Tony Black - Long Time Dead

Shaky nodded. ‘Aye, oh aye…’

‘And Hod?’

His answer came slower this time: ‘You get our Danny in the clear and yourself and Hod are of no interest tae me.’

I managed a dim smile before my eyes closed on me and the room fell into blackness.

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN GRATEFUL for the run back to town, but somehow the pug in the trackie wore down my enthusiasm. He played Slowhand on the CD, did the chords on air guitar when ‘Layla’ kicked in. When he got to nodding along, I thought he was a bit too used to banging his napper, didn’t want to find myself on the end of it later on. As I sat beside him I could see he was carrying some meat: his gut pressed against the wheel when he turned corners and his neck shook on the cobbles. I was unnerved most of all by his bonhomie. The man was far too happy, made me think he had a surprise in store for me. Like maybe he wasn’t running me back to town after all.

We flew through Musselburgh and Porty, hit Meadowbank in good time. At London Road the pug turned to me, said, ‘I know a good spot.’

‘A good spot?… Here’ll do.’

That made him laugh. His meaty neck wobbled on his chest. As he smiled sharp lines cut the corners of his eyes. It was a face I could never tire of punching.

At the stadium he chucked a left, hared it past a Skoda garage and took another left, followed the road round to a little industrial estate. He allowed himself a handbrake turn in the car park before slapping the wheel and starting to remove his watch. I got the hint; went for the door handle. It was locked.

He laughed, ‘You thinking of going somewhere?’

‘Are you as daft as you look, fella?’

He didn’t like that. ‘What the fuck did you say?’

‘I said, are you as daft as you fucking look? If you’re thinking of working me over… it’s not gonna help your boss out.’

His smile returned. ‘See me, I’m funny that way.’ He smacked me in the mouth with a backhander, let out a ‘Yee-haa!’ I yelled as my head banged off the car window. After all I’d been through already, it should have been enough to call lights out, but I hung in there.

The pug walked round to my side of the car, opened the door – I fell out. As I crumpled on the tarmac he started to lay into me.

‘Mouthy little cunt!’ he roared out.

I watched his face contort then redden. He took his work seriously. I could tell that by the way he put his back into it. I tried fending him off for a bit – put up arms, curled into a ball – but it was only incitement to him.

‘Get yer hands out the road, y’prick!’ he yelled.

Like I paid any notice. It was only when he started belting my gut, and the blood came up into my mouth again, that I held off. In no time at all, I’d lost consciousness.

I woke up in hospital again. The frequency of these visits was becoming embarrassing now. Not just for me, but for the staff. A nurse loomed over me with a thermometer. She seemed to have just taken it from under my armpit.

‘Oh, you’re with us, are you?’ she said.

I didn’t have an answer for that. I didn’t feel very with it. I couldn’t remember too much; the lights hurt my eyes. ‘What happened?’

‘I believe you were found in a pool of your own…’ she left a pause for emphasis, ‘blood.’

‘Makes a change from my own sick!’

She didn’t see the funny side. I tried to pull myself up. A strong smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils, made me feel like chucking up again. As I settled down I noticed there was a figure at the bottom of the bed. I squinted, tried to make my eyes focus. ‘Mam?’

‘Hello, son.’

‘What are you doing here?’ I felt embarrassed for her. Heat flashed in my cheeks.

She walked around the bed, patted the nurse’s arm, ‘The hospital called me.’

The nurse spoke again: ‘We thought we might lose you… it was touch and go there for a while. You know, you’d be better off playing Russian roulette, Mr Dury.’

I tried to swing my legs over the side of the bed. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ My second attempt at raising a smile on her miserable coupon fell flat as well. She shook her head and went for the door. I was glad to see it close with her on the other side.

My mother came and helped me to stand. ‘I didn’t know what to make of it when they called.’ There was a tear in her eye. ‘I thought… well, I just thought.’

I couldn’t bear to see my mother so hurt; I patted her hand. ‘Mam, I’m sorry.’

‘Oh, Gus.’ She took a handkerchief out of the sleeve of her cardigan. ‘Whatever happened to you?’ I thought at first she was talking about my latest hospitalisation, but as she moved to the chair by the bed she said, ‘How did it ever come to this?’

I knew what she meant. She was wondering how I had come to this level of despair. Was it the way my career went tits up? The wreckage of my marriage? My childhood? Christ, I wish I knew. I was a disaster, seemed like I always had been.

‘I don’t know, Mam.’

She dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief. ‘I wanted so much for all of you… I had so many dreams and hopes. Every mother does.’

I heard the words, and I registered her hurt, but for reasons beyond me I thought of Gillian Laird. She was a mother too, she had lost a son. She needed answers, and she wasn’t going to find them with me in here. I had lost too much time already. I needed to act.

‘Mam, did the nurse say when they were thinking about letting me out?’

‘Oh, it won’t be for weeks. You need a good rest, and to heal up… They thought you were a goner, son… didn’t you hear her?’

I didn’t want to believe her. Jesus, how many times had I heard that in the last few weeks? I was ready to take my medicine like all the other times and move on. Figured, if I hadn’t carked it yet, I was on a winning streak. And I was still standing – it couldn’t be that bad, could it?

I said, ‘That’s not going to be possible… I’ve too much to do.’

My mother double-blinked. She dropped her handkerchief as she rose. ‘But you can’t go anywhere… there’s people to see you.’

‘What?… Who?’

She walked over to me. ‘Out there… they wouldn’t let them all in together.’

‘Who’s there, Mam?’

‘Everyone… I had to call them, they said it was near the end for you… Was like your father all over again.’

My mind flipped out. I watched my mother go for the door. She said, ‘I’ll send them in…’

When the door opened again, the last person I expected to walk through appeared. ‘Hello, Gus…’

‘ Debs ?’

She clutched at the shoulder strap of her bag, a blush spreading on her face. I watched her eyes flit from me to the window, as if she was too embarrassed to look at me. Christ, it was a heartscald.

‘Your mam called… when…’

‘She said.’

Debs put down her bag, sat in the seat with her knees together and her legs turned to one side. She looked tense. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Like shit… thanks for asking.’

She laughed. ‘I suppose you don’t need me to tell you that’s how you look!’

I smiled, ‘Boom-tish!’ Knew I deserved that. Worse, probably.

We looked at each other. It was great to see her again, but I felt nervous – tweaked at the hair on the back of my hand as I spoke. ‘I got your text.’

‘Gus, I don’t want you to think that I’m re-establishing contact.’

I shot up a hand. It seemed to take more of my energy than I’d imagined it would; blood rushed to my head. ‘No, Debs… I know.’

‘That text-’

I cut in: ‘Look, I just wanted to know you’re okay, and now I do, so all’s cool.’