well.'
'You mean you don't need to earn a living while Yorkshire Arts is giving you a grant.'
'As long as they're offering I'd be a fool not to take it.'
'Plenty for our listeners to talk to you about. So the year after you left art school your first exhibition got good reviews, but here's a caller. Rory, you need to put your headphones on.'
They felt like earmuffs, even when they acquired Sabyasachi's voice. Rather than bringing it closer, they surrounded Rory's ears with an aloof version of it. 'Hello Mike from Batley. What do you want to say to Rory Lucas?'
The caller sounded even more muffled. 'Are you having a joke on us all, Mr Lucas?'
'I –' Rory swallowed hard, but that didn't render his own voice any less remote. Feeling both cut off from it and confined by it was so much of an obstruction that he hardly knew what he said to overcome his inhibited silence. 'Life's a bit of a joke.'
'I'll wager it looks that way to somebody that's being paid to do the kind of thing you're doing.'
Rory struggled to outdistance the hindrance of his dislocated voice. 'You'll have been to look, then.'
'I don't need to see it to know it's rubbish.'
'No, that's what it was.' The retort seemed to lose force by surrounding Rory at a distance. 'That's what it was,' he had to repeat, 'before I recycled it.'
'There's bins for that. You'd be better off if you got a job emptying them, and a lot more important, us taxpayers would say.'
'No you wouldn't. The money would just be spent somewhere else you'd probably moan about by the sound of you.'
'Thank you, Mike. Mike from Batley,' Sabyasachi said and mouthed 'No need to shout.'
Rory had been trying to project some strength into his oppressively detached voice. 'Do I have to wear these?' he complained mutely. 'Can't you put it through the speakers?'
'It doesn't work like that,' Sabyasachi not just mimed but grimaced before saying, 'Here's Eunice from Holmfirth. You're on the air, Eunice.'
'What's his name, this vandal you're giving all the publicity?'
'Rory Lucas is my guest today. Did you have –'
Rory tried to fend off their dulled voices with his own. 'Do you know what vandal means?'
'People like you and the people you're attracting that vandalise our landscape.'
'Isn't that you if you've been to look?'
'Don't you dare say I find it attractive,' the caller said with a kind of stifled shrillness. 'We aren't given any choice when we're on the motorway. We have to see that rubbish heap and what people did to it.'
'What's that?' Rory was jolted into demanding.
'Don't you know? I thought you said you had to look for yourself.'
'Fine, don't tell me. I'll see later.' Rory felt hemmed in by his own muffled petulance. 'Whatever's happened, it's change,' he made the effort to declare. 'That's life.'
'You just said it was a joke. Don't you care about anything?' the caller said and transformed the question into a statement with the full stop of an emphatic plastic click.
'Eunice? We seem to have lost Eunice from Holmfirth,' Sabyasachi told anyone who ought to know. 'Here's Brenda from Bingley instead.'
There barely seemed to be: just a mumble buried in the headphones. As Rory reached to adjust them Sabyasachi mouthed 'Don't take those off.'
'I can't hear.'
'Brenda says you didn't answer.'
'That's because I didn't hear.' Rory yanked the headphones lower on his ears and felt more shut in than ever. 'Didn't answer what?' he supposed he had to learn.
'What you were asked,' a flat distant female voice said.
'I told you I couldn't hear you.'
'I didn't ask you anything.' As Rory decided she'd lost any right to politeness she added 'Eunice from Holmfirth did.'
'She rang off.'
'I'm sure we'd all still like to hear what you care about,' Sabyasachi said.
'Plenty.' Rory might have been more specific if he hadn't needed to say 'What?'
'Not books, Brenda said. You don't destroy them if you care about them,' the presenter added, possibly quoting the caller. 'You'll be thinking of his
'You mean you don't need to earn a living while Yorkshire Arts is giving you a grant.'
'As long as they're offering I'd be a fool not to take it.'
'Plenty for our listeners to talk to you about. So the year after you left art school your first exhibition got good reviews, but here's a caller. Rory, you need to put your headphones on.'
They felt like earmuffs, even when they acquired Sabyasachi's voice. Rather than bringing it closer, they surrounded Rory's ears with an aloof version of it. 'Hello Mike from Batley. What do you want to say to Rory Lucas?'
The caller sounded even more muffled. 'Are you having a joke on us all, Mr Lucas?'
'I –' Rory swallowed hard, but that didn't render his own voice any less remote. Feeling both cut off from it and confined by it was so much of an obstruction that he hardly knew what he said to overcome his inhibited silence. 'Life's a bit of a joke.'
'I'll wager it looks that way to somebody that's being paid to do the kind of thing you're doing.'
Rory struggled to outdistance the hindrance of his dislocated voice. 'You'll have been to look, then.'
'I don't need to see it to know it's rubbish.'
'No, that's what it was.' The retort seemed to lose force by surrounding Rory at a distance. 'That's what it was,' he had to repeat, 'before I recycled it.'
'There's bins for that. You'd be better off if you got a job emptying them, and a lot more important, us taxpayers would say.'
'No you wouldn't. The money would just be spent somewhere else you'd probably moan about by the sound of you.'
'Thank you, Mike. Mike from Batley,' Sabyasachi said and mouthed 'No need to shout.'
Rory had been trying to project some strength into his oppressively detached voice. 'Do I have to wear these?' he complained mutely. 'Can't you put it through the speakers?'
'It doesn't work like that,' Sabyasachi not just mimed but grimaced before saying, 'Here's Eunice from Holmfirth. You're on the air, Eunice.'
'What's his name, this vandal you're giving all the publicity?'
'Rory Lucas is my guest today. Did you have –'
Rory tried to fend off their dulled voices with his own. 'Do you know what vandal means?'
'People like you and the people you're attracting that vandalise our landscape.'
'Isn't that you if you've been to look?'
'Don't you dare say I find it attractive,' the caller said with a kind of stifled shrillness. 'We aren't given any choice when we're on the motorway. We have to see that rubbish heap and what people did to it.'
'What's that?' Rory was jolted into demanding.
'Don't you know? I thought you said you had to look for yourself.'
'Fine, don't tell me. I'll see later.' Rory felt hemmed in by his own muffled petulance. 'Whatever's happened, it's change,' he made the effort to declare. 'That's life.'
'You just said it was a joke. Don't you care about anything?' the caller said and transformed the question into a statement with the full stop of an emphatic plastic click.
'Eunice? We seem to have lost Eunice from Holmfirth,' Sabyasachi told anyone who ought to know. 'Here's Brenda from Bingley instead.'
There barely seemed to be: just a mumble buried in the headphones. As Rory reached to adjust them Sabyasachi mouthed 'Don't take those off.'
'I can't hear.'
'Brenda says you didn't answer.'
'That's because I didn't hear.' Rory yanked the headphones lower on his ears and felt more shut in than ever. 'Didn't answer what?' he supposed he had to learn.
'What you were asked,' a flat distant female voice said.
'I told you I couldn't hear you.'
'I didn't ask you anything.' As Rory decided she'd lost any right to politeness she added 'Eunice from Holmfirth did.'
'She rang off.'
'I'm sure we'd all still like to hear what you care about,' Sabyasachi said.
'Plenty.' Rory might have been more specific if he hadn't needed to say 'What?'
'Not books, Brenda said. You don't destroy them if you care about them,' the presenter added, possibly quoting the caller. 'You'll be thinking of his
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