight and stepped outside, each movement an admonishment of Jen. In the woods the leafless trees arched over him, cracking the indigo sky into a thousand pieces like stained glass. There was that interesting darkness under the branches that wasn’t yet night. Alan liked the mystery of twilight; he had never been scared of the dark. Indeed he relished the tingle up his spine of suggestive experiences. Once, when taking a short cut through the woods at night, he was stopped in his tracks my something struggling in a shrub at the foot of a large oak. It was wrapped in a bag and thrashed around in fits and starts, and Alan found himself both horrified and excited. He slowly went up to the bag and reached out his foot to tap it. And it was only then that he realised it was an empty bin bag filled out and fluttering in the breeze. He had giggled for the rest of his walk home.
He passed the occasional late dog walker, and he nodded to each furtively, as if they were all on a secret mission, or out after curfew. He felt that a fedora would be suitable attire. Perhaps, he pondered as he pressed on into the gathering gloom, he was better off alone. Lots of people lived happy solo lives. Look at Mrs Cranmer in the flat below his, with her budgie and her book club. A cheerful soul. Always has one of several little mats placed neatly outside her door. One of them says, ‘The kettle is on!’ Alan would spend his retirement reading and walking, perhaps join a philosophy club, get into a bit of structured debate. He pictured himself sat in a pub with several earnest older men arguing the pros and cons of Plato’s Republic, and why it was that he had stated that all philosophers are bastards. Alan would be sporting a fecund beard of jaunty persuasion. He felt comforted with his thoughts, and Jen receded into the shadows, almost as though she was with him but banished into the deep woods.
He knew the path well, and at the children’s playground he stopped for a minute to catch his breath and then turned to follow the path on the other side of the river. So quiet now, he mused, and this was the site of the beginning of the industrial revolution. Forget Coalville, here were the water mills that began hammering the steel that eventually became the trains and tracks and guns and ships of modern life, right here in this unassuming valley. No wonder Sheffielders were quietly proud. Alan’s stride was now confident, almost playful. Work, keep out of trouble, relax. That was his father through and through. He had worked long hours, ate a hearty tea on his return, scraping up the last of the gravy with his knife – Alan used to hate this habit, but now found himself doing the same – and then fell asleep behind a huge broadsheet newspaper, farting occasionally. His mother would tut and fuss about with a dishcloth or a duster until On The Buses came on. It was a happy enough childhood, Alan reflected, even though he was an only child.
When he got back to his flat he found a train ticket had been pushed through his letter box. He picked it up and looked at it curiously. It was from Cleethorpes to Sheffield, and had been used that afternoon. Alan’s bubble of bonhomie seemed to pop as a realisation crept over him. He went back into the stairwell and looked outside. A security light shone across the car park, picking out the cars in its orange glow. At first all was stillness, and then he saw the unmistakable bulky shape, hovering uncertainly by his car. There was a pause, expectant with differing outcomes. Then Alan pulled his door shut and made his way slowly and precisely down each step.
