James Kelman - A Disaffection

What?

I kept out your way. It’s a long story … Pat smiled. Actually I was a bit halfcut and I didni want to gibber in front of the weans!

Is this gen?

Aye. I hid up a close.

Gavin didni say anything. He had placed his empty bowl on the mantelpiece and lighted a cigarette. Patrick dunked the bread he was holding into the soup. Gavin pursed his lips, then said, We were only wanting to see if you fancied coming with us up to maw and da’s. We had been in at the Barrows and we were going straight. I says we’d be better phoning first but Nicola says naw because you would’ve made excuses. Gavin sniffed. He said to the other two: She worries about him. Cause he’s on his tod and that, she thinks he doesni look after himself properly. She thinks you’re in a rut Paddy my boy.

We’re all in a bloody rut! said Davie.

Gavin continued, If ye just phoned maw and da occasionally. Ye know what like they are. They worry. In other words they’re normal parents.

Pat nodded.

They’re getting on Pat know what I mean.

What age are they? Arthur asked.

Eh … Gavin frowned at him for a moment, before answering. The auld man’s fifty-seven; my maw’s a couple of year younger.

Fifty-seven’s nothing, said Arthur. My auld man’s seventy-eight.

My auld man’s deid and buried, said Davie, I killed him myself, with my own two hands.

Arthur muttered, Your head’s wasted ya cunt.

The da’s had eh three strokes … Gavin dragged on his cigarette and he didnt look at Davie. It’s no a joke.

I saw them on Saturday, said Pat.

Aye I know you did but we never knew it at the time, otherwise we wouldni have bothered, obviously. It was just with ye phoning on the Friday and that.

Sorry.

It doesnt matter.

Patrick gazed at his brother. Gavin sipped the superlager, dragged on the cigarette and blew smoke into the fireplace. It’s because I was halfcut, said Patrick, I didni want the weans to see me in case I started gibbering.

Gavin nodded.

I didnt.

Fine.

Davie said to Arthur: Does Maureen make a good pot of soup?

No bad. Her maw’s better. No great, but better.

Davie nodded; he turned as though to speak to Gavin but Gavin held his gaze for a few moments and he said: I didni like your remark there Davie. That rubbish about your feyther, it’s stupid patter.

Davie looked at him.

Stupid patter Davie know what I mean.

Davie smoothed the right side of his moustache. He lifted his whisky and drank what was left of it.

It was unjust. Patrick had annoyed Gavin but now here it was Davie getting the row. He uncapped the whisky and gave an exaggerated sigh of appreciation, poured himself a small one and then topped up Arthur’s and poured Davie a fresh one; he handed them the jug of water and lifted away their empty bowls. He offered the whisky to Gavin but Gavin declined. I’ll have one in a minute, he said.

Okay brother! Pat grinned although he didnt of course feel like grinning. In circumstances roughly similar to this one, in certain tribes of chimpanzees, individuals bare their arses to each other, a method of pacifying the aggressor. But this wasnt the place to display arses. This was family. Grimly and sternly. They set their faces grimly and looked sternly at one another. It was funny the way folk acted. Patrick laughed suddenly and he said: There’s this boy in one of my classes who’s in love with one of the lassies, and she’s got a wean already — no to him. They’re both about sixteen, seventeen. True love.

Nobody spoke.

Och! Tch! Pat laughed again. He put his hand to his forehead and shut his eyelids. Fuck it. It’s funny but, he said, you watch them for maybe a couple of years; you see things. How open they are. Kids. They’re so fucking open, the way they trust you. They think you can do anything when you’re a teacher. They think you’re the heavyweight champion of the fucking world. No kidding ye! They think everything you say has to be right and true.

What like is your class? said Arthur.

I’ve got a lot of different ones.

Ragamuffins?

Pardon?

Are they ragamuffins?

I dont understand your question. Could you define ragamuffins for me?

Gavin said quickly: Dont. He’s trapping ye.

Pat glanced at Gavin: You referring to me?

Naw, I’m referring to him over there! Gavin gestured vaguely at the door and Patrick couldni stop himself from looking, and he replied:

I think you’re trying to tell me something. Because in fact he was getting told to leave. His big brother was asking him to kindly vacate the premises. Which was really a bit much when you considered their relationship was blood-based, consanguineous. It’s not as if he was a stranger in off the street. Pat grinned and raised his tumbler of whisky. Am I allowed to finish my drink first?

What?

You obviously want me to vacate the premises?

What you talking about?

Do you want me to leave o brother?

Do what you fucking like o brother.

In other words I can finish my drink?

You can do what you like. Gavin smiled briefly.

Patrick raised the tumbler: Prosit brüder!

Prosit brüder to you too.

Patrick smiled. He swallowed the whisky and sipped beer. His brother was now saying something to Arthur and was maybe deliberately excluding Davie. Things were not alright. They were alright. Before I came. Before I came things were alright. Things were alright before I came. Now that I am here things are not alright. I should not have come and then things would still be fine; yous three neighbours would be fine. Instead of that in came myself and fucked up the proceedings, the atmosphere, clouded things over, making things go awry. Gavin was watching him. Gav was okay. Gav. That was from way back when. Heh Gav going to take me with you.

The whole world is there. Where. In a family. The family grouping. Hegel was not wholly right about things. There again mind you

but here is a truth that is axiomatic: the existence of 2 42 2. Och this fucking self-congratulatory pity it’s a load of fucking out the window with it away, away away away. Away where. Just away. Get to fuck. Into the nether regions with you of whom it must be said that Dante alone could have placed you. Dante alone. What is to be said of that. Is something to be said of that. Before something can be said about something, before anything can truly be said, we are dutybound to find a — sorry, we are dutybound

this is the gibbers

these are the gibbers

Gavin is watching me

And poor auld Davie Jordan who has a wee black moustache and is of this planet forty-two winters, having just had a row from one’s brother on behalf of one, a father of four weans, two boys and two girls: Davie is looking.

When I get pissed I start gibbering, said Patrick. The gibbers descend upon me. No kidding ye Davie, the gibbers.

Davie nodded. I was thinking there about this uncle of mine’s, a snobby bastard, he’s retired now, used to work for the Forestry. He’s a Wee Free. His best mate’s a big bloody polis sergeant. There’s this place they go fishing up by the Kyle, out near Plockton. And it’s poaching. They’ll no tell anybody where it is either. I was up there once and I was with my auld man and he wouldni take us with them. Eh! Christ. Hell of a cunt that sergeant, he was supposed to be shagging the manageress of the hotel and she gave him free bevy. The word was too that her man knew it was happening … Davie reached for his can of superlager.

Maybe he was shagging somebody else, said Arthur.

Davie shrugged. I dont know. He was a snobby bastard the uncle, didnt like our side of the family. Him and my da hated each other.

After a moment Gavin said, He was a snob and a poacher. Unusual. Then as well the polis sergeant.