Free GUILT TRIPPER by Geoff Small Page B

paced around the couch
anxiously. In truth, she’d been expecting a pile of drivel, but not only was
his work poignant and poetic, it was well structured too. She was instantly
gripped and only stopped reading when he asked her opinion, some seven pages
later.
     “Ryan, I’m
astounded. It’s absolutely beautiful.” He wandered over to the window and
stared out at the night, biting his nails as if unable to deal with the
compliment. “Why haven’t you word processed your work?”
     He turned to face
her. “I don’t know anything about computers.”
     “See! There are
always new things we can learn, aren’t there?” Judith declared with great
enthusiasm, causing Ryan to shrug his shoulders diffidently. “I tell you what: I’ll
teach you how to get round a computer if you let me read the rest of your
book…you’ve got me intrigued.”
     Judith winked at
Ryan and he couldn’t help but return a lovely, wide smile. It was the first
time she’d ever seen him anything other than sullen.
     As they re-entered the
candlelit kitchen, Danny pulled a chair out from between himself and Angie, so
that Ryan could join them for a dram of whisky. “If you’re as well read as you
reckon, then there’s no reason why you can’t sit in and help teach. We’re
promoting a philosophy of co-operation here. There’s no place for elitists,” he
told the youngster.
     “But I spend every
minute of my day working on the book,” Ryan protested. “When I’m not actually
writing I’m thinking about what I’m going to write. It’s a torment, like having
an eternal itch. The only way to find relief is to scratch. So I have to keep
writing all the time. You should know this as an artist. Did the renaissance
masters have time to waste?”
     Danny laughed and
grabbed Ryan in an affectionate headlock, full of admiration at his passion.
     “Two days a week you
can help Angie here with her seminars — that gives you five days undisturbed to
work on the book. Ok?” He pulled his captives head back, playfully. “Ok?”
     “Ok.”
     On being released,
Ryan struggled to repress only his second smile since they’d known him. He even
removed the checked baseball cap — hitherto welded to his head — revealing a
sandy crew cut, which made him instantly more amenable. As more whisky flowed
the mood became so relaxed that Ryan announced he had a confession to make to
Danny. All went silent.
     “You know that first
meeting you had? Up in the old textiles mill?”
     “Aha.”
     “There were about
twelve of us, right?”
     “Yes.”
     “There should have
been more — a lot more.” Ryan placed his cap back on, holding the peak and
rubbing it against his scalp, nervously. “There were a good fifty from all over
the city waiting outside in small groups, but our little crew chased them away
with potato peelers. If you’d got us to fill the applications in there and then
you’d have seen that nine of the thirteen people present where all from my
scheme. They only turned up coz I told them to. That’s why there were just
three the following week.”
     “Why would you want
to scare the others away?” Angie interrupted.
     “Get rid of the
competition of course. I knew places would be scarce and that you’d never pick
some volatile loser with a second prize. In my experience most people are out
to disadvantage you, so you have to make your own luck.” Unable to look at
anyone he stared past Hamish sat opposite and focused on Danny’s mother’s
portrait. “I’m sorry…not just for you, but for the people I scared off too.” He
let go of his cap and emptied his glass in one. “So, if you want nothing more
to do with me, I totally understand.”
     Danny stood up and
raised his glass of water in a toast: “Everybody! To Ryan! And may all the
students in this college be as worthy as him!”
     “To Ryan!” the
others concurred, chinking their tumblers together.
     Ryan looked like he
was on the verge of tears