By the time he turned sixty, regret had settled over Clive like a thick fog. Lately, memories of his past mistakes haunted himperhaps a burden of age, though he tried to push them away. They clung to him anyway, stubborn as the English rain.
From boyhood, Clive had been quick-tempered, his sense of justice fierce. He couldnt stand unfairness, couldnt walk awayhis fists always answered first.
As he grew older, the lads in the village looked to him to settle disputes.
*»Oi, Clivesettle this for us, will ya? If Tommy and Danny nicked apples from old man Edwards orchard, and Danny got caught while Tommy scarpered, and then Danny snitched, so Tommy gave him a wallop then Dannys dad whipped Tommy for itwhos in the wrong?»*
Clive always had an answer. The boys respected him for it.
Time passed. In Year Nine, another injustice struck. Clive was strong, athletictop of his class in football, volleyball, and especially cross-country skiing. When district trials came, the school held races to pick their best skier. Clive won by a mile.
*»No question, mate,»* his friend Danny said, clapping him on the shoulder. *»Youre going to districts. Who else would they send?»*
But the PE teacher had other plans. He placed Ethanhis mates sonon the podium instead. *»Ethans representing the school this year,»* he announced. Ethan smirked, looking straight at Clive.
The class erupted in protest, but the teacher shut them down. Clive, jaw clenched, stepped forward. *»Hows that fair?»*
*»Ethans leaving after Year Eleven. Youll go next year. Now move along,»* the teacher said, nudging him away.
On the walk home, Clive cornered Ethan. He didnt think hed hit him that hardbut Ethan never made it to the trials. Neither did Clive, of course. There were meetings, suspensions. WorseEthans mother taught history at the school.
From then on, the PE teacher and the history mistress made Clives life hell. He couldnt take it. After Year Nine, he quit schoolnever went back. His parents shouted, but Clive got a job instead.
*»Mum, lay off,»* he muttered. *»I wont last in Year Ten. Ill lose my temperI know I will.»* His mother knew his temper too well to argue.
In their small Yorkshire village, work meant the farm. Clive shadowed Michael, the old vet, learning everything he could. Michael saw promise in him.
*»Shame you didnt stick with school, lad,»* Michael often said. *»Youd have made a fine vet.»*
*»Aye, I like helping the animals,»* Clive admitted.
But fate had other plans. Ethan*that* Ethanqualified as a vet and took Michaels place when he retired. Clive watched from the sidelines, biting his tongue. Ethan knew the books but not the work.
*»Hes got the diploma. Must know what hes doing,»* Clive told himself.
Then the farm manager ordered Ethan to vaccinate the livestock. Clive couldve done it blindfoldedhed learned from Michael. But Ethan panicked, rushing to the retired vet for help.
*»Ask Clive,»* Michael said, leg in plaster. *»He knows the job as well as I did.»*
Ethan had no choice. *»Help me with the jabs, will you? Cant manage it alone.»*
Clives old school grudge flared. *»Youre the professional. Its your pay, your job,»* he said, walking away.
The next day, the manager tore into Ethan in front of everyone. Humiliated, Ethan came backthis time, with whisky on his breath and shame in his voice. *»Clive Im sorry. About school. Help me.»*
Clive relented. *»Cant hold a grudge forever.»*
They finished the job fast. The manager praised them. Ethan shoved a bottle of whisky into Clives hands as thanks. Clive stared at ithe never drankthen smashed it against a stone.
*»A cheers wouldve been enough.»*
Years passed. When wages stopped coming, Clive raised calves, selling the meat to scrape by. One day, old Mrs. Higgins begged a lift to hospital.
*»Take me to Leeds, love. The bus is too much.»*
He drove her, refusing paymentbut she left cash on the seat anyway. *»For petrol, lad. And in case I need you again.»*
Word spread. Soon, half the village asked for ridespaying what they could, or nothing at all. Clive never turned them down.
Then Nigel, a neighbour, got jealous. He started charging steep fares, badmouthing Clive. The villagers complained. Clive confronted him.
*»Whyre you robbing folks? Spreading lies about me?»*
*»My business what I charge. Jealous Im stealing your customers?»* Nigel laughed in his face.
Clives fist answered. Nigel whinged to the villagebut no one backed him. They stuck with Clive.
A lifetime of standing up for fairness. Once, he and Sam dug septic tanksgood money, too much work. They hired two lads to help.
Then Clive fell ill. Sam finished the job without himand kept the cash.
*»Probably never got paid,»* Clive thought, confronting the client.
*»Paid Sam in full! He swore hed split it with you!»*
The hired lads confessedSam had short-changed them, pocketed the rest.
Clives blood boiled. He stormed to Sams.
*»Wheres the money?»*
Sam shuffled, eyes down. *»Spent it, didnt I? Trip to Leeds with the wife»*
Clives fist flew. They never worked together again.
But with age came guilt. Even in church, the vicars sermons on sin gnawed at him.
*»Fighting for justice but was it? Shouldve walked away. Sams dead nowdrink got him, not mebut still I was wrong.»*
The thoughts kept him awake, night after night. Sixty loomed, regrets heavier than Yorkshire stone.
*»If someone hit my boys Id want their head. Yet I did the same. Thought it was fair. But it wasnt.»*
Too late to fix it now. The past was setlike mortar between bricks. No amount of wishing could undo it.
