This is the Life
Even when you have received a death sentence, you still have to live…“I don’t have much advice to give anyone; I’ve learned very little in my life; but here’s a gem of wisdom. Don’t take a dying man’s kettle away. You won’t be doing him any favours. Nor yourself either.”This is the story of Louis, who never quite fitted in, and of his younger brother who always tagged along.Two brothers on one final journey together, wading through the stuff that is thicker than water.Tender-hearted, at times achingly funny, This is the Life is a moving testimony to both the resilience of the human spirit and to the price of strawberries.
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THIS IS THE LIFE
ALEX SHEARER
The Borough Press
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2014
Copyright © Alex Shearer 2014
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2014
Cover photographs © Seb Oliver/Corbis (figures and beach); Shutterstock.com (sky and plane)
Alex Shearer asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780007529711
Ebook Edition © February 2014 ISBN: 9780007529728
Version: 2015-02-06
For Bob, who understood the problem.
“I don’t have much advice to give anyone; I’ve learned very little in my life; but here’s a gem of wisdom. Don’t take a dying man’s kettle away. You won’t be doing him any favours. Nor yourself either.”
This is the story of Louis, who never quite fitted in, and of his younger brother who always tagged along.
Two brothers on one final journey together, wading through the stuff that is thicker than water.
Tender-hearted, at times achingly funny, This is the Life is a moving testimony to both the resilience of the human spirit and to the price of strawberries.
Alex Shearer was born in Wick in the north of Scotland, and now lives in Somerset. He has written for television, radio, film and the stage and is the author of many books for children, including the Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize-shortlisted The Speed of the Dark. Several of Alex’s novels have become films and TV series, all over the world; one became both a Manga comic and a full-length Anime film in Japan. His books have been translated into many different languages.
Contents
We walked in and the two Chinese girls who ran the place looked up and gave us a nod. They were both busy and neither of them seemed too pleased to see us. But Louis was oblivious to that, so we sat down anyway and waited our turn.
Soon as we sat down, the two Chinese girls started working very slowly, as if there were a competition between them to be the last to finish. The prize for coming in first would be to have Louis as the next customer, and neither of them wanted that. So they both attended diligently to detail and went snip-snip-snipping with fine precision and they used plenty of combing and lots of changes of blade sizes and plenty of holding up of the mirror for a look at the back of the head.
By this time Louis was all beard, moustache, straggly hair and eyebrows. The eyebrows arched quizzically, or, if Louis had been fiddling with them, which he did, they pointed up like small devil’s horns. I didn’t think he had had a shave or haircut in six months, maybe longer. Nor had he trimmed his beard in any way. He looked like a wild man, like one of those rough sleepers you feel part sorry for, part afraid of, and part repelled by.
The remains of some ancient dinners were hiding in the moustache. No wonder the Chinese girls were working slowly. If I’d been a Chinese girl, I’d have worked slowly too, or have closed the place early, or simply have said no and have pointed at the door.
But they were too polite, or kind, or resigned, or simply didn’t want to lose the business. Finally, one of the seated customers was done with. The taller Chinese girl – who also appeared to be the older – shook hair from the gown and then invited us to step forwards.
‘She’s ready for you, Louis.’
Louis looked at me in that milky-eyed way he had adopted, and in which fashion he looked at almost everyone. It was a strange look, one of appeal and also of stoical resignation. It took me back half a lifetime, to when we were kids. No, more than half. It was a lifetime. His, at least, and maybe mine too soon – who knows?
