The Beiderbecke Trilogy by Alan Plater

Author:Alan Plater [Plater, Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Humour, Detective, Yorkshire, England
ISBN: 0749317000
Publisher: Mandarin
Published: 1993-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

12.00 (Noon) Meet outside main entrance to school.

13.00 (One o’clock) Bus departs PROMPT!!!

Every single item on the information sheet was underlined. Jill argued that this tended to underline the importance of the vital elements: if everything is underlined then, by definition, nothing is underlined. Questioning the school secretary, she discovered that something was amiss with the reconditioned second-hand typewriter, obtained very cheaply via a parent, and it was impossible to prevent it from underlining. It had a very obstinate microchip and nobody knew how to talk to it.

Jill and Trevor started packing for their holiday at 10.00 (ten o’clock) on the Monday morning. Trevor had finished by 10.10 (ten past ten). Jill looked at what he had done and said it was totally unacceptable.

‘The last time I went on a school trip, I took and apple, an orange and a toothbrush.’

‘When was that?’

‘When I was at school. Went for a long weekend in Paris. To look at some Art.’

‘And that’s all you took.’

Trevor shrugged.

‘Could have used an extra orange.’

She tipped out the odd items he had packed onto the bed and started again. She astonished him with her diagnosis of what would be needed.

‘We’ll be away seven days and nights. So you’ll need seven of everything.’

‘Seven toothbrushes?’

‘Not toothbrushes. Shirts, socks, underpants.’

‘Ah.’

He shuffled. She knew immediately what he was thinking.

‘Do I take it you do not have seven pairs of underpants?’

‘I doubt it.’

‘We’ll take what you have and buy some more while we’re there.’

‘Dutch underpants?’

For some reason the thought bothered him, but he could think of nothing intelligent to say on the subject. He watched in admiration, touching awe, as Jill packed their case. She folded his shirts, with a dexterity and a neatness that passed his understanding by several furlongs.

‘Those shirts have never been folded in their lives,’ he said.

‘Do something useful. Count your socks.’

Trevor counted his socks.

‘One pair brown, one pair blueish, one pair black … I wore those for the funeral but they’ll do another couple of days … and a brown one with a thin yellow stripe.’

‘One brown sock?’

‘It was left over from something.’

They had never been away together and, like supermarket shopping it revealed more of their differing perceptions of living. For Trevor, the underpants crystallised the challenge. If you lived on daily intimacy with a women, she was bound to see your underpants. For years they had been his and his alone. There was nothing fundamentally wrong with them. They were simply faded and frayed, as who wouldn’t be after all those years? He realized yet another truth of his relationship with Jill: true love, in this case, might mean restocking with underpants, and devoting a little more time and attention to their maintenance.

Jill finished packing and Trevor carried the suitcase down the stairs at 11.07 (seven minutes past eleven), three minutes ahead of their schedule, which allowed twenty minutes for a cup of coffee before leaving for school. It was a half-hour drive to San Quentin High and they had agreed their role throughout the holiday should be to set a good example to the kids, starting by being prompt.

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