Steve had been off sick for a week. I wouldn't have realised on my own, but Darren informed me that after the week, he would be off on holiday for two more. Well played, Steve. But as we all knew, he wasn't ill. A tickley throat isn't an illness. If it was, everyone in England would be off sick at least 26 times a year.
So It was left to Alex and I to take care of the stock. Every week we get a huge order of bags that needs to be stacked up in the warehouse. I did the stacking whilst Alex proceeded to fill his mouth with a full packet of polos.
'No thanks, Alex.'
'What?' He asked, through a face of white mints.
You know how people say 'Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.'? Is it still counted as the lowest when some people don't understand it? Because I think it should be bumped up a few levels.
'So what's your brother up to today?'
'Don't know. He's been on the phone all morning. Sounded a bit worried.'
This was odd. The only time I saw Duncan worried was when he lost his bag of weed. An old lady handed it in to him in the end. She thought it was plant food.
'I wonder why...'
'No idea.' Alex said, picking up the lightest box. 'Sure he'll be OK.'
There was something warm and friendly about Alex. It seemed so odd that he was Duncan's twin. If they weren't brothers it was almost certain they wouldn't be friends, with seemingly nothing in common and totally different personalities. With Duncan, I was quite threatened by his nature. His language. But with Alex, aside from being a little slow on the uptake, was harmless and softly spoken. As if Duncan was making up for it, filling in the gaps.
Darren had just started work and the car park was a bit of a mess, thanks to the morning's stock take. But he wanted to talk to me urgently.
'I need to talk to you about something.'
'I'm flattered, why me?'
'Well, you know, you've got a degree.'
'Right...And what part of Biomedical Sciences does your problem relate to?'
He looked over both shoulders before continuing.
'It's Jenny. She's up the stick.'
'Eh?'
'Up the duff.'
'What?'
'Preggers!'
'Oh right, congratulations! How is that to do with Biomedical Sciences?'
'Well, it's Science isn't it? Reproduction and that...and it's medical. And bio...'
'OK, OK, I get it...'
'All right, what's biomedical sciences then?' Darren spat at me.
'It's the application of biology-based science to medical use. Such as research, heath monitoring or treatment.' I said blankly.
'Fair enough. But, Dylan, it was an accident.' Darren squealed. 'I don't know what to do. We haven't told anyone. My Dad, her parents. No-one!'
'Does Jenny want to keep it?'
'Yeah, course. She wants the time off work.'
Of course. What other possible reason could there be for having a child? Darren sighed, took off his glasses and rubbed his head. I looked at him, leaning on the trolley bay, his head down. I could have gone two ways with this. Tell him to get rid of it. He can't be a father. Or man up and deal with it. But both were a bit too harsh for my liking, and so went for the simple, mind and distant approach.
'I'm going to ask you one question.'
'What?' He replied painfully.
'...Do you want a child?'
He thought for a second or two. Then a small smile appeared on his face.
'Yes. Yes I do.'
'That's all you need to know.' I grinned.
'But you can't tell anyone about this, OK?'
'OK, I promise.'
Wow, I was good at this. I seemed to have dealt with it quite quickly. Darren was smiling. He hadn't actually thought about being a father before, just the hassle of dealing with it. Now he was content. I left out my opinion that Jenny and Darren would be possibly the worst parents in the world. Literally the worst. A hairdresser with a thieving streak and a crass, outspoken trolley pusher. But good luck to them. Surely my services should have come with a charge, but I didn't mention it. I was too busy thinking about my own column in the newspaper. 'Dear Dylan' He seemed happy for the rest of the day, occasionally texting Jenny and thinking up baby names. 'Alf' being a popular one. Put it this way, I hope they don't have a son. Unless Jenny gives birth to a 74 year old.
By 5pm we had the car park looking like it's regular self. Two or three trolleys and six or seven depressed looking customers. Darren said his goodbyes and shot off early, out of the sights of Sharon. Duncan was due in about five. But turned up at quarter to six, looking a bit tired and distracted.
'Evening, Dunk.' I said, putting a few empty bottles in the bin.
'Oh, all right Dylan.'
'Alex said you were a bit worried about something...'
'Alex? Did he? What has he been telling you?'
'Nothing really. Just that you were on the phone. Looking worried.'
'You can ignore that prick. Smack him next time I see him.'
'Fair enough.'
It was fair to say that Duncan had a face like a slapped arse, but still wanted to talk to me after a few minutes of silence.
'Dylan, you won't tell anyone this, will you?'
What was it with me today? Suddenly I was an Agony Uncle to the whole of the supermarket. What next? Talking to Sharon about her childhood as she lies on a leather couch? I don't think so. You can't fit a leather couch in her office, and to see a middle aged Scottish woman cry would unsettle me. I could hardly figure out what she says normally, let alone while she's blabbering about her relationship with her father.
Alex was right, Duncan did look worried. He had that kind of face you pull when you suddenly realise you've left the oven on. Part shock, part worry and part fear. His threatening nature was disarmed as he spoke softly, like his brother.
'What? No, I won't tell anyone....tell anyone what?' I stepped back.
'Well...'
'Hold on. Why are you going to tell me?'
'Well, you know, you're clever and that. You've got G.C.S.E's'
'And a degree in Biomedical Sciences.'
'What that?'
'It's the application of biol..'
'Whatever, forget it.'
'Go on...'
'I was on the phone to Jenny this morning.'
'Daz's Jenny?'
'Yeah.'
'Why? Did she tell you the big news too?'
'Big news?'
'About being pregnant?'
'Yeah, how did you know?'
'Daz told me, why did Jenny tell you?'
Oh God. I knew before he even told me. I could see it in his eyes.
'She said it could be my baby.'
His face went from 'Oh God, I think I've left the oven on...' to 'Oh God, I've left the oven on, blown up the house, blown up all the houses on the street and killed everyone inside.'
'What? How? When?....What?' I uttered
All valid questions.
'It was an accident.'
That's what Darren said. Funny, that. Duncan didn't seem to find it amusing.
End of part one.
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