Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [83]
There was no special position for praying in. People sat with legs apart or crossed, arms folded, hands clasped or clenched as they pleased, but all shut their eyes to suggest concentration and bowed their heads as a mark of respect. For a long time Thaw had stopped shutting his eyes but lacked the courage to lift his head. Today, arriving late and breathing uneasily, a great carelessness filled him and he impatiently raised his head during a lengthy prayer. He was seated on one side of the gallery with a clear view down on the bent heads of the congregation, the choir, the minister in the octagonal tower of his pulpit and the headmaster at the foot of it. The minister was a fat-faced man whose head wagged and nodded with every phrase while his raptly shut eyes gave it a blind empty look, like a balloon blown about in a draught. Thaw felt suddenly that he was being watched. Among the rows of bowed heads in the gallery opposite was an erect, slightly clumsy, almost expressionless face which, if it noticed him (and he was not sure it did) did so with a faint sarcastic smile. Something in the face made him feel he knew it. Later that day the stranger was introduced into the class as Robert Coulter, who had been promoted to Whitehill Secondary School from Garngad Junior Secondary School. He fitted into the class easily, making friends without effort and doing fairly well at the things Thaw did badly. He and Thaw exchanged embarrassed nods when accident brought them face to face and otherwise ignored each other. Once, in the science room, the pupils stood talking by their benches before the teacher arrived. Coulter approached Thaw and said, “Hullo.”
“Hullo.”
“How are you getting on?”
“Not too bad. How are you?”
“Ach, not too bad.”
After a pause Coulter said, “Would you mind swopping seats?”
“Why?”
“Well, I’d like a closer view….” Coulter pointed at Kate Caldwell. “After all, you’re not interested in that sort of thing.” Thaw took his books to Coulter’s bench filled with black rage and depression. Nothing could have made him admit his interest in Kate Caldwell.
One day after the exams the teachers sat at their desks correcting papers while the pupils read comics, played chess or cards or talked quietly in groups. Coulter, at a desk in front of Thaw, turned round and said, “What are ye reading?”
Thaw showed a book of critical essays on art and literature. Coulter said accusingly, “You don’t read that for fun.”
“Yes, I read it for fun.”
“People our age don’t read that sort of book for fun. They read it to show they’re superior.”
“But I read this sort of book even when there’s nobody to see me.”
“That shows you arenae trying to make us think you’re superior, you’re trying to make yourself think you’re superior.”
Thaw scratched his head and said, “That’s clever, but not very true. What are you reading?”
Coulter showed him a magazine called Astounding Science Fiction, with a picture on the cover of tentacled creatures manipulating a piece of machinery in a jungle clearing. Green lightning leaped from the machine into the sky where it split open a planet which seemed to be the earth. Thaw shook his head and said, “I don’t like science fiction much. It’s pessimistic.”
Coulter grinned and said, “That’s what I like about it. I was reading a great story the other day called Colonel Johnson Does His Duty. This American colonel is in a hideout miles underground. He’s one of those in charge of fighting the third world war, which is all done by pressing switches. Everybody above-ground has been killed, of course, and even a lot of the army folk have had their hideouts blasted by special rockets that bore into the ground. Well, this Colonel Johnson, see, has been out of touch for months with the folks on his own side, because if you use the radio these special rockets can work out where your hideout is and come down and blast you. Anyway,