âDonât be judgmental.â Thatâs moral philosophy at the level of an Australian soap opera. If people werenât judgmental, how could we possibly have a moral viewpoint in society? We wouldnât have the first clue where we were. All rational discourse about what we should do would grind to a halt. No, whatever you do, donât fall for that weak-minded nonsense about not being judgmental. Donât be excessively judgmental, if you like, but alwaysâalwaysâbe prepared to make a judgment. Otherwise youâll go through life not really knowing what you mean.â
Pat was silent. She had not come to see Domenica to discuss developmental psychology. She had come to talk about Bruce, and, specifically, to ask what she should do.
âVery interesting,â she said quietly. âBut what should I do? Do you think I should apologise to Bruce?â
âNothing to apologise about,â snapped Domenica.
âI feel so sorry for him,â said Pat. âI feelâ¦â
âDonât,â interrupted Domenica. âBe judgmental. He told you a series of lies. And even if he isnât quite twenty-eight yet, he should know better.â
âMore judgmentalism?â
âAbsolutely,â said Domenica. âSilly young man. What a waste of space!â
16. Bertie Goes to School Eventually
Irene would have liked to have driven Bertie to his first day at the Steiner School, but there was the issue of the location of their car and she was obliged to begin as she intended to continueâby catching the 23 bus as it laboured up the hill from Canonmills.
âIt would be nice to be able to run Bertie to school,â she had remarked to Stuart the previous evening, âbut not knowing exactly where the car is makes it somewhat difficult, would you not agree?â
âDonât look at me,â said Stuart. âYou were the last to use it. You parked it. You find it.â
Irene pursed her lips. âExcuse me,â she said. âI very rarely use that car, and I certainly was not the last one to drive it. You drove it when you went through to Glasgow for that meeting a couple of months ago. Remember? It was that meeting when you bumped into that person who used to live next to your parents in Dunoon. I distinctly remember your telling me that. And that was the last time the car was used. So you parked itânot me.â
Stuart was silent. Irene glanced at him with satisfaction. âTry to remember the journey back,â she said. âYou would have come in on the Corstorphine Road, would you not, and driven back through Murrayfield? Did you turn off at the West End? Did you come along Queen Street? Try to remember.â
Stuart remained silent, looking up at the ceiling. Then he looked down at the floor.
âWell?â pressed Irene. âDid you come back that way?â
Stuart turned to her. âI came back by train,â he said quietly. âI remember it because I saw the Minister on the train, eating a banana muffin, and he said hello to me and I was impressed that he had remembered me. I remember thinking how nice it was of him to make the effort. He sees so many civil servants.â
âYes, yes,â said Irene. âThe Minister. Banana muffins. But the car. What about the car?â
âAre you sure that I drove there?â asked Stuart weakly, although he knew the answer even as he asked the question. Irene would remember exactly; she always did.
For a few moments there was complete silence. Then Irene spoke. âI saw you get into it,â she said. âYou waved goodbye and drove off. So what does this mean?â
When Stuart replied his voice was barely audible. âThen itâs still in Glasgow,â he said. He waved a hand in a westerly direction. âSomewhere over there.â
Ireneâs tone was icy. âYou mean that you have left the carâour carâin Glasgow? That itâs