Irvine Welsh - Skagboys

Some auld minger that’s gaunny be fuckin deid soon anywey … grassin auld cunt …

— Ye were better oaf hingin aboot wi Tommy n Francis n Robert, son, Ma urges. — The fitba n aw that. Ye eywis liked the fitba!

A sudden bolt ay panic, n ah want tae jist hunker doon cause ay the dizzy chill that assails us. Instead, ah turns tae ma new hostess. — If ah feel really bad, will ah still git ma methadone here?

Skinny-Specky’s glance is measured and unfazed. It’s like she’s seein us fir the first time. She slowly shakes her heid. — This project is about being drug-free. You’ll come off the methadone maintenance here. You’ll be part of a group, a society , here at St Monans, one that works, rests and plays together, and make no mistake, it will be tough, she says, lookin tae ma parents. — Now, Mr and Mrs Renton, if you don’t mind, we really should get Mark settled in.

Fuck sakes!

My ma gies me a bonecrushing hug. Ma faither, noting my obvious discomfort, settles fir a weary nod. He hus tae pull her away as she’s sobbin her fuckin eyes oot. — But he’s ma bairn, Davie, he’ll eywis be ma bairn …

— C’moan now, Cathy.

— Ah’ll get masel sorted oot here, Ma, you’ll see. Ah try n crack a smile.

Just fuckin go! Now!

Ah want tae lie doon. Ah dinnae want tae be part ay Skinny-Specky’s daft wee group, her fuckin society. But nonetheless, as ma parents shuffle ootside, ah’m awready daydreamin aboot fawin in love wi her; me n Skinny-Specky oan a Caribbean island wi an endless supply ay gear, procured fae her employers in the NHS. She’s like one ay they sexy librarian birds thit wid be shaggable as fuck when the hair comes doon n the bins come oaf.

So Len escorts us tae ma room. For aw his scrubbed, affable demeanour, he’s a big cunt, like a benign bouncer, n ah widnae fancy tryin tae git past him. He flips on the fluorescent light, which blinks like a nightclub strobe, then stabilises, searing the room in a sick glow, with accompanying insect drone. Ah lie oot oan the bed, takin in the gaff. It’s a mundane hybrid ay the residences at Aberdeen and the cabin on The Freedom of Choice . There’s the same wee built-in desk-and-shelves unit with chair as at the uni, and a similarly designed wardrobe and chest ay drawers. But Len-the-Fringe tells me no tae git too comfortable. Thaire’s an induction session in the meeting room, seemingly aw soas little old me can meet the others. Ah’m wonderin if either Spud or Keezbo’ll be in here, or if they got sent somewhere different. — How many’s here?

— We currently have nine clients.

But first he issues me wi a timetable, the same one as ah saw on the waw at the reception area. — Just want to quickly take you through this …

Lothian Health Board/Lothian Region Department of Social Work St Monans Substance-Dependency Group

Daily Timetable

— Wake up at seven in the morning? That’s goat tae be a joke!

— Aye, it’s a tough one at first, Len acknowledges, — but people soon get used tae it. It’s all about getting some order back intae those chaotic lifestyles. We assemble for breakfast, which everyone must attend, even if they’re in detox, after which you’re issued with any relevant medicines you need.

— Seven in the mornin’s ridic, ah moan. The last time ah wis up that early wis Gillsland’s. — N meditation? What’s aw that? Ah’m no sayin prayers or chantin or nowt like that!

Len laughs and shakes his heid. — It’s no about religion, we dinnae follow the NA/AA model. We don’t demand that you submit tae God or a higher power, though if you do feel so inclined it wouldnae be discouraged. It’s proven very effective and popular with substance-dependent clients in the past.

The only higher power ah’d ever submit tae would be Paddy Stanton or Iggy Pop .

— What’s aw this substance-dependence stuff?

— We prefer that tae the term addict .

— Fine, ah shrug.

Len’s thick finger taps at the sheet, redirecting ma attention back tae the timetable. — The process review group gives us the opportunity to look at how we’re functioning as members of this community, and flag up any issues we have relating to that. As you might imagine, they can get lively. After lunch we have our individual sessions, where you’ll be working with Tom or Amelia. Then we do a group session to look at the issues of substance dependency. After dinner, it’s free time, and we have a television, a pool table and also some fitness and musical equipment. It’s not a great deal, basically just some hand weights and a guitar, but we’re hoping to get more stuff soon. There’s an optional light supper, usually just a hot chocolate or Horlicks and biscuit. We put out the lights in all common areas and switch off the telly at eleven o’clock. During the forty-five-day programme, you aren’t allowed any phone calls, unless on compassionate grounds and by prior agreement with a senior member of staff. You are allowed letters, but any incoming mail will be opened and vetted before being issued to you. No drugs, including alcohol, are permitted on the premises. We make a reluctant exception for nicotine and caffeine, he grins. — You aren’t allowed off the facility during the period of your treatment, unless on a project outing and under staff supervision.

— This is like the fuckin jail!

Len shakes his heid dismissively. — The jail they just lock you up, then throw you out. We want you to get better, He stands up. — Right, we have a little induction meeting, all for you, but first let me show ye aroond.

He gives me a tour ay ‘the facility’, as they call it. He explains that we’re by the village of St Monans, in the East Neuk of Fife, close tae Anstruther, a small, picturesque former fishing town, now given ower tae tourism. But as we’ll never get oot tae see the place, it could be fuckin miles away. The village and this project are named after St Monans, a saint that nae cunt kens a thing aboot. The Patron Saint of Fuck All, and thus perfect for this place. The centre is a U-shaped building wi a walled gairden tae the back. It has ten bedrooms, a kitchen, dining room and a recreation room wi a pool table n telly. Off the recky room is a small conservatory, leading tae a patio n the gairden, which is hemmed in by big trees.

— And this is the meeting room, Len says, opening a door, but as ah step inside, the first thing ah hear is: — RENTON, YA CUNT, then aw this laughter follayed by a round ay applause. Ah cannae fuckin believe it. Thir aw fuckin here!

— Fuck sakes! Youse cunts, ah hear masel squeal in delight. It’s like walkin intae a surprise birthday perty!

— Goat the fill set now, boys, Johnny Swan, wearin a fuckin collar n tie , laughs.

There’s Keezbo, half zonked oot, elbaw on the chair airmrest, wi his big heid propped oan a doughy fist, and Spud, whae’s sittin shiverin, airms wrapped roond hissel, in that classic junky pose. — Catboy, he sais.

And Sick Boy’s slumped in a corner seat. Ah nods n sits doon beside um. — Nice place yir auntie’s goat.

He pills a tired smile. — Hud tae be done.

Spud asks Len aboot getting something for his cramps as Sick Boy and Swanney intro us tae a boy fae Niddrie called Greg Castle, whae inevitably gits called Roy. Thare’s a jumpy-lookin wee cunt, Ted fae Bathgate, n a Weedgie boy wi black eyes n a long, broken and bent nose thit gits kent as Skreel. He jist goat in yesterday n he’s rattlin like fuck. Thaire’s jist one lassie, a curly-mopped bird called Molly, who looks at me wi naked hostility through pinched features. The track marks on the underside ay her thin, white wrists are angry enough, but dwarfed by surgically proficient crimson lacerations ay varied depth. Maist scary, though, is this big biker called Seeker, whae ah’ve never met but ken by rep. His glassy eyes briefly stare intae me wi X-ray potency, before he turns away, as if he’s seen everything and is now bored.