Animal People by Charlotte Wood

Author:Charlotte Wood
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC000000, book
ISBN: 9781743431207
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2012-09-24T04:00:00+00:00

For three hours he scrubbed at the slimy walls of the fryer. It was the fifth time he had done this job—they took it in turns—and it was the fifth time he wished they had changed the oil when they were supposed to. The oil was verging on rancid and the smell made him gag. It was no cooler inside the kiosk than out, despite the whirring fans, and he had to use near boiling water in the buckets to cut through the film of grease. He was certain his body temperature had never been this high in his life; he was faint with it. The scouring pad soon grew slick with grease, and he found he was just shifting the oil from one part of the wall to another. Every so often he had to step outside the kitchen and stand in the trees with his hands on his knees, taking in great gulps of clean air. People passing with their children stopped to stare at him, the limp white hygiene cap drooping round his ears, the sweat pouring down his bright red face. He went back inside and scoured and scoured, the muscles of his arms and shoulders and his back burning. It was weird how, bent down into the vat, scrubbing, this greasy duty somehow kept reminding him of the interminable hours at Mass as a boy. Kneeling on the hard floor. Penance. He squeezed the scourer into the bucket and began again. Whenever his mother came to his mind, or Fiona, he scrubbed harder, as if he could rasp away what he had done, what he was yet to do.

After three hours he was finished. He was drenched in sweat, and still between his fingers and in the crooks of his elbows he felt the oil, no matter how many times he washed. His pants were wet with sweat and filth, and he remembered with a dull thump that in his hurry this morning he had not packed a change of clothes to wear at the birthday party.

Russell sat down beside him in the shade of one of the umbrellas, holding out a lemonade Icy Pole. Stephen unpeeled the sticky paper and sucked at the glorious cold ice.

‘You look like shit,’ Russell said. He nodded. He felt like shit.

Mia, assistant to the catering director, came strutting over the paving towards them in her sturdy high heels. She clutched a yellow A4 envelope in her right hand, and pressed her glossed lips together as she walked. She wore tiny tailored navy-blue shorts and a white top with thin shoulder straps, and her impressively sized breasts bounced behind each step. Despite these, and the appeal of those long tanned legs, Mia always made Stephen think of a praying mantis. The long triangular shape of her face, the blunt fringe making her eyes seem wider apart than was natural in a human face. Nevertheless Stephen and Russell watched her walking, appraising her as she approached. Russell said, ‘Greetings, Torpedo Girl,’ referring to her nipples, just as she reached them.

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