Experimental Story

One to remember
Copyright


“Come on Son, answer that bloody phone”, Wally muttered into the handset which he held in one hand while clicking the mouse with the other, watching the screen in front of him.

“Come on, get a bloody move on, you’ll be late for work if you don’t!” he continued, speaking into the telephone which refused to answer.

If you hadn’t messed about I wouldn’t be ringing you, so get your arse into gear. Come on lad, all you have to do is reach out and pick up the phone!

“Herro Dad! What’s up? You all right?” said the sleepy voice from the now responsive instrument.

“’Course I’m not all right, else I wouldn’t be ringing you, would I?”

“Are you sick again Dad? What about Mum, is she OK?” asked the now wideawake voice.

“Only sick of this bloody machine you set me up with! And your Mum’s fast asleep. She’s fine, thank you James.”

“That’s all right then but what have you gone and done now, Dad? It was running perfectly well when I left it… when was that? Wednesday wasn’t it? Just before you came out of hospital for your last lot of treatment.”

“I can’t find my book! It’s gone, disappeared up the spout. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted the damned thing, but no, you were adamant ‘it’ll be fine Dad, type your story on it and it’ll keep it for you’ and now look what’s happened, it’s bloody well gone, months and months of bloody work gone up in smoke!”

“Bloody Hell Dad”

Wally moved the earpiece away from his ear as the yell nearly pierced his eardrum. “Now what have I done?” he asked, a tremor in his voice.

“Do you know what time it is? Have you seen the time?” James asked, the annoyance sharpening his voice.

“Of course I know what time it is, I can tell the time you know.”

“Quarter to five in the bloody morning it is. Stupid time to ring me!”

“No it isn’t. You have to get up to go to work, so I waited until now to make sure I caught you” Wally retorted.

“Not on a bloody Sunday morning it isn’t, Dad!”

“Sunday? Is it Sunday? You don’t work on a Sunday, do you James? Sorry!”

“You stand need to be sorry. This just isn’t decent. I don’t mind getting up at the crack of sparrow fart when I’m at work, but on a Sunday morning?”

“Don’t get mad at me Laddie – be thankful I didn’t ring you when I couldn’t find me book and I wanted to do some work on it!” Wally replied sharply.

“When was that?” came James’ voice.

“Three o’clock!” Wally replied.

“Three? Three o’clock? You were going to ring me at three o' bloody clock in the morning Dad?”

The tone of his son’s voice told Wally that this conversation wasn’t going as he wanted it to. He’d have to pacify the lad, show a little remorse if he was to be reunited with his life’s work.

“I’m sorry Lad, but I couldn’t sleep and I wanted to write some more stuff. The last week in that hospital bed gave me plenty of time to think and to remember.

“I wanted to get it down before I forgot it all.”

“Yeah, well – that’s all well and good, but you could have opened a new document for that without yanking me out of bed at this stupid hour!”

“Could I?”

“Yes you could, just like I showed you – unless you’ve forgotten how!”

James’ impatience was beginning to show, or was it annoyance, or tiredness maybe?

“Sorry, but I didn’t think about that, and it was a bit early!”
“Listen Dad. I’m awake now, so I’ll come round later and sort it out for you, OK?”

“When?” asked Wally.

“Later on when I feel a bit more civilised. I was coming round later for lunch anyway; Mum asked me round. I’ll have a bit of breakfast with you as well, then I’ll sort you out.”

“Oh, all right then!”

Wally put the phone down and turned back to the computer which sat on the old desk in the corner. The monitor screen was empty, where he had expected his story to have come up.

He knew he’d done everything right, just as he’d learned, but there was no story. All that work, gone. All those hours of typing, struggling to remember, struggling to get everything right, and now there was nothing!

I’ll have to start all over again, he thought.

Taking the mouse, he moved the curser to ‘start’ and clicked on the words “Microsoft Word” which had appeared in the little box. Immediately, the screen changed, displaying a blank page with a blue band across the top with the words “New Document” and an array of symbols, some of which he knew, and many which he didn’t.

He’d got the hang of typing his story and saving it, just as James had taught him, but that’s all he needed. He knew that he could format the document at the touch of one of those icons and he could change the typeface just as easily, but he had no need of that yet. He still had a lot of work to do, and his last spell in hospital had slowed him down.

Now he was impatient to get busy again. While he’d been idling away the hours in the hospital, he’d read several of the books which they kept there; he remembered one line that stood out. It was about a chap who’d written his story, much as Wally was doing, and that chap recounted what he’d been told – what was it? Yes, that’s it – “don’t worry about getting it right, just get it written!” All well and good, Wally thought, but that’s no good for me, I want to get it right!

Staring at the screen, watching the monotonous flashing of the cursor where it waited patiently – or impatiently – for him to make his first stroke, another thought came to mind “all the great authors started the same way as you – with the first word”.

There you go, I’ll tell of the time we went swimming in the canal and that girl, what was her name? Whatever, that girl whose woollen cossy shrank, nearly showing off all her bits, Gladys, that’s who it was, went on to marry Dennis and their lad married Jake’s lass. I must tell how me and Jake went rabbitting in the woods and came across Mrs Three Doors Down and Billy Turpin banging away like there was no tomorrow.

Then there was the time Dolly and me went to Skegness on the train on our own for the first time and the big dipper got stuck with me and her right at the bloody top and I got out of the car and was going to go for help when she shouted “Wally” over and over again and then she changed to “Walter” which she only ever did when I was in trouble.

Oh she had a voice on her, did Dolly, before she quitened down, became more mature and dignified. We had our wild moments and she often had cause to shout “Walter, like that, in that tone of voice, made me feel like a criminal, she did, but I always loved her, even though she could nag for England, she could.

There she goes again “Walter, Wally, wake up” like I was asleep, silly cow. How can I be asleep when I’m riding the bike down the road over the Cat and Fiddle with Buxton below us, her on the back, wind streaming through her hair and I’ve got to stay awake so’s to hold on since we seem to have turned on to a farm track or something.

“Walter, wake up you silly old sod. Wake up, please wake up!”

Walter shook his head and looked at the screen. The cursor was still flashing at the start of an empty page, and Dolly, his wife, dishevelled from bed,was shaking him by the shoulder, tears in her eyes.

“You dozy old sod, I thought you were a gonner!” she cried, hugging him round the neck, causing his chair to swing round.

“Must have fallen asleep!” he muttered, rubbing his eyes and trying to sit up in the swing chair.

“How long have you been up?” unable to prevent a tone of annoyance from her voice.

“I don’t remember. About three, I think”, he replied, “I woke up and wanted to write some more. I think I rang James earlier”.

“You did what?” she asked, the accusation changing to incredulity, “you rang James? What for?”

“I can’t remember!” he replied, “anyway, he’s coming round this morning.”

“I know he is. He’s coming to lunch with us. I want to make sure he gets some proper food in him now he’s on his own.”

“No, earlier. I think he said breakfast”.

“Oh Walter, you silly old bugger. What have you gone and done?”

“I told you. I wanted to write some more. I’d remembered some more stuff and I wanted to get it down, but I couldn’t find my book. It’s disappeared. Gone.”

“No it hasn’t, you silly old goat. James saved it away for you – I think that’s what he called it. Something about a memory stick, I think.”

Walter looked up at his wife by his side. While she wiped away a tear from her eye, Walter felt a tear welling in his.

His book wasn’t lost after all, but where was it?

“That’ll be the lad!” said Dolly, turning to go through to the kitchen where she would unlock the door to let in their son.

Walter heard another voice and recognised his son, the two voices becoming animated in discussion. He knew that he was the subject under discussion.

“Morning Dad! Again!” said James as he carried two steaming mugs through to where Walter sat. “You really shook me up this morning you know. I thought something had happened!”

“It did Lad, I couldn’t find my work on this bloody machine! I thought I’d lost everything and would have to start again!”

“Didn’t Mum tell you I’d backed it up for you, Dad?”

“Yes I did, thank you very much” his Mum answered behind him, turning to Wally, “I told you James had been working on your computer. I told you all about it the day before they let you out.”

“Did you? I don’t remember.”

“Well, I did. All about it. Even about the memory stick, whatever that is. I told you that he’d explained it was a tiny little thing that you plugged in to the computer and it held the whole of your story.
“He said it looked like a cigarette lighter and was about the same size.”

Wally, startled, dropped his mug a couple of inches on to the desk, the splashed tea narrowly missing the keyboard.

“I threw a cigarette lighter away yesterday morning!” he said, with a look of horror on his face, “it was on the desk here, and I threw it in the waste paper basket just before the bin men came!”

“Oh God!” said Dolly, throwing a hand to her mouth, "I emptied it into the wheelie bin. It will really be gone now! I’m sorry Walter, I really am!”

“Hold on, you two. Before you start a bout of wailing and gnashing of teeth – this is what you’re talking about!”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small object, like a cigarette lighter in size and appearance.

“This is your memory stick. I’ll show you how it works in a minute. Now that you know that Dad’s masterpiece is safe, may I have some breakfast please Mum? I’m starving. I was woken up rather early this morning!”

“A good idea,” said Walter, “and do you know what, Dolly? I’ll have some breakfast too!”

Dolly, now with a smile of pleasure lighting up her blue eyes, returned to the kitchen.