James Kelman - A Disaffection

Och I dont count it I mean for God sake the money was rubbish; ye gave them their whack and you took what was left it was rubbish. Private hire, he said to Patrick.

Some guys do okay on the private hire, said Gavin.

Freddie Sweeney from Gilshie Hill, said Arthur, he’s working out Duntocher way and he’s making a fortune. Ye want to see inside the cunt’s house! Me and Maureen were up visiting a couple of months back; it’s a fucking palace. Videos and hi-fi and all new furniture, ye want to see it!

Gavin was nodding.

Ah but ye aye hear these stories, answered Davie with a look over his shoulder at Patrick. Eh Pat?

Some guys are doing well, said Arthur. That’s just a fact.

The trouble is getting the wheels, said Gavin.

That was my trouble. Davie continued speaking to Pat: See I was in partners with this fellow, but it was his motor and he took all the best times I mean he had bloody Friday and Saturday nights and all that whereas I was getting left having to rely on it raining on Sunday morning so the cunts would want a lift to the bloody church or the chapel.

Pat laughed loudly.

Know what I mean Paddy! Davie grinned.

If it was your own transport but, ye wouldni have had that problem, Gavin said.

Aw I know, that’s what I’m saying. But I’m saying as well that it’s no a goldmine.

Who’s saying that! Nobody’s saying that! Gavin frowned. Arthur was indicating to him that the music had stopped. Anything you like, said Gavin.

A change of mood?

Gavin shrugged.

No want to just flip sides? asked Davie.

A wee change of mood eh? Arthur winked at Patrick: Just trying to get this pair away from fiddles and bagpipes.

It’s your national heritage, replied Davie. Dont tell me you’re wanting to stick on rock music!

What’s wrong with that? cried Arthur.

Nothing at all, said Gavin.

Davie said, Ah well I just feel as if I’m getting too auld for it sometimes.

Rubbish, cried Arthur, you’re never too auld to rock and roll. Bo Diddley! On ye go the Bo, you’re a dancer!

Davie winked to Pat, jerking his thumb at Arthur.

Stick him on if you like, said Gavin.

Gonni climb up the stair and get me my records then? Arthur laughed, he stubbed his roll-up out at the side of the tiled fireplace.

Gavin stared at him. Arthur, for fuck sake, there’s an ashtray at your fucking feet!

Aw aye Gavin sorry … Arthur sat back on the armchair. It’s yous putting down rock, it’s getting to me!

I used to quite like Elvis, said Davie to Pat, but I’m talking about when I was a snapper I mean fuck ten or eleven year auld I was at the time, I grew out of it … Davie tugged at the corner of his moustache. The King of rock and roll but you’ve got to admit it.

What? frowned Arthur.

I mind when he died, the wife was upset but I canni say I was particularly bothered except in a kind of sympathetic way.

What d’you mean? Pat asked.

For Elvis. I felt sorry for him. A big fat bastard as well remember? But still and all, ye had to feel sorry for him. He was the greatest right enough.

Elvis was fucking rubbish, muttered Arthur and he stood to his feet. I’m going up to get auld Bo — let Pat hear what it’s really like. Fuck yous and your highland music!

I know Bo Diddley, said Pat, he’s good.

Aye well just to let ye hear it, replied Arthur and he placed his glass of homebrew and whisky tumbler on the window-ledge as he made his way from the room.

Gavin raised his eyebrows at Davie: That’s you upsetting the big yin again Jordan!

Well I’m no meaning to, said Davie. I dont think he should call Elvis rubbish but do you? I mean a lot of folk liked Elvis.

Gavin said to Pat: The big yin’s a purist. He likes the blues and all that; he thinks Elvis stole a lot of songs.

Pat nodded. How can ye steal a song.

Aw quite easy, replied Gavin, and then ye make a fortune off your records and dont pay the poor cunt that wrote it.

Aye, true, I was actually more thinking of the traditional stuff.

It’s probably just because I said the word ‘fat’, said Davie — know what I mean, the way he’s putting the beef on himself! Mind you, if somebody did steal the songs it wouldni have been Elvis, it would’ve been one of his entourage — that Colonel Parker maybe! Who says he stole songs anyway, apart from the big yin?

Gavin shrugged. The record business is as corrupt as fuck, who knows.

When Gavin finished the last of his homebrew Pat gave him across a can of superlager then he gave one to Davie and put one on the arm of Arthur’s chair. He should have contacted the secretary’s office to tell them he was going home at dinnertime. It wasnt so good of him not to. The boats were definitely being burnt to a cinder. He just hadni been up to it. He needed to get away: and so he got away. End of story. Pat shivered. He was staring at the carpet and he closed his eyes because of something almost like its echo, the echo of the shiver, passing across the top of his spine and neck christ was somebody thinking about him at this moment in time? Alison? Was Alison god the very thought that she could actually be thinking about him. In any way whatsoever. Imagine her even thinking about him. In any way whatsoever. And yet, after last night.

He wasnt going to say anything at all to Nicola about it. Maybe that had been at the back of his mind in coming here, a quiet word with her about it, about the situation. Nicola was good.

Davie Jordan was speaking to him: Is this the first time you’ll be without a job Paddy?

Eh I suppose so.

You’ll learn, answered Gavin.

What will I learn?

You’ll learn it’s no funny, for a start.

I dont expect it to be funny.

Davie said, Heh Paddy how long ye been at the teaching?

More than five years now, nearly six.

Your first job?

More or less — I had a labouring job for a few weeks.

Gavin shook his head: A very few! They gave him the bullet. It was me got him in as well! Then he started giving cheek to the siteclerk.

It was him that gave me the cheek.

Ye fucking got me into bother so ye did ya wee cunt! Gavin grinned, The Doyle family was bad news!

Pat laughed, but only for a moment, and he sighed and his head bent, he stared at the floor then shut his eyes.

Davie was speaking to Gavin about something. Pat felt like crying. He kept his eyes shut and his head lowered. The outside door closed. Big Arthur came in carrying one LP record and he said to Gavin: No chance of a bowl of that soup you were boasting about?

I was just waiting for you! Gavin got up and walked to the door, he paused and said quietly, Okay brother?

Aye.

Sure?

Aye. Just no feeling that good.

Ye want a lie down?

Naw.

I’ll give you a bowl of soup.

I’m no really that hungry.

Gavin’s soup’s a legend! called Davie.

He makes it with flank mutton, said Arthur, then he shovels it onto a couple of slices of bread and we get tore in!

It’s a family trade-mark; I learnt it from my maw … Gavin was smiling as he opened the door. Then he wagged his finger at Pat, indicating the bevy on the table: Nicola isni gonni be too pleased with you brother!

Uch well.

It’s him she loves, said Gavin to the others.

Young brothers, said Davie, what can ye do except lie down and die! It’s cause they’re no a threat.

Gavin had left the room.

And Davie said: It’s true, that’s how women like them.

I wish women liked me, muttered Arthur. He looked at Pat and he seemed to be speaking seriously, so Pat nodded and he continued. They never ever fell for me, know what I mean? and I’m talking about when I was a boy. I was quite a good dancer as well — no that that makes any difference — jiving and that, I was good at it, even if I say so myself.