Irvine Welsh - Skagboys

— Simon, that’s terrible … what’s he doing …?

I have to admit that ma first instinct is a fervent hope that he jumps; simply in order tae place myself as a central player in the drama of a short and tragic life. Ah think ay that record collection divvied up between Rents and myself. A stake for a wee bit ay brown, exported back up the road. Cunts wouldnae ken what it was. Then ah realise that it’s no our place he’s hanging ootay, it’s right near the top. It’s that dippit wee pump-up-the-breek’s gaff!

Then ah spy her in the crowd, the doolally Marsha, surrounded by a group ay hungry-eyed black yute and some aulder Caribbean bloaters whae wirnae at the back ay the queue when the rice n peas wis daein its rounds. She clocks me and comes ower, eyes blazing and demented. — He came into my farking flat and started farking shouting! Then he climbed right aht the farking windah, innit!

— He’s a nut job, ah tell her.

Marsha looks at me in acknowledgement that ah couldnae gie a fuck, so she shouldnae really bother pretending tae, or at least no that much. Lucinda and her, two London ladies of different social standing, the posh and the impoverished, regard each other in mutual wariness and intimidation. Marsha turns back tae me and says, — You oughta be looking after him! He’s your flatmate!

— Que sera, sera, ah observe as the wee radge bird’s loony lamps blaze fae me back up tae the fourteenth floor. We’ve nothing more tae say tae each other.

Ah spy the ginger heid of the Rent Boy and approach his edgy, quivering back, though when he clocks us his sly eyes still briefly dance across Lucinda’s chest. — The polis telt us tae get ootside, he whinges. — They willnae let anybody in the stair. They’ve sent some cunt up tae talk tae um! Gear on the coffee table n ivraythin!

He now has ma full attention; ah slap ma heid in exasperation. — If he does anything stupid …

— Fuckin polis could turn the fuckin gaff ower, Renton snaps through clenched yellow teeth.

Lucinda pulls on my hand. — It’s okay, Simon, she reassures me, — the Metropolitan Police know what they’re doing. They receive proper training for these situations.

Receive proper training. Brixton. Broadwater Farm. Stoke Newington. David Martin. Blair Peach. Colin Roach . — Aye, they’re well up wi the game.

He’s still on that narrow ledge, hanging onto the frame. How the fuck did he git oot there? There’s a safety catch so you have to unscrew it tae open the windae past the point where somebody could step out. There’s a polis cordon at the entrance tae the flats; naebody can get in. One old munter is moaning that she has to get through cause her cat needs fed. It falls on deef polis lugs. What the fuck is that dipstick daein, aw this hassle ower a ten-a-penny wee spunk-bucket? Marsha was jumping around on the spot, now she’s weeping and being comforted by her sister. The wee bird’s a decent enough ride, but so damaged as tae be completely unfixable. He musht be able to shee that, Sean, surely? Love ish blind tho, Shimon . This shavyor complex, Sean, why do sho many people have it? Shearch me, buddy .

It’s hard to discern whether Nicksy wants tae jump or has decided it’s no such a good idea, and is too frozen up wi fear tae get back inside. Ah catch Rents muttering something that sounds like, — Fuckin attention-seeking cunt, and I couldnae agree more with the sentiment. Then he spoils it by adding, — If any cunt should be daein that it’s me, and he turns his chalky, spotty, druggie face tae us. — Charlene’s jist chucked us!

— Sorry to hear it, I say, twitching a bit, as you can see Lucinda’s wheels turning as if she’s thinking, I thought he was in a relationship with that Penny … The fucking ginger tramp has only been shagging her for a couple ay weeks; hardly Romeo and Juliet, ah would have thought. — I think he’s trapped himself. I squeeze ‘Cinder’s’ hand, pointing up at floor fourteen, tae divert her dangerous train of thought. Her eyes widen and her mouth forms a fraught, trembling oval.

I’m thinking that a straight-line fall would see Nicksy smashing onto concrete paving stones, while pushing off in a dedicated hari-kari jump might mean him hitting the gress. Either way, he’s fucked. More ay a nasty clean-up job on the concrete, one would imagine. That’s if the body splits open. At that thought, I feel shivers running up the backs ay my legs and intae my hands as my ringpiece starts to go intae a spasm. Ah suddenly want him no tae jump, tae be saved, and want it wi every fuckin fibre ay ma being. That cunt took me in. The boy is fucking sound. I feel the tight plastic box in my pocket, containing that diamond-studded band of gold, and ah just want to get Lucinda up the stairs and fuck her beautifully, then, when she’s in a demented trance, pop the question and slip the fucking thing onto her finger. Game, set and match, Williamson, and this selfish cunt Nicksy’s ruining everything!

Cinders shall go to the ball!

Then you can see this copper appear at the windae. He’s talking to Nicksy, who looks really scared. Ah wish ah had binos, but it’s clear some negotiating is taking place. The cop is still, I can’t make out his features, but his movements are economical. The circus goes on for what seems like an age, though it’s probably just a few minutes tops, before Nicksy glances doon and shuffles along the ledge. The cop takes his airm, smiling reassuringly at him, helping him climb back intae the flat, one leg first, then the other.

As he vanishes inside a big cheer goes up followed by a polite round ay applause, like clapping at a cricket match. Despite the fact that there is now nothing gaun oan, two retards in polis uniform — a jug-eared gawkoid and a blonde, overweight, low-self-esteem minger — refuse tae take the cordon doon. — We need to wait for clearance, the fat bint says, hudin a scratchy walkie-talkie tae her lug.

Eventually, the thickoid Old Bill decide that there’s nae mair bodies waiting tae climb oot windaes in the flats, and we’re very graciously allowed back intae our homes.

Thank you for that, flatfoot .

The lift is broken again, so it’s a gruelling seven-flight climb. At least it shows a sweating Lucinda how the other half live, while Renton mumbles and snivels away about life’s injustices, the yins supposedly pertaining to him inevitably taking prime spot. I recognise a laughing sneer coming from the stairs up ahead of us, and it’s that Marsha. She looks doon at us, her hands on her hips. — So this is your posh gelfriend then? That why you don come up an fuck me no more, boy?

Ah see both Lucinda and Renton rubbernecking tae me and feel the blood draining ootay my face. Lucinda turns and storms down the stairs, and ah’m in hot pursuit. — Cinders! Wait!

She stops and pivots roond tae face me. — Leave me alone! Just fuck off!

— Every other night he’s up here, innit. Ah look up and see Marsha leaning over the balustrade, cackling like a Caribbean voodoo witch, a mass of huge white teeth in a wizened face.

— She’s crazy, Cinders! She’s Nicksy’s bird!

— He gotta big black mole on one of his white balls, she shrieks in laughter, her sister joining in.

— Which baw? Renton wastedly asks, and in a way that the doss cunt is actually trying tae be fucking helpful . I clutch my forehead in anguish, digging forefinger and thumb intae ma pulsing temples.

— Just leave me! Fucking leave me! Lucinda shouts, then lowers her voice. — To think … you’re such a liar and a creep … I actually feel sorry for you, she laughs, a horsy, throaty accompaniment tae the shrill sound ay cockney-Jamaican ridicule coming fae above, reverberating around the stairwell.