Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [75]
“The walls of the reservoir are made by pouring concrete between metal shuttering. I’ll be bolting the shutters into place and taking them down when the stuff has hardened.”
Mrs. Thaw said grimly, “It’s better than nothing.”
“That’s what I thought.”
After this Mr. Thaw cycled to work each morning wearing an old jacket and corduroy trousers tucked into his stocking tops, and now when Thaw was not at school he scribbled at Mr. Thaw’s bureau or lay reading on the hearth rug, enjoying his mother’s proximity as she went about the housework.
One day Mr. Thaw said, “Duncan, you sit your qualifying exam in six weeks, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You realize how important this exam is? If you pass you’ll go to a senior secondary school where, if you work well at your lessons and homework and pass the proper exams, you’ll be able to take your Higher Leaving Certificates and work at anything you like. You can even do another four years at university. If you fail the qualifying exam you’ll have to go to a junior secondary school and leave at fourteen and take any job you can get. Look at me. I went to a senior secondary school but I had to leave at fourteen to support my mother and sister. I think I had the ability to do well in life, but to do well you need certificates, certificates, and I had no certificates. The best I could become was a machine minder in Laird’s box-making factory. During the war of course there was a shortage of men with certificates, and I got a job purely on my abilities. But look what I’m doing now. Have you any notion of what you would like to be?”
Thaw considered. In the past he had wanted to be a king, magician, explorer, archaeologist, astronomer, inventor and pilot of spaceships. More recently, while scribbling in the back bedroom, he had thought of writing stories or painting pictures. He hesitated and said, “A doctor.”
“A doctor! Yes, that’s a good thing to be. A doctor gives his life to helping others. A doctor is always, and will always be, respected and needed by the community, no matter what social changes take place. Well, your first step is the qualifying exam. Don’t worry about anything but that first step. You’re good at English and General Knowledge but bad at Arithmetic, so what you must do is stick in at Arithmetic.” Mr. Thaw patted his son’s back. “Go to it!” he said. Thaw went to his bedroom, shut the door, lay on the bed and started crying. The future his father indicated seemed absolutely repulsive.
Whitehill Senior Secondary School was a tall gloomy red sandstone building with a playing field at the back and on each side a square playground, one for each sex, enclosed and minimized by walls with spiked railings on top. It had been built like this in the eighteen-eighties but the growth of Glasgow had imposed additions. A structure, outwardly uniform with the old building but a warren of crooked stairs and small classrooms within, was stuck to the side at the turn of the century. After the first world war a long wooden annexe was added as temporary accommodation until a new school could be built, and after the second world war, as a further temporary measure, seven prefabricated huts holding two classrooms each were put up on the playing field. On a grey morning some new boys stood in a lost-looking crowd near the entrance gate. In primary school they had been the playground giants. Now they were dwarfs among a mob of people up to eighteen inches taller than themselves. A furtive knot from Riddrie huddled together trying to seem blasé. One said to Thaw, “What are ye taking, Latin or French?”
“French.”
“I’m taking Latin. Ye need it tae get to university.”
“But Latin’s a dead language!” said Thaw. “My mother wants me to take Latin but I tell her there are more good books in French. And ye can use French tae travel.”
“Aye, mibby, but ye need Latin tae get to university.”
An electric bell screeched and a fat bald man in a black gown appeared on the steps of the main entrance.