Sorley pushed on the big wooden swing doors and entered the college canteen.  He immediately turned left to enter the Student Union office where one went for such things as a student I.D. card; a card that could gain you unfettered access to such things as pub’s and nightclubs. Although he was seventeen he had been to a few pubs and managed to get it despite looking younger than his years.  His theory had been that if you stick with a group of older looking kids, usually Kevin, Sandra and Julie who had been his friends since school, you won’t get asked for I.D. It had worked up until the last occasion when they had went to a hotel cocktail bar;

“What can I get you,” The waitress had said eyeing them suspiciously, “lemonade and crisps all round is it kids?”

The rest of them had smiled and produced their student I.D.’s  which showed them, falsely, to all be eighteen years of age but Sorley, who had missed out on their collective visit to the student union, was left red faced and they all had to leave; his friends would never have stayed and let him go home on his own.

“It’s easy Sorley,” said Sandra locking her arm with his as they walked down the hill to the College, “you just get a couple of passport photo’s from the booth in the shopping centre and take them to the Union office. They don’t even check your age, all they want to see is your registration card and your age isn’t on that. So they ask you and you say..” she nudged Sorely prompting a response but before he could answer Kevin jumped in,

“You say I’m a forty-two year old necrophiliac lesbian.”

Sandra pushed Kevin away from them in exasperation but even still al little playfully,
“Shut up you, I bet you don’t’ even know what a necrophiliac is.”

“Do too,” Kevin had seen it in a horror movie and continued with a look of mock authority, “a necrophiliac is someone, a man or a women, who likes shagging corpses.”

Julie stuck her tongue out, “Gross!”

“Although I think it would be more fun for the woman,” Kevin smiled, “what with the guy being a stiff with a stiffy!” He laughed loud, his mouth wide open.

Sandra sighed as Kevin punched Sorley lightly on the arm, “get it, a double stiffy!”

Sandra pulled Sorley closer and, through their coats, he could feel her breast resting on his arm, “Ignore him. And you say….”

Kevin hunched over like an old man and put his hand out in front of him on a imaginary walking stick, “I’m ninety-two and I’ve wet myself.”

“Shut up you,” Sandra reached out and slapped him on the back of the head.

Sorley thought he’d better answer to end the exchange, “I say I’m eighteen.”

“And when were you born?” Sandra continued.

Sorely paused for a moment, making sure he subtracted rather than added a year to his age.

“Come on Sorley,” Sandra said, “you can’t hesitate. That’ll give the game away.”

“First of September, nineteen seventy seven.”

“Ok,” Sandra seemed satisfied, “ but you’ll need to remember that before you go in. If you hesitate they’ll know your lying.”

Kevin was still rubbing the back of his head, “They know your lying anyway. They’re just a bunch of lefties that like to do anything that fucks with the system.”

Sandra turned to Kevin and narrowed her eyes, “Does your mother know you talk with that tongue.”

“Sorry.” Kevin knew Sandra didn’t like swearing, nor did Julie for that matter. But Sorley didn’t seem to mind, it must be a guy thing he thought.


The door to the student Union office was open and two students dressed in black shirts and black trousers slouched on the wall next to the door.  They were leaning back and looking over the canteen liked they owned the place.  They barely noticed Sorley as he approached. He was dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt with a denim jacket that was a little too big for him and seemed to dwarf his already slight frame.

“Did you see that car chase on the TV yesterday.” One of the students said as he slouched against the wall.

The other student took the cigarette he was smoking from his mouth and flicked the ash on the ground, “Oh yeah, the black guy driving slowly down the motorway and the police following like sheep.”

“Yeah, I bet they were only chasing him because of his colour, bastards.”

“yeah.”

Sorley ignored the students and they did likewise as he lightly knocked on the open door before entering the student union office. Inside it was sparsely furnished but surprisingly messy. There was one big wooden desk in the middle of the room upon which sat a telephone Tree chairs were positioned around the table, one chair behind and two in front. Against a wall was another smaller wooden table with piles of leaflets for various causes teetering on it; ‘Aids, the killer disease’, ‘say NO to nuclear weapons’ and ‘student grants: A national disgrace’ were just a few that caught Sorley’s eye. Next to the desk was an old photocopier, so big, and in such a small room, that it appeared enormous. It too had piles of leaflets, still bound, on top of it.  On the wall was a large poster of Cha Guevara along with posters related to the various campaigns the leaflets gave notice of. Sitting behind the desk was Paul Paton, the Student Union vice-president and across from him were a couple of union reps, dressed in black. Sorley recognised him from induction day, were he had addressed the gathered students. He had walked across the stage with a stride of arrogant confidence and had urged them all to join the union and Sorley had sensed Sandra and Julie’s interest; why do girls always like the assholes, he thought as the student vice-president reminded them of the benefits of carrying a student I.D. card, something that Sorley was now ready to take advantage of. 

They stopped talking as Sorley entered and he felt uncomfortable, as if he had interrupted a conversation that was not for his ears.  Paul Paton leaned back in his chair and looked Sorley up and down noting his unwelcome dress sense and Sorley sensed his disgust. It didn’t bother Sorley; he thought they were a bunch of assholes anyway. There was a long pause,

“Well?” Paton motioned to Sorley.

Sorely held out the passport photographs, “I’ve come to get an I.D. card.”

Paton smiled but it wasn’t friendly and the two goons sitting in front of him turned around to stare, “It’s not as easy as that my friend.”

Paton looked at one of the goons, “Tarq, go get the folder.”
‘Tarq’ short for Tarquin got up and made his way over to the filing cabinet where he took out a large folder and dropped in on the desk in front of Paton.

Tarquin, Sorley though, why were these lefties always middle class kids playing at being working class before getting a managerial job in daddy’s firm or working in a bank or something.

Paton opened the folder and started flicking through it, “you got your registration card with you?”

Sorley reached inside his hideously un-cool denim jacket and took out a small blue card with his name, number and semester classes written on it, “Yeah.”

“You joined the Union?”

Sorley shrugged, “I didn’t know I had too.”

Paton sighed and closed the file, “He hasn’t joined the union.” He looked at his two confederates who shook their heads and tutted, “You need to join the union before you can get a Union I.D. card.”

“Oh, right. I’ll join the union then.”

Paton kept his eyes on his companions as he spoke, “You wouldn’t just be wanting this to get into pubs would you? You must be, let’s see, sixteen maybe?”
Sorley felt like he was back in the playground being threatened by Billy Wilson and his henchmen, “No, I just didn’t know you needed to join that’s all.”

“Hey,” Paton said, “It’s not for our benefit, do you know what this union does for you?” Paton then launched into what Sorely knew was a prepared but somewhat rambling speech about marches against anything and anyone, fighting for increased student grants and what seemed to be a lot of sit-in’s in the Deans office to protest about this and that, “and you need a sleeping bag for the sit-ins pal; it’s not just some five hour joke.”

Sorley wasn’t really listening, “I said I’ll join.”

“It’s two pounds a month, Tarq will sign you up.”

After what seemed like an age Sorley left the Student Union Office clutching a Union card and what he had came for; a student ID that said he was eighteen years of age.  They had all laughed when he gave his age, but the fact he was now a fee paying union member seemed to make the difference and Tarquin typed 01/09/77 next to the space for date of birth on the card. They had also laughed when they read his class semester list,

“Hey look Pat,” said Tarqiun. Pat was Paul Paton’s nickname; none of the union boys called anyone by their actual name, “He’s taking Gaelic.”

Paton chuckled, “Gaelic, I didn’t think that class was running this year, to few numbers. You’re a dying breed Surley.”

Sorley corrected him although he knew it hadn’t been a mistake,  “It’s Sorley.”

“Whatever.”

Tarquin chipped in betraying his education, “You might as well have taken Latin, that’s dead and useless as well.”

Paton shot him a look, “Latin?”

Tarquin looked sheepish, “They made us do it at school.”

“Well give us some Gaelic then.”

“I havn’t learnt much yet, the classes have just started.” This wasn’t strictly true.  Sorley’s mother came from the Outer Hebrides and often spoke Gaelic around the house or listened to the Gaelic broadcasts on the radio. Sorely was already quite fluent in the language.

“You must know something.”

Sorely thought for a moment, “Do Mathier  se an striapach”

They all listened will Sorley spoke, Tarquin laughing as he expressed the words.

“What does that mean?” Paton said.

“Which way to the post office?” It actually meant ’your mother is a prostitute’ but Sorley kept his private little revenge to himself.

“Really fuckin’ useful.” Tarquin snorted.
 
“No, no.” Paton pushed Tarquin’s boot off of his desk, “This guy’s keeping the language alive which is more than your doing Tarq.” Sorely sensed that Paton was being sincere in this point, which surprised him.

Sorley examined the freshly laminated card as he sat in the canteen with a Mug of tea and a bacon roll smothered in that was mean to resemble tomato sauce squeezed from a single server sachet with delicate poise.  He felt a tap on his left shoulder and knew it was Kevin.  He knew Kevin would tap him on the left shoulder as he passed by to sit down on his right but obligingly turned to look left anyway. As he did Sorley hear the chair on his right move as Kevin sat down next to him and laughed his victory laugh. It was morning break and the students filed into the canteen forming a long snaking queue before the till and then retiring to their various tables around the large dining area, always the same tables.  The politics and modern studies students always sat near the student union office, the beauticians in their near white uniforms sat near the east exit as all their classes were held in the eat end of the college. The tech studies did likewise for the same reason and to ogle the beauticians who included one rather masculine cross dresser; his lipstick covering his thick manly lips like jam on a sandwich.  Sandra and Julie joined Sorely and Kevin at their table situated in the general studies camp in the centre of the dining room.

Sandra looked down at the card Sorley was still fingering, “You do it, excellent.”

“Yeah.” Sorley replied, “but you didn’t tell me I had to join the union as well.”

The girls looked at each other, “That’s because we didn’t join.”

Kevin smiled, “You know why? “ He looking at Sandra,  “Paton. He’d have given you anything.”

Sandra narrowed her eyes as she met Kevin’s gaze.

“What did you say when he asked you?”

“Shut up Kevin.”

Sandra knew it was painful for Sorley to hear about male attention she attracted and she wanted to spare him.  She couldn’t explain to him the reason she never became more intimate with him was because she like him so much.  They were friends, good friends, and every relationship she had ever had with a boy had ended; they came and they went. But not Sorley; he had always been there and their relationship was something special she thought; altogether more intimate than the inexperienced fumblings of testosterone filled teenagers.  Paton was different though, she thought. He seemed like a man, although he could only be in his early twenties.

“You know,” Kevin smiled  shooting a look in Sorley’s direction. If he knew how much it hurt his friend he would stop but to him it was just harmless fun,, “When he took you into the corner and asked you out for a drink.”   

”You heard?”

“It’s a small room Sandra.”

Julie already knew. As soon as they were alone Sandra had discussed the merits of going out with Paton with her as she discussed the merits of every boyfriend she had ever went out with; how they looked, how they talked, whether or not they would be a good dad. Sandra always brought that up, even when she was just discussing a possibility; it was one of her criteria. Even plain Julie, who longed for the roles to be reversed one day, knew that Kevin had overheard them as she was standing next to him, out of the romantic loop, when the question had been asked. What Kevin hadn’t heard was Sandra’s reply; her soft feminine voice harder to isolate from the only slightly rougher tones of Tarquin and the other goon as they asked them their details.

There was an uncomfortable silence but Kevin didn’t sense it and continued pursuing his jovial pray, “Well, what did you say?”

Sandra looked at Sorley who was feigning indifference but she knew it bothered him.  Better this, she thought, than never speaking to him again. “I said that if I was in the pub and he was there he could come over and talk to me,” she looked back at Kevin, “nothing else.”

Sorely tried to pretend it didn’t matter and changed the subject, “So do you have to join the union to get an I.D. card.”

“Yes,” Kevin laughed, “if your name’s not Sandra.”

Sandra cocked her head slightly, “I didn’t see you having to sigh up Kevin. Maybe Paton’s got the hot’s for you. Are you gay Kevin?” She looked at Julie and Sorley who both smiled knowing what a threat such a suggestion was to Kevin.

“No way man,” Kevin said waving his hands in front of him, “no fuckin’ way, Ugh!”

Sandra for once ignored his expletive, “Well maybe he is and maybe if he does come over to talk to us in the pub it’ll be to speak to you.”

Kevin privately lived the nightmare of Paton chatting him up in the pub and let out another, “Ugh!”

With the battle won, Sandra turned to Sorley, “Anyway, fancy trying out that baby at lunchtime.”

“I could go a pub lunch,” Julie said, “I’ve got chemistry this afternoon.”

Sandra kept her attention on Sorley, “What about you Sorely?”

“Gaelic.”

Sandra laughed, “No, how does a pub lunch sound.”

Sorley returned her smile, “Yeah, why not.”

Sandra turned to Kevin, “You coming too. There’s a lot of workies in there at lunchtime you might get lucky.” Sandra was referring to the construction workers that frequented the pub at lunchtimes and Kevin grimaced at the thought, “No way man, I’m not gay.”

“Come on Kevin, “ Said Sorely, “We’re just going for a drink, nobody thinks you’re gay.”

“I do.” Said Sandra with mock sincerity.

“Me too.” Julie added.

“Shut up you two.” Sorely said playfully and put a hand on Kevin shoulder, “You going? If you’re not I’m not. ”

 Kevin relented, ”Ok.” He looked over the table at the two girls, “but I’m not gay, right!”
The other three laughed as the bell rang and the dining room started to empty, the beauticians and tech students exiting in a slow stream through the east door while the rest went west.

Sorely and Kevin walked into the pub and looked up to where the students sat in the second raised part of the pub, just two steps, but enough to draw a demarcation line between them and the workies.  Sorely and Kevin were surrounded by workies as they stood near the bar, in the heart of workie territory. A workie sitting at the bar turn around and looked at them derisively.

“What you having?” Kevin wanted to get their drinks and retire to the safety of the students area as quickly as possible.

“Just a lager, and pie, beans and chips.”

Kevin turned to the barmaid who was eyeing them expectantly, “Two lager and two pie, beans and chips please.” He said smiling.

The barmaid’s face remained unsmiling as she poured the lager and put them on the bar, “I’ll shout you when the food’s ready.”

They quickly took their drinks and walked up the two steps to the students area where an entirely different atmosphere awaited.  Talking heads ‘Road to nowhere’ blared from the duke box in the corner and although they could hardly hear it when they had been standing at the bar it seemed to fill the whole room now. Kevin waved over at another table as they took their seats. His happy go lucky personality had gained him many friends, unlike Sorley, and he was popular with the other students.

 “The one with the short dark hair’s Amy,” he said to Sorley. “She fancies me, what do you think?”

Sorely looked over at the girl sitting at the other table and, as sometimes happened,  had a premonition.  She was pregnant. She didn’t know yet, only three weeks, but she would do soon. He could sense she genuinely like Kevin but Sorley knew a complicated set-up like that was beyond his friend’s maturity, “Na, I don’t see it.”

Kevin was surprised, “ What do you mean, she’s gorgeous.”

Sorely took a sip from his lager, “She’s not for you Kev, take my word for it.”

Kevin nudged him nearly spilling the drink, “She’s got a friend. In fact she’s got a few, you could take your pick.” Kevin thought for a minute, “well maybe not you, but there’s sure to be one that will put up with your ugly fuckin’ mug.”

There was no Sandra to restrain him and Kevin laughed loud and openly.

Sorely put his drink down and wiped his mouth, “Na, not for me.”

Kevin, who had none of Sorley’s insight, had been around him long enough to think he knew what was holding him back, “Look mate, it’s never gonnae happen.”

Sorley knew what he was talking about but even still a protesting “What?” escaped his lips.

“You and Sandra. How long have you two known each other. Trust me, if nothing has happen yet it’s never gonnae. She sees you like,” Kevin searched for the right words, “a brother.”

Sorley thought back to the house party they had all been at last year, not long after school had finished. Sandra’s parents had been away for the weekend and she had hosted a party, or as they childishly called it ‘an empty.’ There was lots of cheap cider and lager and boys and girls that Sandra knew from various schools.  And then their friends had arrived and soon the house was full of teenagers getting drunk and smoking and playing loud music.  The drink seemed to diffuse the chattering voices in Sorley’s head. Once he was drunk he had approached Sandra. Her current boyfriend was somewhere at the party, up-stairs maybe but she was standing at the bottom of the stairs, alone.

He looked at her, drunk but serious, “Can I kiss you.”

“Sorely!” She tried to change the subject as he moved closer, ”have you seen Mark?” her boyfriend.

“Who cares?” He moved closer, their bodies now touching each other.

“Sorely.”

She feigned resistance for a moment and then their lips met. Lightly at first but then opening into a deep wet kiss. It lasted only a moment before Sandra moved her head back and looked him straight in the eye from only inches away.  Her eyes were wide and sad and scared but Sorely could sense none of it, the drink clouding his abilities, and later cursed himself for not knowing what she was thinking at that exact moment. She had said nothing and hurried up the stairs while he returned to sit alone on the armchair next to the TV.


Sorely took another sip of his lager, “Yeah, well I don’t think so.”

The door to the pub swung open and the both looked over expecting to see Sandra and Julie but it was another girl, a student, who Sorley recognised from his Gaelic class.

“Girls are always fuckin’ late.” Said Kevin.

The girl nervously approached the bar to order and Sorely watched as one of the workies leaned over and said something in her ear. She recoiled and the workie laughed as she hurried away up the stairs to the student area.  He boyfriend was already sitting at a table and she quickly joined him.  They talked in hushed tones and the boyfriend got to his feet. Sorley could sense the anger in him as he approached the bar and stood deliberately next to the workie as he ordered a drink and some food for his girlfriend. His eyes were boaring into the back of the workies head, but the workie never turned around and he returned to his seat with his girlfriend’s drink.
 
As he walked up the stairs Sorley could see Sandra and Julie enter through the door and stood up, “There they are, I’ll go and get them.”

“Let them find their own way.”

“No, I think I’ll go down.”

As Sorley approached Sandra waved over, “Hi, you two already got drinks?” They were standing near the workie who had been drunkenly abusive to the student and he was just beginning to take interest in their presence.

“Yeah, “Sorely said looking at the workie,  “I’ll get these. What do you want.”

The girls didn’t need asking twice and gave him their order before making their way up stairs to join Kevin.

As Sorley stood at the bar the workies thoughts began to seep into his head. He was  drunk, not happy drunk, but bitter resentful drunk  and most of it was aimed at the student’s but Sorley could sense it was misdirected as the workie reserved his worst resentment for his family.

The workie leaned over and slurred, “Those girls with you aye?”

Sorley didn’t reply.

“Aye they’re with you.” He paused for a minute considering what would cause the most offence, “I think if I had a choice I’d do the blonde one.” He turned to Sorley, “You doin’ the blonde one, aye?”

Sorley looked at him and shook his head, “You should go home.”

“Hey pal, I’ve got another shift to do this afternoon. I can’t sit here drinking all day like you fuckin’ students.”

Sorely lifted the girls’ drinks from the counter and made his way back to the table.

“What did he want?” Sandra had been watching them and knew it wasn’t like workies and students to mix, not for anything good.

“He’s a bit drunk,” Sorely said, “and just wanted to tell me what a useless lot us students are.”

“Fuckin’ workies!” Kevin let the expletive slip out before remembering Sandra’s presence and quickly added, “Sorry.” In her direction. “But they are. They think they own this place but I bet we spend more in here than they do.” 

Kevin looked at Sandra but she was watching the door as Paton entered with his entourage. One of the students went to the bar while Paton and the rest walked up the stairs and approached one of the main semi-circular tables that sat at the head of the student area like open clam shells. Just like in the canteen, the seating arrangements were subconsciously reserved for the different student factions and this one was theirs.

Once seated, Paton had a look around the area, surveying his troops and spotting Sandra nodded over in her direction. Sandra smiled back.

“Hey, look who’s noticed you” said Kevin.

The barmaid shouted up their food order and Sorley and Kevin made their way down to the bar to collect it. When they retuned Paton was already seated at their table. He was talking to Sandra who smiled, enjoying the attention.

Kevin put the plates down on the table and looked at Paton, “Eh, don’t think we’re going to have enough space man.”

Paton was still looking at Sandra, “That okay, I was just leaving.” He smiled and returned to his table.

Sorley and Kevin took their seats.

“Aye, aye, what did he want.” Said Kevin rearranging the drinks and food on the table.

“Nothing.” Sandra replied.

“I’ll bet.”

“Shut up Kevin.” She gave him one of her looks that said, I’m serious, and they started eating their food.

Nobody except Sorley was aware of the drunken workie’s presence until he was standing next to the table were the girl he had insulted earlier and her boyfriend were having lunch.  He stood there smiling for a moment before leaning in and saying something in her boyfriend’s ear.  The reaction was instant. The boyfriend turned and stood up punching the workie in the face as he did.  The workie took the punch and swung back hitting the student in the stomach. Before anyone else could react Paton was out of his seat. He grabbed the workie by the throat and threw him down the stairs.  Workies gathered around the entrance and for a moment it looked like it could turn nasty. But Paton stood his ground, his supporters behind him as the workie protested to the barmaid that he had just been attacked.

The barmaid looked up at the student, “You two will need to leave.”

Paton took his eyes of the workies and looked at her, “We didn’t start this, he came up here.”

The barmaid looked away, she knew they were good paying customers, better than the workies on most occasions, but her allegiances were drawn to the workers, they were more her type of people.

“That’s not what I saw, You’ll need to go.” She said sheepishly.

Paton turned around to address the students, “All stay here, if you leave with us they win.” He motioned to the student who had been involved in the fight and they both walked down the stairs through the group of workies menacingly forming a pathway to the door.

 The pub returned to something nearing normality as the students returned to their lunch and the workie returned victoriously to the bar to tell stories of how he’d seen off the students.

Sorley sat and watched, he knew it wasn’t over yet.  Eventually the workie finished his drink and headed for the exit. As he left there was the sound of shouting and a scuffle. Some of the workies ran for the door and met him as he fell back into the pub.

“They jumped me, where were you?”

The students started cheering.

“Shut up!” shouted the barmaid as his colleagues helped the workie to a seat.


The afternoon went quietly. Sorley sat in the Gaelic and listened as the Gaelic teacher read through a Gaelic children’s book about Celtic folklore. As the sun beams danced through the window and the lager took its affect he slipped for a moment into a private dream world. He saw an island, black and unwelcoming.  Then he was quickly transported to land of fairies and elves.  Not helpful fairies from the Disney movies but deceitful fairies.  He could sense their deceit and their desire to trick the human intruder, but he did not know their motives.

Sorley woke with a start and excused himself to go to the toilet.  A splash of water on his face should wake him up, he thought.  There was one other student in the toilet and as he stood in front of the mirror Sorley rattled the change in his pocket wondering if he had the right money to get a drink from the machine in the hall. He took the money from his pocket and spread it on the counter. There was plenty of change and, of course, his lucky coin.  He had told everyone he found it the attic but he alone new the true story. He picked it up and examined it before motioning to put it back in his pocket.  It was as he did this that he heard a high pitch noise that made him turn suddenly in the direction of the student.  The student was standing in the middle of the room pointing directly at Sorley. His jaw was wide open, as if dislocated and the noise, the inhuman noise, was coming from his mouth. Sorely put his hands over his ears and looked at the student but the eyes that met him did not seem to be the eyes of a young innocent boy, they were more menacing than that.

Sorely crouched down, still holding his ears as the noise grew louder and then he sensed, rather than heard, the door open and someone enter.  He looked up and saw Mr. McAllister, the history teacher. He was about to explain what had happened to him when he noticed that Mr. McAllister was also not what he seemed.  His eyes were bright blue and he moved with a swiftness beyond his years as he struck the boy open handed and hard across the face.  The boy fell to the floor and remained there.  Mr McAllister turned to Sorley and began to speak but it was not the voice of a middle aged history teacher.

His words met Sorley’s ears like a ghost from the past that he instantly recognised, “They have found your Sorley. You must leave tonight. You must go now.”

Mr McAllister closed his eyes and fell to the ground.

After a while, and the fear gone, Sorley felt in control of his limbs again slowly got to his feet. He checked for a pulse, they were both still breathing.  He was still leaning over the history teacher when another student entered and froze in the doorway.

“Get a teacher.” Sorley said before turning Mr McAllister on his side.



Sorley sat in the Dean’s room still shaken from his ordeal, but aware enough to know that the truth could not be told.

The Dean sighed, “So you just found them like that, both of them, unconscious.”

“I’ve told you.” Sorley replied, “They were just lying there.”

The Dean fiddled with the pen on his table. He had been sure there must have been a gas leak but the janitor had checked and found nothing.  His suspicions fell on Sorely but how could this boy have knocked out two people, one of them a teacher, without a struggle.

“We’ll, I don’t know what to think. Neither of them have any recollection of events.” He leaned back, “Tell me, why do you think you weren’t affected by whatever caused this.”

Sorely shrugged, “ I don’t know. Have you checked for gas?”
The Dean shook his head, “There was no gas which leaves me thinking maybe you had something to do with this. Some prank gone wrong, Aye.”

Sorely just looked at him and shrugged again.

The Dean was about to continue talking when the sound of a commotion came from outside the office.  They could hear the secretary arguing, raised voices, and then the door flew open and in marched Paton flanked first by black shirted students and then a larger more casually dressed. They all had sleeping bags tucked under their arms.

He slammed a petition down on the deans table, “This is an official protest against an unfair system of student grants that discriminate against the poor!”

The Dean stood up, “Get out of my office!”

“No!” he looked the Dean sternly in the face, “We will occupy your office until this college agrees to join the struggle against student grants.” The rest of the students cheered and began sitting down on any available carpet space.

“Paton, I’m warning you.”

But Paton ignored him and crossed his legs as he sat on the carpet in front of the desk.

The Dean, his face now beetroot, pointed at Paton and made to say something before remembering the surrounding audience and striding out of the room to their collective chant of, “No more Grants”.

Sorley got up out of his seat.

“Join us comrade.”

“Sorry, I can’t” Sorley said and made his way through the students to the door.  He stopped when he heard Sandra’s voice,

“Sorely,  what are you doing  here?”

She was sitting next to Julie in the corner, a plastic bag of supplies between her knees.

He walked over squeezing between the seated students, “Sandra?” they both looked a little tipsy.

“We met them in the corridor on the way back from lunch.” Sandra looked over at Paton, ”wasn’t it great what he did in the pub Sorley.”

He knew he was losing her again.

“Come on, sit down Sorely.” Julie said, “It’ll be a laugh.”

Sorley looked at the two of them and wondered if they would feel the same way when the sobered up.  Paton and his cronies were in it for the long haul. They were in it for a laugh and he knew that Sandra had another motive for being here.

“Na, I need to get home.”

The girls began joining in the renewed chant as Sorley left the Dean’s office closing the door firmly behind him.

  The train snaked through the countryside and past the ruins of an old roman fort on the hill. At the end of the line Sorley got off and walked over the bridge, the river below seemed moody and belligerent; the dark swirling water threatening to trap anyone who might be foolish enough to enter it.

His mum wasn’t home so he let himself in and found some mail piled behind the door; she must have gone out early, soon after he left for college.

Amongst the mail Sorley was surprised to find a postcard.  He didn’t know anyone who was on holiday at this time of year and carefully inspected the picture. It was a picture of an Island. The inscription read:  ‘Benbecula: The Dark  Isle’. He flipped it over and felt a sense of unease creeping over his skin as he read the two words written on the back,  ‘Go Now’. Sorely turned the card over, examining the picture and then reading in again as if it would make more sense.  Could it be one of his mother’s relatives? She was brought up on South Uist and it was plausible it could be from one of them.  But she didn’t keep in touch with them; some brooding family feud that she wouldn’t speak about.  And anyway, why would they send a postcard.  No, it seemed to Sorely that this was connected to the events of the day. He examined the post mark and his mouth opened involuntarily. It had been posted today at 12.15; it was impossible that it could have arrived today.  Sorley pondered the message again remembered the words of the old man’s voice in the toilet; a voice he knew from his childhood.

He thought about Sandra, sitting in the Dean’s office watching Paton’s every move.  He thought about his mother out there somewhere. He went into his bedroom and packed a bag, just some overnight stuff in his rucksack; he was still unsure as to what he was going to find on the dark isle, if anything. After packing he went into the kitchen and took a writing pad out of the drawer;



Mum,

I need to leave now for a while.  I might be back tomorrow but it could be a bit longer. 

I’ll be in touch soon, 

Sorley

P.S. Sorry but I’ve had to borrow some money

He put the pad on the table were she would be sure to see it and reached up for the tin on top of the cabinets. He took two hundred pounds from it in various notes and put it back in place.  He looked around the living room as if it would be his last look and then shrugged off the thought;  I’ll probably be back tomorrow with a lot of explaining to do. He closed the front door to number twelve O’Hara Lane behind him and started walking down the hill towards the station.