Phosphate Rocks Chapter 24: Fitting In

The trouble with Fraser was his education. He’d been in his first year at university when his girlfriend fell pregnant. ‘Fell’ made it sound as if he had nothing to do with it, but maybe she’d fallen because he’d pushed. 

He’d thought that he loved her once. Before he started university and discovered that he preferred intelligent conversation to fawning adoration. She was his first, and he might never have known better if she had been his only lover, but freshers’ week quickened his pulse and opened his eyes to possibilities. He had adventures. He made friends. With women even. He fell in love with a girl from Manchester. He was going to tell his first girlfriend. And then she told him. 

Both families agreed that Fraser must marry and get a job. Times were hard, but his uncle was in the lodge and pulled a few favours. Before long Fraser had dropped out of university to work shifts on a phosphoric acid plant in a fertiliser factory beside the North Sea. 

Most of the shift workers had fought hard to get a job at the factory. The rules were clear. The pay was fair. The pension was excellent. Those injured at work were given desk jobs, like Blind Willy in the gatehouse. Few left voluntarily. 

But for Fraser, it was the pits, the bottom of the barrel, the death of his dreams. He was young and self-absorbed, unaware of the contempt that shone out in his slow walk, the fastidious dislike written on his hunched shoulders. No one doubted that he was bright. He learned to operate the plants quickly and resented the fact that he was given the menial outside jobs when the older men sat clueless at the control panel. Initially he took pride in his shift logs, clear firm handwriting full of accurate and precise information. But no one else could understand the words he used, they thought that he was mocking them. Before long he had adopted the factory slang. U/S for useless, knackered, broken.  

Just like him.