We present the first chapter of a first novel by Stuart David, the co-founder of the band Belle & Sebastian who then went on to front Looper. The American edition of Nalda Said was released by Turtle Point Press in 2003. The Guardian called Nalda Said “A fabulous novel….a stunning insight into reclusion, a sideways glance at conservatism….and an allegory of the way the business world treats art.” 

 

I’ve begun to think now that I maybe just panicked this afternoon, and then over-reacted some. But I’m still not sure yet, I still don’t know for sure.

I am still shaking although, and what I’d really like to be able to do tonight is talk to Nalda. Even just for a little while. To see what kind of words she would have to say.

When I was a boy, you see, I heard Nalda’s words nearly all the time; while we sat out on the old sofa in the evenings, or while we swept up leaves in the winter lady’s garden through the day. And always she would tell me all about myself and how I’d come to be in her charge, and about the world too, and how things in it worked. And whenever I was confused by something I could go and ask her some questions, and listen to her talk, and slowly things would come back towards sense.

But all of that was a long time ago now. All before the shouting, and all before the people came and Nalda went off. And ever since then I’ve only been mostly afraid and confused, by the whole of the world and most things inside it. Almost all the time.

And so…I still can’t tell about this afternoon yet. I still don’t know for sure. It’s important, because of what lies within my charge, that I live always on my guard. And so lots of times I’ve misjudged things and over-reacted. But I’m not sure if that’s how things were today, and I wonder if Nalda would talk until I could see some other sense in what happened, and it no longer scared me. Or if she would only look at her nail and say, “You did the right thing today. You did the right thing, T…”

Ooops. But I almost told you my name there, and I don’t mean to do that. Not just yet. Just in case. Just in case of things.

So what I’ll do instead, right now, is I’ll tell you all about what happened this afternoon, and about why I’m still shaking.

 

The first thing you need to know, I think, is that for quite a while now I’ve been working in the gardens of a city park. I suppose that’s the first thing. I mostly always try to find work in places like that — first of all because gardening is just about the only thing I know anything about, the only thing that you can use for a job at least. And, secondly, because you never have to be around any other people too much of the time.

  In this place, because it was so big, I hardly ever had to talk to any of the other people who worked there at all. There were so many different things to be done most days that, between picking up my tools and getting my orders in the morning and returning my things to the sheds again in the evenings, I might not see any one else who worked there all day long. And that’s the best way for me. I’ve never been around other people much, and because of that their ways mostly just get me confused, and then I get nervous.

  Anyway, today.

  I spent most of it with the grass machine, cutting lawns at the very heart of the gardens. Then towards finishing up time, I trundled it back to the sheds and got to work wiping the blades clean in there.

  I always liked it in the sheds at the end of the day, if there was no one else in there. Most times I tried to work on later than everyone else, so’s as they would all be gone by the time I got back. And often, when I had cleaned up my tools and put everything away in its place, I liked to sit beside one of the windows and just be glad that I was finished with gardening for another whole night. And quietly make a wish that I would be freed before the next day from ever having to do it again.

  Today although, while I was still wiping the blades clean of grass, I heard the door opening behind me and I grew quite angry that someone had come in to spoil my peace.

  “Well, that’s another one endured and conquered,” the voice said, and I knew straight away who it was. I knew at once it was the boy with the pictures on his arms.

“How was yours?” he asked me while he clattered his tools down onto the floor, and I felt myself grow tight and shy. And I fixed my eyes very hard on the blades of the grass cutting machine as I wiped them, even although all of the grass was gone by then.

 No one else who worked at those gardens even tried to talk to me after the first one time or two times. I think some of them worked out that it wasn’t one of the things I was good at, and that I just didn’t know how to do it properly. And some of the others, they became a bit offended by me not ever answering them properly, I think. Either way, they all soon came round to leaving me alone, which was good because it meant I couldn’t let any information slip which might put me in danger from them.

But the boy with the pictures on his arms, he was different. He just kept on talking to me whether I gave him any proper answers or not. It didn’t even seem to matter to him very much if I answered at all. And when he had hung up all his spades and things, he dragged the chair from the window across to where I was wiping the blades, and he sat down on it there. Kind of backwards.

“That looks as if you’ve got them cleaned now,” he said to me, while he shifted around on his seat some. But I continued to wipe for a bit more anyway. Then, when I felt like it was getting to be stupid, I got up, all unsure of my movements because I felt like he was spying on me some, and I put the cloth away in a drawer. I even pretended to look for something else in there too, in the hope that he would just go away before I was finished. But he didn’t go. He just kept on by sitting there.

When I turned around, although, I noticed he wasn’t spying on me at all. He was just touching the pictures on his arm instead, with his fingers, and looking at them all carefully. So seeing my chance I said, “Good night,” in a voice that came out all cracked and quiet, and then I hurried out of the shed and closed the door behind me. I even thought I was going to get away with it too, because the door stayed shut until I was quite some steps away. But it was never so easy to escape from the boy with the pictures on his arms, and soon I heard the door opening again and him shouting out to me, while he snapped the padlock of the shed onto the door to lock it up.

“Hang on there,” he said as he ran after me. And without even making my eyes look at him I watched him tying a scarf around his head, just from my corners.

“Are you busy right now?” he asked me, while he tightened the know at the back of the head. “I know you don’t speak much, but these’s something I want to show you. Something I found today. Are you doing anything else just now?”

I was still thinking of a way to run off from him at that time, and when we reached the end of the track which leads from the sheds to the main path I just turned my back on him quickly, and started walking off.

But he ran after me.

 “It’s this way,” he said, catching me lightly by the arm. “It’s not that way, it’s this way.” And as we stood looking at each other, and I watched him tugging on the knot behind his head, I suddenly had the idea that maybe he was just lonely for some company, and that was something I knew a bit about.

 “It’s just something I thought you might like to see,” he said. “Something I found in a flower-bed this morning. I’m not quite sure what I’m going to do with it yet, but I know I can trust you not to tell anyone else here anything about it, so you can see it if you want.”

 He tipped his head to the side and then I was still anxious not to be there, but slowly I turned to face the other way, and he nodded at me.

 “You’re quite a strange guy,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind me saying that. But Christ…I mean, I bet you don’t make many friends acting like you act.”

 Then he laughed and I tried to do a smile to him, but I’m not good at smiling to people. In front of a mirror I can do one alright. When I can watch my own face. But whenever I try to do a smile to someone else I always think it isn’t going to work, and then it doesn’t work. I kind of make it not, by thinking that. So I looked away towards the flower-beds as soon as I felt it failing, and then I covered my mouth with my hand.

 We walked quite a way back through the gardens, the boy with the pictures on his arms and me. And then we walked beyond the gardens and on into the rest of the park. All the way he kept on by talking, the boy, and mostly I didn’t even know what he was saying about, like I never do. But he did say a few things about how he wished he didn’t have to work in the gardens, and how much he didn’t like it, and that surprised me some.It surprised me because I’d always thought it must only be me who didn’t like it, and it was a secret I was scared about in case anyone found out and then told me I couldn’t work there anymore. And I would be left without my money. So it made me feel good, just that. And I wanted to say something to him about it and agree some. But just when I was getting ready to, he stopped walking, at last, and he pointed over towards a tree near the fence.

“I’ve hidden it there,” he said. “In a hole in the trunk.” And he hurried off across the grass and had me follow him.

 It was a very broad and old tree which he brought us to, with gnarled and old branches, and a hole at the bottom of the trunk just like he’d said. And while he knelt down in the grass, I leaned against the trunk, and watched him feeling with his hand inside.

“I think you’re going to like this,” he said to me, “I really do.”

And it was just then, as he drew his hand out from in the hole, that all of everything started happening at once.

The thing was, you see, it was a knife he pulled out from in there. A knife with a black, black handle and a long curved blade. And while he stood up again he did the strangest grin to me, and the time started to move very strangely. It went all slow to begin with, and in just a single second I studied the boy’s mad grin and some of the pictures on his arms, as well as thinking that what I’d been terrified of for years was very probably just about to happen. Then, as the boy took another step towards me, I watched the sunlight glinting upon his blade. And when he turned it, and the light flashed directly into my eyes, suddenly time was racing instead, moving at twice its normal speed.

And then so was I. Running off towards the fence with my coat flapping on my knees, and my heart thumping terribly.

I heard the boy shouting something behind me, but I didn’t hear about what it was, and I didn’t turn around any too. I just climbed over the fence as soon as I came to it, ripping my trousers and cutting my leg. And on the other side I tripped on something and fell out full. But I didn’t even lie for a minute. I was back up running and running as quickly as I could be. Running and running.

To begin with, I ran back to the room where I’d been staying all the time I was in that city. But as soon as I arrived there I realized about how stupid a thing that was to do. And so as quickly as I could, I put a few important things into a bag and I ran out again.

And all I did do was keep on running then.

Running and running. On and again. For a very long time.

 

Turtle Point Press, 978-1-885586711