We Float Upon a Painted Sea by Christopher Connor

you up sticks and move to Cheltenham and now you’re in Scotland working on a flood prevention scheme.”
     
    Patrick stared intensely into Bull’s face but his brother was peering over his shoulder towards Saffron, who was now sitting on the grass brushing the hair of Patrick’s eldest daughter. “Faerrleah,” hissed Patrick, “have you listened to a word I said?” Bull returned his brother’s stare. He examined Patrick’s eyes.
    “Look, don’t mention Cheltenham to Saffron. Promise me?
    “Ok, but soon enough she’ll find out what you really are.” A sombre expression flashed across Bull’s face. He said,
    “And what is that good brother of mine?”
    “A fuckwit.” Bull laughed and then said, “All in good time, but when you meet the right person it’s instinctive. Other opinions only reflect their own limitations and insecurities.”
    “Do you actually believe this old bollocks, Faerrleah? Or are you just playing the fool again? You don’t know much about relationships do you?” Bull paced up and down his brother’s garage.
    “She said we are two kindred spirits.”
    “I think the only spirits you’re familiar with reside in a bottle.”
     
    Patrick pointed to a spanner hanging on the wall behind Bull’s head. Bull took the spanner down and handed it to him. Patrick said,
    “You hardly know her and to be honest, this is your first true relationship that I know about, if you don’t count Deirdre’s plastic mannequin doll which you used to practise French kissing with.”
    “That relationship was destined never to work out. We were different star signs. I'm Taurus and she was Zylon. Anyway, what would you know of love Patrick? You’re an accountant for fuck’s sake and accountants know nothing about love.” Patrick sighed exasperatedly and said,
    “We know about the price of love and love is for fools. So in that respect you’ll do just fine Faerrleah.” Bull took the spanner from his brother’s hands and proceeded to fix the bike in silence.
     
    Later in the afternoon, Bull and Saffron took a train to Salford, to meet Bull’s sister, Deirdre at the family’s local pub, the Squealing Pig.  Saffron went to the bar to get a round of drinks. Bull waited, anxious to find out what his sister thought of Saffron.
    “Well, what do you think of my new girlfriend sister of mine?”    
    “Give over, Faerrleah? She’s been your only girlfriend as far as I know, but then again, are we counting my mannequin...”
    “Why is everyone obsessed with this mannequin? Do you like her?”
    “If you must know, on first impressions, I find her a bit jolly hockey sticks but I might be wrong, she’s probably just a bit of a twit.” Bull tried to disguise his displeasure at Deirdre’s frankness.
    “You need to get over that chip on your shoulder. She’s just preoccupied with the more spiritual aspects of life. Did you ever stop to think that maybe your chat is a bit prosaic for her?” Deirdre grumbled disapprovingly, and then she said,
    “Well, I can see what appeals to you, she's obviously a great beauty, but I can't, for the life of me, figure out what she sees in you?” Bull brushed his sister's cheek with the back of his hand and offering a playful smile, said,
    “We communicate at a metaphysical level, free from the one-dimensional perspective apparent in modern society and evident in your last shallow comment. I pity your obvious myopia.”
    “You’ve changed since you moved up to that Glasgow and you even talk differently. Patrick has also changed since he moved down south.” Bull grunted,
    “South? Wilmslow is hardly down south.”
    “Its south of Salford isn’t it? Anyway, I’ll tell you another thing, both of you are spineless and know nothing about women. Mark my words, just like what happened to Patrick, it won’t be long before she’ll have you wrapped around her finger and treating you like a troublesome puppy. Before you know it she’ll be making you take a piss